Carson was sipping his sherry by the window to his bedroom, watching the snow fall outside.
The estate was lit only by the moon — the white light from which cast through his window and perfectly illuminated the falling snowflakes. They moved slowly through the air, almost hovering, until they fell softly into a thick blanket that came up nearly to his windowpane.
In the hall he heard Elsie's familiar footfalls approaching his door, and a moment later when there was a small knock, he couldn't help but smile as he invited her in.
"Mrs. Patmore said if we didn't have ours now there wouldn't be any left for us by Boxing*" she smiled, handing him one of the colorful Crackers. Carson put down his sherry glass and took it. He offered Elsie his chair by the window and then sat on the edge of his bed so they could face one another.
"I haven't had one of these since I was a child," Carson smiled, turning the tube over in his hands. He shook it gleefully and the insides rattled.
"I've never had one at all," Elsie said sheepishly, "I didn't even know what they were about until Mrs. Patmore showed me this morning when she started filling them."
"If I recall, the Scots have some other holiday to celebrate this time of year?"
Elsie smiled fondly, "Hogmanay* The New Year! My sister and I always ran around outside in the snow, trying to be the first-footer*."
"First-footer?"
"Aye — Hogmanay tradition — the first to set foot 'cross the threshold after the stroke of midnight is a bearer of good fortune," she waggled the cracker at him, "And trinkets — but never the likes of these."
"Do you know how to open them?"
"I hoped maybe you'd show me?" she said, her eyelashes fluttering.
"Oh, of course! They're quite a little thrill." he said, leaning toward her. She leaned in a little herself, watching him from under her long eyelashes. Carson cleared his throat, "Now, you take that end — go on, now."
Elsie delicately held one end of the cracker, the tissue-paper crinkling against her palm, "Like this?"
"Beautiful," Carson said "Now, I'll take this end, on my count pull it toward you."
"Okay," Elsie said, bracing herself. Carson laughed,
"Well, you don't have to pull quite so hard, Miss Hughes."
Elsie blushed, "Oh,"
"Alright, one. . .two. . .aaaand three!"
At once, they both pulled on their respective ends and crisp pop! echoed throughout Mr. Carson's room. Elsie giggled in delight, reaching down into her lap to retrieve a goody.
"Oh, that was quite a thrill." she said, "And look— it produced a biscuit!"
Carson looked down between his feet, where the other biscuit had fallen. He set the remnants of the cracker atop the quilt on his bed and leaned down.
"Oh, drat! It seems my biscuit has toppled to the floor."
Biscuit halfway to her parted lips, Elsie paused. She quietly closed her mouth and looked at Carson, who was looking at her with faux doe-eyes.
"So sad, Mr. Carson." she said, elongating her vowels and deepening her voice to emphasize the burr, "Want half of mine?"
Carson smiled, "If I'm not mistaken, the biscuit you're holding is butterscotch, which, if I recall, you don't fancy."
Elsie made a face and leaned over to inspect the biscuit fully in the light from Carson's bed table gas lamp. "Oh. So it is." she said quietly. She sighed and handed him the biscuit, "You're lucky day, isn't it?"
Carson took it, beaming like a happy child, and popped it into his mouth.
"Lucky for you, Miss Hughes, there's more to a festive, holiday cracker than biscuits." Handing her his half of the cracker, which rattled with unseen prizes, he watched her eyes widen.
Elsie took the cracker, turning it upside down so that the contents could spill into her lap. Where her dress pooled between her legs, there appeared several beautiful glass marbles, a flick-book of children jumping rope, and a thaumatrope of a bird cage.
"Whatever is this?" she asked, inspecting the thaumatrope carefully. Carson reached for it excitedly.
"It's a thaumatrope! A most splendid toy. Here, allow me." Taking it from her gently, he carefully took the strings on either side of the small disc, onto which one side, a bluebird had been painted, and a gilded cage upon the other. "See, you twist the strings on either side so that the disc moves very rapidly back and forth . . .and then, the picture is revealed! The bird's in the cage, there, you see? It's an illusion."
Elsie watched as Carson's nimble fingers twisted the string. She watched as hands with more intensity than the toy — how delicate they were, despite their size and strength. Carson chuckled, handing the thaumatrope back to her. "Now, I think that a far better prize than a biscuit."
Elsie grinned, twisting the strings slowly herself.
"Mr. Carson. . .not to dredge up feelings unnecessarily but. . ." she licked her lips contemplatively, watching the thaumatrope's spinning slow. "That day, when the bairn came. . .and you helped me look for the mouse."
She flicked her eyes up at him and saw that he was looking down at his lap, stroking the paper of the cracker absentmindedly.
"Why did you kiss me?"
"Miss Hughes, I hesitate to even discuss this topic, because I feel a great deal of shame. I can never repent sufficiently for my actions that day."
Elsie leaned over, placing a hand delicately on his knee. She found his gaze and held it, "Mr. Carson, I don't want you to feel ashamed."
"I merely lost control, Miss Hughes. An attractive woman, close proximity-" he swallowed, brushing his hair back, "-it's a good man's failing."
"I will just say one thing, Mr. Carson, and I promise we can allow the subject to rest." She paused, waiting for him to look at her again. He waited for her with baited breath. "Trouble shared is trouble halved."
He allowed himself a small smile of relief. Elsie sat back in his chair and let her gaze drift to the window. Outside, the accumulation of powdery white snow sparkled in the moonlight.
"Oh, how pretty it is." she said, letting her elbow lean on the windowsill, her chin resting in her palm as she gazed out at the black night. Carson blinked, watching her reflection in the window.
"Yes," he said sighing, "Pretty indeed."
"What a marvelous sight you are." Robert said, coming in from his dressing room.
Cora was nursing Sybil, who was slowly falling asleep— a little milk drunkard as her mother would call it. She stroked her cheek gently, and smiled up at Robert who was crawling into bed next to her.
"Exhausted perhaps," Cora yawned, "I wouldn't venture marvelous." She looked over at Robert, whose soft gaze fell over her like fleece. It warmed her all the way down to her toes, which she brushed up against his leg beneath the sheets. Sybil began to drift off to sleep, her mouth having slipped from Cora's breast. Tiny fist curling, the baby yawned.
"May I?" Robert asked, holding his arms out to Cora.
She smiled, "The last one to hold her has to get up to put her back in the bassinet."
"It would be my honor." he said as Cora passed Sybil to him. The baby stirred, her eyes heavy with slumber. She cooed and Robert rocked her gently, watching as her little face relaxed into sleep.
"What time will Rosamund and Marmaduke be arriving tomorrow?" Cora asked, buttoning her nightgown.
"Midmorning, I think. Before dinner at least."
Cora sighed, "Do you think they'll have a child soon?"
"I couldn't say, but you know Rosamund-" Robert shrugged, "She gets whatever her heart desires." He looked down at Sybil, who had fallen fully asleep, her lips pursed, still rooting for Cora's milk.
"Surely she'll just fall in love with Sybil." Cora smiled, "She's always been so good with the girls."
"Particularly Edith." Robert ruminated, "Though, I suppose is only natural, since I think Mary reminds her far to much of herself."
"Mary is a Crawley through and through" Cora said, tucking Sybil's blanket more snugly around her, "Sometimes I fret that she will grow to see me as insufferably American."
Robert smiled at her gently, "She adores you Cora."
"Well, she's not quite old enough to realize how different I am from the rest of her family — though, at times I think she does sense that we differ in our inherent sensibilities."
"Like your Christmas eggnog?" Robert said, pulling a face, "Ghastly stuff."
Cora's eyes brightened, "Oh, eggnog. What a shame we won't have any tomorrow."
"Well, I wouldn't put it past that Mrs. Patmore to anticipate your need for it. She seems to have a particular knack for honoring your American palate."
Cora smiled, "It would certainly be a delightful surprise."
Robert looked past her out the window. He squinted into the darkness, trying to see if it was still snowing. The bedroom was bathed in the golden glow of candlelight, and he could hear Sybil's tiny snores rising up from his arms. Next to him, Cora giggled peacefully, resting her head upon his shoulder. After a few peaceul moments, he began to hum softly.
Lifting her head slightly, she look at him pecuilarly.
"Nanny was singing to the children while they laid out their Christmas stockings," he smiled, "I haven't been able to stop hearing it since."
He gently rose from the bed and tiptoed across the room to lay Sybil in her bassinet. "Noel, noel. Born is the king of Israel." he sung softly.
"And by the light of that same star, three wise men came from countries far," Cora sang, her voice lilting from the bed. Robert turned to her and smiled, his face half-shaded in candlelight.
He reached in to tuck the blanket more tightly around Sybil. Together, he and Cora finished the verse, their voices drifting up into the rafters and accompanied by the crackling of the fireplace.
"To seek for a King was their intent
And to follow the star wherever it went.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Born is the King of Israel!"
A/N: Hi guys! Thank you for still being here, indulging in all the fluff. I love your comments! :D
1. Boxing Day actually started in big houses like Downton because on the actual holiday servants didn't have time for their own presents or celebrations (too busy taking care of the family!) so the day after /Christmas was the servant's unboxing - they'd do their presents while the family recovered from the festivities ;)
2. In Scotland, Hogmanay is basically New Year's Eve/New Year's Day celebrations - and it was (maybe still is, I'm not sure) the major winter holiday rather than Christmas.
"3. "First-footer" was the first person (maybe a relative or neighbor) to cross the threshold on the first day of the new year - they brought treats, good luck, etc. Since Elsie and her family lived on a farm, I thought perhaps they wouldn't have had neighbors close enough by - so it might have been fun for her and her sister to try to be the first-footer :)
4. Were you able to see the picture of the thaumatrope on Tumblr? (downtonabigail) They're really fun! A simple toy but a fun one especially if you like illusions.