A/N: Who's ready for one more show before the concert?
Also, I will respond properly to everyone's messages and encouragements when I can. Once again, thank you for any and all reviews, as well as just reading this. It's very, very appreciated.
_._
Thursday, the 25th of April, 2019
"I can't explain, I'm not sure what happened," Elsie was staring at the door in which William left. He'd just finished his rehearsal for the showcase the night evening, but for someone who had grown in confident he seemed to have diminished a great deal over the last week.
And it wasn't just "nerves", like he said.
"I must admit: something does seem wrong." Charles ignored the rolling of her eyes, knowing by now not to take it personally. "Do you think we should ask some of the other students if they've noticed anything?"
"There may be some merit to that," She'd muttered, pondering the matter further. William was certainly not the only one who seemed to be struck by this unusual case of stage fright, though he was one of the clearer cases. "Just be selective about who you ask."
He sent her a look in response: as though he wasn't going to be selective.
Though, knowing Charles, he'd select the wrong person by mistake.
_._
"I wouldn't be that stupid to try to steal the money,"
Ethel perked up at the sound of such scandal, being unable to resist the temptation of eavesdropping ⎯⎯ and certainly not when she was surrounded by the stupid chatter of her fellow peers.
"There's no way Hughes or Carson would even let me get anywhere close to it in the first place,"
It was a girl, that much was clear. It even sounded a bit familiar, even though Ethel couldn't place it with all the other noise in the hallway. And, when she turned in the direction of the sound, she discovered nothing except for that same chatter that bored her to tears in the first place.
Make no mistake: she was rather intrigued by whatever she just listened in on. And if Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson were being mentioned, that meant it had to be related to the choirs….
_._
"Mr. Carson," He's being approached by Beryl Patmore faster than he can say presto and it'd be alarming if not for the fact that Elsie prepared him for this. "I do believe we need to have a conversation,"
He's not interested in letting the public eyes of the school be drawn into this particular conversation, which prompts a calm, "I do believe I am already ahead of you in this conversation,"
She cocked an eyebrow at the speed of moderato, hardly giving more than a quarter note of rest before unceremoniously speeding him off in the direction of the second fourth floor.
"Oh? Do tell!"
It's not a request so much as a command that's somehow both gleeful and wary.
_._
"Do you ever wonder about the people here sometimes?"
Septimus had been enjoying the refreshing breeze of the outside world when Gladys had put this question to him.
"If you mean I wonder about the intelligence of our fellow classmates, I've long since stopped questioning its lack thereof."
She snorted, the sound strangely delightful all things considered.
"Not that," Gladys paused in her thoughts, looking out across the lawn and to the radiant world in front of them. "I mean, you ever think about how there's a big chance we're going to school with a sociopath."
Well, his brain had been nowhere near that line of thought, that's for sure.
"Where'd that come from?" He hoped she wasn't trying to imply anything about his character, not after their years of quirky friendship.
"I'm not really sure," The alto confessed, still staring out. "I just watch people sometimes, and can't help but noticing a few things."
_._
It comes to Elsie as a surprise when she opens her desk drawer to discover there's an envelope addressed to her waiting inside. Even more surprising is what's resting in the envelope: a copy of Ripon's map with certain accessory shops highlighted, and one more piece of paper tucked in the back.
On closer inspection, it turns out what she thought was paper was actually⎯⎯
"It may surprise you to know that I have selected my personal preference for where we ought to take the choirs this summer," He quietly announces his presence, sending goosebumps down her spine in the process. "As well as put together a list of shops I'd like the two of us to investigate relatively soon."
"Have you now?"
Charles nods, as though the conclusion were quite obvious. And truly, it is. She is now holding the picture posted only about a week ago in her hands and there's only one type of women's accessory he'd be thinking of, after all.
But she wants to hear him say the words himself.
"To say I would be honored to travel with you and our students to Chicago is to say that I admire the Concert Choir's efforts from time to time." She chuckled a little as he continued, "And to say that I am interested in our purchasing a ring together is to say
_._
"Edith,"
Lavinia approaches the middle Crawley sister with more than an air of trepidation, hoping that her intended words soothe instead of add to the apparent distress.
"Lavinia? Is everything alright?"
She smiles a bit at this: it only figures that the soprano would think something were wrong with her.
"I just wanted to say, I think you'll be brilliant tomorrow." The younger woman confesses, coaxing a matching smile from her classmate.
"Thank you," It's unexpected enough that Edith genuinely feels a warmth flood her senses.
And though Edna's biting words still coldly echo around her, Lavinia's encouragement brushes some of the reverberation away.
For once, she finds herself agreeing.
_._
Friday, the 26th of April, 2019
"Mrs. Hughes," Rarely did the woman in question receive such an unorthodox ambush on the way to second fourth floor. "If I may borrow you for a moment?"
Unorthodox or not, she couldn't say no to one of her bosses.
"Of course, Mrs. Crawley." Turning to Charles, "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Carson."
He nodded, being quite unable to do anything else as Cora led Elsie away into the administrators' main area. And, after making a few mandatory rounds of greeting ⎯⎯ "Good morning, Mrs. Crawley, how are you today?", "Good morning, Isobel, how are you today?" ⎯⎯ she was finally ushered into Cora's office in which she was given no additional reason as to what she was being called in for.
"Mrs. Hughes," Elsie did still find it to be somewhat endearing that the staff respected what Mr. Carson called her, even if it was a bit irregular. "You may be wondering as to why I called you in today."
"I admit I am a little confused, yes." Normally, she'd say nothing. But, Elsie had soon discovered that Cora was the type of boss who enjoyed reciprocity of all kinds. And therefore, the woman almost always expected and even wanted a response in her conversations. "Though I can only suppose it relates to our showcase today."
The administrator chuckled a little at this, nodding. "It does have something to do with that, yes."
She then proceeded to open a drawer in her desk before meticulously fishing around for something in particular. Elsie patiently waited, still having no real clue of just what on Earth she was doing here. However, seeing as how a lecture wasn't spilling into the room, she was willing to continue waiting.
"Ah, here they are!" It was a triumphant declaration that served to only make the situation more cryptic. But it was the tinkle and jangling of metal caressing metal that had Elsie guessing what Cora had possibly just found. "I knew it was this drawer!"
"Mrs. Crawley?" The woman glanced up, still not revealing her found treasure.
"Please, call me Cora. I insist." Elsie nodded, resolving to humour her employer on this matter ⎯⎯ if only so that the current secret was revealed.
At this assent, the administrator brought the objects in question out into the open:
"These are the keys of Downton Abbey." Gleaming under the sight of natural lighting as well as a lamp, the keys sent an unfamiliar feeling of clarity and warmth towards Elsie. It was as though she'd seen them before, as though she'd had them by her side at some point in life, even though she could never recall seeing them before.
"And, you would like me to bring these to Mr. Carson?" Because, the administrator before her couldn't possibly be trusting her of all people to handle the keys for a place like Downton Abbey.
"Not quite, Mrs. Hughes." Cora smiled, thinking back to the events of the semester even as she continued to speak. "Something tells me that you can be trusted with this privilege."
She barely resisted the urge to gape as Cora held out them out ⎯⎯ not giving her a chance to deny anything or to try to change the situation.
"Now, if I'm not mistaken, you have a class in about forty minutes." Without understanding how, Elsie suddenly found herself in possession of the keys and quickly attaching them to her lanyard along with her own personal ones. There was a new distinction in weight that came with this, but somehow it didn't feel burdensome.
"Indeed I do." But manners had not complete escape her, even if she was still shocked. "Thank you, Mrs.⎯⎯ Cora."
The woman beamed at this, quite pleased with the situation.
"You're welcome, Mrs. Hughes. And may I just say that we're all looking forward to seeing tonight's show!"
Elsie nodded once more, giving her thanks once more even as she began to exit the room. It was only once she departed from the office that a quiet sigh of surprise left her.
"I see she decided to give you the keys of Downton."
Violet Crawley's prim tone shocked her back into attention, somehow making Elsie feel as though she were being lectured by her own teachers. Consequently, she forced herself to remain as collected and reserved in the presence of the matriarch of the Crawley family.
"I told her she should have done so sooner. How else are you and Mr. Carson to fully prepare for this evening's showcase?"
The faint approval dripping from the sharp words registered a few seconds after they were uttered. Luckily, Elsie didn't have to reply.
"Well, I think it was wise to wait until today⎯⎯"
"Of course you would."
"⎯⎯ what if an accident were to befall them?"
As Isobel and Violet began to bicker amongst themselves, Elsie took this as her cue to leave.
As she did so, her latest addition of keys made themselves known. And, so, once she departed from the area, the administrators turned their conversation toward that instead.
"She does wear them well, I suppose." Mrs. Gaunt blandly conceded, still remembering her unpleasant encounter with Mr. Carson the day the fire alarm went off.
"You suppose correctly," Isobel interjected, certainly not in the mood to have anyone speak poorly of the woman. "It were as though they were made for her."
"Instead of for Mr. Carson?" Violet acerbically spoke up, "I do believe his knowledge of Downton makes him far worthier a candidate for that privilege."
"Yes, well, it was my decision to make," Cora had returned from her office, having caught the last of the ongoing discussion. "And I decided that Mrs. Hughes should have this privilege."
Everyone, including Violet Crawley, promptly froze at this.
Everyone, that is, for Isobel Crawley.
"Hear, hear!" She resolutely nodded, "I can't help but agree!"
"Of course you do," Violet muttered, far too regal for an eye-roll at the agreement.
But, before they could continue this argument⎯⎯ discussion, the first bell of the day rang, signalling the end of that conversation.
_._
"I can't wait to perform at Downton tonight!" Rose excitedly spoke, her eyes glowing with happiness as she checked the stats of the choir's Instagram page.
"I certainly can." Mary coolly responded, nearly rolling her eyes at the sight of that page. She, along with the other soloists, had her picture taken in an effort to post it on the page and advertise for tonight's show.
Frankly, it seemed a bit excessive, if you asked her.
"I can as well." Edith muttered nearby, her confidence more than a little shaken.
"But, isn't it exciting?" Sybil asked curiously, "To be performing in one of the places we consider home?"
"That's one way to look at it." Mary dryly remarked, once again the very image of unimpressed.
Granted, there was more than one reason for that feeling of disenchantment. But, she was certainly not going to be saying anything to any of her sisters, let alone Rose.
_._
Charles had listened to her steps for quite some time, having been waiting for the sound ever since she was called away by Mrs. Crawley. And while the click-clack of her heels remained consistent, there was something different about her steps.
He listened more closely than he had in a long time, closing his eyes so as to allow the sound to become clearer. The click of her heels with each step, the sound of her keys as⎯⎯
The keys. That's what was different.
The door closest to him quietly opened, "Mr. Carson?" and his eyes couldn't help but go to the lanyard, inspecting the new additions. These keys were beautiful, certainly older than possibly even this school and crafted so carefully that he couldn't help but think that⎯⎯
"They gave you the keys to Downton."
She smiled, nodding in appreciation of his quickly grasping the situation.
"For today only, mind you."
He nodded, still shocked that Cora had entrusted her after knowing her for only a year and yet bursting with pride that this was the case. Not only was that a great sign of approval from the administrator, Elsie wore them so well ⎯⎯ as though they had always belonged on her person ⎯⎯ he found himself bowled over with admiration.
"Of course," He rose to his feet, having an incredibly strong urge to kiss her and enjoy this moment as much as he possibly could. In fact, with thirty-five minutes left before the Bass Choir was to meander in, now seemed the perfect time to do so. "Makes perfect sense."
"Does it now?"
His response was resolute enough to convince her. So much so that she'd nearly forgotten what she wanted to focus on in the first place.
"Char⎯⎯ Mr. Carson," He couldn't help but give a grin at that, knowing that Elsie's slip indicated how distractingly persuasive he had been. Moreover, to hear her voice sound like that - with every "R" rolling even more than normal - made it even more difficult to resist continuing to persuade her on the matter. "As much as I'd like to continue this discussion, today is the 26th. And I do believe we agreed that we would check the numbers today."
Now he really wished he'd continued in his efforts to persuade. Already, he could see tension creeping back into her shoulders. She wasn't biting her lip yet, but her eyes held a concentrated fire that spoke of sparking concern and crackling nerves.
"We did agree to wait till the day was over, did we not?"
She nodded, "Yes, but I wanted to make sure that was still the case."
Aka, why did we agree to this silly arrangement? And would it be possible to find out now just how much we made?
"I still believe that to be the wisest move on our part, yes." If the numbers were great, that would be fantastic. However, if it did not work out in their favor ⎯⎯ as many parts of life were apt to do ⎯⎯ that would cause a dismal air to befall the choirs and unintentionally possibly ruin the confidence of their soloists.
"And I take it we're still in agreement that it has to be higher than £8,000?" She arched an eyebrow, very much hoping to have surpassed that number, regardless of their agreement.
"Yes."
She nodded once more, silently giving him a moment to change his mind.
When it became clear that Charles was not going to budge on the matter, she recollected herself, uttered a quick "Right. That's that, then.", and proceeded to return back to the preparations of the morning. He followed her lead, returning back to looking over various correspondences and other tasks. But, soon enough, he found himself distracted by the thought of the numbers ⎯⎯ as well as figuring out just what they would be doing this summer.
And, after fifteen minutes of distracted work, he was wondering if this particular agreement ⎯⎯ to wait until after classes would be over ⎯⎯ was a mistake.
_._
"Do you think something's going on with Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes?"
"What d'ya mean?"
"It's just, they seem stressed today. Kind of like they're losing their heads."
"It's gotta be the show tonight, that's probably freaking them out."
"Yeah, I'm sure that's it."
"You mean, you hope that's it…."
"Yeah, pretty much."
_._
What's this I hear about a cappella rehearsal being canceled? - BP
In an effort to help the soloists preserve their voices for tonight, we thought it best for the rehearsal to be canceled. - CC
K. What's this I hear about students feeling like they're walking on eggshells? - BP
Never you mind! - EH
_._
"You don't think we're being too harsh on the students today, do you, Mr. Carson?"
"Not particularly, no, Mrs. Hughes."
"... Why am I not convinced by that?"
She glanced over at him, sighing at the sight of her phone. Beryl had made a good point, perhaps they were being a tad too exacting when it came to their standards of the choirs today.
In any case, they had one last class today in which they could rectify this mistake.
And Elsie was now determined to be far more
_._
There was a wave of "lu"s that crescendo-ed and decrescendo-ed with ease, rippling around the lead and bass part so beautifully as the Treble Choir builds in momentum one final time. This was a piece they'd been working on for ages and one that was at last coming together.
"I'll never let you go,"
It's a firm sentiment, one that only steadily builds even as the choir lowers their dynamic level to a quieter volume.
"I'll never let you go,"
Chords that have slowly been locking into place over the past couple of months are now gorgeously solidified. Overtones swirl above the crowd of young women as they chorus one more. Their teacher, a woman who'd been carrying the burdens of the future for quite some time, couldn't help but sink blissfully into the harmony before her.
"I'll never let,"
Energy crescendoing as the barbershop tag was reaching the stunning, simple climax within the piece. What was once simply four parts of music was now a cohesive sound ⎯⎯ and it truly beginning to show.
"You,"
Sliding through their notes as though they were born to do so, the singers proudly held out their respective chords ⎯⎯ letting the intensity expand once more. Chord upon chord was built, particular harmonies gliding to the forefront of the room and expanding so as to ring through every barrier that dared to constrict it.
"Go."
With a beam of pride mixed with happiness at the sound of such harmony, Elsie gracefully encouraged the choir to finish the tag ⎯⎯ so very, very touched that they were finally beginning to come together as a proper choir. It had taken them many months to reach this level of cohesion, and it was genuinely beginning to pay off in regards to the quality of sound and blending of voices.
And, when ⎯the Treble Choir finished this time, there was only a brief respite of quiet before a resounding applause came from Mr. Carson. Said applause only coaxed a proper grin out of his fellow colleague, delight now blending into the crowd all around. After all, Mr. Carson rarely applauded so resolutely for any rehearsal ⎯ surely, that only proved they did splendidly this time?
Why, yes. Yes, it did.
_._
"Are you excited for the showcase tonight, Violet?"
Really, Isobel should have known better than to ask the woman such a question.
The Mrs. Crawley in question simply primly raised an eyebrow, finding the inquiry to be unnecessarily vulgar in its suggestion.
"I am curious, Isobel, which is a great deal more worthwhile than 'excited'."
Not one to be put out, Isobel chose to redirect her question towards Cora.
"I'm bursting with excitement, if you must know," That Mrs. Crawley confessed with a grin, finding herself looking very much forward to the evening.
"You would be," Violet muttered distastefully, prompting both her conversational companions to resist rolling their eyes at this snobbish display. "Though, I suppose it is a worthy cause to some extent ⎯⎯ supporting the choir's financial endeavours."
She was clearly only thinking of the benefit that such a performance would provide for helping the choirs fundraise and how happy Mr. Carson would be if they raised enough money at this particular event. Obviously, the sight of seeing her granddaughters beautifully sing divine solos had nothing on the faint fondness radiating in her gaze.
…. Yeah, right. Whatever you need to tell yourself, the unspoken thought helpfully supplied itself as Isobel found herself searching for patience.
No matter; no snobbiness of any kind was going to get in her way of enjoying what was only a few hours away.
_._
"Well?" Charles stood by her desk, unable to remain quiet any longer. Though he'd been the one to suggest refraining from checking the numbers until this point in time, now he found himself quite incapable of practicing any hint of patience. "Is it or isn't it?"
Elsie remained silent, her eyes still fixed on the screen even as she registered the numbers before her. She methodically double-checked the numbers, not wanting to chance her misreading the total sum at a time like this.
But, there it was, clear as day:
£8,625.44
"It is." It was a whisper, one that hardly believed the facts before her. She then turned in her chair, beginning to properly register what was going to happen next. "Mr. Car⎯⎯ Charles, it's enough!"
He sharply released a breath of air, his hands craving to play with his jacket as he felt rather surreal himself. Months of preparation, a great deal of time spent contemplating this matter as well as planning their fundraising efforts, and they had now enough to finally, officially move forward. No more wondering as to whether or not it would be possible ⎯⎯ even if they still had £2,000 pounds to raise to keep it free for interested students, it was far more manageable now - this was becoming a part of reality.
She swiftly stood up, unwilling to contain her excitement as she eagerly embraced him ⎯⎯ boldly kissing him in an attempt to convey her feelings. The students should be long gone by now, so surely they could indulge in this harmless moment of achievement and ecstasy. He responded in turn by deepening the kiss before briefly spinning her around the main space of the classroom, so very very delighted to have finally fulfilled this promise. Tinkling sounds of laughter and happiness escaped the couple as they basked in their combined accomplishment.
And, after another minute or two of realizing the blissful reality right around the corner, he dared to break the happy silence.
"To Chicago it is?"
For it was the Windy City they were officially aiming for. This was the town she'd fallen in love with and one that he'd never had the pleasure of seeing.
"To Chicago, it is."
_._
"Mrs. Patmore?" William had one question for Mrs. Hughes, just one about the showcase this evening. Though, much to his surprise, the band director was standing right outside 402 and unapologetically blocking the entrance he was closest to.
"William?" She spoke just above a whisper, wondering what brought him here.
"I was looking for Mrs. Hughes." He matched her level of volume, unsure of why they were even talking at the dynamic level of sotto voce. And what brought her here of all places. "I have a question for her and⎯⎯"
"Well that will just have to wait till later," Beryl firmly, quietly spoke as she started ushering him back towards the stairwell.
"Were you waiting for them as well?" He can't help but whisper in response, still deeply curious about her being here. However, she was already open the door to the stairs for him, shooing him out with ease.
After all, having almost walked in on her friends while they were in the middle of their "discussion" ⎯⎯ a discussion she had been waiting to occur for months, mind ⎯⎯ she was hardly going to let them be interrupted by a student. She'd known all about their agreement to wait until now to finally make a decision, and she also knew that their current actions indicated that the fundraising had been an all-around success.
And if Elsie felt scandalized by the interrogation she would be receiving later, Beryl'd be reminding her dear friend that one doesn't go kissing one's coworkers in front of a classroom door that allows just anyone to look in.
Especially if one wants to keep said kiss a secret.
_._
As with most things in life, celebrations were often interrupted by obligation.
And, even if obligations didn't swipe aside happy times, there were other surprises that were quite willing to do so.
_._
"What do you mean, I'm to sing last?"
The fact that there wasn't a single "Mrs. Hughes" in that question only served to inform the choir teacher that her pupil was more than a little shocked by this decision.
"Exactly that, Mary." Truly, she'd thought the soprano would have adored the fact that she was finishing off the show. Yet, it looked more like the young woman was more nervous about the concept than anything else.
"But, surely, Jimmy or someone else could finish the show,"
This was truly a bizarre situation. Here she, Elsie Hughes, was consoling the nerves of one Mary Crawley. A growing soprano who had always seemed so certain of her talent, a soloist who had been working at improving herself probably since she was six years old, if not earlier.
"Mr. Carson and I have already decided and printed out the programs," Although she started with a tone that brook no argument, Elsie eased up a bit ⎯⎯ noticing Mary's growing at the sound of Charles's name. She now had a good guess as to part of the reason why the young woman was so visibly distressed. "So, there's no going back now."
It shouldn't have been possible, but Mary's posture tensed up even more at the sound of that, even as she was steeling herself up to do the job.
Well, this would hardly do.
"Mary," The unguarded warmth in her tone, one enveloped in a soft piano sound, stopped her student from completely shutting her out.
"Yes, Mrs. Hughes?"
Do you not supposed that there's a level of trust in your talent if you were selected to finish the show?
That was probably currently a bit too blunt for the young lady, aloof as she may currently be trying to act. But, there were no other words coming to Elsie's mind, no forms of verbal encouragement to bestow upon the situation. And, judging from the look on Mary's face, the young woman was not going to shatter like glass even though she also clearly could use some form of encouragement.
So, the choir teacher decided to go for something a little unorthodox, but something that would hopefully get the message across nonetheless:
Opening her arms so as to silently invite the young woman in for a reassuring hug, Elsie Hughes was surprised to say that Mary Crawley took her up on her offer within seconds ⎯⎯ quietly clinging to her teacher in an uncharacteristic display of fear.
Though, it took the young woman far longer to utter just the very thing messing with her confidence.
"I don't want to let them down, not at Downton."
It's whispered as shakes unwilling break out throughout the eldest Crawley sister's body ⎯⎯ her inner thoughts and fears bubbling to the surface of their hug. It only serves to break the calculated dam that is the eldest Crawley sister's mind, pressing her to release the rivulets that are her worries. And now everything now makes even more sense than before, only giving her teacher further cause to kindly, resolutely hug her pupil.
This is the scene that Charles eventually walks into when he's checking in on the situation ⎯⎯ having been shooed out of the room by a knowing Beryl only minutes before Elsie told Mary the night's set list. When he walks into this, he's as quiet as a mouse, even though he's rather unable to refrain from gaping in concerned shock.
Elsie looks up slowly, silently reassuring him all is well and that he can carry on with the evening's duties. And he finds himself realizing that it doesn't matter if all is well or not; this is far too precious a moment for him to simply return back to the role of a methodical director. It is instantly one of his favourite moments of the year, bringing him such indescribable joy that he cannot do anything other than stand for at least another minute and bask in the scene before him.
"You won't tell Mama or Mr. Carson will you?"
That's his cue to stealthily slip out of the room undetected, which he so-very-fortunately succeeds in doing so.
"I do believe they would understand," Elsie's eyes hardly glance in his long-gone direction, even as she reflects on the overwhelming adoration that flooded his gaze only moments ago. "But I won't mention a thing, not if you don't want me to."
"Thank you."
One day, Elsie hopes Mary can tell both individuals about these feelings.
In this moment, she can only concede that this is all right for right now.
_._
Edna had made sure to snag herself a seat as close to the front of the supposed "stage area" as possible. She couldn't get the front row, but she was going to do her best to make sure each soloist knew just who was in the crowd.
It was just a pity her dear friend couldn't make it this evening. Even though it was probably for the best, she'd like to have some decent company around.
"Oh, Mrs. Crawley," Cora Crawley was unintentionally approaching her as the older woman was making her way to her seat. "I'm so looking forward to seeing your daughters and the other students sing tonight!"
The administrator eagerly nodded, taking her at her word.
"I'm sure it'll be quite the show!"
Edna resisted the urge to smirk at this, feeling exactly the same way. After all, she managed to hit up several of the soloists. If they somehow miraculously regained even an ounce of confidence tonight, she was totally confident many of them would still flop.
"I'm sure you're right!" It should definitely be quite the show.
_._
They had gone to the downstairs area of Downton Abbey to support their fellow classmates and give a few words of encouragement.
What they had not expected was to find their classmates in a sense of agitation and hysteria.
"Anna? What's going on?" Matthew approached her with more than mere traces of concern in his voice as he looked about at some of the other soloists still preparing for the show.
"I'm not exactly sure," The young woman confessed. "Everyone seemed fine, but then someone must've said something because it's all going downhill from here."
It was a fairly accurate statement, at least in regards to the attitude of the students at hand. Instead of the brilliant confidence that had colored the solo competition back in March, most of the students performing tonight seemed unusually on edge and ruffled.
"Something tells me Edna's involved with this," Lavinia murmured to Daisy ⎯⎯ her gut instinct telling her their peer somehow had a hand in all of this. The Bel Canto singer nodded in agreement, having no doubt of this. "Where's Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes?"
"Mr. Carson is managing the stage upstairs," Anna supplied helpfully. "Mrs. Hughes is speaking to a student, I believe."
Matthew nodded, "Then, I supposed it's up to us to save the day."
"What do you mean?" Lavinia asked, even though Matthew was already trying to call the other students' attention away from whatever was worrying them.
"Excuse me," He called out, managing to fail to grasp his classmates' focus. "Pardon me, everyone, but⎯⎯"
Daisy was growing a little tired of his efforts after about fifteen seconds or so. He was either too quiet in demeanour or they were too distressed, because no one was paying Matthew any mind. And, after another minute or two of this frustrating process, she decided to get their attention herself.
"OI!" Suddenly remembering that she was only a Bel Canto singer and not quite worthy of yelling at her peers just yet, Daisy blushed. "Please give Matthew your attention: he has something important to say."
The tenor in question nodded, having been wracking his brain for some sort of encouragement to break the rut that was overthinking.
"Right. Well," He hesitantly began, already knowing he was losing his audience and still being unable to string together motivation.
"What Matthew wants to say is that we all know each and every one of you will do brilliantly. That Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson wouldn't have put this together if they didn't know you were all going to be absolutely brilliant." Lavinia stepped in, long since recognizing Matthew's problem. "And, furthermore,"
She kept her speech as brief as possible, not wanting to bore them to tears. And, sure enough, the anxiety within the downstairs area receded to a far calmer state of existence. Nerves still existed, but outright worry was dissipating the more she spoke.
_._
Beryl had watched with only half of her focus being on the performance itself.
"Thank you for all coming this evening and supporting our students..."
Typically, she'd give such proceedings her full attention. In this case, she was willing to settle for half of her concentration going to the performance and the other half going to the performers themselves.
"We are very proud to present our soloists tonight..."
And, so, it was with a sense of relief that she noticed both Elsie and Charles seemed to be in a much better headspace now.
"And, so, without further adieu,"
If they were far calmer, that could only imply less anxiety for and from the students. Which was always wonderful news, in her personal opinion.
_._
Normally, any sort of concert or showcase would captivate Charles Carson's attention from start to finish.
These days, he was lucky to find the show enthralling enough to give three-quarters of his focus. He was a professional, by all means. Still, he couldn't help but find his gaze wandering to the woman playing at the piano, watching her expressions enchant his attention far more than the current student at hand. He had taken to standing backstage, observing it all from the sidelines due to the fact that his skills as accompaniment as well as choir director were currently needed.
Though, whether his skills were needed or not, a not-so-subtle elbow from his companion standing by his right side informed him that he was staring too much.
"And the dead shall be,"
Upon realizing that it was Jimmy performing, Charles couldn't help but fully understand why he wasn't able to properly focus for the last three minutes. The tenor's behavior this last semester, one that reeked of tiresome arrogance, had made working with him more arduous than it needed to be. Consequently, the choir director was lacking in giving interest to this part of the performance, if only because he was recalling all the slights he'd witnessed these last few months.
Truly, why Elsie allowed him to keep a solo with such an attitude, he'd never know.
_._
As William silently took himself to the "stage" area ⎯⎯ aka, the front of the room, next to the quaint piano ⎯⎯ he couldn't help but catch the overwhelming applause that accompanied his steps.
It was that applause, coupled with an audacious cheer of excitement from both Mrs. Patmore and Daisy, that had tension roll off his shoulders as he began to mentally prepare himself for his solo. In those few seconds of concentration, he could admit that Lavinia was right when she spoke to them earlier. He also knew that Edna was wrong when she'd been jabbing and insulting him earlier this week:
He was going to be absolutely brilliant.
_._
When it was time for her to perform, Mary found herself rising to her feet more primly than she currently felt. And it was with an elegant air ⎯⎯ one that came with many years of practice ⎯⎯ that she carried herself down to the front of the performance area.
The one thing she had not anticipated was Mrs. Hughes whispering "You've got this," from the piano so quietly that only she and probably Mr. Carson caught the sound. The noise coaxed a genuine smile from the young woman, as she heard the absolute confidence that her teacher's words contained.
And as she delved back into the German piece one last time, she couldn't help but let that confident inspire her to remain steady. Even as her notes soon began to dip and sustain themselves, beautifully floating into the mesmerized crowd, she only felt the warmth of that reassurance.
It was time to finish the show.
_._
Normally, there was no reason to linger after any sort of clean-up had already commenced. In fact, he had to shake off both Beryl and Mrs. Crawley's inquisitions with the flimsy excuse that he wanted to ensure everything was taken care of within the old Abbey.
Truthfully, an idea had brewing within him for quite some time, and this felt like it was the only appropriate location.
"Elsie," With everyone now long gone, he couldn't refer to her as "Mrs. Hughes".
"Charles?" She dryly echoed, with more than an inkling of curiosity in her tone. She had been straightening out some of the chairs that the more rowdy and nervous soloists had been sitting in, turning around to⎯⎯
To be met with an outstretched hand and the sounds of Strauss's "Blau Donau".
Their song.
In an instance, her memory steals her away to the night of the Winter Ball ⎯⎯ in which two colleagues and friends danced in the comfort of a successful evening.
But his hand moves slightly, hoping to intertwine with hers, and she's suddenly brought back to the present.
Without even a slight contemplation, Elsie finds herself reaching out once more and happily taking the positions that waltzers must. This time, however, the distance between them is far less and the energy is different, almost kinder if not more unguarded.
She finds it infinitely preferable to what it once had been.
"I've been thinking," He begins after half a minute.
"Have you now?" His face beams knowingly at her, recognizing the light tease.
"I've been thinking," Charles repeats, fond exasperation delicately tainting his tone. "That we might go down to Ripon, and take a closer look at those shops."
Her breath catches, but he's still guiding her so there's no stumble in their dance. The implication is clear, all the same:
I think it's about time.
"I think that could be arranged," There's hardly a tease in her voice now, what with the blush and breathy tone threatening to take control.
I agree.
_._
