AN: thank you everybody for being so encouraging and awesome! Prepare for some gentle goobering: we're getting closer to the plan being put into action!
- if you find any mistakes, please let me know: Dee did give this the once over, but I am an impatient sort. And ill, so I'll be blaming my fever. Anyway: hope you'll enjoy and don't hesitate to review!
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In the morning, before breakfast (before it's time for the staff to find their gifts piled high under the tree, placed there by her long before the crack of dawn), he finds her kneeling beside the tree placing the figurines of the nativity in some wooden crates she's lined with hay from the stables, sprigs of holly and berries peeping out between the ox and the wise men. She is looking well-rested and happy, a smile plays on her lips.
He wishes she could always be so content.
"Could you hand me poor Melchior? I've left him on the table."
He is not surprised she knew he was there and he picks up the figurine and gives it to her. She reaches up to grasp it and smiles at him.
"You are up early," she says and puts Melchior in his rightful place.
"A little quiet before the storm," he replies, not telling her that he woke up early after repeated dreams of kissing her, of taking her in his arms, of pulling her close. Of her looking pretty in a new dress, with her hair soft and curling - much the way it looked during the war (he sometimes thinks she was happiest then, before Mr Bates's former wife came along to mess up Anna's life, before Ethel fell prey to the empty promises of a young, randy lieutenant, before Lady Sybil died in childbirth, when Elsie Hughes, Housekeeper, had a good gaggle of maids to command - but he knows she loves the changes in the world, the way she has the vote now and Daisy is getting an education and retirement is closer in sight).
"I hope they'll like their gifts," she says and she looks at the pile of presents, worrying her lip.
"I'm sure they will."
"I fear I'm a little out of touch with what they want, Mr Carson. I'm getting old."
She reaches for him and he helps her up. She wipes the dust from her knees and looks at him, her head tilted slightly, a tiny smile playing around her lips.
"This is where you say 'Oh, no, Mrs Hughes, not you, you are eternally young!'"
He chuckles a bit. "I was actually thinking that. You keep up with them a lot better than I do."
He has not let go of her hand yet and it suddenly dawns on him that he probably should. But he holds on and she doesn't seem to mind.
"Do you remember when Daisy was a scullery maid and had to light the range in the early morning and she found the presents that first winter she was with us?"
He lets out a chuckle. "She ran back upstairs, calling out to Mrs Patmore."
He falls quiet then.
"It never occurred to me that she had never had presents at Christmas before."
"Well, we've made up for that. There's one from Mr Mason as well as ours."
He feels a little tingly when she says 'ours'. He squeezes her hand softly and she squeezes back.
"How about I make us a nice cup of tea? It will be half an hour before they all come thundering in."
He nods. "Yes please. But don't we have to wait for the range to be lit?"
"Oh Mr Carson, you must move with the times. We had a gas stove installed this Season, don't you remember?"
But he hardly hears her as he focuses on her lips as she speaks. He shakes his head a little and she puts her hand on his arm.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes, of course," he doesn't shrug her hand off, but he dismisses her concern easily - the way he has done so many times before. He doesn't like it when she thinks he is weak or ill.
"Well, if you say so. I'll fetch you that tea and I expect they will all come running down soon."
"Will you join them?" he asks.
She frowns a bit. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Oh… erm… nothing. Sorry. No. Indeed. Of course you will. We both will. Breakfast."
He is stammering and he can feel she is going to be ask him again if he is alright and he would be alright if he didn't think of what is waiting for him in his pantry. For both of them. He straightens his back.
Clears his throat.
"I'll be back shortly, Mrs Hughes," he says and she nods. When she walks away his arm feels cold where her hand had been, like a loss.
When he returns (his gift in the pocket of his coat) she is talking easily, cheerfully with Mrs Patmore who has joined them for breakfast in the Servants' Hall. It's an old tradition they enjoy - a little break in their usual routine.
The young ones are still unwrapping gifts, chatting happily. Charles notices that there's much of the same as there's always been: handkerchiefs and tins of biscuits, small bottles of scent, tickets for the cinema in Ripon. Mrs Patmore has her gift still in her hands: a broach in the style she is fond of. Mrs Hughes is pouring tea, keeping her eye on the bells. She is buttering toast, sliding the pieces on plates she can reach, making sure her 'brood' gets some nourishment before they have to get back to work.
"Why are you hovering in the doorway, Mr Carson?" Mrs Patmore gives him a cheeky smile. "Are you awaiting a kiss?"
He jumps away from under the mistletoe, feeling his cheeks colour.
As do Mrs Hughes's, but nobody is looking at her, they are all looking at him.
"Frivolous nonsense, Mrs Patmore," he says and the cook laughs.
"I remember many a Christmas I lingered under the mistletoe when I was a kitchen maid."
"Were there ever many takers, Mrs Patmore?" Thomas asks her drolly and the cook smiles enigmatically.
"You'll never know!"
Everybody laughs now and Charles is thankful for the distraction. The sound of easy laughter makes him happy, though he'll never admit it. Camaraderie among staff is important for the running of a house as big as Downton. You need everyone to feel some goodwill for the other and for all of them to pull together.
He leads with discipline and strictness and she (Mrs Hughes, Elsie Hughes, Elsie) with discipline and kindness. He is learning from her. Daisy is sitting next to Mr Molesley, showing him her two gifts: a little pot of a soft pink lip colour (from her) and a book of advanced math problems - from him.
He hopes that by gifting her this, she understands he has nothing against her sitting her exams soon. (He had heard Mrs Hughes upset statement as he had followed Mr Molesley to Sgt Willis and it had made him think. It took a good while, but perhaps Mrs Hughes is right: why not make the most of talent and gifts given. Had he not done the same? The son of a groom, sitting here overlooking the staff he commands?)
"That was nice of you," she says in between sips of tea.
"She deserves it," he responds, hardly able to look at her.
Bells start ringing then and he sends everyone on their way with his customary 'no dawdling', now accompanied with 'happy Christmas'.
Mrs Hughes bites into her toast one last time, gets up, brushes away nonexistent crumbs from her dress (quick motions, sliding the side of her hand across the front - he is aware it is wrong to let his gaze linger, but...). She picks up her teacup to take to her parlour.
"Would you mind stepping into my pantry later, I've an issue with last Wednesday's coal bill."
She smiles quite brilliantly. "Of course, Mr Carson. I'll come in after my rounds."
He nods.
That should give him an hour to pull himself together and put a stop to these nervously rambling thoughts of her mouth and the front of her dress.