A/N: What can I say? I hope I did alright by them, and by you, dear readers, in the end.
Xoxo, CeeCee
Christmas Week, 1924
Elsie Hughes walked through Downton Village as the snow slowly started falling around her. She stopped in her tracks, though she had little to no time to spare, and gazed up at the fluffy flakes swirling around the bare tree tops. She glanced around and saw others doing the same. A snowy Christmas wasn't guaranteed in Yorkshire, but it felt quite right every time there was one.
But no time for dilly-dallying today. By all rights she should have sent one of the junior staff members on her errands, or, smarter still, have all of the packages sent up to the house, but she needed a bit of time on her own, alone, in the crisp December air.
Though neither of them had spoken much of it since, (not that there really been time to, given Mr. Bates' disappearance, Anna's reappearance, and the general sense of chaos that went along with the holidays), her confession to Mr. Carson weighed heavily on her mind. She was…mortified. Disappointed. Terribly sad, if truth be told. She'd called it a dream, and she meant it.
"There's no place for me in the project…"
Those words had stung her to say. Oh, how they had stung. And she'd been a fool, carried away by a dream and possibly, a dream of a dream, of someday, somehow.
Except.
Right before they'd been interrupted by Mr. Bates and bad news about Anna's case, and then the house had been shocked by Mr. Bates' sudden departure, there had been a moment…
Her dear Mr. Carson had looked defeated, and she was awash in disappointment and shame. She scrounged for a silver lining: could he still buy the place without her investment?
And there it was, the silver lining she'd blindly reached for: he could have purchased the place without her. He hadn't wanted to. He had wanted them to throw in together. Oh, he was carrying on purchasing the place, but what he had wanted – really wanted – was to throw in with her.
But did he still?
All of those years that she'd never mentioned Becky hung heavy on her mind. And now, he knew her for what she really was: not his equal, in status or security or situation in life. A pauper, she'd called herself, and she wasn't far off. A woman who would have to toil until the end of her days, or her sister's. And a liar, or near as, to boot.
However. Maybe…none of it mattered. Maybe, in the end, all he wanted was…her. Could it be possible?
She hurried to her final stop, where she'd carefully selected his Christmas gift. Hopefully, it could tell him all of the things she was unable to say herself.
oooOOOooo
He truly thought he had all of his ducks in a row, everything he needed. There were pages of paperwork, of course, but when he suggested to the agents that he wanted two names listed as owners, the men said it wouldn't be any problem, as long as he had all of the pertinent information. The second owner would, of course, have to sign, but he could consider it as good as done, since the money had been deposited and everything else was in place.
"And who do we list as the second, Mr. Carson?"
"Elsie May Car-Hughes, if you please," his heart sped up at his near slip. He was forging ahead, despite the fact that every fiber of his being was shrieking in fear. "Elsie May Hughes." He repeated, this time more clearly.
"Elsie? Do we know if that's it, or is it short for something, Elizabeth or Elspeth, maybe?"
He was flummoxed. He simply didn't know. "Well…I'm not quite sure. Can we amend it later, if we need to?"
One of the agents grinned at him. "You're buyin' a house for a lady and it's Christmastime, Mr. Carson. I guess we can pin down the details in the New Year. I have what I need, for the moment."
"Thank you for your understanding, gentlemen, and a Happy Christmas to you both."
He left the estate office and opened the door into a world being quietly blanketed in white. The snow feel steadily and softly as he made his way back to Downton, greeted and called to by happy villagers setting about their holiday business, big and small.
He wondered, how many others, rushing around, taken up by the chaos and joy of the holidays, also held secrets like his close their hearts? Massive things, dreams, that no one else could come close to guessing? He was certain that not a soul in Downton, the house or the village, knew that he hoped to have a fiancé by the New Year.
But, he supposed, in the end, only one person's thoughts really mattered. And he'd just realized he wasn't entirely sure of her rightful Christian name.
What else didn't he know?
His heart ached with shame that he had pushed her to reveal the existence of her sister, after years of silence. He knew how much she valued her independence, her self-sufficiency. How then, did he express to her that he wanted to care for her, and for them to care for each other?
The uncertainty of it all terrified him, to be sure. But he was pressing on, no matter what.
oooOOOooo
"They visited every pub in York, then?" She was flabbergasted. Mr. Carson stood there, recounting was Mr. Molesley and Miss Baxter had told his lordship. She stood, surrounded by the piles of gifts she'd been contentedly wrapping when Mr. Molesley had interrupted her and Mr. Carson earlier this morning.
"Well, not every pub. Something upwards of sixty or seventy, they said, until they landed on the right one. I do believe, Mrs. Hughes, his lordship is getting word to Mr. Bates even as we speak," a smile played on Mr. Carson's face. "Now, I must be off, much to do, but I thought you'd like to know."
"Of course, and I am glad you told me. Quite extraordinary of them, don't you think Mr. Carson?" She shook her head, mulling over the careful thoughtfulness of the project; it made her heart sing with its kindness. She could feel herself swallowing tears. Sometimes, it was good to be reminded of goodness. Of charity.
He was leaving, nodding distractedly, but stopped. She brushed at her eyes though no tears had yet fallen. Something softened in his face. "You're right, of course, Mrs. Hughes. Sometimes, two people can change the course of justice…or someone else's life."
"Now, we best get on about it, wouldn't you say?" She collected herself, rose and headed into the hallway with him. "Time to throw ourselves into the fray." And with a last smile, he headed away from her, already calling out instructions to Mr. Barrow and Andy. She turned in the other direction, headed towards the kitchen, and nearly ran into Miss Baxter.
The woman's unflappable serenity always struck Elsie first, especially given her tumultuous past. Now, the sight of her filled her with gratitude.
"My apologies, Mrs. Hughes. My mind was somewhere else," she smiled and patted a box filled to the brim with jewelry. "Her ladyship wanted this all cleaned in anticipation for the holidays."
"Not at all, Miss Baxter, carry on," Elsie paused, and then placed her hand on the other woman's wrist. "Mr. Carson's just told me what you and Mr. Molesley have done for Mr. Bates. I must say, Miss Baxter, very little surprises me at my age, and even less in a good way. But your diligence, your kindness, well, it's quite extraordinary, it is."
Miss Baxter's cheeks reddened, her smile expanded slightly. "It was all Mr. Molesley's idea. It was his kindness, his diligence, Mrs. Hughes. I can only take credit for keeping him company."
"Well, I'm not entirely sure of that, but the pair of you did something quite remarkable," Elsie grinned at the younger woman.
"I thank you for that, Mrs. Hughes. I am only glad that we've been able to be useful, thanks to Mr. Molesley's strength and bravery," she drifted away towards the stairs, and Elsie gazed after her. Strong and brave…she shook her head. Mr. Molesley, who always seemed to be at the butt end of a joke. Strong and brave. And yet. He was. It just took Miss Baxter to see it.
Amazing, what love could see.
oooOOOooo
"And is that…all…we're celebrating?" His heart was rushing in his ears. He'd done it, and now his heart was in her hands. She was three feet from him, one hand on her chest, her face an unreadable stew of emotions. He's worried that she's teasing him, that she's not taking what he's said seriously.
Then she moved forward, with purpose. She placed the hand that's been on her heart on the sleeve of his livery, squeezed. Gazed up at him.
"Of course I'll marry you, ye old booby. I thought ye'd never ask," she says the words he's been longing to hear with utter certainty in her voice.
And then he feels the tears coming, but he's unashamed. He's too happy and proud and bursting with joy to feel embarrassed by a few happy tears.
"Well, then, Mrs. Hughes, I am quite pleased to drink to that," he said, and she stepped away to clink their punch glasses together, and she lets go of his arm in the process, to his regret.
"I'll not make a speech –"
"Well thank goodness for that," she interjected, rolling her eyes. They both looked at each other for a moment, then started laughing. Now they both were crying. She wiped her tears away, continued. "Very well, go on with you. I suppose you've earned the right to a few words."
"You've made me very happy, Elsie Hughes. Not just tonight, but for a very long time. I will endeavor to return the favor for as long as I am able," he wanted to gather her in his arms, whisper how much he loved her, over and over, but the weight of forty years, and the entire house was upon them. They couldn't be gone too long, he knew. Their privacy was temporary, as hundreds of interrupted conversations in this very room attested.
She was smiling at him, speechless. She who always had something to say. He was afraid to move, to break the magic between them in this moment. Then she did. She put her cup down on his desk, and took his, set it aside.
And before he quite knew what was happening, she was reaching a hand up and brushing it across his cheek. It lingered there for a moment, and he leaned into it, relishing the unexpected tenderness of it.
"I've wanted to do that for far too long," she said softly as she removed her hand, in a voice he'd never heard before. She shook her head, as if to clear it. "Now, we best get back, don't you think? It wouldn't do for them to notice we're missing at this juncture."
And she went to the doorway, looking back expectantly at him, waiting for him to follow, a smile on her face.
oooOOOooo
They rejoined the crowd in the great hall unnoticed, with the sounds of carols floating around them, the fairy lights on the Christmas tree twinkling like fallen stars.
Her head was spinning.
Her heart was full.
She risked glancing at Charlie Carson, a smile tugging the corner of her mouth. He smiled in return. The warmth in his eyes sent darts of warmth through various parts of her, some known and others less explored.
They stayed towards the back of the crowd, against the wall. And she was pleased and grateful when his hand found hers, his fingers twining together with hers, a feeling both wonderfully new and fundamentally right.
"Happy Christmas, Mrs. Hughes," he grinned down at her, looking like a man who had everything he ever wanted. And in his case, it was her.
"Aye, it is indeed, Mr. Carson."