Hi everyone! Just a little intro that I couldn't fit in the tag line. I'm new to all this writing but the temptation of Elsie Hughes' backstory was just too much and I've jumped in with both feet. There's a little explaination panel at the bottom of this first chapter that outlines a little bit of what I've decided is Elsie's timeline. Again, its mostly speculation so if there are any glaring mistakes let me know! Please bear with me, and don't be afraid to leave some hints and tips for me, I would love any advice you all have to give!
This takes place literally after Elsie says that first line, except they get interupted by Mr Bates before Mr Carson responds. :)
Disclaimer: I dont own any aspect of Downton Abbey in this story, Ive merely borrowed a few things and have merely expanded on what has gone in the series.
Much love xx
"I'm not that farm girl anymore."
Elsie pondered her earlier words as she stood in her now empty sitting room. Mr Bates had interrupted before she had said anything else, and Mr Carson had then left with the valet to help with his telephone, which had left the housekeeper alone with her thoughts. Even though she had been the one to say it, the revelation was still something new to her – she had changed, hadn't she? She had grown up she supposed. Matured. Even if that did make her sound a hundred. She wondered if that farm girl from Argyll had been altered into nothing more than a memory that she largely kept to herself, and if in her place now stood the prim and proper Housekeeper she had become. It wasn't that she hid her past from anyone, for Elsie Hughes did not lie. Rather, she had just let others fill in the blanks themselves, allowing them think what she wanted them to.
She supposed her Scottish stubbornness had been responsible in some part. At least she could reassure herself that that part of her had never changed. From the day she left the farm, she had maintained to her Ma', and to herself, that her new life wouldn't change her. Of course, Agnes Hughes being the sensible sort had warned her eldest girl that she would have to adapt to fit into her new surroundings, but young Elsie Hughes had been adamant. And of course, her Ma' had been right. Elsie recalled how she had found she had to tame her dialect in those early years according to her place of employment, even more so when she travelled south of the border, and even then some were still flummoxed when she spoke.
It hadn't been easy back then, she admitted to herself, but she thought that little by little she had perfected the façade of having nothing more than a slight accent which was easily dismissed with a "Yes, I grew up in Scotland." and no more questions asked. Well, that was until she came to work at Sewerby Hall as a housemaid in her late twenties.* Elsie blushed a little as she recalled many an evening spent walking back to the house from some dance or other, where the new farmhand Joe Burns would wind her up in front of their group by arguing that she turned more and more Scottish with every cider she drank or every reel she danced. It was such a foolish thing to Elsie thinking about it now, but the young Elsie had not yet learned to quiet her fiery temper, and would jump into such an angry tirade of words and insults that neither Joe nor any of their party had heard before, that it led to Joe humorously calling her a Scottish dragon whenever he got the chance – a nickname that stuck for the entirety of her stay at Sewerby. A small smile escaped her lips. She had since reigned in her temper, but there were a few still about who had been on the receiving end of that dragon's wrath.
Looking back, she supposed the other small and subtle alterations had escaped her notice entirely, done out of necessity rather than conscious choice. Well, she thought, maybe not all, as she turned to the looking glass above her mantel. Elsie had never considered herself a vain woman. Looking at her reflection wasn't an action she often indulged in - heavens, most days she barely had the time to see if her hair was tidy, never mind anything else! She merely utilised the glass in the most functional of ways; a quick glance to check if her hat was straight before church, or a as a tool when she was fastening a brooch to her jacket. Simple, efficient, practical, Elsie rhymed off, inwardly rolling her eyes at how much she sounded just like the housekeepers she'd worked under as a young housemaid. But here she was. Just looking. And she wasn't really sure what for.
Unconsciously she raised a hand to the few curls that framed her face, their pins worked loose from a long and hectic day in the downstairs of the Abbey. Her hair had always been part of who she was, from her smallest day she had a full head of unruly dark hair that grew to spill over her shoulders and down to her waist in fits of curls, and as a young lass many a young lad had complimented her on it at local ceilidhs. But over time, it too had changed, she had to admit. She'd noticed it lightening over the years, thinning just a little here and there, but it seemed lighter now than she last remembered. Even in the darkened room, she could clearly see strands of grey working their way through swirls of brown. She sighed but smiled a little, wondering to herself if her Granda would recognise his nighean donn now.*
As a child she supposed she had been as close to her parents as any was, but when her Ma' and Da' were out working on their glebe or helping the other crofters and she was too young to help, it was her Granda she spent her time with. Even now, even after all the people she had met in all her days, he was still the wisest man Elsie had ever known. From his local history and ghost stories, to the wealth of knowledge of the world that surrounded them, Elsie had learned far more from him than any education could have given her when they went out exploring together. Even to this day she could still determine a kestrel or buzzard whilst they were no more than a speck in the sky. Not that she pointed them out to anyone anymore, nor admittedly did it help at all with balancing ledgers.
These adventures got even better when her wee sister Becky came along and it became the three of them, doing all sorts of exploring; in the forests, at Dunadd, to Crinan and Kilmartin Glen, come rain, hail or sunshine.* Elsie remembered she was always venturing ahead, climbing trees along the path they walked, where Becky would tumble along behind her Granda, singing a song all of her own, enjoying herself enormously. After their Granda passed away, Elsie kept up their exploring at Becky's insistence, when she wasn't helping on the farm that was, and would try her best to pass along to her wee sister what she knew. Elsie had often overheard her Ma' and Pa' in their scullery worrying that Becky was coming on too slow for her years, but at the time she didn't understand what the fuss was about. Whilst it did take her a little longer to grasp games or pick up words, Becky was a cheerful lass, always keen to do whatever her big sister was doing, mimicking her actions and words even if she didn't quite understand them.
Elsie recalled how her Granda had never seemed worried. "Acht, she'll grouw in her aine time lass, jist as ye did."* he would say when she would ask why her sister was struggling with something. Back then Elsie supposed this was true and quieted her questions, but it was only as the girls grew older that the extent of Becky's difficulties became apparent. Becky would always be her wee sister, if not in body, but in mind, and this had stayed true all this time. Nighean ruadh was what their Granda had called her, for her shock of red hair, and Elsie was his nighean donn for her dark head of curls;* these names had become the girls' names for each other, almost like a secret code only they could share. So wherever she was, whenever she wrote a letter to her sister, Elsie always begun "Mo nighean ruadh," which she knew delighted the younger woman.
They both might not be the dark and flamed haired girls they once were, but whenever she got the chance to visit Becky's home in Lytham St Annes, Elsie thought of how Becky's bubbly childlike demeanour always took her back. Back to a time when she was simply Elsie the big sister, not Elsie the housemaid or Mrs Hughes the house keeper. More often than not Becky would demand a story of their home, of which Elsie had plenty and delighted in retelling. It had been many years since she had last been in Scotland, never mind her home farm, but for Elsie the memories had never faded.
She sat down at her desk. It was getting late, she knew, but she felt compelled to write her sister a letter for the first post in the morning. As she hadn't visited in quite some time, Elsie had taken to writing stories down for the nurses to read to Becky at bedtime. She sank back in her chair, thinking for a moment before settling on a memory that was a favourite of them both. The scene played out in Elsie's mind as though it had only happened yesterday, she could swear there was a smell of peat and gorse bush in her room.
The Hughes' family croft stood nestled in a glen beside a large curve of the meandering River Add. Though the ground was somewhat flat and moor-like, the surroundings were anything but. The farm faced a large and looming Scots Pine and Juniper forest to the north and whilst for young Elsie and her sister Becky it may have been a place of tattybogles and faeries, for their parents it provided excellent shelter for the farm. The rest of the land was surrounded by bracken and grassland that rose and fell with the braes that sloped towards the hilly edges of the glen. The only exception being the rocky crag that was Dunadd standing against the green backdrop proudly.*
Elsie remembered that day clearly. The burbling of the water around the rock she had leapt to as she stood not far from the bank, watching the figure of her Granda, knee-deep in the water, holding out his strong hands to coax her younger sister to do the same.
"But whit if ah fa?" the younger girl had called, tucking both her hands under her chin in contemplation.
"An whit if ye fa? Whit if a craw swoops doon an spirits ye aff? Whit if a kelpie leaps oot the watter an bites yer taes? There's nae a thing ye shid e'er be feart o when ahm aboot, wean, de ye hear me? Grab ma haun." Her Granda laughed, still holding out his hand.*
Elsie hadn't been sure what her sibling was worried about. Leaping across the slow-flowing peaty burn that ran behind their farm had long been a favourite game of hers, ever since her Granda had shown her how (much to her Ma's disapproval) and she had long wanted to share it with Becky. After persistent pestering her Granda had finally relented and promised his adventurous granddaughter on the next calm day, he would take them both to the burn.
Elsie had stood steady on her rock and watched her sisters face. Becky really didn't seem keen but Elsie knew if she just jumped she would get the hang of it. So, grinning with her hands on her hips, she had called out to her,
"Mon, Becky! If ah can dae it, nae reason ye cannae!"
Elsie remembered how she watched a determination spread over wee Becky's face that day, before the lass leaped, and shrieked in delight as she landed on the stone nearest the bank. For Becky, her making the leap was the reason it was her favourite story. For Elsie, it was because in that moment, the moment that she saw the pride and glee that spread across Becky's face as her feet hit her stone, was the day that she promised she would always be as supportive and a protective of her wee sister as God would allow. Back then, Elsie hadn't realised that the promise she was making to no one other than herself and God would become the promise that would direct the course of her entire life.
A sharp knock from the door went unheard in Elsie's sitting room, as did they opening of the door and the presence of a certain butler in the frame, "Mrs Hughes?" the deep baritone shook her from her thoughts, and she turned round from her desk.
"Tha, Mr Carson?" she said, not realising her Gaelic slip.
"Is… anything the matter?" he begun, warily, having noticed her odd reply, but not wanting to seem improper by prying at such a late hour. He had hoped to return in time for their evening sherry to be continued but as it was so late his visit was merely just to see she wasn't staying up to finish ledgers as she had threated to do earlier.
Elsie sighed. "No, nothings the matter. I was just thinking, that's all." she turned back to her desk to turn off her lamp,
"Oh? Nothing bad I hope?" Mr Carson looked towards the housekeeper, his eyebrows raised in questions that went unasked. He noted how her brogue seemed thicker, and how perfectly distracting it was.
Elsie turned to face him, biting her lip a little, as she often did when she was pensive, "No, I suppose not. I was just thinking about our conversation earlier. Wondering whether a certain farm girl had changed." She said, looking past him to the corridor wall behind.
Mr Carson smiled a little, "And, has she?" he had been enjoying their conversation before Mr Bates had interrupted. But once again the needs of the house had taken their place at the forefront of his attentions and he mentally chided himself for it.
"Och, I don't know. In some ways, not at all. In others, entirely." She lifted her eyes to the Butler's, smiled as if to reassure him, "Its funny, isn't it? How life rolls along, taking us along with it as we try to keep up as best we can."
The Butler considered the thought for a moment, "Life's altered you as it's altered me. What would be the point of living if we didn't let life change us?"
The Housekeeper simply nodded, still worrying her lip, and for a moment Mr Carson was worried he had said something out of turn. "Well, I had better say goodnight, Mr Carson. There will be plenty of work awaiting us tomorrow." She smiled, to which Mr Carson nodded as they both made to leave her sitting room, Mr Carson motioning for her to leave first before turning out the light and pulling the door behind him. He stood by as she locked her door and proceeded towards the stairway,
"Ahem, Mrs Hughes," Mr Carson began, calling after her as she begun to climb the steps.
"Yes?"
"Perhaps, if you wouldn't mind I mean," He paused, why he was so terrible with words around this woman he would never know, "Perhaps you could tell me of that farm girl some day?"
Elsie smiled warmly, "Perhaps one day." She couldn't help but wonder what the butler would make of knowing the headstrong, stubborn, wild haired lass that Elsie once was. Perhaps she hadn't changed, but rather altered as Mr Carson had said. Sure enough he had see her headstrong and more than once had he decribed her as stubborn, that only left wild haired, she supposed, grinning to herself. "Goodnight, Mr Carson."
"Goodnight, Mrs Hughes."
*For the purpose of this story I've come up with my own background, and timeline for Mrs Hughes which is entirely speculative of course! I will flesh this out as the story goes, don't want to give everything away just yet but this is roughly how my ideas go, apologies if there are any glaring mistakes, again her ages etc all fit this story and perhaps nothing else. I'll explain my thinking as best I can!
1862 – Born, near Crinan, Argyll.
1876 - Father dies, EH aged 14.
1879 – Left Home, aged 17.
1879 – Begins work in Dundee as Scullery Maid.
1885 – Becomes housemaid, still in Dundee. Aged 23.
1890 – Comes to Sewerby Hall. This is at the change over from father Yarburgh Gamaliel Lloyd-Greame to his son Yarburgh George Lloyd-Greame who inherited the Hall in 1890. He has grand plans for the Hall and therefore required more staff. Elsie starts, ages 28, as a housemaid but soon doubles as a ladies maid because she's pretty awesome! I chose Sewerby Hall as it is relatively near Ripon, York etc so the idea of Elsie hearing of a job at Downton wouldn't seem too farfetched. For more info check out here: view/attractions/bridlington/sewerby-hall-and-gardens-126034
1906 – This is the year I have roughly guessed Elsie started at the Abbey, when she was 44 years old. My reasons for this is the Downton Abbey wiki states that Elsie came to the Abbey as Head Housemaid when the young girls were in their teens so: Mary born 1891, Edith 1892, Sybil 1895. Sybil would have been 11 in 1906, the Mary and Edith would have been in the midst of their teenage years. I just quite liked the year and Elsie's age! Again, I'm really sorry if I've missed an episode where this was spelled out but I'm pretty sure I haven't? Please let me you're your thoughts!
*Nieghan donn' (nee-an down) meaning "brown-haired lass". I quite liked the idea of Elsie being close to her Grandfather, and that he would go between Gaelic and Scots.
*Okay so here's where my full artistic licence really kicks in! We have Argyll, which is fair enough, but has Julian Fellowes seen the size of Argyll!? There are a million nooks and crannies Elsie could have grown up in! So, aye. I have decided for this story, this is where Elsie Hughes and her family hail. Precise co-ordinates: 56.083832, -5.503873. That wee croft right there.
Chose this because it's near to the village Crinan, which would be about an hour walk away, perfect for dances etc. There's also Kilmartin Glen which is beautiful and full of faerie stories and historical artefacts. It is also well situated for travel to Glasgow, Dundee etc as the Crinan canal is nearby. Dunadd is very interesting also, check it out here: wiki/Dunadd Most of all it is gorgeous area. Again, just guess work!
* "Oh, she'll grow in her own time, lass. Just as you did." (Just incase, you never know)
* 'Nighean ruadh' (nee-an roo-ah) meaning "redhaired lass" (my gaelic is rusty, I think thats the right pronounciation)
* Again, see point 3. Google map the coordinates and explore!
* "So what if you fall? What if a crow swoops down and takes you away? What if a kelpie leaps out the water and bites your toes? There's not a thing you should ever be frightened of when I'm around, child, do you hear me? Grab my hand." (again just incase)
I had linked the wiki page of kelpies but the link keeps disappearing as I post. A kelpie is a Scottish water spirit that hangs about it burns, pools, Lochs, any body of water. Often said to be horse like. Mostly a story used to keep wee children away from dangerous water!
