1923
"But Elsie," At sixty-nine years old, Charles Edward Carson is a more relaxed man. A head full of silver locks, an errant curl that occasionally springs forward, gentle hazel eyes and a softer tone now that he has retired from being butler at the Abbey, Charles knows when he should not ask again but he cannot help herself. He has always had overpowering sweet tooth. And today the cottage smells of warm butter, flour, and sugar. He watches Elsie, as he has hundreds of times before, slowly, agonizingly, take the delicious shortbread biscuits from a plate, and place them into a tin that will rest upon the kitchen counter. It is the same tin that she has always put the biscuits in but it no longer has to be placed away from hungry little hands; Charles knows better. Or at least he should. His eyes follow her every movement. A pitiful expression passes across the butler's face. It isn't right. He just wants one more biscuit. One more. "Elsie, what will one more hurt," he reasons.
Elsie dusts her hands across her apron then clasps them in front of her. It is the posture she assumed with insubordinate housemaids when she was housekeeper at the Abbey, with Grace as she was growing up, and with impertinent butlers. "Charles Carson, Dr. MacKenzie has told you to mind your sweet tooth and I mean to see that you do. Why don't you settle by the fire and rest for a bit." Charles does as he is told but not before theatrically giving an overly dramatic shrug of his great and broad shoulders and an expressive pout. Elsie shakes her head and smiles. A flair for the dramatic, she thinks to herself. Just like his daughter.
"Mmmm," Grace hums as she reaches into the tin for a biscuit before getting a gentle slap across the hand from her mother.
"And no more for you either," she admonishes her. At twenty-one, Grace Carson has matured into a lovely young woman. A schoolteacher at the village school. Her mother's quick wit and her father's exacting standards make her good at what she does. The compassion that she shows to her students mark her out as a favorite. Elsie gives her daughter a hug, asks about her plans for the community dance, the young man that she is going with. They chat easily. Mother and daughter, friends. Elsie turns to retrieve the lid for the tin while Grace natters on about, Harry, the local boy she is walking out with. Elsie takes an extra, deliberate moment looking for the tin's cover. Grace's tone never wavers as she quickly reaches into the tin and takes two biscuits. She easily hides them in her hand; she has done this before and each time she thinks that her mum doesn't notice. Elsie, well aware of what she's done, says nothing and sends her on his way to join her father in the sitting room. He is always interested in hearing about his daughter's day.
Charles has settled into his well-worn leather chair and Grace settles herself onto the arm of it. He wraps an arm around her, his big hand, soft and gently patting her leg reassuringly. This is their pattern. Father and daughter. "What's this?" Grace asks as she places a sweet kiss to his forehead.
"Nothing, Grace," he lies. But Grace knows that today is shortbread biscuit day and she has heard Elsie deny Charles another biscuit. She feels sorry for him because she, too, had been denied. Her mum's shortbread biscuits are very good and what would it hurt for her dad (and her) to have just one more biscuit before bed? Grace knows that her mum did not see her pinch, no, not pinch, acquire, the two cookies. She had learned some of her father's magic tricks when she was little. To amuse her, she and Elsie became his audience. Grace remembers all of the tricks, the techniques, and that has allowed her to practice a little sleight of hand. Her mother has never caught her out the other times she has done this so their secret is safe.
Grace opens her hand to reveal two shortbread biscuits. She sees a smile tug at her dad's lips. The lopsided smile that causes she and her mother to melt. "She didn't see you?" he asks as he takes one of the biscuits from and hungrily lifts it to his mouth.
"Now mind the crumbs Dad, mustn't give us away," Grace admonishes gently as she bites into her own biscuit. Father and daughter hum in contentment. As they enjoy their contraband biscuits, they are completely unaware of the presence in the doorway of the sitting room. She always stands there. She always catches them. But they never see her. And she lets them have their secret.
With her arms folded and leaning against the doorframe, Elsie Carson is smiling. "Incorrigible," she says softly with a gentle laugh as she makes to return to the kitchen.
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