I hope you all had a wonderful holiday and were able to enjoy the CS! (And what a wonderful Christmas present that special was! ;)) Anyway, I think those of you, who have been eagerly awaiting the next update in this story, will be pleased to hear that after this coming weekend I will be able to commence with weekly updates again. Things just get so chaotic with the holidays. Anyway, the plan is to get all caught up in canon during the DA off season, and then go from there. We'll see if I'm successful. :) So here is the long awaited beach scene from S4 + a couple of scenes from 5.01 to tide you over in the meantime. Enjoy, & as always your thoughts (both positive & constructive), are much appreciated if you find the time. Thanks to everyone for their interest thus far!
~Lynn
His feet dribbled the ball with astonishing control for having to contend with the uneven terrain. He moved left, right, left, passing to Jimmy, and then running to keep up pace with him as they made their way to the makeshift goal Thomas was guarding. Jimmy swung back his leg like he might kick it in near the right corner, Thomas rushing to that side to block the ball. But he deferred it to Molesley, who jumped out of surprise, and clumsily knocked it behind the goal before Thomas could rush over to the opposite side of the post and deflect it.
Cheers of, "Yay! Mr. Molesley!" shot through the air, and Jimmy clapped his teammate on the back encouragingly. Molesley returned the embrace, feeling as though the whole act was more of a team effort than anything. Still, he couldn't hide his grin from spreading ear to ear at having scored the victory shot. He never experienced this sort of comradery before in his entire life.
As a child, he wasn't what the neighbor kids considered to be athletic. He got winded easily due to his underdeveloped lungs at birth, and they took several years to finally catch up. By the time he'd grown up with those his ages, they were too old for games. Those who already left school were too busy earning in order to support their families. The youthfulness that Master George and Miss. Sybbie would long know until they were well into the teens was foreign to him.
Those in the working class were forced to abandon all childish notions and dreams in lieu of surviving. And while Molesley had no regrets then, he was beginning to rethink certain things. Particularly matters that involved his life outside of service.
He'd come so close to losing everything he worked tirelessly for. And the larger question of what would he leave behind, coursed through his mind more and more these days. He missed out on so many of the things he envisioned for himself. Marrying a nice girl, having a family, and then sharing his golden years retired, and surrounded by grandchildren. Now he most likely missed his chance on having any of these things he'd put on hold for the sake of making a name for himself in his line of work.
Pulling out a handkerchief, Molesley dabbed at his forehead, beads of perspiration forming. Even though he long ago shed his jacket, the sun beamed down warmly upon the beaches near Victoria Pier. Most of his teammates had already scattered, forming smaller groups to either boldly dip their toes into the water, go for a penny lick, or sit atop the sandy dunes and take a few moments respite.
As he glanced around, searching for something to occupy his time with next, he noticed Thomas sitting nearby Ms. Baxter. Contrary to the majority of times he noticed the pair of them together, she didn't look nearly as uncomfortable in his presence as she did before. Still, aside from the few words they exchanged as they boarded the trolley, Molesley hadn't spent any time with her. And each time his attention caught hers, she appeared to be alone.
Daisy was busy focusing her attentions on Mr. Slade, the pair of them being chaperoned by Mrs. Patmore. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes were off on their own while they tried supervising the staff's activities for any evidence of indecent behavior. And Anna and Mr. Bates were busy having a stroll across the length of the beach, arm in arm. Aside from Thomas, he didn't know of anyone else's company she typically sought out.
Feeling a bit worn out from his round of football, Molesley trudged up the sandy hillside.
"You must do as you think best, Mr. Barrow. Just as I must."
Ms. Baxter's words carried on the wings of the cool sea breeze that ran along his warm face. He felt in the momentary refreshment he derived from this. Not wanting Ms. Baxter, or Thomas, to think he'd intentionally been eavesdropping, he let out a cry of relief from the breeze, pretending as though he hadn't heard her words. Keeping his head bowed forward, Molesley plopped down on an empty patch of sand that left about a foot and a half between Ms. Baxter and him. Thomas stood to take his leave, and Molesley watched him retreat towards the group where Jimmy stood.
He figured his arrival would go unnoticed, as most people tended to gloss over his presence as nothing more than a lonely soul searching for conversation with whom ever was willing. Yet, he found himself twitching in surprise yet again.
"I have to thank you, Mr. Molesley," Mr. Baxter informed him softly, prompting him to turn over his shoulder to glance up at her.
He saw her broad smile from beneath the wide brim of her ivory sun hat, and he found himself asking, "Oh, why's that?"
Her brow lifted while her voice wore on, "There are things in my past that have made me afraid but...I'm not afraid anymore." Her smile deepened, and he sensed a lighter quality in her demeanor.
Was it relief? Gratitude? He couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but he listened to her continue, an air of confidence resonating in her tone. It was a note he hadn't heard from her in a long while.
"I'm not sure what will happen, but whatever it is, it's better than being afraid. You've made me strong, Mr. Molesley. Your strength has made me strong."
He snorted at this, not certain he heard her correctly. "My what?" He echoed, the corners of his mouth curling up into a half grin.
Strong wasn't a word he'd use to describe himself. But a part of him was thankful for her encouragement all the same.
Her light ring of laughter reached his ears, and he met her eye once more, seeing a familiar warmth in her dark brown eyes. His smile stretched from ear to ear, and he watched her cast her gaze towards the shoreline. A sense of calm overcame him, and a part of him wondered if it had something to do with her. With their newly forged friendship.
But Molesley didn't have long to wonder for Baxter was soon nodding at something, and reaching for him to take notice as well.
His skin buzzed as her hand lightly rested on her forearm, and he glanced down at where they now joined, albeit only for a few seconds.
"Would ye look at that?" Baxter exhaled softly in disbelief.
Molesley followed her line of vision, and took in the unexpected sight. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes walked hand in hand into the ocean, the cool water lapping at their ankles.
"Huh," Mr. Molesley mused, cocking his head to the side, an amused smile donning his lips once more. "Who would've thought?"
"You want to hear something funny?" She asked, shifting on her left hip, both legs bent modestly at an angle behind her.
He walked his feet in her direction, spinning on his bottom until they sat face to face. "Alright," He waited, intrigued by what words hung unspoken in between them.
"When I first came to Downton, I thought Mr. Carson & Mrs. Hughes were married," Her mouth broke into a bashful grin at this admission.
Tossing back his head, he felt his stomach rumble slightly from regaling in this revelation. "Haha! What?"
"It's true!" She bit on her bottom lip, trying holding back her high pitched giggles.
Still curious by her sudden confession, he tilted his head to the side and exclaimed, "Where'd ya get an idea like that?!"
"I don't know," Baxter shrugged, glancing off into the distance to where they were wading deeper into the sea. "Just in the way they talk to one another, I s'pose. And they look rather smart together, don't they?" She looked to him for some sort of confirmation, although he never gave either point much consideration.
He bobbed his head, thinking it through. His eyes flickered back towards the couple in question, and there was something in the way they moved together he never noticed before. There was a comfortable ease that seized them, a level of understanding that only they were privy to.
"Well I'll give ye that. There certainly is something particular about them that ye don't see in every house," He turned his attention back to Baxter, seeing her corroborate his thoughts with an inclination of her head. "Tell me ye didn't tell anybody else about this," Molesley chuckled once more, figuring she had, but knowing it might not wise for such rumors to fly about the downstairs.
"Just Daisy," Baxter commented nonchalantly. "She got a rise out of the whole thing."
"Well let's just hope she doesn't tell Mrs. Patmore," Molesley remarked cautiously. There weren't many secrets those two kept apart from one another, and he wondered if Ms. Baxter had taken this into consideration.
"Oh she wouldn't say anything," She flipped her hand assuredly. "Not to Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes anyway."
"How can you be so sure?" He inquired, finding her confidence surprising.
"Because Mrs. Patmore agrees with me," Baxter responded playfully, arching her brow.
He snickered at this, shaking his head. "You women with your gossip..." His voice trailed off and he dug a small hole in the sand with the toe of his shoe. Peering up at her, his next words caught her attention, and she turned to look at him, "...I'd hate to think what it is ye say about me when I'm not around."
"Only good things," She leaned forward on her palm, lowering her voice as she made a promise of, "At least…from me."
He felt a warmth spread through him as he read the softness in her expression. His mouth parted open, words he couldn't be sure of perched on the edge of his lips. He stared back at her, hardly believing she ever spoke of him to anyone, but hoping all the same.
Just then, David, one of the outside staff, called out to him, "Oi! Mr. Molesley! Care to join us in another match?!" He instantly turned, his hand coming up at his brow to shield his eyes from the brilliant sunshine. He watched the men from the previous round start lining up again.
Molesley shot a questioning look back at Baxter, a sort of sheepishness overtaking him at the possibility of leaving her to her own devices.
Without missing a beat she nodded towards the men who were assembling further down the beach, urging him along, "Well off ye go now!"
"What'll you do though?" He asked, not wanting her to feel as though he abandoned her. Even though, he doubted she needed him, he still cared what she thought of him.
She shrugged, supposing pleasantly, "Maybe I'll take a leaf outta Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes' book and go put me feet in the water."
"Ms. Baxter," He taunted wryly, wriggling his brow, "you're far more daring than you've led me to believe!"
Her shoulders lifted as she laughed at him before adding with a coy smirk, "Every woman has to have some air of mystery about her."
And judging by her expression, he didn't doubt it.
"Are you glad to be back at Downton, Milady?" Baxter inquired politely while she readied her mistress for bed on their first evening back.
"Undoubtedly," She exhaled as soon as she collapsed on the settee at the foot of her bed. Extending her leg so that Baxter could unbuckle her shoe, she added, "I much rather enjoy the season when I don't have a debutante ball to host."
Baxter complimented, "Well...Lady Rose seemed to do well."
"As to be expected," Lady Grantham remarked cryptically, switching legs in midair. She leaned back on the bed, watching Baxter place her shoes beside her seat. "Baxter?"
She glanced up at her Ladyship, presuming there would be another request attached to her latest inquiry.
Lady Grantham sat up, fiddling around with her skirts to unhook her stockings and pull them down off her legs. She peered up curiously at Baxter halfway through this process, and probed, "Have you heard anything about Lady Mary from downstairs?"
It was the sort of question she had yet to face in this household, and for that reason, she knew she'd have to tread carefully. Her first employer, the Honorable Miss. Tabitha Milford, was a real gossip. She relished in any information the downstairs staff could provide her, so that she might work it to her advantage. However, her successor, Mrs. Grove, found such behavior contestable, and didn't take to small talk outside of what services she required from her maids. And then there was Mrs. Benton, a kind and trustworthy woman who felt that such talk was appropriate in certain situations. But she didn't relish in the misfortune of others as Miss. Milford did.
Baxter had yet to determine where Lady Grantham stood on this matter. She knew, she didn't mind hearing about Lady Sybil's high praise the downstairs staff still gave her, or at least, as Baxter made her to believe it. And Thomas mentioned Ms. O'Brien often gave her Ladyship vital information about the staff that her Ladyship seemed almost appreciative of. Still, Baxter felt she wasn't quite cut from the same cloth as Ms. O'Brien, which is why she lowered her eyes to the nude colored nylons in her mistress' extended hand and paused.
"Erm..." She cleared her throat, taking the stockings from her Ladyship and laying them out along the side of her bed, "...I'm not sure I know what you mean, Milady."
Lady Grantham let out another sigh, standing up now so that Baxter might help her out of her evening gown. "It's just..." She hesitated, staring back at Baxter's uneasy reflection in her full length mirror.
It was apparent they both held the same reservations on what would be an appropriate manner to address this topic. And this soothed Baxter's nerves to know she wasn't alone in feeling this.
Once Baxter unhooked the top clasp of her dress and unzipped it to the base of her spine, Lady Grantham confessed solemnly, "I never really know what she's thinking these days. Ever since Matthew died...I suppose I'd just like to know if she's decided to move forward or not."
She shrugged out of the top of the gown, and turned to shoot Baxter, her expression creased with concern. Baxter guided the fabric down the length of her figure, capturing it closer to the floor so that Lady Grantham could easily step out of it.
"You mean with Lord Gillingham or Mr. Blake?" Baxter wondered, pretending as though she didn't understand the full meaning behind her mistress' words.
"That's precisely what I mean," She confirmed Baxter's supposition.
As she made her way back to the side of the bed, Baxter shrugged uncertainly while she stretched out the evening gown, "I couldn't say, Milady." On her way back to helping Lady Grantham back into her nightgown, she added with a weakened half smile in an attempt to convince her, "I'm not one to really gossip."
"Of course not," Her Ladyship began apologetically. "And I hope you don't think me rude for asking," She smiled half-heartedly, "I only wondered if you may have overheard something."
It soon became obvious that Lady Grantham's concern was for her daughter's happiness and nothing more. Baxter felt relieved to know she wouldn't be asked to play the part of spy for someone else in the house.
"No, not lately," Baxter informed her plainly. And even though there may be some speculation that Lord Gillingham had won the contest, Baxter wouldn't dare offer up any information that was sheer gossip that the rest of the staff tossed around for entertainment purposes. "Should I tell you if I do?" She pressed on curiously, wanting to be helpful.
Straightening the front of her nightgown, Lady Grantham extended both arms behind her so that Baxter might drape he housecoat over her shoulders. She shrugged into the robe and answered lightly yet dismissively, "I suppose, it doesn't matter. His Lordship will keep me informed."
At that moment, the door leading from her dressing room to Lord Grantham's swung open ceremoniously, and his Lordship strode inside. "Thank you Baxter," Lady Grantham smiled gratefully, nodding that she was dismissed for the evening.
"Goodnight, Milady. Milord," She nodded politely at both of them, gathering up the clothes in need of washing, and taking her leave.
On her way back downstairs, Baxter overheard what appeared to be the end of an exchange coming from Mr. Carson's office. "I suppose since it's just the family tomorrow night, I'll only have need for Mr. Barrow and Jimmy."
It was Mr. Molesley who replied with, "Thank you, Mr. Carson," as he hovered in between the doorway and the corridor. He moved back into the hall, a pleasant smile crossing his face as he fell in step with Baxter.
She asked kindly, "Everything alright?"
"Oh yes, everything's fine," Molesley assured her before explaining. "I was just asking Mr. Carson if I could take tomorrow off. I uh...have to pick something up...in York..."
"What's that?" She inquired swiftly.
He hadn't expected such a direct question, and she noticed his cheeks flushing a rosy hue as he stammered out an answer, "Oh...uh...well ye know...just..."
"Sorry," Baxter interrupted, shaking her head. "I didn't mean to pry. I let me curiosity get the better of me." She didn't intend to embarrass him, and she felt a bit guilty that she may have.
"Oh no..." He assured with a shrug, "it's just...something...for...me Dad."
"Ahh I see," She tilted her head from side to side before offering encouragingly, "Well that's good of ye to get it for him."
"Yeah well...he wouldn't like to admit it, but he doesn't quite get around like he used to." His mouth twitched uncomfortably at the thought.
She pretended not to notice this, and just kept strolling alongside him down the corridor.
"Anyway, suppose I'll be having dinner with him after," Molesley told her.
"How nice," She commented with smile at this.
After meeting Mr. Molesley at the bazaar last spring, she could see just how close father and son were. She suspected they probably didn't often have the chance to share in one another's company as much as they'd like to. "I bet he'll be glad to spend some time with ye," Baxter remarked, shooting him a sideways glance.
"Yeah, it's certainly been a while," He agreed, meeting her eye.
She was about to turn down into the laundry wing whenever he took a step forward and captured her attention with an urgency behind his words, "You uh...you could come too ye know?"
Her heart fluttered at the unexpected invitation, and Baxter's expression widened into one of complete shock.
"He likes ye," Mr. Molesley added encouragingly, only deepening her smile.
Blinking back at him, she tried to get out a polite response, "That's...very kind for ye to ask. But I...I have a lot..."
"Yes, yes, of course...it was only an idea." He interjected, his hands nervously playing with the buttons on his vest as he nonchalantly shrugged off her turning him down.
"Not that I wouldn't want to," Baxter insisted. Cocking her head to the side she suggested, "Perhaps another time?"
"Really?" He sounded just as dumbfounded as she did moments ago. And when she nodded mutely in reply, he answered with similar enthusiasm, "Alright! Yeah! We-we-we'd be happy to uh...have ye!"
A round of lighthearted giggles tickled the back of her throat and she glanced down at the clothes in her arms, "Brilliant." Willing herself not to appear to eager, she jerked her head in the direction of the laundry room, gesturing to the bundle in her arms, "Well I uh...have to go. Lady Grantham's having a clothing drive for one of her charities and..."
"Of course," Mr. Molesley replied understandingly. He pointed to the opposite direction where the men's staircase was, "I should be on my way too. Goodnight, Ms. Baxter."
She watched him hurry away, her mouth contorting into several variations of satisfaction whenever she murmured as an afterthought, "Goodnight. Mr. Molesley."
"So does that mean, Lord Gillingham wins and Mr. Blake can go whistle?"
Baxter felt every nerve in her body tense upon hearing the remark from Mr. Bates. Her eyes fluttered momentarily over to where he stood near the fireplace with Mrs. Bates, but she then looked towards the book occupying the back table in the servant's hall.
"I'm glad for them." Anna replied sweetly, "Viscountess Gillingham, sounds quite smart. I think they'll be happy. And it'll be good for Master George."
Had it been settled then? Was Lady Mary truthfully interested in Lord Gillingham as they seemed to believe? Baxter supposed it was still all up for debate. Yet Anna seemed to hold the trump card as far as this matter was concerned. Still, Baxter wouldn't pass the information along to Lady Grantham at this stage, it was still too soon to tell.
Once she determined where she'd be seated that evening at supper, Baxter glanced up just as Mr. Bates was offering his opinions on the matter.
"It's a big thing, to take on the task of raising another man's son."
Anna shrugged, "There's nothing to worry about there, and his Lordship's a kind man."
Baxter edged closer to her place near the head of the table, her eyes shifting to the side so she might still hear their conversation without anyone realizing.
Even if the Bates' didn't notice, Baxter was soon reminded that someone was always bound to.
"I wish you'd tell me what you know about those two," Thomas' gravelly tone came from her left shoulder. His sudden appearance blocked her view from the Bates', diminishing her ability to hear any more of their conversation.
She tensed and remarked defensively under her breath, "I don't know anything."
"Then what you suspect then," Thomas corrected.
Baxter looked up at him, her mouth open in defiance as a retort started to form. But before she could utter a single syllable, Thomas effectively silenced her with his counter.
"And don't deny it because I've seen ye. You can't keep your eyes off them when you think no one's looking."
She shifted her gaze to the opposite wall again. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he found a way to strike a nerve deep within her with his sharp observational gaze. Just then, a second wave of people began filtering into the servants hall, Mr. Molesley among them.
"Can I join in?" He appeared on Thomas' other side, and Baxter glanced over at him with relief upon seeing him beaming in her direction.
"Do you have to?" Thomas grumbled, rolling his eyes at Mr. Molesley's sudden appearance before backing away from them altogether.
Baxter took a step closer to Mr. Molesley, still careful to leave a chair's distance between them. She hadn't seen him all day, and was shocked he was back already considering he planned to be off. "How was it in York? Did you find what you were looking for?"
"I did," He answered proudly, "It took a bit of a search but uh, I think I'm suited. I mean...Dad...he's suited."
Jimmy called out from across the table, "What's happening?"
Molesley appeared a bit startled by this interruption. Shrugging and shaking his head he offered lamely, "Oh just...something."
Baxter smiled encouragingly at this, but then furrowed her brow as she asked, "Did you…I mean, weren't you having dinner with your Dad tonight?"
"Oh I did already," He told her with a nod of his head. "He says, 'Hello,' and that he'd be delighted for ye to join us when you have some time off next."
"Well next time you speak to him tell him that I'm grateful for the invitation," She decided with a broad grin.
"I will," Molesley assured her.
And with that, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes entered the dining hall. Even as Mr. Bates and Anna slid in between them and they took their, Baxter couldn't help but steal a glance from Mr. Molesley and offer him another gratified half smile. He gave her more comfort than she could ever tell him.