Before the first light of morning, Cora was awakened by a soft hand upon her cheek.
"Mama," a little whisper came, "It's Christmas!"
Blinking awake, she saw Mary kneeling next to the bed, her eyes bright and her face lighting up the room with Christmas joy. Edith was sitting behind her wearing an identical grin. Cora pulled her hand out from beneath the warmth of the comforters and stroked the backside of her hand along Mary's face.
"So it is," she yawned. "Go sit with Edith by the fire and have your stocking."
The girls clamored over one another, squealing in delight, stockings clutched tight to their chests. By the firelight, they began to paw through them eaglerly. Cora rolled over, sliding her foot across the warm sheets to find Robert's. He was still sound asleep, snoring lightly.
"Darling," she whispered, kissing his cheek, "The girls are awake."
He groaned, but a small smile crept across his face. Eyes fluttering open, he stretched, reaching a hand up to cup her face. She grasped it, bringing to her lips. "Happy Christmas."
He yawned, pushing himself up right. Looking past her, he chuckled at Mary and Edith, whose holiday glee was already fully spun — and the sun hadn't even risen up over the horizon yet.
"Happy Christmas, darling." He said, throwing the covers back. He padded across the floor, the cool wood giving him a slight chill, and he joined the girls by the fireplace- eager to warm up. Sitting down between them, he responded enthusiastically as they showed him the trinkets pulled from their respectively stockings.
Cora sighed, gently peeling the covers back on herself, gently slid out of bed and reached for her dressing gown. Pulling it tightly around her, to stave off the cold, she tiptoed over to Sybil's bassinet. The baby, too, was already awake, her tiny fists punching the air. She cooed when she saw Cora.
"Happy Christmas, my beauty." she whispered, reaching down to slide her hands beneath Sybil's blanket. Scooping her up into her arms, she held the baby tightly to her bosom. Rocking her gently as she crossed the room, she slowly lowered herself down into the chair next to the fireplace. As sybil nestled in the crook of her arm, she reached over to turn up the gaslamp, then began to unbutton her nightgown, all in one swift motion. As she settled the baby to her breast, she saw Robert gazing up at her from his spot on the floor. She smiled at him, letting her eyes flutter closed, content. Sybil happily sucking away at her breast, the crackling of the fire, her girls laughter and the feeling of Robert's hand coming to rest on her knee warmed her from the inside out.
"Ellie, stop it or I'll clobber ye!" Glenna yells, spinning around to face Elsie, her wild auburn locks curling from the wet air. Elsie blinks snowflakes from her eyelashes and giggles, her voice rising up into the treetops.
"You're all bum and parsley!" she teases, grabbing at her younger sister's scarf. The girls twirl around in the dark. All around them the world is dark and quiet, and if they hush they can almost hear the sound of snow crackling against the ground.
Off in the distance — from the other side of the valley—they hear it. The church bell calling out midnight. As the chimes carry through all of Argyll, the two girls take off toward home, across the length of their farm, above them the stars twinkling. As she huffs, trying to fill her lungs with enough air to get her home before her sister, Elsie sees her breath freeze almost in midair; a puff-cloud of crystals. Glenna's just a step ahead of her, she's smaller and therefore faster, and Elsie reaches out, lunging at her, grabbing her scarf and pulling Glenna back. She missteps and they both topple into the snow, the powder wafting up as they land softly.
"I'll tell Da!" Glenna cries, scrambling from her elder sister's playful grasp. Elsie leaps up, racing to get ahead of her.
"Don't be a wee clipe!" she says without looking back. She can hear nothing but her own breath and their footfalls crunching through the snow — she can see the light of their home in the distance.
If she stays steady, she'll win.
She startled awake; her entire body twitching as though she'd fallen. Dreaming of Argyll, of racing her sister to be the harbinger of good luck for her family. Lying in bed, at Downton, she still felt winded — as though she were still running. Forever trying to be that good little farm girl.
She dressed quickly, dutifully checking the looking glass to be sure her hair was tidy before she step out into the kitchen. Half expecting to find Mrs. Patmore there, still hard at work, she startled a bit startled to see the kitchen empty-all but for Mr. Carson.
He looked up from the slab of toast he was buttering and smiled at her. She couldn't help but smile back — she'd never seen Mr. Carson so relaxed before. Perhaps he'd had a hot toddy before bed last night to be festive.
"Happy Christmas, Miss Hughes."
"Happy Christmas, Mr. Carson" she said, sitting down at the table, "Awfully quiet in here this morning."
"Poor Mrs. Patmore worked straight through," he said, reaching for the pot of jam, "The younger maids have already gone up. They're eager to be there when the young ladies come down for their presents."
"Her Ladyship hasn't rung for me?" Elsie said warily, almost asking, afraid perhaps she'd missed some Downton Christmas custom. Carson crunched his toast with a reassuring shake of his head.
"It'll be a while yet for us," he said, sinking his teeth into the thick slice of bread. When he'd finished chewing, he reached for his tea, "The girls are having their stockings, then they will all have their breakfast. In the mean time, why don't you have yours?"
He nudged a teacup and saucer toward her and she nodded graciously. Pouring herself a cup, she eyed the kitchen counters.
"Do you suppose there are any biscuits around?" she said, blowing gently on her tea, the steam wafting up and warming her lips.
"In the mood for something more festive than toast, Miss Hughes?"
"I wouldn't mind a biscuit. Wouldn't you like to start today off on a sweet note?"
Carson held his teacup against his lips, which curled into a smile as he gazed at her from across the table, "I believe I already am, Miss Hughes."
A/N: For those of you who keep mentioning mistletoe . . . don't worry, I heard you! ;) Also, Rosamund appears next chapters and you'll probably all murder me when you find out my (apparent) headcanon for her / Marmaduke.