N – is for Nutcracker
Sybbie and her Papa didn't normally use the back entrance into Downton Abbey but today was an exception. Tom had gone into the village to run a few errands and had volunteered to pick up a book of stamps for Mrs. Hughes. She'd used the last of hers sending out Christmas cards to the vendors they used throughout the year for various services. Sybbie had decided to accompany him, looking for any chance to escape the nursery and to spend some time with father.
But, today's errands didn't run as smoothly as he'd anticipated, mainly in part to his energetic daughter and her endless questions. She never failed to make astute observations and questioned everything to one degree or another. He should have known he was in for a treat when they entered the post office and saw Mrs. Wigan behind the counter.
"Mr. Branson and Miss Sybbie. What brings you in here?" The postmistress was also known as the town gossip and the one person in the village Mr. Carson tried to avoid at all costs. The woman set his teeth on edge and the way she spoke to and about him made the butler very uncomfortable unless he was in the company of his wife.
"We're out running errands, and we told Mrs. Hughes we would buy some stamps for her," Sybbie announced proudly. "She sent out very pretty cards to her friends and other people, and I got to help her stuff the envelopes. We ran out of stamps before we could finish, though, so we need more."
"Interesting. I hope I'll get one of her pretty cards. Did you see my name on any of the envelopes?" the nosy woman asked without any reservations.
"No, but I wasn't looking at the names. Mr. Carson and I were racing to see who could finish first so we could have the last chocolate biscuit. I won, but I think he let me win. Doesn't matter, though, because we split it, and it made us both happy."
"Mrs. Wigan, we really only came in for a sheet of stamps. We didn't mean to bother you, did we, Sybbie?" Tom tried to reign in the conversation before his daughter said too much and set the tongues wagging in the town with tales of Mr. Carson and how he spent his free time entertaining the granddaughter of the Earl of Grantham.
"It's no bother. I love hearing sweet tales like this. Mr. Carson is always so formidable and buttoned up. It's lovely to hear that he gets to enjoy a bit of life now and then."
"Oh, we have a lot of fun, and I'm sure he loves spending time with Mrs. Hughes and me. We do lots of things together like reading books, drawing, and loads of other things." Sybbie was about to continue when something unique caught her eye in the corner of the post office. "Mrs. Wigan, what's that?"
The woman turned around and saw the object in question. "Oh, that. It's a silly little contraption someone sent me to see if I might like to sell them in here. It's called a nutcracker, but I don't think I'm ever going to use it or sell it. Most women in the village use a more practical instrument. This is something decidedly less functional and more ornamental." She picked up the brightly painted wooden figure and handed it across to the child.
"It's very pretty. It looks like a toy soldier, sort of like the ones George plays with in the nursery. This one is much nicer, though, and bigger too. I like that he has white hair and black eyebrows and very broad shoulders. Reminds me a little of Mr. Carson when he stands up straight and tall, but he doesn't wear red outfits, just black ones."
It was at that moment that Tom was very grateful that Mr. Carson was nowhere around to hear the conversation and how his daughter equated him with the nutcracker. "Sybbie, darling, we should let Mrs. Wigan get back to her job, and we should be getting back with these stamps. I'm sure Mrs. Hughes is waiting, and if we hurry, you can catch Mr. Carson in his pantry before he gets too busy so you can give him the butterscotch discs we bought."
"Oh, I'd forgotten about that." She held out the nutcracker doll to the postmistress. "Thank you for letting me hold your doll. He's very pretty, and I hope you find a home for him."
The older woman came around the counter and knelt in front of the child, close enough that Sybbie backed up until she was leaning against her Papa's legs. "How would you like to take him home for keeps? I'm sure you and Mr. Carson would have a great deal of fun with it, and, as you say, it does resemble him in a few ways. You could tell him it's a gift from Mrs. Wigan and yourself … one for you two to share."
Sybbie's eyes lit up with the idea of taking back an extra surprise for her beloved Mr. Carson, even if it did come from the lady that made her more than a little nervous. "Thank you, very much, but I don't want to take your only doll. I'm sure Mr. Carson or Mrs. Hughes could buy one from London for us to use."
"I insist! And, maybe when you come back to the village, you can stop in and tell me all about how well it worked."
"I don't get into the village that often so it might be a long time before I can tell you. Would that be okay with you?"
"Take it and enjoy, Miss Sybbie. And, if I don't see you again before Christmas, I hope Father Christmas is really good to you."
She thanked the lady and carefully cradled the doll to her chest. When they were safely outside on the street and heading home, Sybbie looked down at the face of the nutcracker and smiled. "It really does look like Mr. Carson. I wonder if he will show me how to use it?"
"I'm sure he will, though I might leave out the part where you and Mrs. Wigan were discussing how much it looks like him but in different clothes." They shared a good laugh and a long walk back to the house.
As soon as Tom opened the back door, Sybbie darted in and ran straight to Mr. Carson's pantry, barely knocking before swinging the door wide open and beginning to chatter away. Tom ducked into Mrs. Hughes's sitting room to give her the stamps and to warn her about the nutcracker doll from Mrs. Wigan.
"I'm afraid there was no convincing her to keep it. She basically refused to take it back once Sybbie had it, and then it became a little awkward. She told Sybbie to have Mr. Carson show her how to work it and then report back. I'm sure Sybbie thought nothing of it, but even I wanted to roll my eyes at her forwardness. I'll let her keep it but it will be a long while before she goes back to the post office, that's for sure."
"Thank you for the stamps, and I'll be certain to stop in the next time I'm in the village, even if I don't need anything. Sometimes, she needs a good reminder that Mr. Carson is married and is not even remotely interested in having anything at all to do with her. Don't you worry about her. I'm more than a match for her."
"Should I get Sybbie and take her back upstairs? I don't want her bothering Mr. Carson when he has things he probably wants to do."
"They're fine, I'm sure. I took him a sandwich and some tea right before you came in so he was taking a break. If he needs to finish up, I'll bring her in here or walk her back up myself. In fact, I think I'll indulge in a little break and see just what this nutcracker doll is all about."
Standing in the doorway, Elsie watched as Sybbie and Mr. Carson inspected the wooden doll that resembled a toy soldier. They were both fascinated by the little lever at the back which opened and closed the soldier's mouth, presumably where the nut was supposed to go.
"I think we need to get some nuts from Mrs. Patmore so we can test it. I mean, that's the only place the nut can go, and it must crack it if we push the lever hard enough, right?"
"We'll soon find out, I suppose. Sometimes, the only way to learn something is with a little experiment."
"You two stay right there. I'll go into the store cupboard and get a handful of nuts for you. No need to bother Mrs. Patmore since the ones in her kitchen have already been shelled for her baking."
When Elsie returned, Sybbie was sitting on Mr. Carson's lap and they were both enjoying his sandwich. "Looks like I should have made two sandwiches," she teased as she placed a small basket full of nuts on the desk.
"No need. We don't mind sharing," he said with a wink, "and thank you for these. We're going to see how this contraption works or if we need to stick with the tried and true method, right, Miss Sybbie?"
"Right!" She hopped off his lap and came around the desk to stand in front of the doll. "Pick up a nut and place it here, then push down on this and it should crack, Mrs. Hughes. At least, that's how we think it works. It's really the only way it can work."
"Let me do the first one, though, just in case it's tricky," Mr. Carson said, being overly cautious and not wanting the child to get hurt.
"Can I at least push the lever?"
"I don't see why not," he agreed, not completely thinking through all the dangers or potential problems.
Mr. Carson picked up a nut and had Sybbie lift up the little handle at the back. "When I say go, you push down hard on the thing to close his mouth. That should crack the shell, and we'll see how we did. Got it?"
"Got it! I'm ready!"
With Mrs. Hughes standing in the corner of the room watching it all, she could never fully understand what happened next in the sequence of events. Mr. Carson had the nut between his index finger and thumb, gently positioning it between the nutcracker's parted mouth. Miss Sybbie gripped the lever tightly, waiting anxiously for her instructions. And then, it happened …
Mr. Carson gave the word. Sybbie pressed a little too quickly and too hard on the lever. The nut fell out of the nutcrackers mouth at the last minute, meaning Mr. Carson's fingers bore the brunt of the full force of the wooden pieces. Mr. Carson yelped and jumped back, stumbling over his chair and falling backwards and essentially hitting his knee on the corner of his desk. It had been a true comedy of errors, though when it was all said and done, no one was laughing. Sybbie was stunned into silence. Mr. Carson was trying very hard not to shed the tears which had formed in his eyes or verbalize the words that were forming on his lips. And Mrs. Hughes … she was trying to hold it all together.
"Sybbie, let's take the nutcracker to my office and leave Mr. Carson for a bit. I think he needs a few minutes alone to see to his fingers and his knee."
"I'm so very sorry, Mr. Carson. I didn't mean to hurt you. I would never hurt you," she said with tears falling from her eyes as she ran out of the office and into Mrs. Hughes's sitting room.
"Elsie, I never …"
"Ssssh, love, I know and so does she. She's just scared that she hurt you, and you're obviously in pain. I'll go see to her and you put some ice on your fingers. Don't worry. I'll talk to her." After a quick kiss to his lips, then one to his offended thumb and index finger, Elsie left him alone in his sitting room while she went to console the frightened child.
"I didn't mean to hurt him, Mrs. Hughes. Honestly, I didn't. Is he terribly angry at me? I wish I'd never seen that stupid nutcracker doll or brought it back. We should take it back to Mrs. Wigan and tell her it hurt Mr. Carson, and we don't want to see it every again."
Elsie gathered Sybbie into her arms and shushed her softly. "No need for tears or theatrics, love. He'll be fine. It's just like slamming your finger in a door or drawer. He will be fine. I think it just startled both of you. But, perhaps, we shouldn't try to crack nuts with that particular object. You know, we have a nutcracker that isn't nearly as pretty but is so much easier to use. What if you kept the soldier one with your other toys, and we'll use the other one down here if we need to shell some nuts for baking."
"Do you think you could show me how that one works? I would like to apologize to Mr. Carson for hurting him. Maybe if I baked him a walnut cake with apples, it might make him feel better. Please, will you help me?"
"You wait right here and let me talk to Mrs. Patmore. After all, it's her kitchen we'd be using, and we wouldn't want to interrupt her schedule for cooking dinner. And, she may let us borrow some walnuts if we promise to crack more for her later and that will save us some time."
"Tell her it's not for me but for Mr. Carson. Maybe that will convince her that we really need her help."
"I'll see what I can do. You just don't worry one whit about it." Elsie closed the door and leaned against it, shaking her head and smiling at the situation she now found herself in. She felt positive that Mrs. Patmore wouldn't mind helping them whip up a quick cake with some basic ingredients which would, in turn, make Sybbie happy when she presented it to Mr. Carson. And, it would only take about an hour from her day, so it was well worth it to help ease the child's mind and soothe her husbands' nerves and wounded pride.
"All right, we have a deal. She's going to help us with a quick cake for you to give to Mr. Carson and tomorrow, we will crack and shell a few walnuts for her in return for using hers today."
"As long as we don't have to use that … thing," Sybbie said, pointing at the doll on the desk. "I wonder if Mrs. Wigan knew she was giving me a dangerous toy. I think Mr. Carson should tell her we were really hurt by it. She shouldn't be giving those way to little children."
"I'm sure she never expected you or Mr. Carson to be injured, sweetheart. It was a simple accident. I know. I watched the whole thing. Now, let's get to baking that sweet surprise or it'll be too late to enjoy it tonight."
While Mr. Carson was upstairs overseeing the table place settings and writing out the dinner cards for the evening, Elsie and Sybbie whipped up a simple cake. "I think we need some icing for it. It looks really plain," Sybbie said as they turned the cake out of the pan and onto the cutting board.
"We don't, actually. I'll let you in on a little secret. Mr. Carson prefers his walnut apple cakes with just a bit of icing sugar sprinkled over the top. It's sweet enough, and the cake tastes really well with a cup of tea, coffee, or milk."
"Will you let me put the sugar on the top? I would like to be able to tell him I did most of the work myself as a way to say sorry for smashing his fingers."
Elsie nodded and handed Sybbie the sieve and poured a little icing sugar into it, showing her how to tap the side to make the white powder cascade around the cake like snowfall. "Not too much. We don't want to overdo it. There … that's perfect."
"You'll have to carry it for me, but I can manage the plates and forks. He might want to cut a slice and share it now while it's still a little warm."
"I'm sure he will." She handed Sybbie the plates and forks and followed the child to her husband's office.
"Mr. Carson, I'm sorry I hurt you earlier with the nutcracker. But, I baked you an "I'm sorry" cake with walnuts and apples. And I even dusted it myself, though with sugar and not actual dust."
"For me? You didn't have to do that. Look, my fingers are just fine and aside from a little bruise on my knee, I'm good as new. But this cake … it looks absolutely delicious and smells heavenly. Are you sure Mrs. Patmore didn't bake this for you?" he teased, tickling the little girl's tummy.
"I promise. Mrs. Hughes helped me with the ingredients and chopping the apples, but I did the rest. And, we've decided we're not using that nutcracker anymore. It can sit in the toy box upstairs, or we can take it back to Mrs. Wigan. It's not a good thing to use for cracking nuts regardless of what the name says," she declared with a wrinkling of her nose.
"Perhaps, it is better as a toy or decorative piece. I'm sure she didn't realize that we could be accidentally injured, and there was no permanent harm done. And just look, we even have a cake to share, so the nutcracker doll couldn't have been all bad."
"Maybe not. I wonder if Granny Violet would like to have it. It if bites her fingers like it did yours, she'll take it right back to Mrs. Wigan."
"In pieces," Elsie muttered under her breath, just loud enough for only her husband to hear. "She's lucky I'm a forgiving sort of woman at Christmastime."
Charles smiled and took a large bite of his cake, making all kinds of oooh's and mmm's at how delicious it was purely for Sybbie's benefit. "Well, Mrs. Hughes, you know what they say at Christmastime … peace on earth and goodwill towards … Mrs. Wigan."
A/N: I couldn't let the Christmas prompts roll by without having Mrs. Wigan appear. Tee hee. Poor Charlie. I do so love to tease him with her. Thanks so much for continuing to read the chapters and review. It makes me so happy to hear your comments!