In Response to Guest Reviewers: To 20SpursTX21, that is flooring to hear how much you love my stories! That you find these stories to be nuanced and compelling is a honor! Furthermore, I think you'll be excited to hear an update about the "Chelsie being married all along" concept ;) :)
To the guest who loves the spin on the AU idea, I'm right there with you! Thank you so very much for letting me know.
Author's Note: I'm very, very touched by the responses I've received this week. Thank you. It means more than I can say. To the point where I want to give that other story –– the one where they're secretly married the entire time –– a go, too!
Now, for today's piece: we're not going into any car trouble today. There will be no mention of frustrating maids. And there will certainly be no mention of incorrigible people who "love to be in love". Simply a little elaboration on a sentimental scene that gets me every time.
Warning: Children can go from being practically asleep to climbing all over you in seconds. You've been warned and, soon enough, Charles and Elsie will have been warned, too….
Spoilers for Series 3, Episode 9
Enjoy!
She had gone in search of him the moment they'd returned from the fair, finding no trace of the butler in his pantry. That hadn't concerned her too much: Mr. Carson was wont to patrol the galleries even when there wasn't a soul in the house. But he would want to know everything that had transpired and so she had to find him sooner rather than later.
The woman cautiously opened the door to the library, unsurprised to hear familiar footsteps. Except, there was something different about the sound, something she couldn't quite place.
My, my. A smile graced Elsie's face as she approached the heartwarming sight. The bairn looked right at home in Mr. Carson's arms and he looked right at home holding her –– something she would have never guessed.
"Oh, you're back, then."
Her smile lessened at his unintentional reminder, having momentarily forgotten about the fair. But that was the whole reason she'd stepped up here, wasn't it? "We are. And we've a few stories to tell."
However, there would be time to manage that particular debacle. Right now, for as long as the world would allow it, all she wanted to manage was the enchanting image that was Mr. Carson carrying about Miss Sybil.
"But you've spent your day more productively, I see." The toddler had caught her eye long before Elsie had reached the pair, unwittingly coaxing a grin. She did want to know why it was the butler and not the nanny holding the bairn. But exchanging a few silly faces beforehand was hardly going to cause the world to come crashing down on them. "Where's Nanny?"
"I'm not sure but she'll find us in a moment."
Well, if she must. But the woman chose to push aside the thought, politely nodding in agreement.
"I was thinking of Lady Sybil when she was this age."
Elsie gave another nod, this one of understanding. But truth be told, she wasn't focused on Mr. Carson. Her eyes found themselves drawn to the curious spirit before her. Miss Sybil's interest in the outside world was so reminiscent of her mother, it stung a little. Still, at least the memory of that sweet spirit would live on in the girl.
"All we can do for her now is cherish her bairn," Fondness grasped her demeanour, delight taking hold of her tone, "And it's lovely to watch you do just that."
"There's no need to get sentimental, Mrs. Hughes." Oh, of course. Even though he'd been beaming himself not half a minute ago.
It took some effort to reel in her amusement, not to mention that fondness from before. But in the end she managed well enough. The key was to let any residual happiness show only when Mr. Carson wasn't looking.
"Right," The housekeeper knew what that sort of tone meant: this touching little scene had to come to an end. "Let's get this one back to bed."
Keeping quiet, wanting to remain here for just a moment longer, Elsie took a moment to take in the image she'd just witnessed. It wasn't every day she caught the butler acting so–– so–– natural. At peace. Happy, even.
"Come on, shall we go and look for Nanny?" Yet he was already beginning to head off in the direction of the nursery, no doubt concluding that the nanny was waiting for them there. Which meant it was time to get on with it.
Now, the strangest thing happened. She ought to have gone downstairs by now. There were other things to attend to, daily tasks she'd neglected when she'd gone off to the fair. But Elsie felt compelled to follow him and keep an eye on Miss Sybil, just for a wee bit longer.
And so she did.
Better still, he didn't appear to mind.
It was a hushed journey, searching for Nanny. But wherever the woman was, she was not to be found. So it was with an exasperated air that the housekeeper followed her butler and their charge back to Miss Sybil's crib, keeping an eye out for the missing woman as she did so. She had stayed to make sure the bairn was seen to, after all. There was no point in abandoning the pair now.
Everyone kept to themselves as they walked along the darkened house. But that didn't mean it was unpleasant. In fact, in another life, it would have made for a –– dare she say –– domestic scene. Oh, she knew better than to mention such things to the butler. But the fact remained that this was an endearing change in pace for them.
She should have known that it was liable to change.
"Well, here we are."
Elsie glanced up at Mr. Carson. He sounded unusually gruff about making it to the nursery, though that was probably thanks to Nanny's absence.
"Shall we wait together until she comes back?" She asked, looking in the direction of the crib. They'd yet to put Miss Sybil back, the pair waiting in the doorway of the room. It were almost as though Mr. Carson thought the missing woman would appear out of thin air and reclaim the bairn. But that was likely to happen, not in her eyes. "Or shall I go off in search of her while you keep watch?"
"If anyone will be going off in search of Nanny, it will be me." Ah, he was displeased with the situation. And he wanted to be the one to personally give the woman a tongue lashing for her vanishing act. This displeasure would remain the case even when it would inevitably turn out Nanny had been scurrying about the house in search of them.
"Well then," Elsie held her arms out expectantly, having half a mind to shoo the man off to track down the missing worker, "I can take care of Miss Sybil if you'd like to get to it."
"Erm," She bit back another smile, watching the situation catch up to him. For someone who supposedly wasn't interested in sentiment, he sure seemed to have a hard time parting with the Miss Sybil. "We wouldn't want to wake her. I'll just set her down and then I'll be off."
When the butler didn't move from his spot in the doorway, she dryly put forth, "I hope you'll be 'setting her down' in her crib and not on the ground, Mr. Carson."
That set the man back into action, "Of course it'll be her crib!"
If only his jolt hadn't roused the grandchild back into consciousness.
"My, my," Apparently the sudden movement proved too much for the poor dear, wails setting off into the hall. When the butler remained still, horrified by the sounds he'd inadvertently provoked, "Oh, give her here, you daft man!"
In seconds, Elsie had scooped up all the wails and the distress, humming out the first tune that came to mind. Life with Becky had taught her to follow her instinct and save the questions for later. Mind, she couldn't help but wonder why Mr. Carson, who looked to be such a natural with the bairn before, would suddenly become so inept.
"'Auld Lang Syne' in September, Mrs. Hughes?"
A blush threatened to burn her cheeks, the woman now realising she was indeed humming one of Robert Burns' more famous pieces. But it was working to put the bairn at ease, and thus she had no complaints.
Unless you've any better ideas?
The man understood the silent warning at once, promptly shutting up. That is, until he realised his original task: "I should go search for Nanny, shouldn't I?"
Her glare told him everything he needed to, sending the man off on what would hopefully be a swift journey.
Indeed, it took Charles only a few seconds to turn his back to Mrs. Hughes and carry on with his task. Uninterested in letting this catastrophe persist, he was determined to solve the mystery of Nanny's disappearance once and for all. But when the humming broke off into a muffled gasp, a snort escaping, he found himself bewilderedly turning back around.
"My–– my brooch," The housekeeper proclaimed in lieu of a proper explanation, her body shaking from unexpected mirth. It seemed Miss Sybil had become fascinated with the item, practically climbing all over Mrs. Hughes in order to play with it.
Worse still, the woman looked to be –– well, she looked to be ticklish. As in, Miss Sybil didn't have to work hard to set off muffled snickers and snorts. Which also meant Mrs. Hughes was having a hard time keeping the toddler safe in her arms, doing her best to remain collected despite the tickle attacks.
"Mr. Car–– Mr. Carson!" A strand of auburn hair had escaped its confinement, courtesy of the toddler now rampant in her pursuit. Clearly things were spiralling. But he hadn't a clue what to do, unsure of how appropriate it would be to take Miss Sybil back. What if he accidentally brushed up against Mrs. Hughes in the process? "Charles, take charge of her!"
What? But Charles was reaching out long before he had a chance to think things through, taking the impertinent devil–– the dear thing back into his grasp. He made sure to step away and turn his back on the housekeeper, wanting to give her privacy to fix her appearance as he took charge of humming duties.
Unlike 'Auld Lang Syne', 'Dashing Away with the Smoothing Iron' looked to be more of a success, captivating Miss Sybil at once.
That is, until she caught sight of that brooch for a second time.
After that, all bets were off.
"There, now," It was a miracle that the housekeeper had been able to take off the brooch so quickly, carefully presenting it to the toddler. "I'm afraid I can't let you play with it, but you can certainly touch it if you'd like."
Miss Sybil came to a stop in her protests. She looked at the proffered accessory.
She then dismissed it, reaching out to to play with the buttons on the housekeeper's blouse.
"Miss Sybil! Stop that!" He was horrified, scandalised –– absolutely mortified! Those were the last things anyone should be playing with! Thankfully, Mrs. Hughes had stepped out of harm's way, shaking her head in disbelief. "Just where is Nanny?"
"I've not a clue, Mr. Carson." Did Mrs. Hughes sound tickled by the matter? "I'm afraid one of us will have to go and find her, though I'm not sure you're dressed for the occasion."
"What do you mean?" His eyebrows continued to furrow until he realised what she was pointing at.
Looking down, Charles was stupefied to spot the toddler had begun working on his bowtie, taking a bit of the fabric into her mouth. The rest of it had become undone, limply resting against his dinner jacket.
"Miss Sybil!" His cry of outrage didn't deter her, dribbles of drool beginning to stain his uniform. "I simply do not understand why you've decided to––"
"She hasn't 'decided' a thing, Mr. Carson!" Familiar hands grazed him in an effort to take back the toddler, a mirthful gleam coming into sight. "Have you, Miss Sybil?"
Charles continued to watch in abject horror as Mrs. Hughes proceeded to make further cooing noises and ridiculous faces with the grandchild. The woman remained neglectful of her appearance, quite possibly ignorant to the fact that that strand of hair had remained disturbingly loose in this ordeal.
Truly, a hair was literally out of place and she was absolutely clueless!
"Would you prefer to fix your bowtie, Mr. Carson, or shall I?" Did mischief dare to peek out of her eyes? Was there really a hum coyly returning to her lips as she ignored his newfound efforts to frantically take care of his appearance?
Just what were they coming to?
"I'll save you the trouble, Mrs. Hughes," He darkly muttered, ignoring the wet quality of his bowtie. So long as no one looked too closely –– and no one would dare to take a close look, given the hour and the mood he was in –– his secret was safe.
"Mr. Carson," He sharply pivoted in the direction of Nanny's voice, determined to share his vexation over her absence, "I've been looking for you everywhere!"
"I'm sure you have." Charles did not whirl in the direction of Mrs. Hughes, finding her cutting comment rather matched his own feelings on the subject. "Shall I leave you to it, Mr. Carson?"
"Certainly." He watched the housekeeper bring the toddler back to her crib, a strange feeling threatening to distract him from the necessary lecture. But he forcibly ignored all feelings, focusing on blocking the nanny from stepping foot into the nursery, "I'm afraid we need to talk."
"But I––"
Charles silenced her with a look, stepping aside only to allow Mrs. Hughes entry into the hall. She quietly pushed past, that strand of hair persisting in its chaotic nature.
The urge to stop her and fix the mess threatened to grow, "Mrs. Hughes."
The housekeeper turned back, recognition flittering across her countenance. A hand instinctively reached for the strand in question as she stiffened, awaiting some sort of rebuke, "Yes, Mr. Carson?"
"Thank you for your assistance this evening." There was no need to lecture her, not when she was well aware of the mistake in question.
The woman nodded, a curious look passing through her.
But before anything else could be said, she was turning on her heel and heading back downstairs.
As for the woman who had not been of assistance, Nanny remained stood stock-still in front of him, rightfully so. He could only supposed she would have to be left in charge of Miss Sybil, at least until the family returned. However, before she would be allowed to take charge of the bair–– the toddler once again, he would making sure she understood the importance of her task.
Suffice it to say, Charles would not be letting the woman out of his sight.
Nor, for that matter, would Elsie.
Today's Inspiration: "See? What did I tell you? They are, hands down, the parents of Downton." (Or, in this case, the grandparents).
Author's Note: If she slipped on his Christian name, he could slip when it comes to calling Miss Sybil a bairn.
In other words, I hope you got a kick out of that! It was a treat to write.
Now, in regards to the next update, it will take some time. It just so happens my sister's favorite character is Matthew. Hence, she'll need a little bit of time before she can go back to the show (if I were to guess, probably a week).
As for that other story idea, I want to work out a few more ideas before I say anything else. But I am happy to share it's definitely something I'll be working on in the days to come!
In any case, as always, have a lovely day! 'Till next time.