Late summer, 1895
"I've never played Whist with only two people, Mr. Carson."
Summer was drawing to a close in Yorkshire, but everyone was taking advantage of the beautiful weather they had been having as of late. It was still staying light well into the evening - and while that usually meant doing more work later into the day, on particularly dewy evenings, Elsie would find Carson in the courtyard, having a glass of sherry and playing solitaire.
Her Ladyship was nearing her time of confinement, so it was becoming more and more frequent for Lord Grantham to forgo his valet in the evening and, instead, tuck in early with her. So, when Elsie had finished readying Her Ladyship for bed, still having a few hours before she herself would want to get to sleep, and Mr. Carson having been relieved early of his duties, the two of them often found themselves in the courtyard together in the gloaming.
This particular evening, after a week or so of sitting together - Elsie hemming skirts and Carson lost in his game of solitaire, he proposed that they both partake in a friendly card game.
"I assure you, Mrs. Hughes, it can be done. It requires a slight bending of the rules-"
Elsie chuckled, "You, bendin' the rules Mr. Carson? Do you think me nickey?"
"I'm no stick in the mud, Mrs. Hughes." he said, dealing their hands, "Now, the rules are as such - aces are high, suits are equal."
Upstairs in her bedroom, Robert watched as Cora brushed out her hair. She was sitting at her vanity, her long hair draped over her shoulder. He hardly ever saw her with her hair unkempt - it was fashionable for ladies to keep it in an upswept, neat coif. Though he'd never think to comment on it, he did enjoy watching her. Though he'd had a sister in his youth, Cora had been the first woman with whom he had experienced the wiles of womanhood from behind closed doors. Admittedly, the lot of it made him rather squeamish. Particularly in relation to her delicate condition.
"Admiring my follow-me-lads?" Cora teased, lacing her curls around her finger. Robert rose from the bed and stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders.
"Has your hair gotten even longer?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
Cora smirked, "I do think perhaps it grows faster when I'm carrying a child. I can't imagine why, but it does seem to be so quickly becoming out of hand. I'll have to ask Hughes to help me lop off a bit at the ends."
Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, he saw a slight grimace tug at her face.
"What is it, Cora?" he asked, stroking her hair lightly.
Turning away from the mirror to face him, she placed her hand on his atop the chair.
"Oh, don't mind it Robert. Just the small discomforts." She rose, making her way over to the bed. As she pulled the covers back to climb in, she paused, one hand resting upon her abdomen.
At his side of the bed now, Robert paused in his own pulling back of the covers to study her a moment with mounting concern.
"Darling-" he started, reaching across the bed for her hand. Cora looked up at him, and her face was no longer held a pained expression, but a slightly mischievous one.
"Climb into bed, Robert." she said, sliding into it herself, "I want to show you something."
He scooted over next to her under the covers and she reached for his hand. When he saw her draw it close to her stomach, he recoiled.
"Oh, Cora, darling - we've been through this before. You know I can never feel whatever it is you want me to feel!" he tried to laugh, but she could tell it was a reaction tinged with disappointment. She knew this of course- partially because of his squeamishness but also because her previous pregnancies had been somehow . . .different. This baby seemed even more active, a personality to precede the baby itself. Cora didn't want to get her hopes up, but she hoped that the change in activity - the strength of the baby inside her- meant that it was a boy.
"This time is different, Robert. You'll see. Here, just give me your hand."
Reluctantly, he relinquished his hand to her. She placed it gently to one side of her belly and placed her hands over it. Then, she waited.
"Cora, I-" Robert started, but she shushed him. The next moment, she felt a determined kick - and she immediately turned her head to look at his face. He'd felt it too, and his face was a mix of boyish curiosity, marvel and perhaps even a bit of pride.
He didn't say anything at first - and she was about to open her mouth to speak when she felt the baby turn - little feet now displacing her ribs, she huffed out an impatient sigh.
"My God," Robert breathed, locking eyes with her, "What an extraordinary sensation!" Placing his other hand on the other side of her stomach, he leaned in closer, as though he expected that the child might pop out at any moment, "How odd it must be for you, though."
Cora laughed, "Not odd really - a little surprising at times." She watched as he looked on with fascination, his rapt attention to her something she couldn't help but pleased by. "They call it 'quickening' - you can't feel it right away, the baby has to reach a certain size - but then it's about all you feel."
"Is that why you're so restless at night?" Robert said, looking up at her.
Frowning, Cora let her hand lazily tousle Robert's hair, "Have I been keeping you up, darling?"
"Not so bad as that," Robert said. Another strong kick, this time startling them both. He couldn't help but laugh at their surprise - and they exchanged a knowing glance; Robert too hoped that it was different this time because she was going to bear him a son - an heir - though neither would be quite so sure enough as to mention it.
Outside, the courtyard grew dim. Carson's baritone laughter rang up to the darkening sky above, and as Elsie resigned herself to being a sore loser at cards, Carson reached to begin to put the deck away. For a brief moment, their hands touched. Elsie looked up at him from beneath her long lashes. They were both hot and tired from the weather, and a bit giddy from the sherry. He cleared his throat and brought his hands close to his side of the table, deliberately placing each card back into the satchel. Elsie reached for her glass - just a sip of sherry left.
"Miss Hughes, I don't believe I've ever asked you- how did you find yourself at Downton?" Carson said, not looking up for the deck of cards. Elsie fingered her glass thoughtfully, watching Carson stroke the cards - his long fingers brushing up against them with a tenderness that made her hold her breath.
"I've been in service quite a long time, Mr. Carson. Started as a scullery maid when I was just a lass." She wasn't sure how much more she wanted to say, but the sherry and the pink light of evening made her brave. "After my mum passed, I had to find work to take care of my younger sister."
"And your father?" Carson asked, "What was his trade?"
Elsie sighed, "Our farm." - If she wanted to be honest, she could have said his trade was the bottle. He spent far more time at the pub than he did their home and when he was there, she'd much rather he was elsewhere. He was a mean drunk - and after Elsie's mother died, a sad one, too.
"And after you were a scullery maid?" Carson asked, reaching for his sherry glass. "How did you proceed?"
"Oh, Mr. Carson. You've heard enough o' my chin music for one evening. Surely you want to call it a night."
"It's a beautiful evening- might be the last one of the summer. And dare I say, Miss Hughes, I've quite enjoyed your company these last few evenings."
Elsie felt heat flush her face. She happened to catch his gaze a moment and held steady. Carson had what her sister would call "soulful eyes" - a poet's gaze, perhaps. Elsie though Carson probably saw - and knew- a lot more about life and love than he'd ever dare let on.
"I've enjoyed your company as well, Mr. Carson." she said, "I was worried I wouldn't fit in at Downton. It's the most posh place I've ever worked."
"I've never worked anywhere else." Carson said, not to compete but just to inform his perspective. Elsie wondered how it was Carson could be such a well-rounded and worldly man when he'd hardly stepped foot of the estate in his lifetime.
"I think. . .Miss Hughes," Carson started, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, the summer breeze kissing his face, "You are a most wonderful addition to Downton Abbey. I hope that you'll stay on with us for. . .a long time."
His eyes still closed, Elsie felt that she was free to smile as wide as she pleased. The breeze sent stray wisps of hair webbing around her face, and she reached up to smooth them back. Sighing contentedly, she lifted the sherry glass to her lips and let the last few drops dribble into her mouth. Her tongue traced along her lower lip and she happened to see out of the corner of her eye that Carson's eyes had opened - and he was staring unabashedly at her. When he sensed she may look over, he quickly turned his face away and closed his eyes again. Elsie set her sherry glass down on the table, leaned back and folded her hands contentedly in her lap. The final sunlight of the day had sunk beneath the horizon, and the first stars had begun to punctuate the sky above them, small points of light illuminating what buzzed between the two of them.