It was not unusual for an employer to have favourites among the staff. It was still less unusual for a servant to have a favourite among their employing family, although she personally couldn't help but feeling that in her position she should be above such trivia. Elsie knew, Charles was particularly fond of Lady Mary while Mr Bates had a dogged loyalty to the master of the house. She personally, like many of her colleagues, was particularly fond of Lady Sybil and it caused her great anxiety to see that- though it was certainly not her place to say it- the dear girl did seem to be rather pushing her luck at the moment. It was a difficult time for the family, young Mr Crawley having recently left to fight and his Lordship seriously considering joining him, not to mention having to run the house on a staff ever diminishing in size.
It was possible that Lady Sybil had just crossed the line, if only by a toe, and Elsie could not help but feel that she had gone just a bit too far. Upon the young lady being attended upon without her mother's supervision while having her hair cut, she had requested to have it all cut off at the chin. Elsie had first come by the news when she her a commotion in her Ladyship's room and had gone to see if she could be of assistance. She had to confess that she was initially scandalised by what her Ladyship had to say but upon seeing the girl had regained some sense of proportion.
Lady Sybil's hair was not, as her Ladyship's report had lead her to believe, simply hacked off in a rugged line but cut neatly just below the ears, in fact once one got used to it it was not altogether displeasing. From what she could gather from Anna, Lady Sybil had recently come to the conclusion that women should not be forced to maintain their appearance in a way that did not suit them. This, to Elsie, did not seem so altogether unreasonable but she did think that Lady Sybil could have possibly gone about it in a more delicate manner: her mother was not at all prone to such fits of hysteria over such trivial matters: it was no doubt due to her having been well and truly through the mill, so to speak, in the past few months.
This however was by no means Elsie's main concern for the young lady. It would take a blind man not to notice her attachment to his Lordship's chauffeur. They were in a most idiotic position, Elsie only wished she could approve of it; it was such a shame to think of two young people depriving themselves of the affection they both undoubtedly deserved. But the world did not work like that, at least not their world. The very thought of an earl's daughter marrying the family's socialist chauffeur would be laughed at throughout England, there was no question of it ever being allowed. She sighed as she descended the stairs into the servants' quarters; she was quite sure that both of them realised the impossibility of their situation, but neither seemed willing to break it. That may, she supposed, be because they had not yet allowed themselves to really acknowledge it in the first place. Oh, to be young and crossed in love again!
As if her fellow servant's had tuned themselves into her thoughts, she was mercifully ignored as she passed through the kitchen; she did not think she could stand a discussion over the key to the larder at the moment. An interruption to her restless meditation, however, was never all that far off.
"Mrs Hughes!"
There was a hurried, slightly clattering sound that seemed to have followed her down the stairs. She turned to see Lady Sybil looking a little flustered, her newly shortened hair having been adjusted to a jaunty angle- presumably by her hurried descent.
"Lady Sybil," she began, "How can I be of assistance?"
She could not help but notice Daisy gaping at her young mistress' hair and only hoped that Mrs Patmore would for once come to her rescue and reprimand the wretched child.
"Mama sent me to ask if a room could be made up for Mrs Crawley. We think she's been terribly lonely since Matthew joined up and Papa's getting worried. We'd like you to make up one of the family rooms, the one next to Edith's. It won't be too much trouble, will it?"
Elsie shook her head.
"That should be fine, ma'am," she told her, "By tonight?"
"Oh no," Lady Sybil replied, "She won't be round until tomorrow, but if it suits you to do it now...-"
Elsie nodded.
"I'll get Anna onto it straight away."
"Excellent."
Lady Sybil beamed. Her smile had not changed a bit in all the time that Elsie had known her- all of the young lady's life.
"Would you happen to know if Mr Branson is about?"
In an instant Elsie was on the alert and immediately felt like a ridiculous bitter spinster.
"I'm not sure m'lady."
Tread carefully, Elsie, for heavens sake.
Lady Sybil looked down heartened.
"Might I enquire why, m'lady? Is it not a little late to be going anywhere?"
Lady Sybil shrugged, perhaps a little too casually.
"I just thought it might be nice to go for a drive. It's a splendid evening, after all."
Elsie nodded her agreement. Lady Sybil suddenly looked rather shy.
"Well, I suppose that's all. Good night, Mrs Hughes, thank you for your help."
She turned to leave; for some reason Elsie felt rooted to the spot.
"Lady Sybil,"
The girl stopped, not making eye contact with the housekeeper.
"Yes, Mrs Hughes?"
When she did look up, Elsie had the oddest feeling that the girl knew exactly what she was going to say.
"Just...just be careful. For goodness sake be careful."
There was a moments pause.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Mrs Hughes."
Not true, Elsie thought. Another pause. She sighed heavily.
"Forget it," she told her, then as an afterthought, "Just bear in mind, I don't think his Lordship could afford the smelling salts your Grandmother would get through."
She could have sworn that Lady Sybil almost smiled before making her way back up the stairs. Elsie sighed again as she watched her go and mentally noted that she should probably limit her sighs to ten a day. She began making her way back towards her sitting room, only to find the door ajar when she got there. Perhaps Mrs Patmore had finally followed through her threat of actually stealing the key to the larder. But no, she would not have made a pot of tea while she was at it. Elsie's puzzlement was ended when Charles slipped into the room bearing two mugs. She almost laughed despite the weariness that suddenly seemed to have possessed her.
"We really need to stop doing this," she told him.
"What?" he asked.
"Breaking into each others sitting rooms."
He gave a low chuckle.
"Friends don't break in, not maliciously anyway," he told her, "They tend to assume that they have invitations."
She smiled back at him. He set the mugs down on the table and waited until she indicated to the sofa before taking a seat beside her.
"I suppose friends also know exactly when they need a cup of tea, too," she mused.
"Friends who happen to be butlers do," he told her.
"What about housekeepers?"
"You tell me."
She thought a moment.
"We're better with smelling salts than tea," she decided.
He chuckled again.
"And fighting cooks," he observed.
She rolled her eyes at him.
"Only if they try to monopolise the larder," she corrected him.
"And dominating the larder, then," he added to his list.
She laughed. He wore a frown.
"So in conclusion," he surmised, "The housekeeper is generally the superior member of staff unless the lady or gentleman in question requires a cup of tea."
"I'd hardly go that far!"
It was at about this point that they realised that they had moved considerably closer together during this round of banter; their shoulders now nudged each other companionably. It could have been intensely awkward, but awkwardness requires an edgy kind of energy and energy was something distinctly lacking with them both at the minute. Charles extended his arm around Elsie's shoulders. She found her head was well-positioned to be just rest upon his shoulder. They were quiet for a while: it was not long until Elsie dropped off, still resting on his shoulder, an arm stretched in a subconsciously possessive way around his waist.
"I would, Elsie," he whispered before kissing her on the hair and extracting himself from her embrace.
Praying that no one would see them in such a potentially compromising situation, he scooped the housekeeper up into his arms and carried her towards her room. She weighed next to nothing and he made a mental note to observe how much she was eating. Thankfully, the rest of the staff seemed to have retired for the night. Once he reached her room, he nudged the door open and placed her under the covers of the bed. She did not wake, only stirred slightly as his hand brushed her cheek before leaving the room.
Please review!