Chapter 13

Mrs. Patmore was a keen observer of Mr. Carson and had learned, better than anyone in the household, how to interpret his moods and prepare accordingly. However, lately, he was much harder for her to read, his actions and thoughts seemingly hidden to her behind a thin veil that she could never quite breach. It didn't unnerve her, especially since he had mellowed somewhat with the arrival of Mrs. Hughes. But, since breakfast, he had been pacing the hallway just outside of her kitchen and the tapping of his shoes on the stone floor and the frequent sighing were starting to test her patience.

"You'll wear a trench in the hallway if you make one more pass by this kitchen door," she practically yelled at him. "If you need something, you'd do better to ask than to loiter in the hallways, setting a bad example for the lads."

He was surprised at her impertinence but did not offer a rebuttal; he merely stepped into her kitchen, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. His mind was troubled, and he had no one in whom he would truly confide. He wasn't even sure he wanted to share his thoughts with Mrs. Patmore, but at least she was a welcomed distraction from his rambling musings.

"Daisy, go and fetch the eggs and butter from the meat safe … and, for once, don't be quick about it!"

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore," she said, scurrying away, thankful for the break from her mundane work and for the chance to get outside for some fresh air.

When they were both certain Daisy was well on her way, Mrs. Patmore turned to Mr. Carson and pointed her wooden spoon firmly at him. "Out with it! What's got you so worked up? You could've walked to Thirsk and back with the amount of steps you've taken in this hallway since breakfast!"

"I'm merely making sure that everything is running smoothly, Mrs. Patmore. The lads need to be reminded that I'm back on my feet again and that they are expected to keep up with the daily tasks I've assigned them."

"Oh yes! And we all know that Mrs. Hughes let the standards of this household slip into the depths of despair while you were upstairs with that nasty flu," she countered sarcastically. "You and I both know that she took over the running of this house seamlessly, and there were no problems. She was so vigilant, she even managed to retain control over the blasted cupboard key," the cook grumbled.

"I meant no disrespect to Mrs. Hughes, I assure you. I'm sure everyone did their part and for that, I'm grateful."

"Then, what's all that rubbish about keeping the footmen on their toes? You know they have more than enough to keep them busy. And if there was any doubt, just remember that Mrs. Hughes has some of them helping her maids with some of the cleaning that they can't do … the higher things involving ladders and such."

"Yes, I know. She consulted with me before enlisting their help. She wanted to make certain it wouldn't be an issue."

He paused and reflected for a moment on that quiet conversation in his pantry. She had been incredibly polite, explaining the precarious nature of some of the areas her maids needed to clean and the state of the uneven ladders. She had asked for his assistance rather than just presuming to dictate the duties of his footmen. He appreciated that consideration, and just the memory of it put a small smile on his face. Mrs. Bute would simply have given his footmen new orders and dealt with the consequences later.

"Something amusing you, Mr. Carson?" Mrs. Patmore's voice broke through the memory causing him to sputter a bit, flustered at having been caught thinking about the housekeeper. "If I didn't know better …"

"Well, you do, so that's an end to that line of thinking, Mrs. Patmore." He tugged on the end of his waistcoat and cleared his throat. "I was merely wondering … well, not so much wondering as pondering … "

"Mr. Carson! Daisy will be back sooner rather than later, so if you have something you need to say, I suggest you get to the heart of it before Christmas."

He lowered his eyebrows and pursed his lips, making him look more disgruntled than he was in truth. "Mrs. Hughes took excellent care of me when I was ill, above and beyond her duties here as housekeeper. I have been trying to think of something kind to do in return as a sort of thank you. But every time I think of something, it smacks of impropriety, of overstepping the boundaries of butler and housekeeper. So, I'm left at a bit of a loose end, as it were."

She dried her hands on the dish towel and tossed it to the table, placing her hands firmly on either side of a large mixing bowl and leaning over as much as she could. The last thing she wanted was for someone to overhear her words and misconstrue them into something more that would set the household on its end.

"Mr. Carson, all women need someone to show a bit of interest every now and then, preferably in a manner that's not entirely proper." She watched with amusement as his eyes widened and his cheeks reddened, but before he could chastise her, she continued. "And knowing you as I do, I will say that I'm sure anything you think of will be most respectful, and if I may be so bold, very much appreciated by Mrs. Hughes. You know, she wouldn't let anyone else take care of you while you were sick. She said it fell upon her shoulders as housekeeper to oversee the well-being of everyone in the household, but I think it was more than that. She was genuinely concerned for you."

"She is my colleague, Mrs. Patmore. I'm sure she would have done the same for anyone else in the house."

"Ah, but you're mistaken. There were several in this house who were sick. She checked on them, yes, but delegated their care to others. Yours … that was an entirely different matter." She sighed and picked up the spoon, stirring the batter once more as she waited for Daisy to return with the eggs. "Still, I'm sure whatever you decide to do will be much appreciated. She doesn't ask for much around here, you know."

He was just about to ask one more question when Daisy returned, gently cradling a dozen eggs in her apron and carrying the butter tray. "Here you are, Mrs. Patmore. Awfully cold outside, but the sky is so blue," she rattled on as Charles slipped quietly from the kitchen and back to his pantry, shutting the door softly but firmly behind him. He had much to think about before lunch.

Sitting at his desk, Charles pulled a sheet of paper from the drawer and uncapped his favorite pen. Lists. He always started a large task by making a list of everything that it would entail, then organizing the rest of the details accordingly. His dilemma on a suitable way to thank Mrs. Hughes would be no exception. He was sure that by putting pen to paper and getting the jumbled thoughts from his head, he would be able to think clearly, come up with some subtle way of thanking her for her kindness. But, he was so lost in his own list making that he barely heard the knock on his pantry door.

"Mr. Carson? Are you all right?" Elsie eased open the door, fearful that she might find him slumped over his desk, having suffered a relapse of his illness.

"Quite well," he said abruptly as he quickly shifted a blank sheet of paper over the list he'd been making. "Why do you ask?"

"It's tea time, and we are all waiting on you. If you're busy, I will simply inform the staff, and I'll bring something in for you later."

He waived his hands and rose from his chair. "Not necessary, Mrs. Hughes. I was merely engrossed in some important paperwork and lost track of time. Thank you for coming to find me. I would hate to set a bad example for the younger staff."

"I'm sure they'd never think that," she countered sweetly. "Oh, and I am returning this," she said softly, handing him back to the copy of the tales of King Arthur and his knights. "I finished it last night and meant to return it after breakfast but I was busy with the maids in the upstairs rooms."

"You only just borrowed it," he said in disbelief. "Have you truly finished it already?"

She slowly nodded her head. "It's a very good story, and I enjoyed it very much. If I may be so bold to ask … if you have other books you think I might enjoy, I would greatly appreciate the loan of them. Reading is something of an interest of mine. I used to visit the bookshop back at the village nearly every day. I think the owner was the only one who might have understood my need for books and learning."

He rounded the corner of his desk and stretched out his arm in invitation for her to lead the way out of his office. "Then, I dare say, he was a very lucky man, Mrs. Hughes." He offered her a small smile as they joined the rest of the others for lunch where all thoughts of grand gestures and plans faded away leaving only one at the forefront of his mind … the library.

As soon as everyone had finished the meal, Charles excused himself and made his way through the corridors and doorways, not stopping until he'd reached the East Wing. He walked swiftly past all of the non-library spaces, pushing aside recollections of the family laughing at a party, of music streaming from this room or that, a light, tinkling laugh or a sharp barb from the Queen Mother. This section of the house was attached to so many memories, many of which only highlighted everything that was missing from the home he held so dear, and so Charles tried very hard to focus on the two reasons he was here: the library and Mrs. Hughes.

The great oak door creaked loudly, something he'd meant to take care of the last time he was in the library and simply forgotten. That had been before he'd fallen ill, though, so a great many things had happened since then to keep his mind occupied. Still, he would see that the hinges were oiled. Pulling a small bit of paper from his pocket along with a pen, he began to make notes on things that needed seeing to before he would be able to proceed with his plan.

After an hour of surveying the library with a very critical eye, he felt relatively confident that the room could be ready in a few days, given that he would divert his footmen from other jobs to this one which now seemed the most important in the household.

If the housekeeper suspected anything out of the ordinary with the work being done by the footmen, she never mentioned it. Occasionally, and without her knowledge, Anna and a few of the other maids would be enlisted to help, especially with the dusting and plumping up the pillows or airing out the room. Charles devoted every spare minute to overseeing the project, wanting it to be absolutely pristine when the time came for him to share his work.

Finally, that day came, though not without a great deal of trepidation on his part. He secretly worried that Mrs. Hughes would not take kindly to the gesture, or that it might give the wrong impression to others in the household … or that she might be cross with him for giving her charges extra work. But Mrs. Patmore had reassured him more than once that the housekeeper wouldn't be any of those things. In fact, the cook was confident that the grand gesture would go a long way towards firming up their friendship and would be a truly kind token of appreciation on his part for the care that Mrs. Hughes had shown him. But it was his last request that had started the cook speechless. Never, in all her years of knowing him, would she have guessed that he might ask a personal favor from her. And yet, here she was, silently preparing something special on his behalf.

A swift knock on Elsie's sitting room door drew her attention away from her ledgers. She'd heard his familiar footsteps stop just outside of her door, but that had been several minutes ago. She'd wondered if, perhaps, she had imagined it, but apparently not given the man was standing in her doorway.

"Might I come in, Mrs. Hughes? If you're busy, of course, I can come back."

"Nonsense, Mr. Carson. I was merely going over the ledgers and trying to make some sense out of all of the numbers. I was hoping you might be able to better explain Mrs. Bute's system since some of this makes no logical sense at all."

He chuckled at that. "Yes, she did have her own way of doing things, I'll admit. I will do my best to answer any questions you may have, though I cannot claim to be an expert in her books. We rarely conferred on those things or compared notes. It might be best if you simply started your own."

She nodded. "I may just do that, if you've no objections. It would make it easier for me to keep track of everything and would certainly simplify a great many details."

"You should feel free to do what you feel is best, Mrs. Hughes. You've more than proven you are highly capable of the running of this house and the estate. We, every one of us under this roof, owe you a great debt … myself included."

She blushed a little at his compliment. "Nonsense, Mr. Carson. I am no better than anyone else. I'm doing my job and trying to do it well. That's all."

He tugged nervously on his waist coat and smoothed the pocket down on his left side before clenching his hand into a fist. "Yes, well, your efforts have not gone unappreciated, I assure you. In fact, that is one reason why I am here."

"Yes?" Her curiosity was now piqued, especially given how unsettled Mr. Carson seemed to be. It was very unlike him.

"You see, you have helped me tremendously, both professionally and personally, when I was ill. I would like to repay that kindness by inviting you to dinner this evening."

She shook her head and smiled. "We eat all of our meals together, Mr. Carson. I had planned on being at dinner this evening, as well." She couldn't fathom why he felt the need to personally invite her to a meal that they shared every single night, along with all of the rest of the staff.

"No, you misunderstand me. I am, in my own awkward way, I suppose, trying to invite you to dine with me, just me, this evening. I thought, if you'd be agreeable, we might use the upstairs dining room. It would allow us an opportunity to discuss a great many things … work, books, more about your life in the village," he said, his mouth feeling dry and in desperate need of a glass of water.

Elsie's eyes grew wide, and she instinctively drew her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it slightly before answering. "I would be honored to join you, Mr. Carson. I appreciate the invitation. What time shall I be ready, and where shall I meet you?"

His heart leapt into his throat at his good fortune. "Why don't I meet you here around seven? That should give Mrs. Patmore time to complete the meal preparations for the rest of the staff. I'll be responsible for serving our dinner, unless you would prefer …"

"No, that would be lovely, Mr. Carson. I look forward to our dinner this evening, the pleasant company, and the wonderful conversation."

Unaccustomed to flattery, Mr. Carson cleared his throat and nodded. "I shall see you soon, then," he said before seeking solace in the quiet of his own pantry to gather his thoughts.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a slim chance that his housekeeper could bring order and meaning to more than just the household.

For the remainder of the afternoon, Mrs. Hughes tried to focus on her work but had difficulty concentrating. When Mrs. Patmore brought a cup of tea and a few biscuits in to share, she was grateful for the reprieve from her thoughts.

"So, you said yes to him, then?" The cook wasted no time broaching the subject that was on both of their minds. "He asked me to prepare something nice for your dinner, but I'll admit, the man was more than a little nervous to ask you."

"For heavens sake, why? Granted, it's unusual for us to eat separately, but it will do us some good to be able to have a lengthy conversation about household matters without worrying we'll be interrupted. Goodness knows that happens enough already. It's a miracle he was able to issue the invitation without someone barging in and needing something."

Mrs. Patmore clasped her hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles. "You can't be serious! Do you think that wasn't planned, as well? He had me standing in the kitchen doorway in case someone did try to interrupt. He thought of everything, Mrs. Hughes, down to the very last detail. He's not one to do things by halves. Surely, you've recognized that trait in him by now."

"Oh, I have, Mrs. Patmore. I just never assumed it would apply to something affecting me," she admitted, her voice soft and her eyes clearly showing her surprise. "So, you've been in on this from the beginning then, this … dinner?"

"Not the very beginning, no. He asked me about preparing something nice. I agreed. He asked me to have it ready at a certain time, and that was that. I may have known him longer, but I dare say you already know him better. Just please, do me one favor."

"I will if I'm able. What are you asking?"

She took a long sip of her tea and gently placed the cup back on the saucer before standing. She picked up her teacup and saucer and made for the door before giving her answer. "Give him a chance. He may stumble through things from time to time, but his heart is in the right place. If something doesn't go well this evening, please try to remember that, above all, he planned all of this for you." She nodded, as if to solidify her statement, then returned to the kitchen, leaving a confused Elsie in her wake.

Promptly at seven, Charles knocked upon Elsie's sitting room door. She jumped at the sound, her nerves slightly on edge after her talk with Mrs. Patmore, but she took a deep breath to calm them before answering the door.

"Right on time, I see, Mr. Carson. Give me a moment to turn off the light, and then we can go." She switched off the desk lamp and joined him in the doorway. "Lead the way."

"Allow me to accompany you to dinner, Mrs. Hughes," he said, extending his elbow, grateful when she accepted the invitation without any hesitation. He nodded proudly to Mrs. Patmore as they passed the entryway to the kitchen before starting up the winding staircases towards the main dining room.

At first, he had been at war with himself about taking such a liberty as using the family's dining room. If they were still here, he would never dream of sitting down at the magnificent table, partaking of a meal, or even entertaining someone else. However, Elsie had done a great many things to improve everyone's lives at Downton Abbey and if ever there was an occasion to break with tradition, this would surely be one of them.

Charles opened the doorway leading into the great dining room and bowed his head. "Dinner is served, milady," he said in a deep voice which held a bit of tenderness within it. He guided her to a chair at the end of the table, helping her to take her seat.

The first thing Elsie noticed was that they were not using the dishes and utensils she'd grown accustomed to seeing on the table in the servants' hall. This, she surmised, must be some of the china and silverware that belonged to the Crawley family. Candles were lit in the glimmering candelabras adorning the table and several surfaces around the room and the chandelier sparkled overhead as if it was made of crystals and diamonds. It was easy to see that the butler had taken great care in planning this meal, and she could easily hear Mrs. Patmore's kind words of advice ringing in her ears.

"This all looks very lovely, Mr. Carson. I'm truly honored that you invited me to dinner this evening." She watched with great curiosity as he poured them a healthy measure of wine and began serving their first course.

At first, the conversation was a bit stilted, neither of them quite sure which topics to touch upon, which ones to leave for another day. But it was Charles who managed to turn the conversation around when he asked about the housekeeper's favorite books. From that moment forward, there was never a lull in the light banter between the two, never once touching upon household matters or any of the occupants downstairs.

"Would you care for dessert now, Mrs. Hughes, or shall we wait a bit? I'm assured by Mrs. Patmore that it will keep, so no worries on that score."

She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin and placed it beside her plate. "I'm rather stuffed at the moment, if it's not too impolite of me to say. If you are agreeable, I'd like to wait on the dessert course."

"I don't mind at all. In fact, that will be perfect, as I have a little surprise for you."

"A surprise? Goodness, Mr. Carson, I would have thought dinner in this magnificent room, and the food itself would have been surprise enough." She gave a grateful smile and dared to reach out and lay her hand upon his arm briefly before remembering herself and her position in this house.

"If you'll be so kind as to follow me, I'll show you." He walked behind her chair and held it for her as she gracefully stood. "This way, if you please." He led her out into the Great Hall and to a set of doors she had yet to enter. In fact, there were many rooms on this floor she hadn't explored, though perhaps after tonight, she might get the opportunity. He reached for the doorknob but before he opened the doors, he asked her to trust him and "close your eyes." She gave him a curious look, one that held a certain amount of mischief in her eyes, and did as he asked. He waived his hand in front of her eyes to make sure she wasn't peeking, then he opened the door and leaned down close to her ear. "Trust me," he said softly as his large hands landed on her shoulders and he guided her into the room.

Following his instructions about no peeking and standing perfectly still, she listened intently as he moved about the door. Based on the shadows playing across her closed eyelids, she assumed he was switching on lamps around the room, and given the lengths of his footsteps, she could also discern that the room was larger than most, if not all, she had already seen. Finally, she heard him approaching and she felt her heart begin to race in her chest, both with excitement and anticipation.

"You may open them," he instructed with a tender voice. He took a step back and watched all of the emotions and expressions play out on her face.

Slowly, she opened her eyes but was completely unprepared for the sight that greeted her. It was a massive room, much larger than any she'd ever seen in her lifetime. Two large, plush sofas covered in red velvet were placed near an enormous fireplace facing each other, a writing desk was placed near the windows which stretched almost from the floor to the ceiling and were adorned with the most exquisite draperies. But all of that paled in comparison to what truly captured her attention and imagination.

"The library," she gasped, looking around in wonderment. Hundreds, if not thousands, of books lined shelf after shelf after shelf. She stepped into the center of the room and slowly spun around, drinking in the true splendor of the room illuminated by dozens of lamps, a roaring fire, and the evening light spilling in through the windows. "Mr. Carson, it's truly amazing," she said softly, her voice breaking with emotion. "So many books," she said as a tear of happiness escaped her eye and rolled slowly down her cheek.

"I had hoped you'd appreciate this room," he answered, trying not to be overcome with emotion in response to her own. "I had help in getting the room ready, but the idea was mine. It's something I wanted to share with you, knowing that we share a love and appreciation for books."

She turned and looked at him, her blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears but their depths leaving nothing hidden. "You mean I will be granted access to all of these, to read at my leisure as my time permits?"

"Permission requested and granted, Mrs. Hughes. Every book in this library is now at your disposal. I only have one small request."

She walked over to one of the shelves and reverently touched the many volumes lining it, taking in the titles and authors, cataloging them to her memory. "And what might that be," she asked, carefully removing a well-worn copy of the complete works of Shakespeare and clutching it to her chest.

His lips curved into a small grin, not surprised at all by her first choice of reading materials. "I only ask that whenever you take a book, you lodge an entry into this ledger." He guided her to the corner of the room where a large book was kept. His name was the only one listed on both of the opened pages, causing her to briefly wonder if anyone else in the household was granted this privilege. She traced her name across the empty line beneath his last entry before reaching for the pen and looking back to him for reassurance. With a nod of his head, she carefully wrote her name, Mrs. Elsie Hughes, Housekeeper, before turning to grant Mr. Carson the broadest smile.

"When you return the book, simply make a mark here, in this column, as I've done in the past. Even when the family was here, they abided by the same rules, from the Queen Mother to the youngest of their children."

He rarely spoke of the family, but when he did, there were always so many emotions laced through his voice, and tonight was no exception.

"I give you my word, Mr. Carson, I shall adhere to the rules and treat each and every volume as if it were my very own. I cannot thank you enough for your generosity. You've made me so very happy, and I doubt I could ever truly repay you."

"No thanks are needed, Mrs. Hughes. I hope, if it's not too presumptuous, that we might find time on occasion, to discuss our current readings, find similar likes and dislikes among the pages of these books, if you will."

"I should like that very much, very much indeed. And we can start with Shakespeare," she suggested, tapping the cover of the book held tenderly in her hand. She glanced around the room once more, still in absolute awe. "Have you read all of these books?"

"Good heavens, no," he said, sounding a little more gruff than he'd intended. Then, without even batting an eye, he eased away the harshness in his voice and replaced it with something more. "Some of them are in Greek," he teased before they both burst into heartfelt laughter, the likes of which had not been heard in the halls of Downton Abbey for years.

A/N: And there you have it … they are growing closer and closer, one book at a time. Chelsiesouloftheabbey and I greatly appreciate your reviews, love, and enthusiasm for the story. And we want to say a special thanks to DameofDownstairs for her awesome artwork (seen on Tumblr and as the cover art for ffnet). And in the spirit of the holiday here in the USA, we want to say that we are THANKFUL FOR YOU!