December 19th 1922
"Parcel for you Mr Carson!" Daisy swept into the servant's hall with a pack of letters in one hand and a rather large package in the other. Several of the staff finishing up their breakfast looked up in interest.
"Since when do you get the post Daisy!? " said Mr Carson, horrified at the possibility of a kitchen maid being seen outside collecting the mail.
"Oh I didn't, no. I was going to the larder to fetch some honey when Thomas just dropped it in me arms. Said he had to run upstairs because he forgot something."
Carson looked somewhat relieved at her words, "Well give it here then."
Daisy passed the mail to Mr. Carson and stood back expectantly. Mr. Carson raised his eyebrows at her quizzically.
"Well who's it from then?" she asked excitedly. "It's ever so heavy."
Mrs. Hughes scoffed at the kitchen maid's impertinence, "That's hardly business of yours Daisy," she said before Mr. Carson could respond, "I should think Mrs. Patmore would like that honey now."
Daisy looked down, her cheeks growing red. "Yes Mrs. Hughes," she murmured before taking off for the larder.
Mrs. Hughes gave Mr. Carson a small smile, which he did not return. He leaned over and spoke softly into the Housekeepers ear, "you let her off easy with that one Mrs. Hughes."
"I figured Mrs. Patmore would give her an earful over it taking so long anyways," Mrs. Hughes whispered back.
As if on cue Mrs. Patmores voice came ringing from the kitchens, "Daisy! When I sent for honey I didn't mean for you to ask each bee INDIVIDUALLY for it!"
At that Carson crack a slight smile. "Whatever it is," he said gesturing to the package, "It will have to wait until later." He stood, causing the rest of the table to rise with him.
"Breakfast in five minutes everyone, look lively!"
At the Butlers words the men and women of downstairs hurried to their duties, another day begun.
It wasn't until the very end of the day that Mr. Carson found time to examine the parcel that had come in the mail. They had been exceedingly busy preparing for dinner as the Granthams were hosting the Duke of Beaufort that evening. Fortunately the visit had gone off without a hitch and Mr. Carson was feeling quite pleased with the entire affair as he sat at his desk that night finishing up the wine ledger.
It was only when he had neatly entered the last bottle in the book that he remember the package from that morning. He didn't recognize the return address, some office in London it seemed. Suddenly very curious he tore open the wrapping in uncharacteristic haste.
Inside the box was a collection of papers as well as a heavy wooden box and several photographs. The was also a letter addressed to "Mr. Charles Carson, son of the late Mrs. Mary Anne Carson."
That was odd. His mother had past away almost a year ago. What little money she'd had, along with the house had gone (with his blessing) to his younger sister. The letter explained that these things had gotten mixed up with another "estate" and only just recently been sorted out properly.
Mr. Carson leafed through the pictures carefully; a little boy on a bicycle, his family sitting in front of a small brick house, his sister at the seaside…
Charles Caron let himself become lost for a moment in his childhood memories. He opened the wooden box – he recognized it now, his mother used to use it to store her few pieces of jewelry and her photographs. Inside was a single item; a delicate gold and silver watch. His mothers watch. The hands were stopped, but of course it hadn't been wound in ages. Carson fingered the clasp gently remembering how proud she was of her timepiece. How she used to let him look at it when she took it off to bake or wash the dishes. It was still a beautiful device and he felt a pang when he realized he'd never asked her how she's come by it. Perhaps it had been a gift from her father in happier times. He wondered idly what he ought to do with it now.
"Mr. Carson, are you alright?"
Mr. Carson looked up in surprise. He hadn't heard Mrs. Hughes knock or enter the room but there she was standing the doorway. Hastily he put the watch back in the box and set it aside.
"Quite alright Mrs. Hughes. I was just looking at a few of my late-mothers possessions. They missed them last year and have only just arrived."
"I see," said Mrs. Hughes, her eyes sympathetic, "well better late then never I suppose."
"Indeed," said Mr. Carson plainly. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
Mrs. Hughes decided not to ask further about the contents of the box; clearly he had changed the subject deliberately. She gave him an easy smile, "I just came to say goodnight. I understand dinner was a rousing success?"
"It certainly was Mrs. Hughes," said Mr. Carson smiling broadly. "His lordship was quite pleased with it."
"Excellent," said Mrs. Hughes, "Well I'm going to go up, goodnight Mr. Carson."
"Goodnight Mrs. Hughes," said Mr. Carson amicably, "sleep well."
Mrs. Hughes gave him one last smile and left. As Mr. Carson watched her as she disappeared down the hallway and he knew exactly what he wanted to do with the watch.
December 25th 1922
After the servants dinner at the end of what had been a very long and thoroughly joyous Christmas Day Mr. Carson pulled Mrs. Hughes aside.
"A word Mrs. Hughes?" he asked.
"Certainly," she said following him into his pantry. He shut the door carefully behind her.
"Now, just a minute." Mr. Carson fished around his desk drawer for the package he had wrapped so carefully the day before. When he found it he hesitated and for a moment Mr. Carson just stared at the tiny striped box in silence, wondering for the first time how she might react to such a personal and intimate present.
"Is something wrong? You look a tad on edge." Mrs. Hughes sounded genuinely concerned for her friend.
Mr. Carson looked into her anxious eyes and his doubts fell away. He absolutely wanted her to have and he decided to ignore whatever reason he might have for such a strong and impulsive feeling.
"No, no. I've gotten you a gift that's all. Here," Mr. Carson pressed the box into her hands.
"Oh!" said Mrs. Hughes apologetically. "Thank you but I'm afraid I didn't get you anything. I didn't think we were exchanging presents this year."
"It's quite alright," said Mr. Carson assured her with a smile, "please, open it."
"Alright." Mrs. Hughes carefully peeled away the paper and opened the box. Staring back at her was the gold and silver watch. Mrs. Hughes gaped at him, utterly speechless.
Mr. Carson broke the silence, "do you like it?" he asked quietly.
"It's beautiful Mr. Carson but I couldn't possibly accept this."
"Please Mrs. Hughes, I want you to have it. Besides it's a woman's watch it should be on a woman's wrist."
"Your mothers," she whispered.
"Yes, and now it is yours. Please, I insist."
Mrs. Hughes wasn't sure what to make of it. Clearly the watch was terrible important to him, how could she possibly accept such a priceless family treasure? She regarded him carefully, unsure of how to proceed.
"It is a very fine thing Mr Carson," she said finally.
"And you are a fine woman Mrs Hughes."
His eyes shone with an admiration that Elsie Hughes had never seen before and that was the end of that argument. They looked at each other longingly for a long moment.
"Here," he said gently, helping her fasten it around her wrist. "That's better."
"I'm touched Charles, I really am," said Mr. Hughes.
The use of his first name sent a warm happy feeling through Mr. Carson's chest. Mrs. Hughes reach up and kissed his cheek ever so gently. It was almost innocent but she lingered a moment too long for it really to be considered so. Elsie felt her face flush and she knew she must be a red as anything. She couldn't help herself; he'd been so very kind and thoughtful. Still it really wasn't appropriate and she took a step back in embarrassment
"I…I hope you don't think me too-" Mr. Carson interrupted her apology with a hand on her shoulder.
"Never. Merry Christmas Elsie," Mr. Carson said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.
Mrs. Hughes sunk happily into his arms. "Merry Christmas Charles."