Due to technical issues, please be sure you've read "Nutcracker" prior to reading this one. Somewhere along the line, the material for that chapter became "Knitting." IDEK ... x
The tree at Downton Abbey is always a thing of beauty, its arrival a pinnacle of the season. Brought in off the land of the property itself, each tree is cultivated with love and care, chosen with attention to fullness, health, size, and color.(*I have no idea)
This year, however, the tree itself seems to surpass everyone's expectations. Perhaps it's the fact that there are more children about - meaning more magic to behold - but Elsie wonders if it's also the need to grasp onto something special for what is almost certainly the Dowager Countess of Grantham's last Christmas with the family.
Elsie walks around the tree, adjusting small bits and baubles here and there as she sees fit. The fragrance from the tree fills her senses and reminds her of home and the garland that Charlie had put up to surprise her. As she reaches for a velvet bow, her wrist brushes up on a different item. She tightens the wire on the bow and straightens the ruffle before turning her attention to the other ornament. She's curious, for she doesn't recall ever having seen this one before. After all her years at the abbey, years when Elsie and her maids would bring down the boxes for the family to go through, she knows each item that goes on it by heart ... but this one, this ornament is most certainly new. She takes it down and holds it up in the light, examining it this way and that and wondering if it would trigger some memory or other.
It doesn't.
She pulls her spectacles from her pocket and, as a last-ditch effort, puts them on. No one at work ever sees her in them if she can help it (a small vanity that she allows herself, this thought that every woman must have one thing they keep private), but her curiosity is piqued such that she cares more about the ornament than the chance of being caught out with failing eyes.
The ornament is a small porcelain woman. She has long dark hair that's tied back but falling in curls down her back. She's holding a small fan and a parasol, and her long dress is ...
Violet.
Elsie's skin breaks out in goose flesh and she feels a pang in her heart. She knows without a doubt that the Dowager has snuck this ornament onto the tree in the past week, or perhaps that she asked her eldest granddaughter to do it for her. It's such a poignant way to put her last mark on something that means so much to the family; after all, Christmas is by far their favorite celebration. Elsie realizes that because the maids pack up everything on the evening of the twelfth day, it's likely that no one will see this ornament until next year. The tree on the whole is, of course, immense and covered with other baubles. Elsie doubts anyone will pick up on one new addition, particularly tucked away as it was. They don't check up to make sure things are even and steady and safe like Elsie does. After all, it's not their job.
Elsie takes another look at the figurine, her brow furrowing as she takes in each detail again.
The significance that the woman holds a fan is not lost on her. The rumors were grand when the Russian prince had sought refuge in Downton, but Elsie kept her peace and kept her objectivity. She didn't find it particularly difficult that the Dowager would have found love outside of her marriage, she just found the speculation around it all to be a bit too much. But when the man had visited the Abbey, when they'd had that display with the egg and the fan and whatnot, and Elsie had seen the smoldering look the prince had given the woman in passing one day - a day when Elsie had been straightening the flowers in the great hall and was probably, to the other two people in the hall with her, invisible - and it had stopped her in her tracks.
And now, desperately in love with Charlie and enjoying a marriage full of that love, that intimacy and deep connection, she thinks perhaps all that speculation was entirely true.
And how she holds in her hand the fragile figurine - perhaps Lady Grantham's way of owning that period in her life, an offering of peace and love that represented the peace and love she had felt all those years ago.
Elsie hangs the ornament on a slightly higher, sturdier branch. She steps back and makes sure everything is even, the faces of the other ornaments visible between branches and tucked around lights, and she smiles sadly, wondering if she'll ever drum up the courage to tell Charles about her discovery.
Charles releases the clamp from the seat gently and allows the cushion to plump back up. He tests the hold, pressing a bit on the side of the cushion, and is satisfied to see it's stuck very firmly. He carries the horse to the tree, sets it between the tree and the front door, and nods approvingly. It's the very picture of Christmas that they have going in the cottage now, with the garlands, bows, candles, tree, and gifts waiting to be opened.
He heads upstairs, returning to the spare room. The rocking horse hadn't been the only gift he'd tucked away up there. He retrieves two of the gifts he has for Elsie - the one that had come from Mrs. Adler's peculiar shop, and the one he purchased in the general store only yesterday, on a whim. The former will be her Christmas morning surprise, but the latter is not in need of wrapping. It's an ornament, and he'll be giving it to her tonight.
Charles lifts the bulb up to the light. It's clear, but someone has painstakingly painted a scene on the inside, reflecting two small children riding in a sleigh. A reindeer pulls it through the woods, and the children's faces are alight with glee. He places it in a small box and brings it downstairs, setting it on her dinner plate. He's had the table set for dinner since approximately ten in the morning, and it occurs to him that he just may need a new hobby for the upcoming year.
Downstairs, Charles pulls the drapes closed. He turns on the electric tree lights, then steps back to admire the look of it all. Clapping his hands together and rubbing them, he realizes something:
He's completely, totally bored.
He looks around the house for something to do and finds nothing. The drafty spots in the windows have been covered, the squeaky door hinge was oiled last week. There are never dirty dishes in the sink and he's already put away the clean ones. The floors are swept, the gifts are all wrapped, and the horse for Johnny Bates is finished. Heaving a sigh, he looks at his pocket watch again, wishing it were Elsie's half day. It isn't, though, and he knows she won't be home for another three hours at the very least.
It's then that he hears a knock on the door.
Curious, he peers through the peephole before opening the door. The face he sees is perhaps the last one he expected. He opens the door quickly, cognizant of the cold, and ushers his visitor inside.
Dun, dun, DUNNNN. Who could it be? *thinkythinkthink*
Well, there are so few downstairs peeps who've not yet appeared ...
Hope you enjoyed this brief interlude and that the website has sorted its issues and indeed posted the correct chapter material!
Xxx
CSotA