Stepping into the room with their tea tray, Elsie smiled to herself as she noticed how Mr. Carson appeared to be passing time this evening. They had only been married a few weeks, their cottage still not quite familiar, the quiet still not something they knew how to face. Setting the tray down on the small table between them, she settled into the chair — her chair, so it seemed — and sighed pleasantly.
"I bet that's the last thing you ever thought you'd be polishing." she smiled, reaching for the tea pot. "Have a go at mine when you're done."
He smiled, not looking up from his handiwork. "If I know you, Mrs. Hughes—and I think perhaps I do — yours is likely still as pristine as the day it was wrought."
"Aye, but it could be even more so if you'd give it a bit of attention." she said as she poured their tea, "You've a knack for making things even more beautiful that they at first appear to be."
At this, he paused, looking up at her. "That's quite a laurel, Mrs. Hughes. I'm not sure I can claim any such alchemical abilities."
"I think perhaps you're more of an alchemist than you realize." she said, "And I don't just mean when it comes to polishing silver or decanting merlot."
He set his wedding band down carefully on the end table and moved to take his teacup, "And what is it that you suppose I've successfully transmuted?"
She bit her lip, stroking the rim of her tea cup. "Me," she said quietly, bashfully averting her eyes. For a moment neither of them spoke, but she heard his teacup clink as he set it back down upon the saucer.
"How so?"
She sighed, "I don't just mean to say by marrying me but — so long as I've known you, Mr. Carson —" she did look up then, she wanted to see him, even if her face was flushed she didn't mind so much — she just wanted to look him in the eye, "—I told you once, many years ago, that you are a man of integrity and honor who rose the tone of Downton by being a part of it. And I meant every word. You're also a very, dearly kind man. A man who is loyal, thoughtful and cares tenderly." she sighed, lifting her tea "And through that, Mr. Carson, you've had an affect on me — knowing you has made me a better person."
He swooned at the way her mouth rolled over the word person, like a purr over the 'r'— it made him want to gather her up into his arms, that lilt. The weight of what she had said to him sunk in and he was at a loss for words in reply.
"I hope I've not embarrassed you," she said, her breath hitching. "I don't want you think now that we're married I've gone soft."
He smirked, "No, no — you've not embarrassed me in the least. I'm . . .well, I'm rather touched, Mrs. Hughes. And I'm afraid that it may sound as though I am a parrot, but I could quite easily say the same about you."
She smiled over the rim of her teacup, "Go on."
"You have. In so many ways, Mrs. Hughes, you have—" he laughed a bit, "—polished me, or perhaps, ridden me of a certain edginess."
"Ach, so you're the one who marriage'll soften." she said, leaning back into the chair. It was such a joy to not have to always hold herself so upright.
"Not soften as if to weaken," he said, holding up a finger, "rather, a subtle but much welcomed transmutation of substance — more . . ." he searched for the word a moment, sipping his tea, "malleable."
"Malleable," she repeated, setting her teacup down on the tea tray. "Well, Mr. Carson, I can't say that's ever a word I thought I'd hear you use to describe yourself."
"In knowing you, Mrs. Hughes, I have acquired a great deal more self-knowledge."
She grinned knowingly, "O, wad some Power the giftie gie us / To see oursels as others see us!"
"I'm not up on my Robert Burns, Mrs. Hughes — which poem is that from?"
"To a Louse."
"To a Louse. . ." he smiled, "To see ourselves as others see us."
He met her gaze and held it a moment, then shook his head, reaching for his wedding band and polishing cloth once again. "You don't see my polishing as a foolish man's unwillingness to relinquish his grip on his old life?"
She shook her head slowly, "No, Mr. Carson. Polishing silver is a good man's failing."
He chuckled at her teasing, then lifted the ring into the firelight, watching it sparkle.
"I think it's shining more than it did the day we were married."
He shook his head, slipping the ring back onto his finger. "Impossible. Nothing could have glimmered more than it did that day."
She smiled at him. He stood and came over to her chair, leaning down to kiss her softly atop her head. Then, he reached down to retrieve another log to toss onto the fire. Next to her, it crackled and burned brightly — but never so bright as the love that had long smoldered, but now was set ablaze within her for him.