A Chelsie Christmas
T – Tree
December 20th, 1926
Only a year ago it would never have occurred to Charles that he would not be entrenched in the goings on at the house. It was something of a body blow, confidence wise, to find that like it or not things ticked along quite as they always had. Life went on.
Sitting in Elsie's office, by the dwindling fire, he could but listen to the noise out in the hallway. Orders being barked, rushing back and forth, the clattering of heels and muffled voices.
He sank back in the chair, closed his eyes and absorbed himself in it all. This was part of him, his heritage, his existence. It would be foolish to claim he didn't miss it, but it would be equally as foolish to ignore the fact that actually he had moved on. There were other things creeping in, beginning to fill the spaces, and he wasn't – not for one minuscule cold second – unhappy. Quite the contrary.
"Sorry," Elsie said, rushing in, a tray in her hand. "Here you go."
Tea and porridge. He would usually have stayed at home, but he was up early with her and fancied the walk. Plus it was icy, white over, and he'd rather make sure she got there safely than worry at home.
"What time's your appointment?"
"He said to be there just after nine, just routine, check everything is tickety-boo."
She sat at her desk, opening her diary for the day, "And you're sure you don't need me to come with you?"
"Course not. I can manage. And besides, you're incredibly busy. In fact, I thought I might cook tonight."
Her eyes widened and she smiled at him, "Oh?"
"I can, you know."
"Whatever have I done to deserve that?" She said knowingly.
He blushed furiously yet held her gaze; they were both becoming braver, both that little bit more secure in their sexuality, their attraction, their enjoyment.
"Eat your porridge," she said jovially.
He counted the trees on the walk down the main drive. He could still remember his first walk through the watchful eyes of those giant old men, a young string of a lad craning his neck up to them. Today they were laden with snow, bowing slightly as he passed. The watchmen of the house. Many an evening had he walked beneath them returning to the cottage with Elsie's arm around his. They were simple moments, but they were all the more meaningful for it.
"Seem to be doing well now," Dr. Clarkson said. "Temperature's back to normal, no sign of sickness?"
"No, I've been feeling much, much better."
"You've been lucky, a man your age."
"I wasn't in the water long, not like Tommy."
Clarkson smiled as he scribbled on his notes, "You met the boy then?"
"I did. In fact, if he's still here I thought I might drop in, pay him a visit."
The Doctor looked over his glasses at him, "I think he would enjoy that. Pretty miserable for a child, hospital over Christmas. For all of them." He signed off his notes, "Don't go overdoing it. I know you have this fundraising thing on Christmas Eve, but try to rest."
"My wife will make sure of that." He rose, buttoning his jacket.
"How is Mrs. Carson?"
"Well, busy of course but – you know how this time of year is."
"I do indeed. Well, I shall see you Christmas Eve."
"Thank you, Doctor, for all your support."
Charles lingered in the reception area, he thought, seeing as he was already there, he might enquire about visiting the boys on the ward.
"Lady Grey," he said, noticing Isobel coming towards him, "Good morning."
"Oh Carson, no need for such formality. We've known each other an age now." She looked bright, happiness suited her. "How wonderful to see you, and how well you look considering. Quite the hero in the village."
"It's all been blown out of proportion really," he blustered.
"I'm sure it wasn't. What brings you here?"
"Dr. Clarkson wanted to check I was recuperating. And yourself?"
"Trees, Christmas trees more to the point." She gestured as she spoke, clearly invested in the topic at hand. "It seems ridiculous to me that we don't have a tree on every children's ward."
"They don't?"
"Just this one in reception. Some of these poor children will be here for months, they should still be able to engage in the magic of Christmas, don't you think?"
"I do indeed."
"Now I'm patron here I've taken it upon myself to make some changes. So, this morning two trees were delivered. Now we just have to decorate them."
Charles thought of his day ahead: some last preparations for the party, a few presents to wrap at home before Elsie got in, the fish he wanted to prepare for their supper. He could surely fit in some time here at the hospital.
"Might I be of assistance?"
"You would like to help?"
"If that's agreeable. I met some of the boys on the ward when I visited the other night, read to them, as it happens. I should like to help if it won't be a hindrance."
She touched his arm, "You never could be, I would be extremely grateful for your help."
They started towards the left wing of the hospital. "How exactly did you end up reading to the children, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Of course not. It was purely accidental, I came to visit the boy who fell in the lake. Tommy. And he can't read very well, so I thought I might entertain him awhile. The other boys seemed to enjoy it too."
"It's a travesty that we still aren't educating children when they're in hospital, or that we still have children in our country who can't read."
"My grandfather taught me mostly."
"And it's a good job he did, one cannot get very far these days without the ability to read. Ah, here we are. Shall you take the boys' ward, I'll go into the girls'?"
"More than happy to."
"What it's like then, being a butler?" Tommy asked as he watched the other boys hang baubles on the tree.
"Much like most professions I suppose, you have to work hard to get there and then work harder to stay there." He could see the four-year-old hadn't understood a word and decided to go for a different tact. "You have to stand tall, a straight back, be polite, hold a tray without dropping anything."
The boy smiled as Charles held out his arm and balanced a book on his hand, "Now, try to add things to it."
Tommy shifted in the bed, reaching for a pencil to rest on the book, then a teddy bear and finally he risked his glass of water from the bedside table.
Charles never wobbled.
"That's like magic," Tommy said.
Charles moved the water and put the book down, "Practice, your arm will get strong. And keep reading, have you tried?"
"A bit, I looked at the book you read us again."
Charles nodded and looked back to the tree, "Almost done, we just need the star. You want to try?"
Tommy pouted, "I'll never reach and Doctor says I'm too weak to get out of bed."
"I think we can manage thirty seconds."
Charles held the boy in his arms, lifting him up out of the bed to reach the top of the tree where he excitedly placed the star.
"There we go, looks wonderful."
"I hope Father Christmas leaves presents," Tommy said.
"I'm sure he will." He tucked the boy back into bed. "I suppose I best be going soon."
"Are you going to be a butler?"
"No, I have other jobs to do today."
"Will you read to us again, before you go?"
"I suppose I could, yes. If everyone wants that."
There was a chorus of 'yes' as the boys scrambled back into their beds and prepared to listen to another story.
The lounge was dim, lit only by the orange of the fire in the hearth and the tree lights in the corner.
On the sofa, Charles sat with his legs propped up on the footstool, Elsie cuddled against him, her head in his lap. She was exhausted, bless her, and almost asleep. He wondered about carrying her to bed, had suggested she go up twice but she was adamant she wanted some time together.
He told her of his day, of meeting Isobel, of the joyful few hours he'd spent in the company of the youngsters.
"Feels wonderful to do something simply for the joy it brings others," she commented and he gazed at her face, playing with her hair between his fingers. "Making the decision to do that."
"What has been… the best decision you've made?"
"Marrying you," she said without hesitation, her smile blissful, serene.
He felt his own grin stretching as she opened her eyes, watery blue looking up at him. "Oh."
"Oh…" she imitated, eyebrows raised. "And yours?"
"Asking you to marry me, as terrified as I was."
"You were terrified?"
"More so than I have ever been. More so than my first job interview or the first day as Head Butler. Trembling inside."
She pressed her hand against his chest, "My darling. How silly, to be terrified of me."
"Terrified you'd say no, that you wouldn't feel the same way."
"Hardly likely." She turned a little, lying on her side and cuddling against him. "I'm so tired."
"Bedtime then, time to say goodnight."
"Yes." She breathed deeply, eyes closed again. "I think you're enjoying the hospital."
"I'll admit I am, nothing wrong with that."
"Nothing at all. And you're enjoying helping the village, people in it. I can see something's returned, your spark."
He pursed his lips, stroking the back of her neck and watching her face in restful repose, "What does that mean? Do you have a plan?"
"Whatever do you mean by that?" She smirked, looking up at him. "I'm merely stating a fact, and perhaps suggesting it not be something you overlook. Doing something that makes you happy."
"And you, will you be happy, continuing to work?"
"When January comes we'll discuss it, not now, I'm so tired my decision will be biased."
He nodded – he knew well enough to know Elsie Hughes knew her own mind.
She yawned and he bent to kiss her forehead, "Let's go."
"Mm…"
She reluctantly got up, stretching, putting on her slippers and making her way from the sofa to the foot of the stairs. She was only a few steps up when she teasingly asked, "Will you read to me, Mr. Carson? You do the voices so well."
"Oh be off with you," he laughed, following her to bed.