A/N: This is my entry into the Chelsie Christmas Exchange and is for evitamockingbird! To say I was nervous when I got her in the draw is an understatement - she's an amazing writer and I love her work. I hope she enjoys my little Chelsie offering and has a lovely Christmas.
Mr Carson made his way to the nursery to sneak a little extra gift into each of the children's stockings, but he found all three beds empty. Smiling to himself, he deposited the gifts before heading downstairs; he knew exactly where the children of the house would be.
The first time Sybbie had 'escaped' from the nursery, Mr Carson had panicked. He'd had every maid, footman and hall boy, scouring the house for the little girl. It had been Anna who had eventually found her; enjoying a glass of milk and a biscuit in Mrs Hughes' sitting room. He had been about to chastise her for worrying everyone, when she turned to him with a smile just like her late mother's and had melted his heart.
Every few months, Sybbie would hide from Nanny, only to be found with her favourite housekeeper. When George had become old enough, he had joined her on her trips downstairs and now with Marigold in the house too, the three of them formed a formidable force. They all loved their visits with Mrs Hughes and if ever the children could not be found, the first place to be checked was Mrs Hughes' sitting room.
And tonight was no different. As expected, he found the children curled up on the settee with Mrs Hughes. The four of them where snuggled underneath a tartan blanket, Sybbie and George on either side of the housekeeper and Marigold on her lap. He stayed out of sight in the doorway, watching her with the children.
"Please may we have another, Mrs Hughes?" asked Sybbie.
"It's passed your bedtime,," Mrs Hughes told the little girl.
"Just one more?" asked George.
"Pwease?!" added Marigold.
"Oh, alright," she relented. "Just one more." The children snuggled in even more as Mrs Hughes turned the page of her book and began to read.
"Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads. And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap."
Mr Carson leant against the doorframe and closed his eyes as Mrs Hughes' Scottish brogue washed over the room, relaxing all the occupants.
When he opened them, Mrs Hughes was nearly finished, Sybbie was yawning and Marigold and George were already dozing. "He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight…" She looked up before she delivered the last line and smiled at Mr Carson. "'Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!'"
"Thank you Mrs Hughes," murmured Sybbie, snuggling even further into Mrs Hughes side.
"You're welcome sweetheart. Now we'd better get you back up to the nursery. Father Christmas won't come if you don't go to sleep soon."
Mr Carson, stepped forward; the complicated logistics of getting three sleepy children up several flights of stairs not lost on him. "Why don't I take Master George up and then I can return and we can take the two young ladies up together?" he suggested.
Mrs Hughes nodded her approval and Mr Carson scooped up the young Master, leaving her alone with the girls. Sybbie's weight was getting heavier, suggesting she was succumbing to sleep. Instinctively, Mrs Hughes began to stroke her hair and that was the simple catalyst the little girl needed to finally drop off. Mr Carson soon returned and lifted Sybbie into his arms, leaving Mrs Hughes to carry Marigold. They walk slowly side by side, not wanting to wake their sleeping charges.
Once the children were tucked up in bed, Mrs Hughes placed a gentle kiss on each of their foreheads, lingering a little longer with Sybbie. She straightened and stepped back, joining Mr Carson in the middle of the room. "She looks more and more like her mother every day," he whispered.
"What happened to there being no need to get sentimental?" she challenged with a twinkle in her eye.
"As I've said before, that was just bluster. I foolishly thought that if I kept a lid on my feelings of sentimentality, I would be able to ignore my growing feelings for you. But I was wrong. And thankfully that's no longer an issue."
"Thankfully," she replied with a smirk, taking his hand and leading them out of the nursery, shutting the door quietly.
"Will you miss them?" he enquired, as he looked down over the balcony.
"Of course. Won't you?"
"Yes, but I'm not the one who hosts story time in my office," he points out.
"Her Ladyship has said that I am welcome to visit the children any time. I hope that they and their parents will come over for tea too."
"Mr Branson yes, but I'm not sure it's quite proper to be hosting the ladies of the house."
"Do you really think Lady Mary will stand for talk like that? She'd visit every day if she could… You are her favourite after all."
He sighed. "I suppose you're right."
"Times have changed, Mr Carson. I'm afraid you will just have to learn to live with it."
He ran his finger over the band that sat on the fourth finger of her left hand. "Luckily, I think some changes will be easier to deal with than others."
"I should hope so!" she replied with a small chuckle, turning to face him.
As he turned toward her also, his eyes were caught by something dangling from the ceiling. Mrs Hughes followed his gaze. "Is that…?"
"Mistletoe," he confirmed.
Mrs Hughes returned his loving gaze as he leaned down to kiss her, just as tender and achingly gentle as the night she had accepted his proposal. She felt his hand at the small of her back, easing her ever closer to him, and she felt herself growing warmer in response. His mouth grew more insistent as he captured her lips, teasing and probing until she let out a slight groan.
Remembering where they were, Mr Carson pulled back, much to Mrs Hughes' disappointment.
"I was rather enjoying that; one of the few times your adherence to tradition doesn't frustrate me. Although, I suspect it is said tradition that caused you to stop kissing me?"
"I had to," he protested.
"You didn't," she argued, "but I understand."
"I told you – I won't dishonour you… as much as I may wish to." He leaned in close and whispered, "You must know how much I desire you, Elsie?" She swallowed and nodded. "Just two more days," he told her. "And then we'll be able to kiss as much as we like, and more…"
"I'm looking forward to it. Very much."
"As am I. Merry Christmas my dear Elsie."
"Merry Christmas my man."