A/N We interrupt our regularly scheduled story to bring you this special edition. This is a Berylliam* one-shot that's set in my (mainly Chelsie) Downton Academy universe. If you're not familiar with that modern AU, that's all right; it's not really necessary to have read it in order to understand this version of Beryl and Bill's … interactions. (I won't say specifically what interactions – because … spoilers!) Having said that, however, I'll love you forever if do you take a peek and read my story! But in case you choose not to read it, I'll give you a quick run-down of what you need to know. Beryl is the chef and director of nutritional services at Downton Academy, a traditional British-type school (fictional, of course) located in present-day Chicago. Bill is the school's building maintenance supervisor. They've been slowly growing closer for the past few months. In this chapter, they both are attending the wedding reception of Charles Carson and Elsie Hughes, the school's headmaster and headmistress, respectively. Beryl has been supervising the catering, and Bill has been overseeing the practical aspects of set-up, preparation, and clean-up. The overbearing catering manager, who is working under Beryl, is one Mr. Jos Tufton. This story is a companion piece to Chapter 12, my latest chapter of Downton Academy: A Sequel. I didn't include Beryl and Bill's side tale in the chapter for two reasons: 1.) that chapter is more than long enough without it; and 2.) I didn't want to take away from the Chelsie focus of the main story.
*I know that Mr. Mason's first name is supposed to be Albert, according to Jessica Fellowes and Alastair Bruce, but I refuse to accept that. Firstly, his fandom name has been Bill for so long that many people, including me, like to stick with it. (His son is William; I like to think Mr. Mason is William, Sr.) And secondly, I just like the portmanteau Berylliam. (I mean … if he's Albert, do we call them "Berbert"?! "Alyl"?! I think not!)
I'm sorry for the long introductory note. Without further ado, here we go!
Saturday, June 11, 2016; Chicago, Illinois, USA
Beryl stood in the school's large kitchen, organizing some petit fours, finger pastries, cookies, and other desserts on a tray. Jos Tufton, the catering manager, who had been overly solicitous towards her all day, continued his flattery.
"Beryl, these are the most delicious things I've ever tasted," he raved as he stole chocolate truffle from the tray she was arranging and popped the candy into his mouth.
"Keep your hands off my food!" she warned sternly as she pulled the tray away from him.
"Aw, come on, now. I mean no harm. I simply can't resist the appeal of a delicious dessert," he said. "Or the charms of a beautiful woman," he added, speaking quietly, sidling up closer, and resting his hand on her shoulder.
"Get away, now!" she scolded, unaffected by his fawning. "I need room to work. You've been underfoot all day."
"Everything all right in here?" called a voice from the kitchen doorway.
"Bill!" cried Beryl, moving away from Jos in obvious relief. "I'm glad you're here."
"Hello, love," said Bill. He shot Jos Tufton a disapproving glare. "I just came to see if you need me to set up another table for those." He indicated the tray of sweets.
"Oh, no, thank you, darling. There's plenty of room out there," Beryl replied.
"Let me help you carry them," offered Bill.
"Would you?" Beryl asked, handing him the tray. "Thank you. You're a dear." And she kissed his cheek before following him out to the reception in the dining hall.
As they crossed the room, Beryl felt the need to explain. "That's not what it looked like, you know."
"Of course I know that," Bill assured her.
"I wasn't encouraging him. I don't enjoy his attentions. The man won't take no for an answer."
"I can see that. I'll just have to stick close to you for the rest of the night."
"I wouldn't mind that," Beryl told him with a smile.
Bill set the tray down on the dessert table, which was already laden with several other trays of sweets.
"How about a dance?" he asked, inclining his head towards the couples gliding around the room.
"I'd love to," Beryl answered.
He took her hand, led her to the dance floor, and pulled her into his arms.
As they swayed to the music, he drew her closer, and she rested her head contentedly on his shoulder.
"You've done a wonderful job with everything, sweetheart. The food was outstanding, as always. I think you've outdone yourself this time," he praised her sincerely.
"Thank you. And you've done a marvelous job, too," she said, returning the compliment. "The place looks great. You've transformed a dreary dining hall into a virtual wonderland."
"That's got more to do with Cora and the girls' decorating talents than my set-up," he demurred.
Just then, Jos appeared, tapped Bill on the shoulder, and asked, "Mind if I cut in, mate?"
"I do, actually," Bill said firmly. "But it's not up to me. Maybe you should ask the lady."
"How about it, gorgeous?" Jos persisted, looking at Beryl hopefully.
"Not a chance, mister," she insisted. "I already have a partner, and my dance card's filled for the rest of the night. Now if you'll excuse us … "
And with that, Bill led Beryl away, and Jos walked off the dance floor in defeat.
"Thank you," Beryl said earnestly to Bill. "You could easily have put him in his place, but you deferred to me and allowed me the satisfaction."
"Well, I didn't want to speak for you," he told her. "You know your mind, and you're not afraid to speak it."
"Some might say that's not exactly a good thing," she chuckled.
"Well, I think it's a very good thing. It's just one of the many things I love about you." He was quiet for a moment before continuing. "Beryl, can you spare me a few minutes, now that most of the serving is done? Can we go outside and talk?"
"I don't see why not," she answered agreeably. "Just let me pop into the kitchen so that I can check on things and tell them I'll be gone."
"All right, then. I'll go and get us some drinks," he offered.
Beryl went off to the kitchen, and Bill made his way to the bar. In the kitchen, Beryl found some of the catering staff just finishing the clearing away and cleaning up. Unfortunately, Jos also was there.
"I'm just stepping out for a moment," she announced to everyone in general. "You lot seem to have things well in hand."
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I think we're all done here. Why don't we call it a night?" said Jos, dismissing his subordinates. They made short work of clearing out, and he returned his attention to Beryl.
"'Stepping out,' eh? With that sorry bloke of yours?" Jos sneered.
"It is none of your business where I am going or with whom I shall be," Beryl stated emphatically.
"Not much of a man, I'd say … " – Jos leered menacingly at her and slunk closer, seemingly undeterred – " … if he leaves such a lovely lady alone for more than three seconds."
But Beryl was determined to put him in his place. "Mr. Tufton, I tell you once and for all: I am not interested in your advances, and I never will be!"
"Is it because of him?" He reached out and took her hand. "Because I don't see a ring on this pretty little finger of yours. If you were mine, I'd make sure everyone knew it."
"But I am not 'yours,' Mr. Tufton. Now kindly leave me alone." Beryl pulled her hand out of his grasp and headed for the door, where Bill was standing, having witnessed the whole scene.
"Mr. Tufton," Bill said threateningly, "I believe Beryl has made her intentions perfectly clear. If you ever trouble her again, I'll see to it that you sorely regret your foolish behavior."
Beryl saw her opportunity and seized it. "What you really need, buster," she told Jos, "is a swift punch to the face. Bill is too much of a gentleman, but I make no pretense of politeness." She took one of the glasses Bill was holding and flung its contents in Jos's face. She considered for a moment while Jos stood there in shock, then took the second cup of punch and tipped it down the front of his shirt. "There. A punch in the face … and one in the gut. For good measure."
Beryl set the empty cups down on the counter and accepted Bill's offered arm, and they departed. He led her through the school and out into the courtyard, where Jimmy Kent's band was playing and the younger guests were dancing and milling about. It was too warm, too crowded, and too noisy amidst the spirited revelers, so the pair walked across the lawn and found a quiet bench that was graced by a cooling breeze and a beautiful view of the sunset. Bill allowed Beryl to sit, and then he seated himself beside her.
"I'm a simple man, Beryl," he began. "Flowery words and grand gestures aren't my way. But you know that I love you. And I want to take care of you. You're so precious, and you deserve to be treated like the perfect angel that you are. It hurts my heart to see someone dishonor you the way that man did. And if I have my way, nothing like that will ever happen again. You're a capable woman, Beryl Patmore, and I have no doubt that you can take care of yourself – as you've shown brilliantly tonight. But I don't want you to have to take care of yourself; I want to take care of you. Let me be there to look out for you – always." He slipped from the bench, dropped to one knee, pulled a small, felt box from his pocket, and opened it. "I've been carrying this around with me for two months … trying to find the right words and the right time and the right place. I don't know if I'll ever find the right words to tell you how much I love you, but I think this might be the right time and the right place to try. My beautiful Beryl … will you marry me?"
Beryl was sobbing uncontrollably and couldn't speak, but the smile on her lips, the dimples in her cheeks, and the delight in her eyes gave Bill the answer he sought, and he slid the ring onto her finger. Then he rose and sat next to her again.
"You see, I thought long and hard about a ring for you. I knew a typical stone in a traditional setting wouldn't be very practical; it would get in the way when you're working. But this one's flat and smooth. It won't get caught on things, and there are no small crevices where anything can get stuck. The rose gold matches your beautiful skin, and the warm color of the stone reminds me of your hair*. And maybe best of all, the stone is 'golden beryl.'"
"I've never seen anything more perfect," Beryl whispered, admiring her ring.
"I have," said Bill, looking meaningfully into her eyes, and he kissed her.
A/N *Take a look at my tumblr page to see a picture of Beryl's ring. I figured a traditional engagement ring wouldn't be ideal for a chef (or for anyone who works extensively with her hands), and Bill would be sensitive to this. When I looked up "practical rings for people who work with their hands," I came across a picture of a yellow-gold stone in a rose gold bezel setting, and it just screamed "Beryl" to me. I don't know if the stone in the picture is actually golden beryl, but I'm going to pretend it is, because it's just too perfect to pass up.
I hope the Berylliam shippers out there have enjoyed my first attempt at writing these two, and I hope my regular readers have enjoyed this little detour into Berylliam-land. We now return to our regularly scheduled Chelsie. Chapter 13 of Downton Academy: A Sequel will resume shortly with "the morning after" and some cuddly, married Chelsie fluff.
Please leave a review if you can spare a few moments. I'd love to know what you think.