The lovely Hogwarts Duo found a photograph of a certain someone taking a photograph. That had me speculating on early 20th century photography. Kodak Brownies were very simple 'point and shoot' cameras that were available as early as 1900. Of course, that made me wonder who in the downstairs staff might want one and what she might do with it. (Edited because I'm a doofus. 1901 forward = 20th century not 19th. Thanks onmyside for catching it.)
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Earn nothing from them. Wish I had some of these photographs.
Charles looked up from the wine ledger to see his housekeeper standing with a black box pointed at him.
"Elsie, I am sorry. I didn't hear you enter," he looked at the object in her hands with a puzzled frown, "Do you need my assistance?"
She clicked her tongue at him, "I was hoping to get a photograph of you working."
"A photograph?" he asked, sitting up straighter and unconsciously lifting a hand to check his hair, "If you're taking a photograph I should be wearing my evening livery, not my morning frock coat."
She scowled at him, "You don't understand. I want pictures of the people who work here doing their everyday things to remember you by."
"To remember us?" he asked again, frown deepening, "Are you leaving us, me? Is this how you planned on telling me?"
"Of course not," she scoffed, "When I leave, I have every intention of dragging you with me by the tails on your coat if necessary. It's just that I saw the advertisement for this camera, and I thought it would be nice to have photographs of everyone here going about their business instead of dressed in their Sunday best."
"What is it exactly?" he asked, rising now to take a closer look.
"It's called a Brownie," she answered, handing the camera over to him for inspection, "It's made by Kodak. You send the camera back when you've taken all the pictures. They send back the pictures and the camera with new film inside."
He held the camera carefully, rotating it in his hands before turning it so that the lens faced her. As he ran his fingers over the camera, probing it cautiously, his finger hit the shutter button and there was a distinct click. He nearly dropped the camera in his surprise, but Elsie had her hands on it quickly.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Charles, do be careful," she exclaimed, "I think you just took a photograph of my keys." Grasping the small knob on the side, she carefully wound the film to be ready for another photo if the opportunity arose.
"I am sorry," he apologized gruffly, "It's not as if I handle one of those contraptions every day."
"Here," she said gently, "I read the instructions carefully. Let me show you how it works."
He leaned over her shoulder, breath ghosting against the side of her neck. She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and filling her lungs with the scent of soap, books, and Charles. It took a great deal of concentration to remember the instructions that she had read so intently just that morning, but finally she began to instruct him, "Um, this is the shutter button. When you press this, you take a picture. Then, you wind the film here so that you can take another one."
"And this?" he asked, arm reaching around her, and fingers brushing hers so that he could tap the small glass lens on the top.
"That is the viewfinder," she said, "It cost a little extra, but you just look through it at what you want to capture on film and press the shutter button. Click and you have a photograph of anything you want."
He nodded gravely, and she looked up at him over her shoulder with a beaming smile which he couldn't help but return. His eyes locked with hers before drifting down to her lips. Shaking his head and clearing his throat, he stepped back suddenly, "Would you like me to sit back down and look casual so that you can take your photograph now?"
She nodded, and he sat behind his desk with a stiff back, head tilted carefully to the side and pen poised above the ledger.
She snorted and rolled her eyes, "That looks completely natural. Can you not just relax a little?"
He looked up at her nervously and let his shoulders sag, pasting on a half-smile and tilting his head to the other side.
"Charles," she chided.
He huffed, "Well, it's a bit difficult knowing you're standing there waiting to capture me for posterity."
"Fine," she said, "I'll go take pictures of the maids and kitchen staff. I'll come back later when you're not expecting me."
"I shall look forward to the ambush," he chuckled softly. When she was nearly out the door, he stopped her by speaking her name softly, "Elsie."
She turned back to him with eyebrows raised in question, "Charles?"
"Do you think perhaps you could save a few pictures at the end?" he asked studying the pen he was twirling in his hand closely. "That is, if you would permit-, I would rather like to have one or two pictures of you as well." His eyes lifted to meet hers and he said, "I would be glad to reimburse…"
She cut him off with a wave of her hand and warm smile, "I will. But only one or two, and you could consider them my gift. You'll have to take the pictures, though."
A short while later, he became engrossed in his work, brows drawn low and furrowing as he tried to work out the columns of figures.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a click and a giggle from the doorway. A giggle? Elsie didn't giggle. Looking up, he saw both Elsie and Mrs. Patmore standing in the doorway. Rising, he said, "Mrs. Patmore, Mrs. Hughes, may I be of assistance?"
Elsie nodded in Mrs. Patmore's direction and the cook cleared her throat, "You can sit right there while I take a photograph of the two of you together."
"Together?" he asked, just a bit apprehensive and voice rising slightly in pitch.
Elsie sighed but met his eyes squarely, "Mrs. Patmore felt that it would be appropriate to have a photograph of the two of us together, as the heads of the staff."
"Well, then, surely it should be the three of us," he said, standing to his feet, "Perhaps I could get Mr. Bates or…"
"No," Mrs. Patmore cut him off quickly and moved to block the door, "That is, I've already had my photograph taken with the kitchen staff as was proper."
He eyed her suspiciously with brows drawn low and turned to look at Elsie. When he saw the expectant smile on her face, he nodded, "Of course, I'd be happy to do whatever you feel is proper."
Mrs. Patmore had him sit down in the armchair by his fire and Elsie stand at his shoulder. He protested at the inappropriateness of his sitting while she stood, but Elsie cut off any protest with a roll of her eyes, "Heavens, Mr. Carson. If you're standing and I'm sitting I doubt that Mrs. Patmore could actually get us in the same picture."
He reluctantly agreed and the next thing he knew, Mrs. Patmore was urging Elsie to put her hand on his shoulder and to stand closer. His shoulder was on fire under her touch, and he was certain that his face was flaming as well. At least the picture would just be in black and white, no colorful red cheeks showing. Although, he mused as he waited for the cook to snap the picture, it would be rather nice to capture the color of Elsie's eyes. He wondered if they were blue or grey today. Before he could stop himself he turned to glance up for a peek and at that same moment, Mrs. Patmore chose to snap the picture.
Mrs. Patmore grumbled at her spoiled picture, as she saw it, but Elsie forbade her to take any more. She was saving three pictures for Mr. Carson and nothing could make her change her mind. Mrs. Patmore continued to grouse as she headed back to the kitchen, but Elsie merely turned to him with a smile, holding out the camera.
"Should I try to look casual now?" she asked.
He shook his head with an amused half smile, "No, I believe that I will wait to ambush you for my own casual photographs of you."
She arched an eyebrow at him and swished her skirts as she walked out the door, "I suppose you can try."
Elsie was impressed that she never caught him making his photographs. He merely silently handed her the camera before they retired for the night, and she noted that all the photographs had been taken.
Four weeks later he caught her eye after sorting the morning post and beckoned her to his pantry. He shut the door carefully behind him and motioned to the desk. She saw the large package sitting on his desk and smiled in sheer delight.
"The photographs!"
"Unless you have a secret admirer at Kodak who might send you a package, I would assume that it is," he said, "Are you going to let me die of suspense or open them?"
She met his eyes for a moment, "I don't know. Perhaps it would be best to wait until everyone retires…"
"Elsie," he grumbled.
"Very well," she said, laughing at his eagerness.
Package opened, she flipped through the photographs while he looked over her shoulder, cheek inches from hers.
"Here's the one that I took of you," she exclaimed, "Such a handsome, serious fellow. Wonder what he is thinking of?"
"Probably wondering when he's going to be ambushed by a beautiful housekeeper," Charles answered with a wry smile.
She continued through the photographs until she found one that didn't even look as though a person was in it.
"What on earth?" she asked, trying to guess what it could possibly be.
Charles snorted and said, "Well, I certainly hadn't thought…Hmm. Perhaps I should keep this one locked in my desk." Then he reached around to try to take the small square from her.
"Charles," she warned, holding tight to the photograph.
"I believe," he said, tugging the photograph from her grasp, "dear Elsie, that that is the picture that was taken accidentally when you showed me the camera. A very nice view down your dress, I might add. Goodness knows I've seen it often enough to know."
"Oh," she blushed, "Well, in that case, perhaps you should keep it."
Charles nodded and tucked the photograph in his pocket. "This will come in rather handy during the long London Season."
Elsie's cheeks just turned a deeper shade of crimson, and she applied herself to flipping through the rest of the pictures.
Charles spoke up again, "Ahh. There are the other photographs that I took. Those should probably stay in my desk as well." And he lifted them from her hands, but not before she was able to look at them properly.
"Charles, did you deliberately take not one but two pictures of my bum?" she asked, eyebrows drawn low.
"Well, I-, that is-, there was also a very nice photograph of you standing by that window…" he began, before glancing down to see the last photograph in her hand, "we can never let anyone see that."
Elsie glanced down and her eyes widened as well, "No that would certainly give a bit much away, wouldn't it?"
In the photograph that she held in her hands Charles was staring up at her with adoring eyes, and she was matching his adoration with her own. No one who ever saw that photograph would think them merely colleagues and nothing more.
He reached around her to trace the tip of his finger over her face in the photograph. With a sigh, he said, "Soon. We'll soon have our own mantle for that photograph."
"I will get a frame tomorrow," Elsie agreed, "Even if it is to sit in my drawer for now."
He smiled against her cheek and pulled her back against his chest, "Yes. And perhaps we could try some more photographs."
"Perhaps," she nodded, turning her head to the side to capture his in a brief kiss.
Charles nuzzled her neck and whispered against it, "Perhaps we could just take photographs of each other. I would like to have more photographs of you. For the Season, of course. We could even take it with us when we go to our inn, and I could take some photographs of you out of that black dress, in the moonlight..."
"Charles, you do realize that someone else has to develop this film," she said, pulling back to look at him.
"Yes," he answered, eyebrows drawn low while he looked at her questioningly.
She sighed and explained patiently, "That means someone else would see photographs of me out of that black dress."
"Oh," he said, "well, I just-, that-, I never thought. I suppose next time I must concentrate more on your face."
"Perhaps you need an anatomy lesson," she said, turning so that she could wrap her arms around his middle.
"Perhaps." He threw the photographs in the general direction of his desk.
She grasped his hands and drew them to her cheeks, "This is my face." And then moving his hands to her bottom, she said, "This is not."
"Useful information," he nodded before capturing her lips with his, "but I think that I need more lessons."
"As many as it takes dear. As many as it takes."
Reviews are welcome as always.