You get another 2 fics today. The first is by EC and the second is by me. we both appreciate all of your lovely reviews!
Mittens
by Edwar Carson
"He'll never wear them. I don't know why you're bothering."
Elsie didn't lift her eyes from the knitting in her hands, from the soft dark wool and the clicking needles. But she did smile. Her husband was inclined to make pronouncements about things and they often amused her.
Mrs. Patmore missed this because her eyes followed Mr. Carson from the room, a bewildered look on her face. "He doesn't really think you're making those mittens for Mr. Barrow," she said, her gaze returning to the housekeeper.
They were in the Carsons' sitting room which was a cozy place to spend an evening, Mrs. Patmore thought. Someday, someday, when she was old and grey, she might have the chance to sit by her own fireside in her own little cottage. But not yet. In the meantime, she enjoyed the Carsons' hospitality whenever the schedule at the Abbey permitted it. Everyone was away this evening and she could be here.
"You've had him try them on three times. How could he think that you're making them for anyone other than him?" The thickness of the male skull was a fact of life that Mrs. Patmore didn't have to be married to appreciate.
"How else am I to surprise him with them on Christmas morning?" Elsie replied, and she did look at Mrs. Patmore as she spoke. "I have to let him think they're for someone else."
"But … Mr. Barrow? Mr. Carson is right. Mr. Barrow would never wear something so country as a pair of knitted mittens. He's too sophisticated for that. Couldn't you have thought of a more plausible lie? I could have done."
"I'm sure of that," Elsie agreed emphatically. She had some experience with Mrs. Patmore's glib tongue. Oh, the cook was alarmingly frank when she wanted to be, which was almost always. But she could turn a tale that would impress an Irishman, too. "But it's not entirely implausible. I like to do Mr. Barrow a good turn now and again, even if he doesn't appreciate it. And Mr. Carson knows it."
"Knows it and doesn't like it," Mrs. Patmore huffed.
"He doesn't have to like everything I do," Elsie said complacently. "We are two separate people."
Mrs. Patmore regarded her friend with a look of ambivalence. "You have an original approach to marriage, you do."
Mittens
by imnotokaywiththerunning
Carson watched in bemusement as Nanny tried to wrangle Master George and Miss Sybbie into their winter coats. The children were cooperating to an extent, but there was only so much patience that the small body of a child could contain.
"Were we like this, Carson?"
Lady Mary had moved to stand beside him, watching the commotion with much the same level of detachment as the butler. She loved the children dearly, but she did not envy Nanny her job of corralling their tiny fingers into mittens. George's fingers kept splaying awkwardly every time a mitten came near, always leaving a finger out.
Carson smiled, indulgently remembering a young Lady Mary and her two sisters. She had been oh so excited to go play out in the snow, her tiny smile barely contained behind a scarf. "Children will always be children, my Lady."
She laughed, her joy spilling out in a warm timbre, distracting George just long enough for Nanny to slip his arms through his coat and button him up. Lady Mary turned to the children. "Are we all ready to go, then?"
"Yes!" came the chorus from Master George and Miss Sybbie. Nanny nodded.
"Where's Tom?"
"I'm here," Tom called, walking down the steps. Andy was waiting with his coat and helped him into it, handing him his hat.
Carson opened the door for all five of them to file out. Nanny and the children first with Tom and Lady Mary following more sedately.
"You'll keep our tea warm for us, won't you, Carson?" Lady Mary winked as she walked by.
"Of course, My Lady."