Chapter Two- Captain Hook

It was less than a week after she'd found him burning salt in the kitchen. The clock in the servant's hall struck midnight as she walked out of her parlor. The light still shone from under his pantry door. Sometimes, Elsie was convinced that he would stay up the whole night pouring over the ledgers if she did not remind him to go to bed. She knocked and stuck her head into his pantry. He was standing by his desk, with his back to her. Wonder of wonders, it looked like he was probably heading up soon himself. "I'll be saying goodnight then, Mr. Carson."

"Yarrr." Came the unconventional answer.

"I beg pardon?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes." He turned to face her. "I believe I clearly said, 'Yarrr!'" He flourished a great hook in front of his face.

She jumped up what felt like a foot and back about the same distance, clutching her hands to her chest. "Good lord!" She exclaimed from the hallway. "What in the blue blazes!?"

He rushed quickly out of his pantry to make sure she was okay. He brought the hook with him, but no longer brandished it. "I am so sorry, Mrs. Hughes. I was working on something else for the story for the children."

"Well, if you want them to sleep at all for the week after, I suggest a different approach." She said testily, though she was very close to laughing.

He looked more than a little disappointed. "Point taken. But how else am I to play Captain Hook?"

"And who is Captain Hook when he's at home?" Her heart rate had returned to normal and she was honestly curious.

"He's a scoundrel and a kidnapper, but mainly, he's a pirate."

"Wouldn't an eye patch be a little less dangerous?" She still did not trust the way he was swinging the hook around as he spoke.

"It would be, but he is not called Captain Eye Patch. He is called Captain Hook. The choice is rather out of my hands."

Her raised eyebrows were his first indication that he's said something funny. When it struck him, he laughed. "No pun intended, Mrs. Hughes, I assure you."

"That is a good thing, Mr. Carson. I was going to have to reevaluate my assessment of you were it intentional."

"We wouldn't want that, Mrs. Hughes," he said. But then a thought hit him. "Assuming your assessment is primarily favorable."

"Primarily." She looked down at the hook in his hand. "It isn't sharp, is it?"

He pressed the point to the palm of his hand and dragged it harmlessly across his skin. "One of the lads from the stables found it for me."

"Well, as long as you don't surprise them with it, I suppose it isn't so frightening. You have my approval, Mr. Carson."

His face brightened at her endorsement. "If you will vouch for me to Miss Randall, it would help me immensely."

Elsie tensed involuntarily at his mention of the new governess. Lady Grantham had finally suggested to Fraulein Kelda that this was not the home for her particular skills. Miss Randall was a marked improvement, but Elsie had taken an instant dislike to the young woman due to the overtly approving way she had of looking at one particular butler. Not that he noticed, Elsie noted with satisfaction. Though, he had been spending a lot of time in the nursery recently. Elsie had assumed it was because he enjoyed spending time with the young ladies Crawley, but she had also wondered if it had anything to do with the new governess. That is none of your business, Elsie Hughes, she reminded herself. "And how would my approval help?"

"She's read the story and says it's too dark for the girls. I am trying to convince her that it is not too frightening; that all fairy tales are dark by nature."

"Many of them are." She agreed. "Why do you suppose that is?"

"Perhaps because it is human nature to want that which is the opposite of what you have. When we are scared, we want to be told tales of comfort. When children feel safest, they enjoy being frightened. But I don't believe Miss Randall agrees."

"But Miss Randall may have a point, Mr. Carson. Pirates and fairies can be unsettling things to consider right before bed, but I'm sure you would never do anything to upset the girls."

"Of course I would not! I've teased the story to them and they are very excited to hear it, even young Sybil."

"It seems you are going to a lot of trouble just to tell them a story." She fished, innocently for his motives. "May I ask what you are reading them? It seems very theatrical."

"It is, in fact, a play, Mrs. Hughes; 'Peter Pan'. Written by one of your brother Scotsman; a Mr. Barrie. Lady Rosamund sent it to the girls and has promised to take them to the new production when they are next in London."

"And, in your professional pride as a storyteller, you do not want to be outdone by the London production?" She could not admit to him that she knew about his history playing in the theatrical halls of England.

"Of course not." He puffed up proudly. "Also, it is serving as an excellent diversion. Before I mentioned the play to them, I believe they were fixated on His Lordship's delayed return. They talked of little else. Now, they only want to ask about when I am going to start the story."

Elsie relaxed a bit. Perhaps he was only going to all this trouble for the girls' sake. "It is taking longer than expected."

Mr. Carson nodded and then stepped back into his pantry, holding the door wider for her. With this economical and casual gesture, he invited her back into his pantry to continue their conversation. She nodded and followed. He continued to speak as he set the hook down and retrieved two small glasses and his personal bottle of port from his desk. "The delay of even a week seems like an eternity to a child and it is approaching four months."

"Miss O'Brien says they wouldn't let him travel right away because of his injuries, but that he should be well enough to travel soon." Elsie shared as she sipped the port. "It seems a shame. The war ended ages ago, it feels."

"He might even be on his way by now, though we've not been told anything."

"I understand Her Ladyship wants to meet the ship at Southampton when he returns."

"Hmm. And she wants to bring the girls." He grunted disapprovingly. The thought seemed to worry him.

"And shouldn't they be there to welcome him back?" She wondered why he objected to the idea, which seemed like a natural thing to her.

"Straight off the boat? I fear he will not be looking his best. He gets seasick even on short voyages. If his injuries keep him below decks in a bunk all the time, it will be worse than usual. I should hate for the young ladies first sight of him in over two years to be of a green-gilled, unshaven stranger. No, it is best if they wait in London. Then he can at least have a half day to make himself presentable."

"You're worried about more than his appearance, Mr. Carson." It was not a question.

"We've exchanged a few letters since he's been gone, about the household and such. And I've helped the young Ladies write to him. His spirits always seem high, but…" How could he explain? "You'll not remember much about him, I assume?"

"I only know what I heard from Lady Rosamund, who absolutely adores him, by the way. What little I saw of him, I remember he was jovial and seemed a good sort. What I know now of his family and household certainly supports that assessment."

"He is a good man, Mrs. Hughes, and usually very cheery. However, he is mindful of his responsibilities and they sometimes weigh him down. After his family, Downton is everything to him."

"As it should be."

"Yes, but, what I mean is, he doesn't really have any other interests." Or friends, for that matter. "He was rather a serious child. His marriage to Lady Crawley did wonders for his disposition, she made him more himself, if that makes any sense."

"I think I know what you mean. And you think he's changed in the years he's been away?"

"No one can be unchanged by war. I am worried that the experiences of war, coupled with being removed from his family, might have made him more brooding than before he left."

"And what has this to do with Lady Crawley and the young Ladies meeting him at the boat?"

Carson scratched his chin absently with the end of the hook, searching for the right phrasing. "His Lordship likes to control his own comings and goings. He does not do well with abrupt transitions. He is uncomfortable with big goodbyes or welcomes, especially when they center around him. I suppose I think we should smooth over the harsh disconnect between a life waging war and a life raising a family. If we can." Mr. Carson took the last sip of his wine.

"Perhaps it's a silly notion, Mrs. Hughes, but I can't help but feel that returning home by facing his family looking anything less than his best would be humiliating to His Lordship."

"I am not sure I agree with you that his appearance matters so much, but it is not a silly notion to want to protect him from any embarrassment."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes." Carson looked down into his empty glass. She set her empty glass on his desk and sighed.

"Thank you for the wine. Good night, Mr. Hook."

"That's Captain Hook, to you." He corrected her sternly, before smiling. "And sleep well, Mrs. Hughes."

"Aye, Captain."

TBC...

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