Christmas

By Christmas, Anna still hadn't found time to begin her work on the dress. Privacy in and of itself was so difficult. She did not want to bring it down to the servant's hall, displaying her private work to everyone. She could imagine Mr Carson's face if she brought our her own nightdress to begin her embroidery in front of the footmen. And Thomas would sneer, and O'Brien make some comment about how she wouldn't bother with such useless fancy work when nobody would see it.

The only time she had for it was the last ten minutes before tea, when she changed from her day dress into her evening dress, and by then she felt so grubby and her hands so worn that she hated to risk snagging the fabric.

Still, she was in no hurry. The only man she ever dreamed of seeing her wear it was still married to someone else and doing his best to keep his distance from her. Not very successfully mind, so there was still hope. And other than hope, there was nothing but time.

On Christmas Day, the staff gathered over breakfast to exchange gifts. They were small, inexpensive for the most part, tokens of affection between a group who lived in such close quarters as to count one another as family.

She had hoped for a gift from Mr Bates. She had chosen one for him, a worked leather bookmark, something to mark his place in his books without having to turn the corners and damage the paper.

"Thank you Anna, I shall put this to good use," he tucked it into the pages of his current read, smoothing it between the pages.

"And … this is for you. I hope that you like it."

The fragrance was heady, Anna guessed what was in the parcel before she even opened it.

Soap. Not just any soap. Yardley's Lavender, the same that Lady Mary used. The last word in soap. Fresh, clean and so much more inviting than the carbolic soap stocked by the house for use by the servants.

"Oh Mr Bates it's lovely, thank you so much!"

"Well… you deserved something lovely."

Anna's smile deepened, as she wrapped the soap and hurried to take it upstairs so that the smell didn't linger over Christmas luncheon. Stashed in the bottom drawer, Anna smiled to think how the lovely scent would seep into her precious gown.

Later on, when there was a few spare minutes before tea, she washed her hands with it in the privacy of her own room, marvelling at how soft and clean her fingers felt. Pulling the nightgown out of the drawer, she began to stitch the first rose into the waistline.