Chapter 10

A few days later…

"If I don't have access to the store cupboard how on earth am I supposed to organise the meals to the level of precision I want?" Mrs Patmore roughly questioned a very exhausted and weary looking Housekeeper who nevertheless didn't want to accept any form of defeat or sign any form of truce.

"Now you got it wrong there Mrs Patmore. You do have access to the store cupboard," Mrs Hughes countered, glad of the little miss of words of the adamant Cook.

"Access? Access? You call that access? I only get to look at it when it crosses your blessed mind," replied the Cook with no intention of giving up easily.

"Which is every time when access to it is required," the Housekeeper attacked with a very smug look on her face. The Cook huffed in frustration and her face went very red, forcing the Housekeeper to bite back a giggle.

"Don't you see that if I don't have free access to the store cupboard, there is bound to be errors in the grocery list and of course forcing someone to fetch the remainder," the relentless Cook carried on.

"Well, it's your responsibility to see that your grocery list is complete using the resources provided to you. And if there is any ingredient lacking I will see that it is provided," the Housekeeper replied much calmly, knowing that the victory is well and truly hers.

"See that you do," Mrs Patmore said and burst out of the room with heavy footsteps slamming the door of the Housekeeper's sitting room behind her.

Mrs Hughes let out an exhausted sigh. These petty battles over a mere store cupboard key was getting on her nerves.

"What a brilliant way to start a Monday morning!" Mrs Hughes thought. To Mrs Patmore, arguing over the authority of the store cupboard key every Monday morning had become much of a ritual as it was for her to go to church every Sunday. Every Monday morning after the upstairs breakfast, the Cook would come bursting into the Housekeeper's sitting room complaining about some ingredient that she needed being missed out of the grocery list, directly accusing it to be a result of the Housekeeper's reluctance to let go of the authority over the store cupboard key. Mrs Hughes knew how much effort she put into getting that damned grocery list correct and she had by then arrived at the conclusion that the Cook was deliberately introducing a mistake onto the grocery list, leaving out an optional ingredient, just to get at the Housekeeper.

She shook her head quite ferociously a couple of times to clear her mind and focused on setting down the list of duties for the maids for the remaining days of the week only to interrupted by a knock on her door. Her rush of anger from her earlier exchange of words with the Cook had not receded and she answered "Come in" with clear frustration written in her voice.

The poor victim of the tirade of Scottish temper about to erupt was one Butler with strong views on propriety bringing yet another complaint about the maids. Mr Carson entered the sitting room without registering the frustrated tone of the Housekeeper.

"Mrs Hughes I must say your maids are completely out of control this morning!" he complained in his booming voice and Mrs Hughes swivelled towards him on her chair, an annoyed look on her face and fire in her eyes. The Scottish Dragon ready to breath fire.

"What have they done?" she asked and it was only then that Mr Carson realised that he may be recipient of some serious secondary rounds of fire following some unknown major attack. But he continued nevertheless with the same confidence that he began.

"They were giggling uncontrollably in the dining room today before breakfast was served, probably over something silly and useless, and disrupted the arrangement of an entire place setting. The distance between all cutleries had changed and everything was crooked by the time I got there. They are really becoming a handful these days Mrs Hughes!" he finished his speech and tugged at his waistcoat.

"Is the Family alright? Anyone taken ill? Should we call the Doctor? Wonder how they are bearing that disaster," Mrs Hughes shot her words at the Butler with massive amounts of sarcasm.

"This is a serious matter we are dealing with Mrs Hughes," Mr Carson replied in a much less loud voice than earlier. He would never admit it but sometimes he did fear the Housekeeper's temper.

"Aye I know how serious you think it is. It's probably a difference less than a few inches not feet or miles," she replied rolling her eyes, her brogue more pronounced.

"But it's a matter of discipline Mrs Hughes!" he thundered and Mrs Hughes let out another exhausted sigh.

"I'll advise them about it. And warn them about it," she replied loud and then mumbled beneath her breath, "If that pleases you."

Mr Carson did hear the last bit that Mrs Hughes uttered and walked out of the room taking long strides and shutting the door behind him.

Two utterly unimportant complaints had disrupted her morning and left her in a terrible mood. She turned back to her desk, let out an annoyed sound and slightly banged her fist down on the table. She picked up her pen and dipped it angrily in her ink letting out a rather loud clink and was about to write on her notebook when another knock sounded on her door.

"What in heaven's name is it now?" she asked angrily as she swivelled around in her chair to face a very frightened Lady Sybil whose eyes were wide open in wonder.

"Oh… Milady… I'm so sorry" Mrs Hughes literally froze on the spot.

After a few awkward seconds Sybil slightly turned her head back and said, "I think I should probably leave. It's not a good time…"

"No, no Milady it's alright," Mrs Hughes stopped Sybil midway through her sentence, "How can I help you?" she asked sweetly smiling at the young girl, the anger from moments before dissipating instantly.

"I wondered…" Sybil paused doubting whether she would be intruding.

"Yes Milady?" Mrs Hughes asked and encouraged Sybil to go on, her charming smile enchanting the young girl out of her doubts.

"I was wondering if I could help you out like that day… well… I'm a housemaid now after all, I nearly forgot," Sybil replied shyly looking at her shoes and faced the Housekeeper, watching intently how faint sparks played across the depths of her deep blue eyes.

"Of course," Mrs Hughes reached out her arm and Sybil took a few more steps but stopped abruptly.

"Are you sure I'm not disturbing?" she asked, worried again.

"No you're not my dear. You're afraid I'll turn you up into something if I am angry?" Mrs Hughes asked, mischievously pulling on a very wicked look.

"Partially," Sybil replied with much more confidence, making Mrs Hughes smile. This wee lassie is adorable beyond words, Mrs Hughes thought and reached out her arm again. Sybil skipped up to the Housekeeper's chair and sat on her lap. Then wiggled about to make herself comfortable, finally leaning against Mrs Hughes' chest.

Mrs Hughes couldn't let go of the breath she just took in. Not because she was constricted physically, but more because it felt as if all the emotions in her heart were caught up in her throat. The lovely weight of the girl upon her spell bound as before and a contented sigh, almost inaudible escaped her.

Sybil wondered about the sudden silence of the Housekeeper and turned to look up at her. She found Mrs Hughes smiling beautifully at her and she herself couldn't resist a smile.

"You are sure you are more of a witch than a fairy Mrs Hughes?" Sybil asked with a curious sparkle on her eyes. For the seven year old girl, the world of witches, fairies and goblins were a part of reality as much as the world around her.

"And why do you ask that my dear?" Mrs Hughes questioned, her lilting Scottish brogue suddenly becoming more pronounced.

"You are too pretty to be a witch," Sybil spoke her mind, this time without any fear. All witches she had heard of were old and ugly while most fairies were pretty. Mrs Hughes was quite old, she knew, but not old enough to be a witch like the witches in the stories that she had heard.

"Oh am I now? I didn't know," Mrs Hughes replied raising an eyebrow, "besides it's only in England that the fairies are all pretty."

"Really? Are there fairies who are not pretty?" Sybil asked, now in extreme curiosity.

"In Scotland there are fairies who are very scary," Mrs Hughes replied pulling on a very scary look and making her fingers to look like claws, eliciting a series a wonderful giggles from the young lady on her lap.

"Oh… Could you tell me about them? Please?" Sybil asked with pleading eyes and Mrs Hughes couldn't resist.

"Very well…" Mrs Hughes said and cleared her throat. Sybil rested her head again on Mrs Hughes' chest as Mrs Hughes positioned herself so she could keep on making her lists while telling Lady Sybil the stories.

And from the Housekeeper's sitting room, came floating in the air, the sound of a soft lilting voice opening doors to a kingdom of magic and mystery and a childish voice getting lost in the pictures that the soft Scottish voice wove.

To be continued…

My sincere apologies if there are any grammatical or spelling errors in this chapter. The idea came into my mind in a flash and I had to write it down before I lost the inspiration entirely. Then I couldn't resist the urge to post it at soon as possible. Sorry! (*smiles apologetically*)

And thank you so much for all your reviews! It's so lovely to know what you think about this story and of course it's a real strength to go on with a story which I expected to finish off within around three chapters at first. Don't worry I can barely see the end I want yet so it'll go on for some more chapters (hopefully, if inspiration flows in readily as it does now). And thank you again!