A Wednesday in May 1937
She finally roused herself off of the old loveseat as the sun crested the horizon. She'd tossed and turned, not merely due to lack of comfort, but to the addition of excitement.
Today was the day.
The trip to Lytham St. Annes.
She dressed and readied herself with the backdrop of the world awakening. Birdsong filtered in through the windows, along with the bright yellow light of late spring.
Charlie was everywhere, it seemed, today. She really could feel his presence, in this, their home.
She made herself some toast and a pot of tea, ate it standing at the counter. She couldn't, didn't want to sit, and anticipated the requirement of doing so on the train. She'd stand, for now. Remain in motion. She went over to the cork board that was crammed with notes, ticket stubs, old photos, postcards and the other ephemera of life. Her hand drifted from picture postcard to a list of sums to an old photograph curled with age. She knew already that, after today, there would be something else to add to this, a loose account of her life with her husband.
"The acquisition of memories, my dear," she said out loud, and wiped the blasted tears away. She knew they'd stop, eventually, but made peace with the fact that they'd show up at any time, for a long while.
She was ready to go, to get started on this adventure, but there was still time. The traveling party would meet at the train station in a few hours. But she was restless. After she cleaned up her simple breakfast, she prowled the small house, fussing with things that didn't require fussing. Thankfully, she was saved from further madness by a knock at the door.
Before she could properly respond to it, Beryl bustled in, dressed for traveling to the seaside. "Did you sleep a'tall last night?" Her friend greeted her, grabbing her by the shoulders and looking closely at her face.
"A wee bit," she replied. "No mind, I'll drift off on the train."
"How you'll manage that, with a train car filled to the brim with yammering children, is beyond me," Beryl poured herself some tea, slurped it down. "Alright, then, let's walk into the village, clear our heads. I'll buy you a proper breakfast at the inn."
She waited whilst Elsie grabbed her spring coat and a hat, and they set off in the mild chill of the morning. Elsie knew it would burn off once the sun was high in the air. She loved this time of year, and the memories it brought, even this year, even today.
"Will Daisy be joining us?"
"Indeed she will, though she did admit to me, while the menfolk were outside, that she was feeling more tired with this baby than the last two. I says to her – as if I know anything a'tall about it, but never mind that – she's not as young as she was with Polly and Liam, and there was a bit o' a gap, since the last. Her body's just not used to it, any more," Beryl grinned at her as they walked. William, Daisy and Andy's youngest, was nearly six years old, his sister Polly, eight.
"A bit of a surprise, this little one." Beryl concluded.
"A happy surprise, I hope," Elsie responded.
"Oh, to be certain, in our house, children are always a happy occurrence, though they seem to always be underfoot, even with just the two of 'em," Beryl grinned, softening her words.
"Beryl," she stopped for a moment. They were on the outskirts of the village now, and they both nodded at folks passing by on their way to their jobs, or early-morning errands. "Might I ask you something?"
"Well, you'll have to be more specific if yeh expect an answer."
"If – if I were to take you and Albert up on your kind offer to move in with you all, at the farm, could I feed the chickens?"
"Oh, ho, aren't yeh funny early in t'mornin'."
"I mean it. If ye were serious – I mean it. Would ye have me?"
Beryl paused mid-eye roll. "Yeh mean it? Of course we'd have yeh, not a one of us likes the idea of you knockin' around that cottage all by yer lonesome." Her friend's eyes were filling with tears.
"Now ye must stop that, immediately. There'll be enough crying all day, I'm afraid, and if we begin in earnest now, we'll never be fit for whatever's awaiting us in Lytham St Annes," Elsie chided, wiping her own cheeks dry. She was lucky, she was, to have so many people to love in her life, even if the person she loved most was gone.
"You talk it over with Albert, and Daisy and Andy, but I do mean it. Really. I do need…I need a bit more time on my own in the cottage. As a sort of…goodbye…to Charlie. And to Downton, truth be told. Thomas Barrow and I are looking for my replacement, as we speak," she said, "So, you see, I'll be at your disposal by summer, before that surprise bairn of Daisy's makes his or her entrance into the world."
"And the chickens?"
"Oh, I meant that. I like chickens, I do. Remember, I was a farm girl, in another century, long ago. I know of chickens," she shrugged, laughed.
"You're a bit mad, aren't you?"
"A bit," Elsie agreed. "And I'm buying you breakfast. Don't argue with a mad woman, you'll only lose."
"You'll fit right in at the farm, I'll tell you."
"Then it's settled. From housekeeper at Downton to chicken keeper at Yew Tree."
"Let's go eat. I think we'll both need more than toast and tea to get through this day," Beryl shook her head, linked her arm with Elsie's, and they headed to breakfast.
oooOOOooo
The crowd on the train platform erupted into pure jubilation when they spotted the two women heading towards them. All of the children broke free from the group of adults, pelting towards them like a pile of young hunting dogs catching a whiff of a fresh scent, calling out to the pair of them, one on top of the other. George and Sybil laughed, followed the younger ones at a more sedate pace. His lordship, Lady Mary, Anna, Thomas and Daisy stood in an amused clump, shaking their heads.
"Em, Em, Mum says I can't stand on the train seats, but then I wonder how I'll ever see everything, you must have a word with her," Liam was shouting his request to Beryl before he'd even stopped moving. Her crashed into her skirt, already tugging at it.
"Well, she's certainly right, yeh'll not be standing on any seats if I've anything to do with it, and yeh'll behave proper-like, as his lordship's accompanying us and –"
"That's just as I said, Em, but he'd not listen to me, nor Mum, no matter what we told him. I said to him, I said, the train moves so fast you'll not see much but a blur, in any case, that's what I said to him, Em, Aunt Elsie, but he'd not listen, not a bit!" Polly looked between the two women for assistance, tugging one of her braids, but Elsie just grinned at Beryl and pulled the girl into a one-armed hug.
"It does move quickly, Polly, but perhaps you'll all be able to see some of the scenery, in any case," Elsie assured the girl, then glanced over at Liam with a half grin. "Without standing on any of the seats, of course."
"Aunt Elsie, Mama and Donk say you have no idea what Foggie planned, and I told them, that's not possible, Mama, Donk, I know for certain how sharp Aunt Elsie is, she doesn't miss a trick, she even noticed when I kept taking extra petit fours at Christmastime, which I know was fine, it's Christmas, I said to them –" Reggie Talbot, nearly eleven, dark and lean like his parents, was seeking Elsie's confirmation that of course she knew what was going on, then the reason he even called her "Aunt Elsie" and not "Mrs. Hughes", as would be proper, spoke up.
"Reggie," Vivi Talbot began, so softly that her brother stopped talking so he could actually hear her. "Foggie intended for this trip to be a complete surprise, so he kept it such. This has nothing to do with Aunt Elsie's being sharp." She smiled up at Elsie, who wrapped her other arm around the girl. There was a solemnness about her today that the other children were free of. Elsie knew how much she missed Charlie, who had doted endlessly on her.
At nearly nine, she was as poised as her mother had been at the same age, but softer, dreamy, almost. Elsie would often call her Miss Peasblossom, with a sideways glance and grin at Charlie. Vivi was a true fairy child, there was no doubt about that. And by dint of being her godfather, and no longer fully employed at Downton by the time she was born, the child had skipped calling him anything but Foggie. And it was impossible to be "Mrs. Hughes" to the child who called your husband Foggie. And…if one Talbot child called them Foggie and Aunt Elsie, then why shouldn't both? And so it went…
"Aunt Elsie! Mrs. Mason! I've got a surprise, to get us started!" Will greeted them all with this pronouncement, shepherding his little sister along. He looked endlessly pleased with himself.
"Not the song, Will. Enough with the song," Eliza rolled her eyes at him.
"What fun are you then, Lizzie?" Her brother replied gruffly, and Elsie was about to intervene.
"I think the song is clever, Will," Vivi stepped away from Elsie, put her arm around Eliza. "And, if it's alright with Aunt Elsie, we can sing it for her, one time, at least." She smiled at the boy, and he grinned back. Eliza looked slightly mollified, if only because of Vivi's attention.
"That's a plan, Miss Vivi, I do believe," Will replied, glancing at her admiringly. "And, it's our right, I should think, as Foggie was your godfather, and Aunt Elsie is my godmother."
"Good lord, where is the train?" Beryl muttered, grinned at Elsie.
"Confining them to a train car won't make them any calmer, Mrs. Mason," Sybil noted, as she and George joined them.
"Good Morning, Miss Sybil, Master George," Elsie replied, grinning at them.
"What were we thinking, Mrs. Hughes, I ask you?" George rolled his eyes at the huddle of children, "Come on, you lot, his lordship's getting impatient to say hello to the guest of honor," he began herding them back towards the waiting adults.
"'Guest of honor?'" Reggie asked, as they reached them, his brow crinkling.
"Reg, honestly –"
"Good morning Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore!" Robert Crawley boomed out, greeting both of them with kisses on their cheeks. "We sent the honor guard out for you this morning." He smiled indulgently at the children around him.
"'Pardon me, m'lord, are you meaning Aunt Elsie and Em?" Liam piped up, looking confused.
"Indeed I do, good man Liam, and as Master George was saying, we must remember who the guest of honor is today," and now Robert Crawley's face softened, saddened. Elsie knew how much he had cared for Charlie, esteemed him. Relied on him, for so long.
"This trip, children, was planned by Mr. Carson –"
"Foggie," Vivi said quietly to Will Bates, who shushed her with a grin. Her grandfather raised an eyebrow at her interruption, then continued with a small smile.
"This trip was planned, unbeknownst to any of us, for Mr. and Mrs. Carson's twelfth wedding anniversary. As he, sadly, is no longer with us, we will do well to honor his memory, and the life that he and his wife –"
"Mr. and Mrs. Foggie, more like," George whispered to the children, who went wild.
"George!" Robert, Mary and Sybil chided in unison. Robert looked horrified, until he caught Elsie's gaze, her cheeks wet with tears of mixed emotion, laughing. Mrs. Foggie, indeed. Aye, Charlie, you are here, my dear, even if we cannot see you.
"The song!" Will exclaimed.
"Alright then, William John Bates, give us all you've got," Elsie responded. "The train should be here momentarily." She glanced over at the adults, and added, "Hopefully." Everyone laughed.
"Miss Vivi?" The girl stepped forward and joined him. "Ready?"
She nodded, and they both began singing in earnest:
"Foggie, he would a-wooing go,
Heigh ho! says Rowley,
A frog he would a-wooing go,
Whether Aunt Elsie would let him or no.
With a rowley, powley, gammon, and spinach,
Heigh ho! says Anthony Rowley.
So off he set with his anniversary plans,
Heigh ho! says Rowley,
He was cleverer than most any man,
Set for the seaside, but not to get tan,
With a rowley, powley, gammon, and spinach,
Heigh ho! says Anthony Rowley.
And here we all are, to board the train,
Heigh ho! says Rowley,
To travel, be it sunny, clouds or rain,
Thinking of him, again and again,
With a rowley, powley, gammon, and spinach,
Heigh ho! says Anthony Rowley!"
And as the train pulled into the station, and the applause erupted, she knew it wasn't really for the children, as clever and kind as they were, or for her – it was for Charlie.