A/N: I had this one on tumblr yesterday but I couldn't get into — oops! Check out tumblr for the manip that goes with it! :)
To Mr. and Mrs. Charles Carson.
That's how the envelope was addressed. It was thick, lovely cream cardstock and the return address was someone from London whose name she didn't recognize. Though the real thrill to her, as she ran the letter opener crisply through the envelope's neat crease, was the idea that she was Mrs. Charles Carson.
Inside the envelope, which was rather large, nearly portrait sized, there were a few smaller envelopes. One of them was addressed to Mr. Charles Carson, and though she thought perhaps she shouldn't peak, the larger envelope had been addressed to them both. She unfolded the stationary, not recognizing, but no less admiring, the pristine script.
Dear Mr. Carson,
It was an absolute pleasure to photograph your wedding ceremony. Enclosed please find a few of the exposures and do let me know which ones you would like me to have framed for you. I can send them to Ripon and you will be able to pick them up in a few weeks. As per our previous arrangement, the cost will be charged to the Earl of Grantham's account with us. I believe we are expecting them for portraits during the coming season, and we will close the account then per His Lordship's initial arrangement with us.
Again, it was a pleasure — your bride was most beautiful.
The letter was signed Alice Hughes*.
Elsie wasn't sure at first if she dared look at the photographs Alice Hughes had included with her letter. It had been at Charles' urging that she'd even agreed to be photographed in her wedding dress. Not only had she felt quite silly posing for such a portrait — she was, after all, not a lady— but to be photographed by one of the most famous portrait photographers in all of England seemed entirely too much. Charles had said, however, that His Lordship had insisted. He'd gone so far as to tease Mr. Carson, "Perhaps Alice is a long lost relative of our Mrs. Hughes — you would be remiss to not take us up on the offer to meet her and have your portraits done." It had been one of several generous wedding presents from the Crawleys. Charles had beamed with pride at the notion that he would have such a portrait of Elsie — even nicer than the one he'd had of his first lass, Alice.
She heard his footfalls in the hall, and before she could get the letter properly stuffed back into its envelope, he appeared behind her at the kitchen table.
"What've you got there?" he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. She knew she couldn't escape him — and he'd be so excited, could she really justify ruining his happiness?
"It looks as though you've a letter from Alice Hughes."
"The portraits!" he said, coming round her to sit down at the table. He bypassed Alice's letter entirely and instead went straight for the envelope containing the proofs. She hadn't even time to open her mouth to form some kind of justification for however she looked, before his eyes had lit up and his jaw gone perfectly slack.
"I hope they turned out alright, Charles." Elsie said quietly, "I'm hardly photogenic and forced formality never makes it any easier —"
Without looking up from the photograph, he reached over and placed his hand gently on hers atop the table to silence her. Very slowly, he turned the picture he held toward her. She watched his eyes and in them saw pure joy. He almost looked as though he might begin to cry from elation.
"They're marvelous," he said quietly, "Absolutely marvelous."
She reached out and took the photograph from his hands, lifting it closer to her face. If for a moment, looking at it, she had forgotten her age then the squinting required of her to make out the detail served a gentle reminder.
"You're pleased, then?" she asked quietly, smiling inspite of herself. She didn't look horrific, of that she was certain.
"I'm overjoyed," he said, lifting another from the envelope, "When we go up to the big house this afternoon we will have to show them to His Lordship. I'm sure he's always impressed with Alice's work but these are stunning."
"I look like a proper lady, don't I?" she giggled, biting the nail of her thumb. How strange it was! Was she really that woman in the photo? Maybe she had been for a moment in time …
"Perfectly regal." he said, his eyes glued to the next photograph in the lot.
Elsie sighed, sliding the portrait back to him. "We must make sure Mrs. Patmore doesn't see them." she said, rising from the table to put a kettle on.
"Why ever not?" Charles said, a bit hurt.
Shaking her head lightly, she looked over her shoulder at him, "If she saw me posing like that she'd start insisting I eat upstairs."
