The first in a series of tumblr prompts, from the list recently on my blog ( csota). Separate from my other prompt fic because these won't be exclusively Chelsie (although this one is, and most will be). Please let me know what you think! Not beta'd; just for fun. xxx
CSotA
It was the fourth dreary day in a row, raw and chilly as November turned to December. The rain appeared to be coming down in sheets, windswept and beating against the windows and doors of Downton Abbey. The hilltop location of the building did nothing to ward off the wind and rain, and an uncomfortable dampness had begun to seep into the walls, something which was currently adding to the irritability of its inhabitants.
Elsie Carson sighed as she glanced at the window, and a flash of light was shortly followed by a far-off rumble of thunder. She and Charlie had been fortunate to have missed the worst of it when they walked from the cottage this morning, but she feared they'd be stuck at the Abbey this evening if things didn't improve. It was kind of her Ladyship to have offered them the opportunity, but Elsie was not particularly looking forward to spending a night in a small bed that would be located several rooms away from her husband's comfortable, loving embrace. They'd spent quite enough years sleeping like that, after all.
A small rap on the door pulled her from her unhappy musings and made her smile, and as she swiveled in her chair she called out a gentle, "Come in."
She rose as Sybbie passed through the door, a forlorn expression on the young girl's face.
"Mrs. Hughes," she said quietly, "I'm bored." Sybbie promptly plopped herself in the chair normally occupied by Charles, and Elsie smiled at her.
"I'm sure you are, dear." Elsie took her own seat at the other side of the small table, turning so that she could face the girl. Sybbie's legs were swinging to and fro beneath the seat, an outward symbol of what was clearly the girl's pent-up energy. "Four days is a very long time to be cooped up indoors, with no chance to get out and play with Nanny."
"It is," Sybbie nodded. Her sage tone reminded Elsie so much of Lady Sybil that the housekeeper's heart clenched painfully.
"Do you know what your mother and I used to do when she was not much older than you and she was cooped up in the Abbey because of the rain?"
Sybbie's eyes grew wide with wonder. "No," she whispered. "Tell me, please."
Elsie smiled, and Sybbie could see affection in her expression.
"We played hide and seek," she declared, and Sybbie's eyes grew even wider.
"You didn't!"
"We did," Elsie insisted with a nod. "Just in the downstairs rooms, mind you. And not in the kitchen, else Mrs. Patmore might become startled or bump into us with a pot fresh off the fire."
Sybbie shuddered. "Not in the kitchen," she repeated. "A good idea." She was quiet for a moment, considering. "May we play now, Mrs. Hughes? Do you have time? I know you're very busy."
Elsie glanced at the clock, mentally reviewed her rather empty schedule for this particular afternoon, and chuckled at the girl's barely-contained excitement. "Certainly. Why don't you run up and tell Nanny? I presume the others are asleep?"
Sybbie nodded.
"Alright, then. I'll wait for you here and alert the other staff to our plans. I wouldn't want any of them giving away my hiding spot to you!"
She watched as Sybbie retreated gleefully in order to deliver the message, and then popped her head into the servants' hall and mentioned their little game to Mr. Barrow. No one else seemed to be around at the moment, which Elsie felt was just as well.
The sound of Sybbie's light footsteps coming back down the stairs alerted her to the girl's return, and Elsie bent down slightly in order to whisper. "All set, then?"
"All set! You count first, and I'll hide!"
"Be sure to be quiet as a mouse," Elsie advised, covering her eyes.
"Like a cat," Sybbie replied. "Mice squeak, and I love cats."
Elsie shifted her hands for a moment and looked at the girl. "I do, too. We had them when I was young and growing up on a farm."
"Do you and Mr. Carson have a cat?" Sybbie's forehead scrunched up, and Elsie chuckled.
"No," she answered softly. "Mr. Carson isn't quite as fond of them as I am. I keep telling him I'll bring one home one day, but of course I would never do that without his agreement."
Sybbie pondered that for a moment. "Because he might be angry?"
"He might. But it's not kind to surprise someone with something they'll likely not appreciate. Better to discuss big things, like the caring of a pet, and agree on them first," she explained patiently.
"Papa does that," Sybbie said. "When we decided to come back to England, we made the decision together!"
"Precisely," Elsie replied, covering her eyes. "Now, sneak off like a kitten, dear, before I reach thirty. One, two, three …"
Sybbie scampered off, and Elsie tried to block her ears from hearing anything in order to make it a bit more of a game.
She found the girl tucked underneath the small podium in the servants' hall. Elsie subsequently hid behind a drapery in her own office, followed by Sybbie in the boot room, and then Elsie crouched beside the piano.
"One more, I think, Miss Sybbie," Elsie said, mindful of the clock.
"Alright. I know just the spot!"
Elsie counted, hearing Sybbie's retreating steps.
"Daring girl," Mr. Barrow quipped, and Elsie's eyebrows rose in reply.
"You're not supposed to give hints, Mr. Barrow," she said with a smirk, and immediately headed to her husband's pantry.
Two steps from the door, however, a small crash emitted from her destination. Elsie rushed through the door, noting at once that Charles still hadn't returned from upstairs … and that Sybbie had something clutched in her hands and a terrified look on her face.
"Oh, dear," Elsie murmured, approaching the girl slowly. "What's happened?"
"I think I broke it," Sybbie whispered tearfully, and Elsie watched as a single, large tear fell from the girl's long lashes.
"Are you hurt?" Elsie reached out tentatively, brushing the tear from Sybbie's cheek and glancing down to examine what the girl held in her grasp as Sybbie informed her that she, herself, was uninjured.
In Sybbie's hand was a silver cup, likely one Charles had been intending to polish upon returning to his office. She handed it to Elsie, who examined it and noted a small dent in the side. It was barely noticeable, but she knew it would be blatantly obvious to her astute husband.
"It's not broken," the housekeeper declared.
"Mr. Carson will shout at me," Sybbie whispered, and Elsie crouched down and drew the girl into her arms.
"He will not shout at you, petal. I promise you that." She rubbed Sybbie's back as the girl let a few small, soft sobs escape before gathering herself together once again.
Poise and grace, Elsie thought, yet still such a small child.
She heard Charlie's footfalls before either of them saw him and met his eyes with her own immediately as he passed through the door, a silent communication between them so that he'd not frighten Sybbie even further.
"Oh, no," he said, his voice rumbling but quite soft, and Elsie winked at him in appreciation. "What have we here?" He saw Elsie move and added inquisitively, "And what's that behind your back?"
Elsie paused, considering how to phrase it. What she didn't expect was Sybbie to take the cup from her hand and then turn and stand up ramrod straight, tilting her head back to meet Charlie's gaze.
"I broke your cup," she announced bravely, holding it out to him. "I couldn't find a spot to hide, and I was rushing and bumped it off of your desk. I'm so very sorry."
Charles pursed his lips as he took the cup from her. He turned it over, examining it as Sybbie watched, enthralled at how the size of it seemed to shrink in his much larger hands.
Elsie watched her husband's face as he brushed his finger over the surface of the dent and frowned … and a lump formed in her throat as she realized what he was about to say.
"Miss Sybbie, there is no need for you to be sorry," Charles told her, his voice soothing to the girl's ears. He motioned to the chair by the fireplace. Sybbie sat dutifully, her hands clasped tightly on her lap as Charles took the seat across from her. He held the cup out and tapped the edge of the dent. "This, I'm certain, was my fault, and not yours."
Elsie closed her eyes briefly, knowing she'd been correct; when she opened them, Charles glanced up at her and she could see the pain hidden behind the expression he was currently maintaining for Sybbie. She tilted her head, encouraging him.
"You see, Miss Sybbie," Charles said, turning his attention back to her, "my hands aren't as steady as they used to be. A sign of old age, I'm afraid. I was polishing the silver the other day and this one slipped from my grasp and fell to the floor. That's what caused this little dent, you see. And the cup was on my desk today to remind me that it needs to be brought into town for a bit of repair."
"Ohh," Sybbie replied softly. Her gaze traveled down to his hands, which were showing no sign of trembling at that moment. "So it was an accident?"
"It was. But not yours."
"Will Donk be cross with you?" She looked back up at Charles's face, concerned, and he smiled sweetly at her.
"Probably not," he replied. "After all, accidents do happen, and I've not had one like this in many years."
Elsie watched as the girl processed this information. Sybbie surprised her by hopping down from the chair, placing her small hand on Charles's broad shoulder, and giving him a kiss on the cheek.
"I'm sorry about your hand, Mr. Carson," she whispered. "But I am glad you're not cross with me and Mrs. Hughes."
Charles was taken aback. "Why would I be cross with Mrs. Hughes?"
"Well," Sybbie reasoned, "you didn't seem happy that she had something hidden behind her back."
Charles threw his head back and laughed. "Oh! That … Yes, well, you see, Miss Sybbie," he began, rising from the chair and smiling lovingly at his wife, his eyebrows raised, "I was afraid she might have been about to surprise me with something quite different than a silver cup."
"Like what?" Sybbie asked, intrigued.
Charles bent down and whispered in her ear, making her giggle. "Like a kitten!"
"Oh, Mr. Carson," Sybbie laughed, "she'd never do that!"
Charles looked at Elsie, bemused. "I'm not sure about that," he replied.
"I am," Sybbie insisted. "Mrs. Hughes loves you very much, and she'll discuss bringing a kitten home with you before she actually does it."
Elsie looked down at the floor, her face pink as she felt her husband's gaze boring into her.
"I think I've been caught out," she murmured.
"It would appear so," he agreed.
Sybbie bade them goodbye and scampered back upstairs, her need for frivolity filled for the time being. Upon seeing her safely to the stairs, Charles returned to his pantry and closed the door softly behind himself. When he turned, his arms were instantly full of a rather emotional housekeeper.
"That was very brave of you, Charlie," she said, her voice thick. She brushed at his lapel, then grasped his shoulder and kissed him firmly on the lips. "You didn't need to tell her why you dropped it, you know."
"I do know." He leaned down and kissed her once more, then again, drawing back before it could become something decidedly inappropriate for their current locale. "But it's alright. And whilst I have you here, I've somewhat of a surprise for you."
"Oh?"
Charles cleared his throat. "The weather shows no sign of letting up," he began, "which led to a rather uncomfortable, yet beneficial, conversation with his Lordship."
Elsie's eyes widened, but she remained silent.
"Evidently, you're to prepare one of the unused rooms in the east wing for us tonight," he said, and he smiled at the look that passed over her face: complete, utter shock.
"What?"
Charles was nodding. "He insisted. Said it wouldn't be right to force newlyweds apart so soon after their wedding."
Elsie's face turned scarlet. "That's his wife's idea," she said.
"Perhaps." Charles reached to open the door, moving aside so that Elsie could pass by. As she did, she trailed her fingertips across his belly before looking both ways to ensure no one was nearby.
"We've no pajamas, Charlie," she commented with a smirk.
"Well, then," he said, clearing his throat and trying to maintain his composure, "I suppose you'll have to choose the location of that room very, very carefully."
"Indeed I will."
The prompt for this selection was a request from Hogwarts Duo and tumblr's downtonabbeyandausten - "What's that behind your back?" I hope I've done it justice. x
