A/N I've added an epilogue to 'Training Wheels' because of a request from Nicki2094. Her suggestion was such a lovely idea and it was a lot of fun to write. Does it count as an epilogue if it's half again as long as the entire story?
Epilogue: July 1902
"You have your half day tomorrow, do you not, Mrs. Hughes?" He stood in her parlor doorway.
"I do, Mr. Carson." She looked up from her desk. "Please, come in." He obeyed.
"Only I have just remembered that I never properly repaid you."
"Repaid me?" That could mean any number of things, she thought. "For what?"
"For conspiring against me with the young ladies." He remained standing, his posture very correct.
"It was more than my job was worth to deny them." She returned her eyes to her work, prepared to ignore him if he was honestly going to try to make an issue of her following instructions from the family. Even the whim of young Lady Sybil outweighed any order she received from Mr. Carson and well he knew it.
"A likely story. I think you rather enjoyed abetting them." He accused.
This startled her into looking back up at him. "Am I not to enjoy my job, Mr. Carson?"
Damn, she had him there. "I hope very much that you do enjoy your work here, Mrs. Hughes. It is just that I was of the opinion that you were on my side."
"I am on your side, Mr. Carson. If I may be so bold, I think you enjoyed your time with the young ladies more than you'll admit." She smiled when he tried to look indignant. But he did not attempt to refute her statement. "And for their part, they think you hung the moon." She added to soften the blow. She returned to her work.
"And on such authority, how can you say that I did not?" By the sound of his voice, she could picture the twinkle in his eye. My, he was in a jovial mood. Whatever could he have planned for tomorrow? Elsie did not dare look up at him at such a moment. She knew she would be lost.
"Did I say that you did not?" His immediate silence told her that she had won. She knew she was flirting, not just with him, but with disaster, but she could not resist teasing back.
They'd adopted this teasing manner with each other in the short time since she'd been elevated to housekeeper. This arrangement seemed to work between them, but sometimes they danced dangerously close to the line of propriety.
They were both career driven individuals. She felt safe with him because she knew that he had no romantic intentions towards her. She suspected his ease with her stemmed from the same source. And yet, she could not name another person whose company she enjoyed more and there were moments when she found she could not give a tinker's cuss about her career.
After a few more moments, he was able to reply. "Flattery will not help you escape justice, Mrs. Hughes."
Now she did look up at him. "I have no intention of avoiding the consequences of my actions, Mr. Carson."
"I am glad to hear it. You are to meet me in the courtyard tomorrow after tea to face those consequences." He must have realized how harsh that sounded and retracted a little. "That is, unless you had particular plans for your half day, in which case, the matter can wait."
"I shall be there, Mr. Carson." She said with the proper amount of gravitas. He nodded with equal sobriety and turned to leave. "How this house operates under such tyranny, I will never know." She said it under her breath, but very much intended for him to hear it. The small hitch in his step as he passed through the doorway told her that he had. Smiling, she returned to her bookkeeping, but it was several minutes before she could remember what she had been doing.
CE—
Their words had been rather too flirtatious, she realized as she dressed the next morning. She needed to tread carefully this afternoon. The weather had woken up very fine today. The air was warm and summer was truly upon them. Perhaps it was the balmy weather that was making her so bold.
What should I wear today? She wondered. She was looking forward to her half day more now than she had been. Her plan had been to take a book into town and perhaps read on a bench, weather permitting. Now, she was to be treated to an afternoon outside the house with Mr. Carson. She settled on something sensible, but wore one of her daintier brooches; the one that had a hint of blue in the stone that people said accented her eyes. With this little nod to vanity, she descended to breakfast.
Elsie completed her abbreviated day's work in record time. In fact, she had time to run up to her room and retouch her hair before she was needed to serve Her Ladyship's tea.
Elsie waited for Mrs. Patmore to plate the tea cake. Mrs. Cobb had retired just over a month ago. The kitchen belonged to Mrs. Patmore now, though Elsie retained the key to the larder. Mrs. Patmore was still grumbling about it, but Elsie was sure she'd get over the disappointment eventually.
Elsie heard a knock at the backdoor. Roger opened it, spoke briefly with someone and returned to knock on Mr. Carson's door. A few moments later, Mr. Carson followed Roger out of the pantry, straightening his vest by pulling at the bottom of it as he was wont to do. He headed up the stairs at a pace more brisk than usual. Silently, Elsie hoped whatever was afoot would not interfere with their afternoon plans.
Just then, the drawing room bell rang. Her Ladyship was ready for her tea. Elsie smiled; that bell meant she was that much closer to her rendezvous with Mr. Carson.
Nearing the drawing room, Elsie saw that Miss O'Brien was just about to enter the room as well. Her Ladyship's maid was carrying a shawl. Elsie found it funny that these great houses required fires and shawls even on a beautiful summer day. It smacked of an inefficiency that offended her. "Could you hold the door, please, Miss O'Brien?"
The other woman rolled her eyes as though Elsie had asked her for nothing short of her first born child, but she did wait before opening the door, so Elsie let the matter go. No use scolding the ladies' maid for such a little thing when there were sure to be plenty of greater offenses over which to fight. If she scolded Miss O'Brien for every sour look, Elsie would likely lose her voice.
Elsie was about to say 'thank you', when O'Brien stopped suddenly in the doorway. "Oh, excuse me, My Lady." She made to leave the room and block Mrs. Hughes' entrance as well.
"No!" It was Mr. Carson's voice that called from the room. "Please, Miss O'Brien, I need your help."
Hearing that he needed help, Elsie pushed past O'Brien and was greeted with a sight she would never have imagined. Charles Carson was holding a flushed and flustered Cora Crawley in his arms. If it had been a photograph, the scene could have been the placard for a risqué French play or movie.
"Please fetch the smelling salts, Mrs. Hughes. Her Ladyship has fainted."
I'd faint too, if you were holding me like that. She thought as she set the tea tray aside. She knew there were smelling salts in the library. None of the Crawley women were prone to fainting spells, but smelling salts were kept handy in several of the rooms for guests and out of habit from the days of the Dowager Countess, whose friends were prone to such spells.
She returned quickly. Carson had managed to move Lady Grantham to the chaise lounge. He knelt protectively beside her and was trying to get her to take some water. Elsie noticed how desperately the lady clung to Carson's hand for comfort. O'Brien was standing sourly by, watching the scene with her keen eyes. The shawl hung limply forgotten in her hands.
Elsie saw the relief in his face as she entered the room. "Thank goodness. Thank you, Mrs. Hughes."
Elsie uncorked the bottle and waved it a short distance from Lady Grantham's nose. The younger woman grimaced and drew back, but her eyes seemed to clear and she looked around her with less confusion.
She turned to the butler and grabbed both his hands adamantly. "Oh, Carson. Did I imagine it? He is finally coming home?"
"Yes, My Lady. The wire is very clear about that." His eyes led Elsie to a small yellow scrap of paper that had fallen to the floor. She retrieved it and handed it to Her Ladyship, who only released her grip on Carson long enough to receive the paper.
"But, Carson, he's been injured; and at the very end. The war has been over for months. We have been hoping to hear of his return and instead we hear that he is injured? "
"But not seriously, My Lady; just enough to delay his journey." Lady Grantham looked up into the butler's steady and concerned gaze. Her breathing evened out and she even managed a small smile. "Are you feeling better now, My Lady? Should you like some tea?"
"Thank you, Carson. I believe I am better, but I feel that I need something stronger than tea at the moment." She slowly released Carson's hands and composed herself. At a motion, O'Brien stepped forward to drape the shawl over Lady Grantham's shoulders. Carson rose from his position next to her and was once more the proper butler, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
"What is it you wish, My Lady? I could offer gin, claret, sherry, whiskey…"
"Gin. A gin and soda would go down a treat, Mr. Carson." The colloquialism was the only sign that she was not quite recovered.
"Very good, My Lady. I shall ask Mrs. Hughes to remain with you until I return. I am not at all sure you are fully recovered." Elsie nodded her assent.
"Thank you, Carson, that is not necessary, but it is greatly appreciated. That is only if you do not have some other duties which require you, Mrs. Hughes."
"I do not, My Lady." Just a beautiful summer day to spend with a certain butler…
"I shall be back shortly."
During this exchange, Miss O'Brien wore an expression that could be directly translated as 'And I suppose I don't count?'
The look Mr. Carson gave her on his way out was easily interpreted as, 'As far as I am concerned? No, you do not.'
He was true to his word and returned quickly with the gin and soda. Indeed, he returned so quickly, Elsie was stunned. How was it that Carson moved so rapidly about the house and never seemed out of breath? Sometimes, Elsie suspected that he had his own hidden network of doors and stairs.
Finally, Her Ladyship had been settled and Mr. Carson felt secure in leaving her with Miss O'Brien. He was very sorry that the afternoon with Mrs. Hughes had begun so inauspiciously, but he was determined that they would not allow the poor beginning to mar the rest of the afternoon.
As the butler and housekeeper descended the stairs, she commented, "I was not expecting such excitement at tea. Miss O'Brien will have a story to tell, to be sure."
"What do you mean?"
"Only that she is not one to let the truth get in the way of a scandalous tidbit."
"What was scandalous about tea? The gin? Her Ladyship is entitled to a drink in the afternoon on occasion."
"Of course she is, but in Miss O'Brien's story, the salient point will be the proximity of the butler to the Lady of the house."
Carson bristled at the accusation. "Was I to let her fall to the floor? She had fainted just before you came in, else I should have rung."
"I'm not judging you, Mr. Carson, only warning you that Miss O'Brien is likely to cast some aspersions your way, based on what she saw."
"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. I shall keep an eye out for that." They reached the bottom of the stairs. "Would you like to continue with our plans, Mrs. Hughes, or postpone them for another day?"
"My mother would say, 'There's no time like the present.'"
"Very good. I shall meet you in ten minutes?"
"Ten minutes, Mr. Carson."
TBC...VERY SOON...