Chapter Three- The Crocodile

"You've been in a merry mood today, Mr. Carson." She leaned towards him as he passed her a bowl of stew and turned back to the tureen to fill his own bowl.

"Have I?" He looked genuinely perplexed as he considered the possibility. She tried to hide her amusement behind the plate of bread that was being passed around.

"I believe I even saw you spare a smile for Roger before dinner service."

"He had done an uncharacteristically good job setting the table and deserved recognition."

"And I believe I heard you humming when you were going over the wine ledger."

"Perhaps I am in a good mood, Mrs. Hughes. I unveiled the hook last night and the young ladies were duly impressed. We've not met Captain Hook yet, but I took your advice and decided to avoid startling them with it."

"So, no nightmares?"

"Hopefully not. I was just telling them about all the characters. We're starting the story properly tonight and I'll be using the fairy dust."

"That will be quite exciting for the girls."

"I hope so. I'll admit, it's a little exciting for me."

"So I can see. Do you require any assistance?"

"No, thank you, Mrs. Hughes. I think I have things well in hand. I plan to set a bucket of sand outside the door, just in case something goes amiss. It would not do to burn down the nursery."

"Indeed, it would not." She agreed unnecessarily.

They finished dinner without further conversation. Carson was intent upon eating quickly but maintained proper manners. Usually one of the last to complete his meal because he had to serve, Carson was one of the first to rise from the table this evening. A few minutes later, Mrs. Hughes saw him heading upstairs with a bucket of sand in one hand and his lantern with the tall chimney in the other. The play was tucked under one arm.

Mrs. Hughes decided this would be a good night to rotate the linens in the closet next to the nursery. She wanted to hear the ecstatic gasps of the girls when the pyrotechnics began. Taking a fresh load of sheets for the children's beds, Mrs. Hughes followed in his footsteps less than ten minutes after he had tread them.

In the hallway, she stood beside the bucket of sand and lay her ear to the door. Behind the nursery door, she heard his deep voice rising and falling as he read. Though she could not make out the words, she could hear him clearly enough to distinguish between the characters. She heard the girls giggle at his words. They practically squealed when he barked like an agitated dog.

Finally, his voice dropped low and sounded mysterious. Even through the door, she could feel the tension building. Suddenly, she saw the purple-white flashes under the door and heard the gasps, yelps and eventual laughter. Sybil's laughter carried clearly through the door and down the hall to echo in the grand hall. Elsie laughed with her, half burying her face in the clean sheets to stifle the noise.

There were more flashes of light under the door as Carson replayed the effect for the girls' amusement. Elsie decided she should actually deliver the sheets as she'd brought them this far. She walked a few doors down and opened the nursery linen closet. Soon, she was lost in her work; bringing the older sheets to the front and placing the latest linens to the back. It was not challenging work, but it was not a small closet, providing sheets for all the nursery beds and towels for the baths on a daily basis.

It was almost twenty minutes later before Elsie finished her work. She could have completed it more quickly, but she was waiting to accompany Mr. Carson downstairs. She was looking forward to hearing his proud recounting of the performance. She knew there was no one else to whom he could crow and it did her heart good to see him so happy. Elsie assumed the girls would be nearly asleep by now. As she approached the nursery door, she saw that the lights were indeed low.

The nursery door opened quietly. Elsie stepped forward to greet him, but stopped when she heard a woman's voice. "You're ever so clever, Mr. Carson. It's no wonder the girls think so highly of you."

"Thank you, Miss Randall." He was backing out of the room. Elsie was in shadow while the other two were bathed in the soft light from the nursery and the small circle of light cast by his lantern.

"Please, call me Daphne." She put a delicate hand upon his chest. He backed further, but she had steered him into the door.

"That would not be appropriate, Miss Randall."

"What do we care for propriety, Charles? Do you think I don't know why you spend so much time with the girls?" She gave him a look that was surely intended to be seductive. Elsie was glad to see that Mr. Carson looked dumbfounded and more than a little terrified.

"I truly enjoy spending time with the girls. With their father gone…" At this point, many things happened in short order.

Miss Randall grabbed Mr. Carson's lapel and pulled herself up for a kiss. Carson stepped into the hall, pulling away from her and tripping over the sand bucket. The lantern flew into the air as he fell to one knee, half catching himself. Elsie stepped forward to catch the lantern before it could clatter to the floor. She did succeed in catching the base of the lantern, which had blown out as it fell. Carson somehow managed to reach out and catch the chimney before it shattered on the rug.

"Damn!" She heard him curse in pain as he quickly dropped the hot glass onto the rug. She could just make out his kneeling figure in the dim light still coming from the nursery.

"Mrs. Hughes! What are you doing here?" Miss Randall demanded, seeing the housekeeper.

"I brought up fresh sheets, Miss Randall." Elsie snapped. This girl was not seriously attempting to boss her around. "Some of us take our jobs seriously." She went to Mr. Carson, who was still kneeling. He was searching his pockets. Just as she reached him, he struck a match. Understanding, she held the base of the lamp out for him to light.

Once it was lit, he used his handkerchief to lift the still warm chimney into place. Finally, he stood with as much dignity as he could muster. "Good night to you, Miss Randall." He picked up the mercifully unspilt bucket of sand with his unburned hand. With a look to Elsie, he said simply, "After you, Mrs. Hughes."

She led the way back downstairs, leaving the governess in the nursery doorway. Miss Randall shrugged as she watched the retreating figures of the butler and housekeeper, Should have known that one was taken; the good ones always are. Now she knew there was an understanding between the two heads of household, she would have to adjust her strategy for finding a bit of fun in this dull country house. Maybe I should give that Roger fellow a chance after all.

Downstairs, Carson went directly to the kitchen and began running his hand under the water. There was no blistering and he knew it would not be a bad burn, but even small burns could become major problems for a butler.

"Are you all right?"

"I shall be able to serve tomorrow."

"I am glad to hear it, but that is not what I meant." She stepped closer, but still left a comfortable space between them. "Are you all right? You were in quite a predicament."

Grabbing a clean cloth from beside the sink, he wet it and turned off the water. "Silly girl. I can't think what made her imagine…Do young people not understand this life anymore, Mrs. Hughes? Do they not understand that there are rules? Do they not understand the choices we've made to reach our positions?"

"I honestly do not know, Mr. Carson. Perhaps the rules are changing."

He looked horrified at the thought. "Well, I am grateful that you understand, Mrs. Hughes."

She wasn't sure that she was very proud of that compliment, but did not want to consider it further. "Do you think you ought to return to the nursery tomorrow?"

"The story isn't finished." He said, matter-of-factly. "And I cannot exactly explain to the young ladies what has happened. They quite like Miss Randall and she is good with them."

"Though almost anyone would be an improvement over the Fraulein."

"That is true." He grew very serious, even by his usual standards. "You don't think my conduct was improper, do you, Mrs. Hughes?"

"Not that I could see, Mr. Carson."

"She seemed to think I was visiting the children as a means to visit her. Sometimes I wonder what kind of homes these girls come from. One kind word and the poor things are infatuated."

"Fortunately for you, you are very guarded with your kind words."

He looked hurt by her comment as he leaned against the sink. She smiled to let him know there was no malice in her words. "And how did the young ladies enjoy Tinkerbell?"

He smiled at the change of subject. "You should know. You were listening at the door, were you not?"

"Guilty as charged. Lady Sybil seemed to enjoy it the most. She certainly has a wonderful laugh."

"That she does. It's so infectious, even Lady Mary could not help but laugh."

Elsie shook her head. "How can Lady Mary be your favorite when there is an angel like Lady Sybil about?"

"Not that you're biased." The expression on his face showed that he believed her to be quite biased; raised eyebrows and a small, accusatory smile.

"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Carson." She ignored his knowing look.

He considered her question carefully and then simply shrugged. "I suppose Lady Mary had already secured my loyalties before Lady Sybil had the chance. I would be a poor friend indeed if I abandoned her just because someone else came along."

"But Lady Mary is such a serious child."

"She wasn't always like that. Before His Lordship left for Africa, she was almost as sweet as Lady Sybil."

"That's not possible."

"I did say 'almost.' Since her father left, Lady Mary has ceased to be a little girl and has become a little Lady. I think she feels responsible for the estate with him gone. She's very like her father in many respects. She imagines the weight of the world on her shoulders all the time. As far as she is concerned, Downton is the world, so I suppose she is not wrong."

"Still, to be so serious at such a young age. I am sure you and I both had more difficult childhoods than Lady Mary, but I am sure we did not take it so hard."

"It is funny the things people find to worry about when they don't have to consider where their next meal will be coming from. Comfort breeds its own troubles, Mrs. Hughes. As ridiculous as they may seem to us, they are no less real. Even if most of her distress is self-made, it does not stop her from feeling it."

"Perhaps not, but it does make it more difficult to be sympathetic."

"I think we should drop this topic, Mrs. Hughes, or we may quarrel."

"And you do not wish for a quarrel?"

"Not when I can avoid it."

"Because you usually lose?"

"Only to you, but I fear you would find me very stubborn on this subject."

"And that is different from other subjects, how?" She laughed as he shook his head and turned back to the sink.

"Are you sure of your hand, Mr. Carson? I have some salve that might sooth the burn."

He considered for a moment. Would she offer to apply the salve herself? It would be a perfectly innocent excuse for him to hold her hand. No, that was too slippery a slope to tread. "I don't think that will be necessary, Mrs. Hughes. I think I was more shocked than injured."

"By the lantern or by Miss Randall?" There was laughter in her voice as she asked.

He chuckled, "It's ironic really."

"What is?"

"The crocodile isn't supposed to come after Hook for two more acts." The kitchen rang with their mingled laughter.

TBC...

AN/ Thank you for the reviews (even the punny ones). I am still sorting the next few chapters and your words encourage me.