A Chelsie Christmas
D – Dashing
December 4th, 1926
Around her the snow continued to fall, like dust in the early morning darkness. Everything was still, silent, almost eerily so. She focussed in on the rhythmic crispness of her steps, her breath a white stream upon the damp air, the familiar path blanketed over.
It hadn't quite turned six when she reached the back gate to the grounds, reluctantly removing a glove to find the key deep in her pocket and unlocking the bolt. She took the front path, not her usual route, in order to assess the driveway. Surprisingly Thomas was already supervising two young boys who were shovelling the walkway – she watched him, pausing by the corner of the house.
Against the stark background, his silhouette caught her breath as she remembered a much younger Charles Carson doing the same, only barking orders. Her memory was fuzzy, and try as she might she couldn't recall the year or her age. But that feeling, a sudden sharpness in her chest, that still remained. Seeing him in a different light, those broad, broad shoulders.
"Good morning, Mrs. Carson," Thomas said and she lifted her chin, smiling a hello. "Cold one today."
"It certainly is."
Downstairs there was the smell of bacon and, despite her years and years of training, she was still only human and her stomach curled in on itself as she imagined the taste of it. Perhaps she could manage to sneak a piece as she got her morning tea.
Her office was warm, somebody had clearly lit the fire in there, and she hung her coat, scarf and hat and took a quick shuffle through her in-tray. The downside of having a day off was the return; she knew it would be hectic, hence her early start. This close to Christmas too and all the plans to be finalised.
Glancing at her diary she mentally listed her tasks – a meeting with her Ladyship mid-morning, then Mrs. Patmore after lunch. She wanted to meet with Anna at some point to review her position now she had returned full time and there were other duties too; for one she wanted to review every room and check the two new housemaids weren't slacking.
Charles, Ripon and Christmas shopping seemed a lifetime ago.
She had left him asleep, which was odd in itself. But then she had dozed long before him the previous night. Usually he slept after they had made love, and she would be the one lying beside him, sometimes holding him, other times him her, watching the fire dwindle as the last traces of their shared pleasure slept in her loins. That night he had been different, powerfully so, as if he had a memory of something he wanted to find again. She had been exhausted, she hadn't even left their bed afterwards but had curled against him, sighing contentedly and that was it. Sleep.
She felt her cheeks blush as she made her way into the kitchen, boots changed into her normal heels, adjusting her belt slightly as she rounded in behind Daisy who was already halfway through her second batch of Christmas cakes.
"I saw that," Mrs. Patmore said, seemingly appearing from nowhere as Elsie snatched a piece of bacon.
She made no attempt to hide it now she'd been spotted, instead biting the end off and watching as Beryl poured tea.
"Early today. How was shopping? Did he behave?"
"Perfectly so and it was useful, I got quite a few things done. Oh, and that fish pie was delicious, he sends his regards."
"How is he?"
"Better I think."
"The grumpiness eased then?"
Elsie glanced around the kitchen, careful they were alone. "He seems to be falling into a routine I think, the new role in the village certainly helped."
"And staying away from here."
"Yes, and that." She bit her lip, spooning sugar into her tea and remembering the awkward conversations they had when she'd been trying to explain his daily visits and running commentary fon Thomas wasn't healthy – for anyone. He had been grumpy with her for almost a fortnight but they'd ridden it out and things actually seemed better now.
"Thank you for this," she said, excusing herself and returning to her office. Time to get started.
It snowed on and off through the day, Elsie caught glimpses of it as she passed a window or chased Tia out of the hallway and into the back yard. The dog was still enchanted by snow and barked to high heaven as she chased her tail and yapped at Elsie.
"Silly thing," she said, annoyed the gate had been left open and she had to go out into the cold to close it before the dog escaped. Luckily Tia was the most docile of his Lordship's dogs and escape never came to mind.
"Come on," she instructed as the dog nuzzled the back of her legs, "I haven't got time for this. Come on inside, go get your food." She tugged on Tia's collar and the dog dutifully followed her in and to the back kitchens.
"I am too old for this," she whispered to herself, heading upstairs for the hundredth time that day. The backs of her legs ached and her shoes were rubbing her heels already, and with six hours still to go.
She met Thomas in the dining room to discuss possible changes to the New Year celebrations; he had ideas and now, with almost a year under his belt, she was ready to share them. She listened carefully and made notes, not wanting to judge or intimidate or compare everything to the way the previous butler would have done things. After all, that was Charles' role. She offered some insights, but did her very best to remain neutral.
Her mental list was endless and she wondered if she'd even make it home that night if it continued to snow. She'd had a spare room made up in the servants' quarters just in case but the thought of returning to a small bed in a small room…
She breathed deeply, slipping her glasses off as she closed the office door behind her. Charles had made fleeting comments of late, of pensions and alterations to the system, passing judgements over the top of his paper of an evening.
She wondered where he was now, and how his day was going.
She had only just sunk into her chair when there was a knock and Daisy came in carrying a tray.
"Mrs. Patmore said you hadn't stopped, so here is tea and fresh mince pies."
'Angel', she thought, but instead gave one of her trademark guarded smiles. "I am very grateful Daisy. And how are the menus looking for Christmas Eve?"
"I will have them done by Wednesday if that's suitable?"
"Perfectly so, 8 a.m. then, we shall meet in here to discuss your ideas."
"Yes, Mrs. Hughes."
She had no sooner sat down and lifted her tea cup to her mouth than there was a breakage in the drawing room and she was making her way back upstairs again to berate whomever had done it. She was harsher with the girl than she ought to have been, sharper, in fact her ire hadn't been so drawn for many months. Marriage had softened her somewhat, alongside age, as it had him. But working kept her lively, focussed, and the brittle edge – though dulled – was still present.
Later there was guilt but she couldn't reverse, nor did she want to, not really.
She disappeared into Charles' pantry whilst dinner was being served and Thomas gone; it was a rude intrusion but she needed a second and she could stand there in the dark, with the fire in the hearth and the snow falling outside and see him there with his anxious expression and his eyes large and dark with trembling. Asking her to be his wife, two years since now, two years and the world had changed.
When it passed ten o'clock she resigned herself to sleeping upstairs and wondered how he would be, they had discussed the possibility if it were bad weather or she had too much to do and of course logically that all sounded fine. It was fine. Only it wasn't.
There had been no time for dinner and her hunger had subsided mostly due to overwork and a quick beating heart. Still, she wondered if there was any soup left and whether she could warm it through before bed.
A bark out in the yard distracted her and she frowned, shaking her head and stamping her way out of her office and back down the hallway to the door. Of course there was nobody readily around so she made her way out there herself, she had worked in the property all her adult life and there was no fear.
"Tia," she snapped, cradling her arms around herself as the ice crept indoors. "Come on, where are you? You shouldn't be out here this time of night."
A rising dark figure made her breath catch in her throat, and she clasped her hand to her chest.
"Charlie…?" His familiar face, the height, the measure of his body, came towards her across the yard. "What are you doing out here?"
"I came to walk you home."
"It's cold, and late."
"Both of these I know, it was either come to walk you home or sleep alone. I know which I prefer."
Her shoulders sagged, "Oh Charlie."
He stepped into the light, into the doorway, "Are you quite alright?"
"Yes," she breathed deeply. "I'll get my things."
The night was light, the pathway through the grounds and back to their cottage lit by the moon; Charles was right, almost a full moon and it was beautiful to be out in.
She held his arm tight, pressed close against his side and he smelled so good.
"Therefore we have decided that we can, and will, have a tree in the centre of the village."
"Good," she said gently, only half listening. "Can we slow a little?"
"Are you in pain?"
"Just tired, haven't stopped dashing about all day and my feet ache."
"It is late, otherwise I'd recommend a bath."
"Yes, tea and then bed I think."
Charles patted her arm, "Perhaps the bowl from the sink would be of use, you could soak your feet by the fire as we have our tea."
"Yes." She shuffled her scarf a little higher around her neck in an attempt to keep out the cold. "Goodness this walk keeps me fit, especially on days like this."
"It hardly stopped, we haven't had a winter like this for years." He paused, glancing down at her, "Do you need my coat?"
"No, I'll be fine, but thank you for asking."
"Tell me about your day."
"Barrow has new ideas for the Christmas party, Daisy is doing the menus for Christmas Eve…"
"Goodness. What new ideas?" He bristled.
"Just, slight changes, I don't recall everything right now. Anna is finding leaving the baby difficult I think, though she would never outright say."
"That's the choice you make I suppose."
"Yes, I suppose," she said gently. "What were you doing with that dog anyhow? I wasn't aware you had an affinity for them, you never liked them wandering the house."
"Hair. And I wouldn't say 'affinity', but she is a nice enough dog. A friendly type."
"Hm," she pursed her lips into a smile. "This is nice." She said.
"What?"
"Walking on a night like this with you. Heading home."
"It's warm, I made sure."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
She would have liked to tell him he was turning into quite the house husband but didn't, daren't, they weren't quite there yet. "Is there any gingerbread left?"
"I believe there is. Yes."
"Wonderful."
Around her the snow continued to fall; white fairies dancing against a dark sky. She focussed in on the rhythmic crispness of their steps, perfectly in sync.