A/N: Flashbacks again! I've got the rest of this story pretty mapped out from here to the end of it. There will be around ten more chapters.
June 1990
Elsie whistled as she got out of her car, twirling her keys. She didn't much care for working on Saturdays, but they were always more casual than during the week. In the parking lot, the only other cars were Mr. Crawley's Mercedes and Mr. Carson's Honda. She smiled to herself. Mr. Carson must have said something to you. It's a rare thing when you're here on a Saturday.
Walking toward her office, she was startled by a glimpse of someone inside it. She hurried in to find a dark-haired girl rummaging in her desk drawers.
"What are you doing in my office!?" Elsie cried. The girl looked up, her brown eyes defiant. She couldn't have been more than ten years old.
"Looking for a pen." She went right back to searching. "Don't you have anything other than black?" She banged a drawer shut, knocking Becky's picture over. The glass cracked, and with it, Elsie's temper.
"Get out. Now," she snapped, her voice like ice. It had been a long time since she'd had her temper tested to this extent. And with working with Miss O'Brien, that was saying something. When the girl didn't move, she pulled on her arm, dragging her around the desk. The child resisted, clutching the corner.
"Let go!" she shouted. She stomped on Elsie's sandaled foot, making the office manager gasp. "You only work here, my parents own the office! I can take a pen if I want to!"
Seeing red, Elsie seized her by the ear. The girl screamed. Seconds later, two men appeared in the doorway.
"Mary?" Mr. Crawley asked, looking from the child to Elsie in confusion. "Why are you in Mrs. Hughes's office? I told you the pens are in the storage closet!"
"What's going on here?" Mr. Carson, more than a hint of a growl in his voice. Mary wrenched herself out of Elsie's grip and threw herself into his arms.
"I…I was just looking for a pen, Uncle Carson," she said, sniffing. "And she slapped me." Mr. Carson's head snapped up.
"I never did!" gasped Elsie, her color rising. That little liar! "I simply wanted her out of my office!"
"For your sake, I hope you're telling the truth," Mr. Carson thundered, his eyes wide. "Striking a child is an offense I cannot allow."
Elsie gaped at him. Mr. Carson, taking her side? Where was the professional managing partner? She glared at the managing partner. "Of course I'm telling the truth!"
"Now, I'm sure this has all been a misunderstanding," Mr. Crawley said, stepping between them. "Mary, apologize to Mrs. Hughes. You should not be in here."
Mary turned reluctantly to Elsie, Mr. Carson's hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes," she said without remorse.
"I accept your apology," Elsie said, even though she was highly skeptical the child meant what she said. What else could she do, with her boss glowering at her as if she had done something wrong?
Charles steered Mary back into his office and made sure she was well-supplied with writing utensils and paper. He bent over the brief again, checking for errors, but the letters blurred together.
Of course she would pick on Mary, of all people. He had never seen Mrs. Hughes like that, in a towering rage. It was unnerving. He was glad Robert had stepped in when he did. He wasn't sure he could have held his temper.
"Mrs. Hughes is usually very nice," he said to the child drawing on the other side of his desk. Until ten minutes ago, I never would have guessed she had trouble keeping her composure.
Mary rolled her eyes. "She's a dragon. A Scottish dragon."
He half-grinned. "Maybe she is. But you know what they say about dragons."
"What?"
"Best to stay out of their lair." He shuffled the brief in front of him.
Mary blew a strand of hair out of her face. "I don't see why. You and Papa run this place. Why can't I get a pen from her office? They aren't hers."
"No, but what's in her office is for her to use. Like your desk at school. You don't own it, you're just borrowing it for a while. You wouldn't like it if one of your classmates went looking for a pencil in your desk, would you?"
"No." Mary said quietly. The room was silent for several minutes. "Uncle Carson?"
"Hmmm?" In regards to the motion to dismiss for forum non conveniens, the following points are invalid…
"You'll always like me no matter what, right?"
He looked up. "What? Of course! Where did that come from?"
She slid down the chair and hung over the armrest. "Mrs. Hughes didn't slap me," she said in a small voice. "I…I lied."
He leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Well, I owe her an apology. "That was very wrong of you, Mary. Very." He scrutinized the girl, who looked at the floor.
"You don't like me anymore, do you?" she whispered.
He sighed, his hands behind his head. "Yes, I still like you. But it's wrong to lie. You know that!" Abruptly, he got up.
"Where are you going?" she asked, her eyes wide.
"I'm going to talk to Mrs. Hughes," he said.
"You're not going to tell her, are you? Papa would make me say sorry again!"
He opened the door, gesturing for her to get up. "Yes, I am going to tell her. And you will apologize again." He took a deep breath. "As will I."
Thank goodness Mrs. Hughes listened without comment. Although he thought he detected a glimmer in her eye when Mary apologized for lying. She was calm and shook hands with her at the end.
"She's really not that bad," he said as Mary scurried out the door. The office manager raised her eyebrows. He looked back at her, feeling for once like he'd been caught out. "I know I'm too easy on her, but I am her godfather-"
"And that gives you the excuse to dismiss her every mistake," Mrs. Hughes said evenly. She wasn't angry; if anything, she looked as though she were biting back laughter. He blustered.
"I don't dismiss every mistake-"
"All right, Mr. Carson," she said, turning back to her work. "I'm sure no one at this office would dispute your position as an excellent disciplinarian." A smile quirked at the corner of her lip.
He huffed for a moment. It won't do any good to argue. A small part of him still wanted to contradict her, but he also knew she was right. Not that he would admit it. He went to leave her office, but stopped before going out the door.
"Someday, a child is going to find the center of your heart," he said softly. "You will understand then."
March 1996
Cora bustled into Elsie's office, Miss O'Brien right behind, talking loudly.
"You know I've got to finish putting together the reports," she said, barely nodding at the office manager. Behind them, Mr. Carson peeked in and entered as well. Elsie set down her pen. This may take some time.
"Mrs. Hughes," Cora began, wringing her hands. "You know I would never ask you something like this if I wasn't desperate-"
"And you know I'd do it if I wasn't so busy-" Miss O'Brien interrupted. Cora turned to her, blowing air through her nose.
"Yes, I know, Sarah, you've said. But let me finish. Mrs. Hughes, I'm leaving in a few minutes to pick up the girls. I'm bringing them here. Our nanny is ill, she has a migraine. As you know, my mother-in-law is working on the Richardson will. My mother is out of town. I know this is a professional office, but just this once, I have to make an exception. Mr. Carson has agreed to let our daughters stay here for the rest of the day."
"Then I'm rather confused," Elsie said. She had a feeling she knew where this was going, and she was equally certain that if her instincts were correct, she wouldn't like it. "If Mr. Carson allows it, what do you need from me?"
Cora sighed, her pale blue eyes reflecting guilt and desperation. "Mrs. Hughes, could you watch the girls for the rest of the afternoon?"
Exactly what I thought. She kept her face neutral. "Excuse me, Mrs. Crawley, but aren't they old enough to be at home by themselves for the rest of the afternoon?" She glanced at her clock. 2:30. "Sybil is too young, perhaps, but surely Mary and Edith are old enough to watch themselves and their younger sister for another two-and-a-half hours."
Cora closed her eyes, leaning on her knuckles on Elsie's desk. "I hate to admit it, but leaving my three children at home by themselves is asking for a disaster to happen. Of the three, Sybil would be the least likely to cause trouble. My older girls-" she waved her hands, "-well, it would be a miracle if our house was still intact when Robert and I got home."
"I don't think it's a drastic interruption to have the girls here for the remainder of the day," Mr. Carson broke in. "I told Mrs. Crawley they could sit in the conference room downstairs and do their homework."
"And you want me to look after them," Elsie said, looking at Cora. "Is there no one else?" It wasn't that she didn't like the girls, but surely there was someone else in this office who could watch them without disrupting her afternoon.
"I've asked everyone," Cora said, her eyes wide. "Everyone's busy, all the secretaries and records clerks. Mrs. Patmore nearly tore my head off-"
Elsie resisted the urge to snort. I'll bet. "So it's down to me, I see?" she raised her eyebrows only slightly at Mr. Carson, who pleaded with her silently. "Oh, all right. Let me know when you get back, and I'll go work in the conference room." I must be a sucker for punishment.
Forty-five minutes later, Elsie sat with her head bowed in the conference room, her ears ringing. A dull throb was pulsing over her right eye. She thought ironically that she might have to go home with a migraine before the day was over. Mary and Edith quarreled at the far end of the table, the second-oldest daughter in tears. Sybil sat in the middle, her fingers frozen around her crayon, her mouth open as she gaped at her sisters.
"I am not ugly! No matter what you say!" Edith insisted. "Just because I wear glasses, it does not make me a loser!"
"Keep saying that," her older sister said, her tone equally vicious and bored. "But I can tell you, once you get into high school, no boy's going to want to date you – unless you do their homework for them. I guess you have that going for you."
"Mary, that's enough," Elsie said, pressing two fingers to her temple. "Leave your sister alone. And Edith, if I were you, I'd ignore her. Don't you both have homework to do?" Her tone was harsher than it normally was, but the two of them had driven her almost to the breaking point. She raised an eyebrow at the oldest child. She wondered what she would do if the girl some of the staff called 'Lady' Mary crossed the line again.
She reminded herself that corporal punishment was not an option. No matter how tempting the prospect.
The fourteen-year-old with dark brown eyes stared back, as if sizing her up. Then she sniffed before opening her biology textbook. Elsie let out a small breath. Amazing, how one so young can act so arrogant. I will never know what Mr. Carson sees in her. Edith dried her eyes and scribbled away in her notebook, her French abandoned. Elsie thought about prompting her to study, but decided she didn't have the energy.
The four sat in relative peace for the next half an hour. Then Sybil looked up, squirming on her chair. "Mrs. Hughes?" she asked in a small voice.
"What?" the office manager asked, distracted from the coffee invoices.
"I have to go to the bathroom."
Elsie sighed and got up. "All right, let's go." She held out her hand to the six-year-old, who took it. She turned and glared at the older girls. "We'll be right back. Try to behave yourselves for five minutes."
She and Sybil walked to the women's restroom, and Elsie stood outside the stall door somewhat awkwardly. Sybil hummed from the inside, and otherwise seemed to be fine. Elsie smiled.
The little girl exited and Elsie steered her to a sink. She had to pick Sybil up, as the rim was too high for her to reach the running water. She dried her hands under the dryer.
"Do you have sisters?" Sybil asked as they left, walking back to the conference room.
"One," she said, surprised. "I have one sister. Her name is Becky."
"How old is she?"
"Eight years younger than me."
Sybil skipped, swinging her arms. "Do you love her?"
Where did that come from? "Of course I do." Sybil stopped outside of the conference room, looking at the floor.
"I love my sisters. But Mary HATES Edith, and Edith HATES Mary."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Elsie said automatically, even though she privately agreed with the youngest Crawley. Sybil looked up, her expression fierce.
"They do! They fight all. The. Time. And Mama and Papa don't do anything." She stuck out her bottom lip, and for a moment Elsie was afraid she would cry. "Mary's nice to me. She taught me how to braid hair. And Edith lets me paint with her brushes." She looked up at Elsie, her eyes big. "Why can't they be nice to each other?"
Oh wee lass, if I knew the answer to that question, there would be peace on earth. Elsie crouched down to Sybil's eye level. "I don't know," she said. A tear worked itself out of the corner of the girl's eye, and Elsie felt a fresh surge of anger. She gently rubbed the tear from Sybil's face. "You know what?" she asked. "The best thing you could do is to keep on being nice to them. And someday, they will learn to be nice to each other. Because you-" she touched Sybil's cheek-"taught them to be nice. That's what the world needs, more people like you." We can only hope.
Before she could move or speak again, Sybil threw her arms around her neck. "I love you, Mrs. Hughes," she whispered.
Elsie was taken aback. She couldn't remember another child ever showing such open affection. Not to her. Tears pricked her eyes as she hugged the little girl. Someone cleared their throat.
Mr. Carson leaned against the wall by the conference room. He said nothing, but raised his eyebrows at her before walking back up the stairs.
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Have I mentioned that I love you all equally? I do. This fandom is awesome. Chelsie on!