Thank you so much for your kind reviews and for sticking with this! This chapter is a little bleh as it is mostly travelling - I should have realised by making them travel 300-odd miles that there would be some travelling chat involved but anyway, my bad.
I'm struggling a little keeping the balance from Mr Carson to Charles and Mrs Hughes to Elsie etc right. I've tried to keep it to thoughts but I apologise for any disjointedness. :( Also let me know if any of Mr Cameron's speech is hard to read.
The journey they've taken is about as close to the journey would have been at the time, obviously Downton is fictional but Thirsk, Newcastle, Edinburgh, Inveraray was the only way of linking lines that I could find. I've tried to keep the timing relative but I claim creative license for it not taking them until midnight! xx
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, just borrowing for fun.
It was just after ten past seven when the train pulled out of Downton's station, much to Mr Carson's chagrin. At the last minute, Mrs Patmore had decided to get the earlier train, having argued that Daisy could well look after breakfast and that she was going to need extra time to come to grips with the kitchens and larder at Inveraray. So the delay had come from getting the cook's luggage from the Abbey to the train on time.
"Heaven knows what sort of thing they have up there Mr Carson!" the small cook protested, as she blustered down into her seat beside an amused Mrs Hughes.
"And what exactly do you think they will have different up there, Mrs Patmore? I'll have you know stoves and kettles have been just as popular in Scotland as they have been here." The housekeeper interjected, as she scooted further towards the window to allow the cook more room.
"That may be, but what if their larder is just full of odd things, like haggis! It wouldn't do to only serve the family that god-knows-what for three weeks, now would it? And what if I can't get hold of fresh ingredients, I doubt there's a shop next door I can just pop over to whenever the fancy takes me!"
"Heavens! Anyone would think we were heading for The Mysterious Island!" the housekeeper exclaimed, feigning horror as she looked to the butler sat opposite her, who as always remained un-phased by Mrs Patmore's rambling.
"I'm sure you will find the kitchens as adequately stocked as any to be found, Mrs Patmore." Mr Carson stated proudly as he settled into his seat. "I am told the family there keep abreast of all modern innovations as and when they occur south of the border."
"Don't you start!" Mrs Hughes shot an accusing look towards the butler, she was sure she could see the hint of a grin teasing at the corner of his lip.
"We best be careful, Mr Carson," the cook pretended to whisper as she leant forward in the carriage towards the butler, "or Mary Queen of Scots here will have our heads!" and with that the ruddy-cheeked cook burst into peals of giggles, forcing Mr Carson to burst into a wide grin, which earned them both an exaggerated eye roll from the housekeeper.
The journey had taken them the best part of the day. They had chatted for most of the morning, had tea when they changed train at Thirsk, but as the train reached a steady speed, Mrs Patmore had fallen into a sound sleep and had remained slouched in her seat. Mr Carson had brought with him his copy of the 1847 Burkes Peerage and Landed Gentry, and was content to thumb through its pages, occasionally dosing off himself. Elsie had also brought a book, Robert Louis Stevenson's The Merry Men and Other Tales and Fables. It was one of her oldest possessions, given to her by the elderly butler of her first house when she was only twenty-five, and it had since travelled her road with her. She supposed the Calvinist rhetoric reminded her of church sermons when she was a lass, and she admitted she was quite partial to anything gothic.
Today however, its heavily thumbed pages sat unturned as she was content with looking out of the train window. She had watched as the Yorkshire moors dissolved into the industrial landscape of Newcastle, with its sky heavy with chimneys and the dockyards heaving with sails and steam. This in turn soon transformed into the rolling borderlands and as if by the flick of a switch, the close knit hills disappeared as the line begun to hug the South-East Scottish coastline. From her window Elsie could see nothing but clear skies and sea for miles, the towering, jagged cliffs giving way to the odd boat beneath. She admitted she missed the sea. She smiled as her memory immediately dived back to the servant's day off in Brighton last year, where it was only her propriety and the company of a certain butler that had stopped her from flinging herself headfirst into the clear, cool water.
She smiled to herself. Goodness knows what Mr Carson would have thought of her then. Their relationship, if she could call it that because she didn't really know what to call it, seemed to be on the mends. She still felt awful about letting him down with regards to their joint property venture and had fully expected the butler to retreat back into his shell a little. But she had been pleasantly surprised when he maintained their newfound closeness, and allowed her to share in little details of the cottages he was still looking into for himself. Elsie had told him she had enjoyed their little dream, but in truth she still woke for dreams where they had settled into a life together. Where they had become more than just joint owners, more than just colleagues, maybe even more than just friends. But for now, she would settle for and be content in the closeness they shared.
Mr Carson had startled awake as the train jolted on the tracks. "Oh, I must have dozed off, I must apologise Mrs Hughes." He noticed the housekeeper jump a little. He felt more than embarrassed about falling asleep, in front of two ladies no less. He cleared his throat, "Where are we now?"
"We shouldn't be far from Edinburgh now." She motioned to the window, "We've just come alongside the coast."
He looked rather tousled in his half asleep state as he tumbled for his pocket watch. "Ah, we have made good time then. Very good time indeed."
"Yes." She smiled to herself at his flustering, daft man. "Shall we wake Mrs Patmore?"
"Eh… I'd rather we didn't for the moment." The butler glanced over at the cook, who was slumped against the side of the carriage wall snoring slightly. "I'd rather enjoy some quiet before we arrive in the city."
Mrs Hughes grinned, "I won't tell if you won't."
The rest of the journey to Edinburgh had been spent in companionable silence, Mr Carson had gone back to his book, and Mrs Hughes her window. The cliffs had soon faded into small towns and villages on the outskirts of Edinburgh and before long the city itself loomed into view. Mrs Patmore had been woken and they'd prepared for alighting. As she stepped off the train Elsie noted that Waverley Station was much as she remembered it, a sprawling maze of tracks and platforms.
They repeated the process at Glasgow Central Station, and once settled on their train to Inveraray were glad to tuck into some lunch as the clock passed 1pm. As the train thundered across Renfrewshire and into Argyll, Elsie lost herself in the scenery once again. This time though, as she picked out munros and lochs that she'd known in her youth, the scenery felt like it was hers.
Around 3pm they arrived at Inveraray, a typical rural station in the heart of the small town around it. A car had arrived from Inveraray Castle which they were soon bundled into alongside their luggage by their silent, no-nonsense driver.
"So, go on then, what does it feel like to be home?" Mrs Patmore said, gleefully nudging the housekeeper beside her. Her friend had been quiet all day (well for the parts she had been awake), and Beryl was determined to work out why.
"If you're expecting me to start spouting Robert Burns from the nearest mountaintop, you're quite mistaken Mrs Patmore." Mrs Hughes replied wearily, "But I'll admit, it is rather nice to see Argyll again." She turned to look out the car's window. They were hurtling along a single track road that was banked by a large pine forest on one side, and a dramatic glen on the other. The land appeared to fall away from the road itself and sprawl across acers of bracken and heather, the odd rocky outcrop breaking the surface with its lichen-covered boulders standing grey in contrast.
"I always thought the Scots pine a fine tree." Mr Carson joined in. As usual he had managed to make his words sound like an agricultural comment rather than something nice for the Scotswoman he sat opposite. He watched as both the cook and the housekeeper raised their eyebrows in unison. Mrs Hughes in surprise at his genuine sentimentality, and Mrs Patmore at the absurd attempt at what she supposed was meant to be a compliment.
Mrs Patmore rolled her eyes, sighing, "All this glorious scenery, the likes I've never seen, and all you can come up with is 'a fine tree' and 'it's nice'?! Heavens, you two… I'll never know!" the small cook threw up her hands to emphasise her despair.
It wasn't half an hour before Inveraray Castle came into view. The more Elsie had seen of the acres around the castle, the more her heart leapt. Even the air blowing in through the window smelt clear and crisp. She felt more than a little foolish. As they unloaded the car with the help of the estate's gillie and a kitchen maid who had greeted them, she reminded herself she was a grown woman after all, not some silly lass who's heart only sung for the highlands. Keeping step with Mr Carson, they followed the gillie whilst Mrs Patmore had disappeared with the maid, who had promised to take the cook to the larder straight away as her insistence. Though Elsie was intently listening to the gillie exchange small talk with Mr Carson, she made a mental note to complete the work necessary for the family's arrival as fast as her standards would allow, on the chance that she could take a walk before it got dark.
"Hoo' aboot it?" the gillie asked as the three stopped at the entrance to the servants yard, "The loch is somethin' tae see this time o' day, whit wi the birds an a that, an wi a braw lass lik you aside it, well…" the gillie winked at Mr Carson.
It was clear to the butler that he wasn't part of the gillie's invitation, so he stood one eyebrow raised in distaste, his ears turning a delicate shade of crimson. He watched as Mrs Hughes flustered for a reply.
"Yes, well," Mrs Hughes begun, feeling a blush creep up her neck, only managing a side glance to Mr Carson. "We have quite a lot to do before the family arrive, so perhaps another day, Mr… em?"
"Cameron. Jock Cameron. At yer service." He flashed a toothy grin, "And ye are?"
"Elsie Hughes." she smiled, the blush still evident on her cheeks. She had been caught quite off guard by the handsome gillie.
"Alricht Elsie. Mibbie anither day." He grinned, turning to face Mr Carson, "I'll say guid day ta ye baith then." And with that he turned on his heel and made his leave down the drive.
If Mr Carson's ears were red before, his face now bloomed an infuriated red as he bristled. "Well I never. What an uncouth… improper-"
"He was just being kind, Mr Carson." The housekeeper interrupted, shrugging off her own flustering by smoothing down her dress.
"Kind my eye!" Mr Carson huffed. How dare that man! He would have to keep an eye on this Mr Cameron. A close eye at that.
