Long days were nothing unusual in her position. Long, frustrating days were not uncommon either. But days that started unusually early, went on forever, and were nothing but one thing going wrong after another without even a chance for a breath and a cuppa were enough to make her want to stab her Ladyship repeatedly with her needle.
If she heard "Just one more thing, Baxter," one more time today, she would NOT be responsible for her actions.
Nearly staggering, Phyllis Baxter quietly entered the Servant's Hall, her lips pressed into a tight line, and her usually friendly glance directed at the floor. There were quite a few staff at the table already, so she veered off to drop her mending on the trestle table to the side of room.
She leaned against it wearily, closing her eyes taking a long breath. The low chatter in the room rose and fell, but she paid no attention until the scrape of a chair on the stone floor made her wince and crack open an eye to glare in the general direction of the table.
No one seemed to notice her, tucked off by the wall, and she was grateful for that. She needed a moment to gather herself and find her strength again to get through the remainder of this horrible day. Hoping that she continued to remain unnoticed, she slumped back against the table in a manner that was somewhat undignified for her position, shutting her eyes again and praying for just a few moments peace.
A few moments was all she managed before she felt the table lurch under her a bit and smelled the fortifying aroma of strong tea. She knew before she opened her eyes who had planted himself at the table next to her and brought her a cup.
"I didn't see you when I came in, Mr. Molelsey," she murmured without opening her eyes.
"I just got here," he replied with a chuckle. "Long day?"
"The longest," she sighed, opening one eye to see him shoving the saucer and tea cup in her direction. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," he replied cheerfully.
As she lifted the cup to her lips and sipped the scalding tea carefully, he watched the fatigue pull her face into a solemn expression and dampen the momentary spark he thought he'd seen in her eye when she'd looked over at him. She didn't just seem tired; she seemed dispirited.
She could feel his eyes on her and knew without looking that he would be wearing a concerned expression. Ordinarily, she would smile at him, reassuring him without words that might be overheard that she was fine and appreciated his preoccupation with her well being.
Appreciated it very much, actually.
But a smile seemed to be more than she had in her at the moment. So she stared at the bells hanging on the wall as warily as if they were vipers preparing to strike. When he cleared his throat, she assumed he was going to make nervous small talk and tried to ready herself to be a tiny bit social, so as not to seem ill tempered and ungrateful.
"Would you like to hear a joke, Miss Baxter?" he asked.
This was so unexpected that she swiveled her head around to stare at him. He grinned nervously and she gave his arm a little nudge with her elbow.
"Go on then," she replied.
Mr. Molesley nodded and screwed up his face in concentration.
"I don't want to mess it up," he explained at her curious look. "I only heard it t'other day down to the pub. Just give me a moment…"
She waited, watching his face as he mentally rehearsed the joke.
"Ahh. Here we go… How many elephants can you fit into an Invicta motor car?"
She blinked at him in confusion for a moment. "What? Elephants in a motor car?"
"Yes," he confirmed cheerfully. "How many elephants can you fit into an Invicta motorcar?"
"I don't know…" she began bemusedly.
"Give up then?" At her nod, he grinned broadly. "Five! Two in the front and three in the rear!"
"Is that supposed to be the joke?" she asked, her lips quirking into a brief smile. "It wasn't very funny."
"No?" he asked in surprise. "Two in the front and three in the rear? That's all the seats there ARE in an Invicta motorcar…" he trailed off as she looked at him in amused exasperation. "Perhaps I didn't tell it properly."
"Perhaps not, but thanks for that anyway," she said with a sigh. Straightening her back with a quiet groan, she prepared to fetch her mending over to the table where her sewing machine sat.
"Let me try again, then," he blurted. "I have another."
"Alright," she agreed, leaning her hip against the trestle table and setting her mending down.
"How do you know when there's an elephant in your refrigerator?" he asked, after a moment's thought.
"Elephants again?"
"Do you give up?"
"I think so," she admitted, beginning to smile in earnest at the thought of Mrs. Patmore fighting her way around an elephant to do battle with the hated appliance.
"He leaves footprints in the butter," Molelsey proclaimed.
Miss Baxter couldn't hold back a snicker. Molelsey beamed at this mildly successful attempt at humor.
"Really, Mr. Molesley, that's a bit ridiculous."
"Oh? Well, how do you know when there are TWO elephants in your refrigerator?"
"How?" she said, smiling wider.
"You can hear them giggling in the dark when the door shuts."
She actually laughed aloud at this, covering her mouth and making Mr. Molesley grin even wider. As she shook her head over his apparent fascination with elephants in the kitchen, the hovering specter of the bells receded to the back her mind.
"How do you know when there are FIVE elephants in your refrigerator?"
Not trusting herself to speak without giggling, she shrugged and motioned for him to continue.
"There's an empty Invicta motorcar in the drive!" he finished triumphantly.
She stared at him for a second until the penny dropped, then burst into peals of laughter. All activity in the hall stopped, everyone watching in amazement or concern as she rocked back and forth, unable to stop while Mr. Molesley beamed in proud delight at her amusement.
"Mr. Molesley…" she gasped, breaking into laughter again when she looked at his face, "those are the worst jokes I've ever heard."
"They're terrible," he agreed.
As tears streamed down her face, she began to notice that they were the center of attention. She made a game attempt to control herself, but her fatigue and the sheer silliness of Mr. Molesley's expression made continue to shake with laughter and caused Mr. Molesley to have to hold her arm to keep her from tipping off the table.
"Are you quite all right, Miss Baxter?" Anna asked, unable to hide her amusement at the display they were making.
Miss Baxter nodded and tried to avoid looking at Mr. Molesley, lest she start laughing again. Anna cocked a skeptical brow.
"Well, her Ladyship's bell went off a moment ago. I doubt you heard it."
"No I didn't…thank you," she replied, coloring slightly as Mr. Molesley tapped her gently between the shoulder blades in an attempt to help her calm down.
"Better now, Miss Baxter," he asked, allowing his hand to rest on her back for a moment before slowly removing it.
"Much better," she replied with a smile as she gathered her mending and took a few deep breaths. "Thank you for the jokes, Mr. Molesley. You've made a dark day a little brighter."
"Not at all. You looked like you could have done with a bit of cheering up. Glad to help."
"I look forward to your next round of jokes," she said as she turned to hurry from the Servant's Hall with a new spring to her step.
Mr. Molesley watched her go and took a sip of his own tea, which had grown cold. He wrinkled his nose at the bitterness as he walked over to have a seat at the big table.
"Will you be taking your act on stage, Mr. Molesley?" Mr. Barrow inquired snidely, "Or do you only give private performances?"
Mr. Molesley just smiled into his teacup, ignoring the insinuation behind the teasing. He was much too preoccupied with the memory of her throat as she'd thrown her head back to laugh with abandon, and the feel of the fabric of her dress under his palm to be bothered.
He'd made a dark day a little brighter for Phyllis Baxter. Not everyone could say that.
That was enough to be going on with.