Hi guys! Thank you soo soo much for the lovely reviews you've left me, they are very much appreciated, you've been so kind. Sorry this has taken forever, a couple of spoilers that were revealed for series 6 were similar to a few things I had written which meant I had to do some serious re-writing which sucked big time and I got a bit disillusioned but hopefully things won't turn out too bad. Hopefully. Anyway, thanks again for sticking with this. :) xx
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I own nothing except Mr Cameron. I'm just borrowing and having fun.
The few hours before the family arrived had passed at breakneck speed for both Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes as they met and worked alongside Inveraray's staff in bringing the castle to what Mr Carson deemed "a Downton standard". As they had suspected, the castle was running on a reduced staff for the winter season but fortunately the remaining housemaids and footmen were extremely efficient and the work was well on its way to completion.
After settling the last of the tasks with the housemaids, Elsie made her way downstairs, hoping for a quiet cup of tea before she begun sorting through her own luggage - after the hard work of the morning on top of their long journey, she didn't feel as though she was taking too much of a liberty. As she rounded the final twist in the stairs leading to the kitchens, she slowed her pace as a rather irate voice boomed along the stone walls, out of her sight.
"How am I supposed to know what to do with any of this, exactly?"
"Tha's everythin oan the list thit wis given tae me, Miss Patmore. The-"
"I mean, whatever on God's green earth is this?!" the stout cook's voice interjected, bewildered, as packaging rustled. Goodness knows what Beryl would be brandishing in the poor delivery boys face by now, Elsie thought. As much as she wished a cup of tea, avoiding the drama that was clearly unfolding in the kitchen seemed more appealing, so as quietly as she could Elsie turned on her heel and set off in the direction of the butler and housekeeper's sitting room. A few steps later however, she was dismayed to find a figure leant against the frame of the open sitting room door. Even though his back was to her, Elsie knew immediately who it was.
"Mr Cameron, good afternoon." She gave a tired smile. All she just wanted was a little peace, and something told her this man was most likely the opposite.
"Ah, Elsie," the gillie turned to face her, straightening his stance, "ah had hoped tae catch ye here." He took of his cap with a wide smile.
The housekeeper raised an eyebrow at the use of her name, "Is there something I can help you with, Mr Cameron?" unconsciously over emphasising his name in return.
"No exactly, as ah said, ah had hoped tae catch ye here." He motioned to the room. Elsie wondered what he thought she did all day, but politeness made her smile as he continued. "Ah was wondering if ye had time for that walk we discussed earlier?"
"As nice as that offer still is Mr Cameron, I had hoped to begin my unpacking." She waved her hand towards the various items of luggage that were stacked neatly in the middle of the room.
"Acht, yer packing can wait. The licht'll be gone from the day by the time you're done all that." He peered into the room, it was quite a large pile. "Was there anything ye didnae bring wie yeh though lass?" the gillie laughed a little.
Elsie found the gillie's laugh to be a little infectious and couldn't help but give a small grin. "Those aren't all my own, Mr Carson's luggage is there as well." In truth, the butler's luggage took up more room on the floor than her own, as she had always travelled light.
"Well let him sort it oot. Mon, just a wee walk. Doon tae the loch and back?" he gazed at her expectantly.
Elsie looked to the gillie, then back to the luggage, weighing up her options. She had promised herself a walk after all, and perhaps the fresh air would blow away the cobwebs from travelling.
"Ah promise I'll have ye back afore the family arrive?" Mr Cameron pushed further, leaning closer to Elsie that she might have liked.
Deciding that refusing the gillie would only make him pester her again at a later time, Elsie gave in, "Oh all right, Mr Cameron, just let me get my coat."
"Braw!" Mr Cameron clapped his hands together excitedly, as they headed to the back door together.
"Mrs Patmore, have you seen Mrs Hughes?" Charles had finally completed his rounds, (after a slight mix up that ended with him taking a tour of the ramparts by mistake, but he supposed he could now say the house was fit top to bottom with no inch of doubt) and was hoping to spend a little time with Elsie before the family arrived.
"No, I have not. I was hoping she would help me decipher a few things in the larder but the kitchen maid said that the gillie stopped by earlier to take her for a walk." The cook acknowledged the butler before continuing going back to reading the lists sprawled over her desk.
"Gillie? How much earlier?" Charles pulled out his pocket watch, attempting not to appear too incredulous.
"About an hour or so I suppose." She shrugged as she ticked off items on the parchment.
"An hour ago?!", Charles's face reddened slightly but he caught his composure, "And where exactly was this… gillie… taking Mrs Hughes?"
"Oh, I don't know," she waved her hand nonchalantly. Where the housekeeper was wasn't exactly top of her priorities at that moment. "the grounds I should think. Are you alright Mr Carson?" Mrs Patmore had looked up from her table to find the butler apparently uncomfortable where he stood.
Her question went un-noted, "That seems highly improper!" he exclaimed.
"Mr Carson," she replied, a little exasperatedly, "all women need a man to show them a little attention now and then, preferably a little improper." the cook grinned as she stood up from her desk and began to bustle off to the larder, "Besides," she called back, "they're walking in the gardens, not smooching in the bushes!" And with that she disappeared from sight, leaving a fairly horrified Charles in her wake.
A little improper? Smooching in the- it didn't bear thinking about. Charles pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath in an effort to calm his thoughts. Mrs Hughes was a grown woman, she could go a walk with whomever she pleased he reminded himself. Though she had never gone a walk with him. Then again how could he compete with a man who clearly shared so much in common with his housekeeper - the housekeeper, he corrected himself. He rolled his eyes. But his thoughts were interrupted by a horrifying sound, somewhere between a wail and a drone that appeared to be coming from upstairs.
"What on Earth..." he began, aloud.
"That, Mr Carson, would be the skirl of the bagpipes," a familiar voice spoke up from behind him as Mrs Hughes popped her head in the kitchen door, "which if I am not mistaken means the family must be on the drive. Perhaps we should head upstairs?" she was fixing her hair as she spoke, a few strands had escaped their clasps and now loosely framed her face. Clearly she had not been back long.
Charles turned to face her but only nodded. He had been struck by the way her tongue rolled over 'skirl', elongating the 'rl' into a soft burr, a sound that was so uniquely her that it made his heart leap. He noticed her cheeks were considerably more rosy that usual, her eyes shining as she smiled almost shyly at him. She looked happy. Was she a little flustered? Perhaps this Mr Cameron did have more to offer than he did. His heart sunk a little.
"After you, Mrs Hughes."
