Author's Note: I promise I have not forgotten about Time and Time Again or Another Time, Another Place. But this chapter demanded to be written and so here we are :)

Warning: By no means am I suggesting you try any of the soon-to-be-mentioned cat-catching (and housekeeper-keeping) tactics at home.

Enjoy!


With Anna having let the cats out of the downstairs, there was only one thing for it.

Elsie started to push herself out of her seat, ignoring her discomfort. She was simply disoriented from her collision with the table, nothing more. What was important now was finding out what exactly happened.

A hand stopped her in seconds, "Mrs. Hughes, there's no need to get up."

Mr. Carson, I can assure you––"

"With those two loose in the house, we don't need to risk further injury." He adamantly stated his opinion, not allowing her the chance for refutation. Already, his hand guided her back to the chair. "No, the best thing is for you to remain downstairs."

"And what if you get hurt trying to catch them? Or someone else, for that matter?" She demanded, scowling, "Am I to take it this rule only applies to me?"

"It applies to everyone. If anyone becomes injured, they are to remove themselves at once." Charles informed her, being entirely serious. "Besides, I hope you do not take offense when I say this, but you are in no condition to go traipsing about the house in search of the creatures."

"If you're referring to my head," She began to warn him but he put an end to that at once.

"I was referring to your dress." The butler did worry about her health, make no mistake. But he knew talking as such would only frustrate the woman and push her more than need be. Hence, he changed tactics and pointed out another truth: no self-respecting housekeeper would ever show herself dressed like that.

For some odd reason, Mrs. Hughes didn't believe he was bothered by her appearance. But given that it was indeed impertinent to walk around as such, "Fine. That, I'll accept."

Charles nodded, pleased to hear it. "Then can I leave you here while I go upstairs to investigate? We still need to get that wrist of yours seen to, but given the fact that the family is bound to return at any moment,"

"My wrist can wait." She commented, sparing it a glance before looking back at him, "Go on and see what the kittens've gotten up to. And send Anna to fetch some thread. I'm sure I can stitch enough together to be presentable."

"I'll see what we can do." Because he couldn't promise to do that. But he also couldn't lie to the woman.

"Mr. Carson,"

Yet the man was determined to get out of making promises he couldn't keep, "Please try and rest until I return. I'll be back shortly."

Mrs. Hughes shot him a look, arms crossed, "I'll do my best."

In other words, the unhappy woman refused to promise a thing, much like he. Well, that was only fair. Moreover, an unhappy Mrs. Hughes was infinitely preferable to an unwell one.

Charles sent her another concerned look, hoping she wasn't roused to do something ridiculous. He could only pray that she would stay still and rest for once. She didn't need to fix every household affair.

Of course, once the man had gone back upstairs, she made to do just that. Except her body demanded she stay still and rest for a moment, throbbing all over from being rushed into action.

Fine. She would rest for the time being.

But make no mistake: she would be helping them catch those kittens one way or another.

_._

If someone were to ask Joseph Moseley what he thought his duties as footman included, he would never have said catching two kittens in Downton Abbey. Really, the idea was ludicrous.

And yet here he was, being instructed to do just that.

"I hope you understand, Mr. Moseley," The butler was terse in his manner, most displeased. Fortunately, Mr. Carson's displeasure stemmed from the situation and not him. For now. "That you have four priorities in this matter."

Four priorities? Wasn't it bad enough he had to figure a way to catch the things?

"Firstly, given that they've split up, you are in charge of catching the smaller of two." Well, that made his job easier. Hopefully.

"Secondly, given the family's bound to come back any moment, the kittens are not to be seen." Typical. Because he could obviously guarantee that.

"Thirdly, you are to make sure that nothing is destroyed." Oh, yes. Two kittens hellbent on stirring up trouble definitely wouldn't destroy anything in the house.

This was going to be a rough day, wasn't it?

But what the footman wanted to know was this: what was the fourth priority?

"Lastly, and most importantly," Oh, good. Most importantly. That told Joseph the trouble he'd be in if he messed this one up. "Mrs. Hughes has sustained injuries. She is currently resting downstairs. If at any point, your mission should have you cross paths with her, you are not allowed to let her help in any fashion. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Carson." Let the injured housekeeper help and the butler would have his hide. Made sense, given the man's feelings for her. Not that Joseph –– or anyone in the house, for that matter –– was supposed to know that. It was one of those unspoken things everyone pretended to be oblivious to.

"Good." The butler turned to Anna and Mr. Bates, the valet having been fetched the moment the kittens escaped. "Can I entrust the capture of the second kitten to you? With all four priorities in mind?"

"Yes, Mr. Carson." The married couple remained firm in this regard, in spite of Anna's allergies. In fact, it was most likely thanks to the woman's allergies that they were determined to be of use.

"Right. And remember: the family is not to know of anything. Is that understood?" Once he obtained their official agreement, "Now, they both went up the stairs but you said they went different ways, yes?"

"That's right." The lady's maid confirmed, readily continuing, "I think the smaller one went all the way up. As for the other one, I'm not sure."

"That's a start." The butler remarked, turning to the lone footman, "Let's get a move on, Mr. Moseley. We don't have all day."

Why Mr. Carson didn't say the same thing to the lady's maid and valet, Joseph didn't know. All he did know was that it was time to race up the stairs and somehow juggle all four priorities.

And so the search began.

Feeling it best to start in the servants quarters and work his way down, it took thirty minutes for him to stumble across his target. Luckily, most of the family hadn't returned to the house and thus saved him the trouble of being discreet. Unluckily, the kitten had proven to be ridiculously elusive. It would have been easier if he didn't have to keep precious heirlooms from getting destroyed. But God forbid he fail at any of his priorities.

Which, speaking of…

"Gotcha!" Joseph would proclaim an hour later, a frenzied look in his eye. He'd managed to chase the thing back to the entrance to the downstairs. Now it was trapped with little humiliation having ensued.

Well, no more humiliation than normal.

The kitten coyly backed away from the footman, but he was not to be deterred. With the door leading downstairs shut, there was no place for the thing to run. He blocked the path to the stairs leading up and the entrance back into the main hall was taken care of.

Really, it was going quite well, all things considered.

"Mr. Moseley? Is everything all right––" Madge's well-meaning question tottered off as the black blur lunged through the now-open door, the woman releasing an understandable shriek. As for the footman, he only groaned at the sight, pushing past his colleague and racing down the steps in anticipation of another round of this ridiculous game.

"Mr. Moseley?" Daisy and Mrs. Patmore were standing in the door that led out back, having just returned from errands. "What was that?"

"That," He panted, checking the housekeeper's sitting room to see if she was inside. Just where was Mrs. Hughes? Was the woman resting as promised? Or had he already failed at that priority, too? "Was a cat. A kitten, to be more precise."

The cook's nod was over-exaggerated, her manner unimpressed. As for the assistant cook, she lit up at the thought of a kitten wandering into Downton.

"There's two them, if you must kn–– there you are!" He caught movement in the distance, spotting the little bugger by the piano.

"And what are cats doing in Downton?" Mrs. Patmore archly asked, taking another step into the house.

"They were let in by accident." Mrs. Hughes calmly explained, poking her head out from the butler's pantry. Thank the Lord, she had indeed been downstairs. He still had a chance of making it out of today alive. "And I'm more than happy to help catch them."

"Sorry, Mrs. Hughes," He genuinely was apologetic. "But Mr. Carson said you were not to go near them."

"Why's that?" Daisy was always curious, wasn't she?

As for Mrs. Patmore, she took a better look at her friend and got straight to the point, "What happened to you?"

"It's only a scratch!" The housekeeper informed her, unimpressed by the butler's instructions –– not to mention the cook's question. "There's hardly any blood."

"You got–– you got scratched by one of those things?" Mrs. Patmore asked, lowering her voice upon Joseph shushing her. He didn't want to risk the kitten getting roused into running, not when he was so close to catching it. "Well, now we have to get you seen to. Because I was only talking about the dress."

Mrs. Hughes scowled as her friend approached, not that the footman could pay them any real mind. He was too busy trying to sneak on over to the piano, relieved the kitten was staying still. Maybe, just maybe, he had tired it out. That would be nice.

Then he realised just who had returned to the house, "Whatever you do, don't get upset about the––"

"WHAT THE," Joseph winced at the explosive words spewing across the downstairs, glad Miss Baxter wasn't here to witness such sounds, "IS THIS?"

"–– mess." He weakly finished, huffing out another groan. Spurred on by the redhead's words, the thing had leapt over him and onto the piano bench, mocking his incapability. He made to snatch it up, but it hopped out of his reach, banged out a few notes on the instrument, and darted away.

"If you're gonna play the piano," The servant frustratedly began, "At least play it right."

If the kitten were a child, it'd undoubtedly be blowing a raspberry right about now. As it happened, the little hellion was nowhere in sight and he had just about had it.

Leaning against the wall in a manner much like the under-butler had earlier that day, Joseph took a moment for himself. He no longer had any expectations of being able to manage his priorities. All he could do was pray Mr. Carson would not have his head for failing so miserably.

Then again, with the cook taking care of the housekeeper's injury, the butler might not be quite so vexed. Of course, it would help if he got said housekeeper out of the fray altogether, "Mrs. Hughes, have you considered having a lie-down?"

"I can assure you, Mr. Moseley," Her voice carried from the other room, the woman's obstinacy ringing loud and clear, "There's no need for that."

Translation? I've every intention of helping in this matter. And nothing you say will stop me. So, kindly, stop making a fool of yourself.

Okay. Joseph Moseley now had a choice before him.

Did he want to risk the housekeeper's wrath or the butler's ire?

"In that case," He said, pushing himself off the wall and back into the kitchen. Today wasn't meant to end well for the footman, was it? "We need to make a plan."

"I agree." She went to meet him and gestured for the others to follow, an inkling of mischief emerging in her eyes. "I'm sure Mr. Carson won't mind if we borrow his pantry for a moment."

Joseph glanced at the seat waiting for him inside the pantry, the footman in desperate need of a respite, "You won't hear any argument from me."

Mrs. Hughes faintly snorted at this, leading the way into the pantry. He dutifully followed her stead, shutting the door on the woman only once it was safe to do so. Because, really, if he had to choose between angering the butler or the housekeeper, it was an easy choice.

An unpleasant one, make no mistake. But easy.

"Mr. Moseley?" An outraged voice started up inside, muffled by the wood. It was accompanied by a stern face in the window, "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes. Really, I am," He kept a tight hold on the doorknob, well aware her keys could unlock it at any moment. At least he had the strength to keep it shut. And by blocking the others from following in, he'd ensured the housekeeper was the only one inside. "But Mr. Carson's instructions were very clear: you're not to go near them."

The knob rattled, the woman determined to open it. But Joseph had one advantage: he didn't have to contend with pain.

Still, his strength wouldn't last forever.

"Daisy, could you grab me a chair? Please?" For someone who had sustained a few injuries, the housekeeper was proving to be quite powerful. In other words? She'd nearly forced the door open more than once. "We're gonna need a little help keeping Mrs. Hughes out of harm's way."

The assistant cook did as instructed, only hesitating toward the end, "Is this really a good idea?"

Joseph could have answered this outright. As it happened, he felt inclined to answer her question with one of his own: "What do you think Mr. Carson will do if Mrs. Hughes gets hurt again? And all because we let her help?"

The chair was handed over at once, the trio making sure it did its job in keeping the door stuck. And when the housekeeper's protests only renewed, it was the cook who spoke out, "You know, this is for your own good!"

She scoffed at her friend's audacity, "I would hardly call it that!"

"Then you can take it up with the butler when you see him next!" Mrs. Patmore retorted, shaking her head. Turning back to her companions, she muttered to them, "Honestly, she can't pretend she's in good shape. I know pain when I see it."

"I heard that!"

The cook rolled her eyes, "Then hear this: I'll get Mr. Carson to ring for the doctor if you keep this up. And then you'll have to take it easy."

"Am I to take it being trapped here is the trade-off for your silence?"

"What else would I be suggesting?"

Before the exchange could carry on, Joseph felt the urge to ask something he deemed rather important, "Isn't she in the only room with a telephone?"

"I see you've forgotten about the one upstairs."

"Oh, right." Having been reminded of the upstairs, the footman recalled his current mission. His spirit proceeded to deplete itself. "I really don't think I can catch that kitten by myself. I don't suppose either of you want to help?"

"I'll help!" Daisy eagerly offered as Mrs. Patmore informed him, "Someone needs to stay here and keep an eye on her."

"And before you say that's not necessary," The cook piped up louder than a trumpet, glaring at the pantry's window, "I'll have you know it is."

"Considering the chair's on your side of the door, who am I to argue?"

Joseph sighed as the two women carried on with their exchange. It was understandable that Mrs. Hughes didn't care to be stuck in that room. But didn't she see it was for the best? Besides, the longer they stayed here arguing, the more chance that kitten had of escaping back into the upstairs. Where was that thing, anyway?

"Mr. Moseley?" Relief swept through him at the sound of that charming voice, the man turning back to the way out. It seemed everyone was returning from their errands, including his favourite member of the staff.

"Miss Baxter!" He exclaimed, eagerly putting an end to the conversation between housekeeper and cook. Stepping forth, happy to let the others keep an eye on the pantry, "Am I glad to see you!"

"Is everything all right?" She gestured to the chair currently jamming the door to the butler's pantry shut, "Has something happened to Mr. Carson?"

"It's only Mrs. Hughes," He tried to reassure her. It didn't work, not exactly.

"Mrs. Hughes?" The lady's maid queried, rather perplexed. The housekeeper in question looked to Miss Baxter through the glass, gesturing to the chair. It was clear she was in no mood to remain stuck and was more than willing to ask for help.

"It's a long story you don't need to concern yourself with." Mrs. Patmore interjected before aid could be given, continuing, "You wouldn't happen to have anything that'll catch a cat? Yarn or something?"

"Only thread." Miss Baxter was quick to adapt, keeping quiet when it came to her personal questions. Given the clues before her, she thought it best to stay neutral when it came to moving the chair away from the door. "Will that work?"

"It'll do."

"And just what is this?" The butler was returning, taking note of the chair at once. He then saw his housekeeper through the window, becoming even more puzzled. That her hands were on her hips, the woman glaring right at him, was not helping to solve the mystery.

"Mr. Carson!" Five voices cried out –– three in relief, one in confusion, and the last in vexation. At once, explanations sounded off. But as per usual, the butler was in no mood to humour pandemonium.

"His Lordship is only five minutes away, at most." He indignantly met every pair of eyes, but especially Joseph's. "Where is that cat? And why is there a chair here?"

Mrs. Patmore shut them all up, taking the lead, "Mr. Moseley, Miss Baxter, and Daisy were about to set a trap, if you'll excuse them."

The butler did so at once, shooing the pair away in the hopes that they would bring an end to this part of the chaos. Mr. Bates and Anna still had their own hellion to contend with, but the capture of this one would hopefully make a difference.

"And the chair?" He lowly questioned, most unimpressed with the display.

"That would be thanks to Mrs. Hughes." The cook cheekily informed him, "She refused to rest and so Mr. Moseley took matters into his own hands. Luckily, I was able to take care of her wrist before that."

"I expect you to give him a talking to, Mr. Carson!" The housekeeper curtly chimed from inside the pantry. "Given that I'm sure your instructions were not this severe."

"I will be sure to speak to him." Charles solemnly promised. If that was less of a lecture and more of a thank you for your quick thinking moment, so be it. He didn't care to box up Mrs. Hughes. But if she didn't take it easy, she would be worse off. This at least forced the woman to stay still for more than a minute.

"See that you do." Thankfully, she looked to be appeased by this agreement.

"Now then," The butler turned back to the steps, trying to ignore the housekeeper's continued stare. "I'm needed upstairs, if you'll excuse me."

"Of course." She responded from inside the pantry. It only took her a few moments to realise something, "Mr. Carson! Do you not suppose you ought to instruct them to let me out?"

"He's long gone, Mrs. Hughes." The cook bluntly remarked. "And I don't know about you, but that mess isn't going to clean itself."

"Mrs. Patmore?"

"With a dinner only hours away and Daisy helping with that trap, I'm afraid I'm needed elsewhere."

"Mrs. Patmore! If you do not let me out this instance," But the redhead could be as stubborn as her friend. And given that the door wouldn't be budging anytime soon, she could –– dare it be said –– afford to walk away.

It wasn't as though as they were going to leave her in there forever. Of course, if Elsie really had been panicked at being left in the pantry, Beryl would be able to tell. More than that, she would have made sure her friend was let out. But the cook knew what this was about: it wasn't about panic, it was about feeling competent. And seeing as how that would only lead to further injury, she was in no mood to humour it.

Really, some people would be chuffed to escape their responsibilities for a few hours!

She ought to know, what with the mess she now had to attend to...


Author's Note: Will Mrs. Hughes be able to get someone to let her out early? When will Miss Baxter's thread finally make a real appearance? Most importantly of all, will Joseph be able to escape the day unscathed? Tune in for the next chapter of A Tale of Two Kitties!

In other words? I cannot wait to share with you the plot that checkem89 sparked! I'm afraid if I say another word, I'll give it all away. All I can say is that it should only take a few days to write, five days max :)

But yes, always, hope you enjoyed! 'Till next time.