25th of December

Thomas doesn't close the door, but he steps much closer to the housekeeper's desk and keeps his voice low.

"About this evening," he begins, but Elsie jumps right in, hoping to ease his discomfort.

"We're all set, Mr. Barrow. As you know, the family are having a light meal this evening in order to accommodate the staff dinner that Mrs Patmore requested to make for us all."

"Yes. That was good timing, and I am sorry to miss the staff event."

Elsie can't help but note his posture, the way his chest is puffed out a bit, so reminiscent of Charles when he was butler that it takes her off guard.

"Have a seat, Mr. Barrow. Please."

He does sit, grateful.

"I'll be heading out around five, then, if that suits? Back for breakfast, which I hope you'll be enjoying in the comfort of your own home as opposed to rushing here for ours."

"Thank you." She sits back, relaxing a bit in the hopes that he might, too; he does. "I will probably take you up on that. And I'm sorry that you'll miss dinner with us all this evening, too, but I understand."

"Do you?" The words are out of his mouth before he's had a chance to consider them.

"You know I do," she replies quietly. "I do wish you every happiness, and I hope you know that, too. But please be careful, Mr. Barrow."

"I shall." He claps his hands on his knees. "Well, then. I think that's about it. I just wanted to be sure everything was set."

They both rise, and Thomas pulls a small package from the pocket of his jacket. He hands it to Elsie.

"I know you manage the staff gifts," he says quietly, "but then, who manages one for you?"

He holds out the gift, waiting, and Elsie extends her hand to receive it.

"Mr. Barrow- " she begins, but he cuts her off.

"Please, don't." His voice is quiet, but firm. "It's nothing terribly dear, but ... But I'm grateful to you, Mrs. Hughes. You've been an integral part in making my transition to butler a relatively smooth one. I'm quite certain that without you, it would have gone bottoms up rather quickly. Well, you and Mr. Carson. But you're here, and ..."

"I know what you're trying to say, and I thank you for it." She smiles at him and then glances at her clock. "I need to see Miss Baxter about something, but if there's anything else you need before you leave, just let me know."

"I just spoke with her, actually. I think she's still in the boot room." He smiles, and Elsie sees it for what it is: warm, honest, and openly happy for his friend. "She looks radiant, I will say that. I have a feeling you already know why."

"I'm sure she does, and yes. I do."

They walk to her door, Elsie still clutching the small box he'd given her but wholly unwilling to open it in front of him, for both their sakes.

"You know everything in this house before most other people. I didn't think that would stop with something so happy. I've got to hand it to Molesley; he did a spectacular job of it."

Elsie stands a bit taller at that, so proud of her husband and the part he played in it all that she wasn't sure she could speak.

Charles hasn't arrived at the Abbey yet when Elsie makes it back to her office, but she knows he'll be there shortly. He's coming for the servants' dinner, and it's an odd twist of fate that Mr. Barrow is missing it. Elsie filled her husband in a couple of days prior about Mr. Barrow's impending holiday absence but she withheld the reason behind it, simply saying he had an other engagement. Something in Charles's eyes told her he understood, but that aspect of Thomas's life is still something he cannot wrap his head or heart around. That's alright, as far as Elsie is concerned. Her husband has made great progress coming to terms with everything else that makes up Thomas Barrow's character, and both men now have more of a mutual respect than they had a year ago. She sees no need to tarnish it with something she knows her husband finds unsavory.

However, that slightly tenuous relationship between the two men is how Elsie knows whatever is contained in the gift she'd been handed is strictly hers, and she's grateful not to have Charlie watching her as she opens it.

She doesn't know what she expects, but it most definitely is not the small porcelain bird that she lifts out of the box.

It is, in a word, exquisite. It's a lovely shade of white with black here and there on its feathers.

She sits back slowly, the bird cradled in the palm of her hand as something niggles at the back of her brain. Thomas never does anything without a reason, another way in which he's so very like Charles. Her mind plays back over so many conversations she's had with him this past year, and then over the years before that ...

And then she has it.

She looks at the bird again. "You're a snow bunting, aren't you?"

It had been years ago. Goodness, she has to think about it to remember properly. It was not long after his disastrous foray into black market goods and they were in the servants' yard again, where she would so often find him smoking when she sought a bit of air herself. He'd been feeling tempest-tossed, as if he didn't belong anywhere, and she remembers what she said to him, how she told him he reminded her of a snow bunting, flying frantically here and there in the middle of a storm. She recalls advising him to settle and to fly with the wind and not against it, although she can't remember the exact words she spoke now. But she knows she told him something about how even the snow bunting, frantically trying to keep itself alive and on course, has its place in the world.

She trails her finger over the little bird's head and gets up and places him on her desk. It's such a sweet message from him, an acknowledgement that he does listen and, on a grander scale, that her words matter. All the time she takes with them, guiding and listening to and teaching and more ... It matters.

She hears Charlie's footsteps in the corridor and meets him at her door, smiling when he bends to give her a peck on the cheek despite the fact that the door is open and anyone might see.

"I smell Yorkshire puddings," he announces, and Elsie has to laugh.

"I'm sure you do! She's made them especially for you, you know. They'll probably be out in a few minutes if you can manage one at this early hour."

"There's always room for some things, Elsie."

She pats his stomach lovingly. "Yes, Charlie. And if I know you, you didn't have another bite today besides toast, just in preparation for the festivities."

"As it happens, I did have the last piece of gingerbread," he admits.

"Mm-hm." She gives him a knowing look. "Well, I'm off to finish a few things upstairs, so you're welcome to either keep my chair warm or head into the kitchen."

She squeezes his arm on her way past him, leaving him so she can do a walk-through of the house one last time before the holiday and make sure the guest rooms are ready in case the Dowager ends up spending a night or two.

Charles watches her leave, appreciating that particular view of his wife and knowing that there's an extra sway to her step that she puts there just for him. Shaking his head, he makes his way to the kitchen.

"I knew you'd be back soon," Beryl tells him, and she sets a plate down on the counter. On it is a perfect Yorkshire pudding, glistening underneath a bit of gravy.

"Bless you, Mrs. Patmore." He takes the plate and the fork and napkin she's put down beside it.

Beryl looks at him and chuckles. "Don't you even want a tray to bring that through, Mr. Carson?"

"Well, I'm not going very far."

She watches as he heads to the servants' dining table, sitting in Elsie's usual chair instead of his former one, and shakes her head slowly.

"Will wonders never cease?" she mumbles, and she bustles back to the oven to attend the Christmas goose.

TBC

A/N: I always did like the idea that Thomas and Elsie had a special understanding between them, but it is definitely something Charles doesn't share.

I wish to thank each and every one of you for being on board during this cheerfulchelsiechristmas challenge. I know it's a busy time of year, but hopefully these chapters have brought you lovely readers a quick smile amidst all the hustle and bustle of the season.

I will post Chapter 26 tomorrow, Christmas Day, and then the Epilogue a day or two after so that I can tie things up. Hopefully most of your questions will be answered, although a few smaller details will be left to your imaginations. xxx

CSotA