What possessed him?" she asked incredulously. "I wouldn't have thought a man like our Mr Carson..." tailing off, not entirely sure what the right response was in this situation.
Elsie sighed with an air of despondency, "If I knew that, Mrs Patmore, then I wouldn't be talking to you about it."
"And there's two of them?" she asked, still trying to digest the information.
"Aye. Two girls," Elsie paused before adding, "Well, there'd have to be, I suppose. Otherwise we'd have an entirely different problem on our hands."
Comfortably ensconced in the housekeeper's Sitting Room, a pot of tea set down on the table between them, the two matriarchs of the downstairs had been relishing the chance to sit and relax a little. It had been a quiet day. A few weeks before Lady Grantham had taken the decision that it had been too long since they'd seen Lady Rosamund and with Mr Talbot and Mr Branson having a motor show to attend in Earls Court, the timing had worked out quite well. Grantham House had been opened, Mr Barrow having gone ahead, with the family and the majority of the staff departing that morning.
And so, the Abbey had been left to the two of them to manage, save for the new kitchen maid who they'd given her the afternoon off to visit her aunt. They'd attended a few jobs together, the leisurely pace they'd adopted had meant that the stock take of the kitchen store cupboard had taken much of the morning but, they'd reasoned, the prospect of an easy two weeks was to be cherished at their age and there was really no need to rush. And it had been halfway through their rest break that Elsie had shared her news.
"Won't they be noisy?" Beryl asked.
"I should expect so," Elsie sighed again. "And that's not the worst of it. He's building them an enclosure like you can't imagine. You should see the planks of wood stacked up against the wall."
"Every man needs a hobby, I suppose," she tried sympathetically.
Elsie pursed her lips, "I know that," she said decidedly, "And God knows I don't want him at a loose end. But chickens? Honestly, whatever will be next?"
They caught each other's eye and couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it. The image of the upright, tight-lipped butler mucking out straw and whatever else might go with it had Beryl shrieking as she speculated about the undignified tasks that might be involved. Elsie joined her with the notion of him routing around for eggs each morning, basket in hand, like a farmer's daughter. And it was with them clutching their sides that he found them, the man in question, as he popped his head around the door.
"Something's tickled you ladies, I see," Charles commented, hat in hand and a book tucked under his arm.
"Indeed it has, Mr Carson," Beryl speaking first as they both smothered their giggles as best they could. "Mrs Hughes was just telling me about the new additions to your family.
"Was she indeed," his retort accompanied by a disapproving glance towards his wife. "In which case I can't quite see what's so amusing. I'd have thought you'd be in favour, Mrs Patmore, given your keen focus on the quality of ingredients."
Beryl stood to leave. Common sense told her this was not a debate her friend would thank her for having quite so openly. It was bound to be a sore point, them even having discussed it.
"Well, I'm sure you're right, Mr Carson. I tell you what, bring me up a few eggs when you have them and I'll make you an omelette," the sound of her chuckles echoing against the stone walls as she took herself away from them.
Anticipating his furrowed brow to indicate his displeasure and herself not in the mood for a row, Elsie made a pre-emptive move by standing to clear the tea cups and asked, "What brings you up here?"
"Just borrowing something from the library," he replied through pursed lips. He didn't enjoy being the subject of ridicule but not wanting it to affect his motive for looking in, worked to get past it.
He watched as she loaded the tea tray ready for taking back to the kitchen, her deft hands making light work of gathering the pieces together, waiting until she'd done and looked at him again before asking his question.
"As I was walking up I got to thinking whether you'd fancy eating at the pub later, seeing as the family are away?"
She smiled. Despite his gruffness he really could be very thoughtful at times. She'd been thinking along similar lines but had been hesitant to suggest anything. She nodded her enthusiasm and agreed a time when he'd come back for her, a brief kiss to her cheek as he departed. She gave a small hum of contentment as she watched his broad shoulders disappear down the corridor and couldn't help but giggle as he shuddered as he passed the archway through to the kitchens, the faintest sound of clucking reaching back to her.
The afternoon passed at a leisurely pace. Elsie marvelled at just how much could be achieved without anyone to bother her, whether that be the family and their varying requirements or the servants themselves who took a great deal of managing. She'd decided that the best use of time would be to do a once over of the house, note down everything that needed doing. That way she'd have a better sense of where to focus her energies. Although she had to admit the list was already quite extensive and she'd not finished the ground floor yet. This was the trouble with having a paired back downstairs. Day to day they could manage enough easily but it was at the neglect of tasks that, ten years ago, would have been completed on a more regular and cyclical basis.
Take this room, she said to herself as she entered the Library. She used to be fadicious about the books coming down off the library shelves every four weeks, six at the outset, a necessity born of the dust they inevitably attracted. Lord Grantham bemoaned it happening of course, always fearful things would never go back in quite the same way. She'd not taken it as a slight of her skills, but honesty! As if she'd ever allow a book to be placed incorrectly! It had just meant her and the Countess coming up with a more innovative approach and if anyone had been paying attention then they may have noticed that it was about the time when his complaints became louder and more frequent that his Lordship's regular visits to Studley Royal for a ride out had commenced.
As she surveyed the room, adding to the list the painting above the fireplace was well overdue for its supposedly annual dehang and clean, she found herself running a finger along the titles that crammed the dark mahogany shelves. It had been a while since she'd borrowed anything, seeing Charlie earlier had put her in mind of it, and this might be a good opportunity, she thought. With a simplified schedule she might actually find the time and the energy to read something. She came to a grouping of Edgeworth novels she'd remembered from her early days as housekeeper. She'd enjoyed those, perhaps not as easy to love as Austen but thought-provoking nonetheless. Her hand lingered at one in particular. Had Charlie read this, she wondered, concluding after some consideration it was highly doubtful. She plucked it from the shelf, holding its richly bound cover with its gilded title and author on the front and spine carefully in her hand. She'd always felt fortunate that she'd been granted permission to borrow books quite so freely. It wasn't a privilege extended to the staff of all the great houses. She moved to the book where they were required to note down what had been taken, picking up the pen to add her name under her husband's, resisting the very strong temptation to scrawl 'Mrs Carson' in her elegant hand. The book titled added, along with the shelf reference from where she'd taken it, she couldn't help but notice the title on the line above. She heard her own heavy groan escaping her lips as she contemplated its implication. Still, she'd have to worry about that later and, she noted with glee, it only made her own selection all the more fitting. She focused her mind back on the work still to be done and, with a final glance around the room, moved on to tackle the Hall.
It was gone six by the time Elsie and Beryl were reaching for their hats and coats. The top shelves of the main kitchen were gleaming in a way that they hadn't for years. Mrs Patmore had tried to blame Daisy for it but it wasn't her fault, not really. Elsie complemented her friend's efforts and saw the disguised beam of pride as it was begrudgingly acknowledged. Mrs Patmore was a hard woman to please, a knowledge hard gained from her many years of trying, and so instead enquired as to her plans for the evening. She listened as Beryl outlined her plans to visit Mr Mason, quite unaware of how animated she became as she did so.
As the left the night porter to lock up, they bade one another goodnight and Elsie watched as the great cook of the house, so usually so forthright and self-assured, shuffled excitedly away to cut through the gardens, the slightest spring in her step discernible against the early evening sky. As she turned and began the walk down the long gravel driveway she smiled to herself. It had been a good day and, she noted now, the looming figure of her husband coming to greet her, it had the promise of being a better night.
I honestly didn't expect to be back here with these two quite so soon, but I found an idea developing in my mind. And with life a little challenging in the last week or so, I found myself seeking solace in starting to jot it down. It's a tad short, this introductory chapter, but hopefully sets the scene for what might be to come.