Author's Note: Well I have for sure kept you anticipating this next chapter, readers. If there even is anyone still there? It's been about a year since I last updated this story and I am very sorry that it took me such a long time to come back to this adventure. I have missed this story myself and the fact that I managed to write this chapter completely in the span of about four hours yesterday, took me by surprise. I don't know where I have mustered all this inspiration, motivation and especially these words! Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this chapter at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it. And please, do leave me a review to let me know how I did! Thanks :)
The sun rose early on this Sunday morning as the last-minute preparations for the party took place at Downton Abbey. The servants were all busting about, getting their designed tasks done as quickly as possible in time for the first guests to arrive. In the middle of this controlled chaos stood the housekeeper with a list in hand, making sure everything got done in time. Lily and Anna had just come down from making all of the remaining beds for the overnight guests that would be staying the night after the party. The footmen and Mr Barrow were all polishing the last of the needed silver for tonight and Charles was receiving a very last-minute wine delivery since the one they were supposed to have gotten yesterday had never arrived.
But as the sun finally started setting behind the tree line in the distance, the many guests started to arrive. Whilst most of the men-servants kept themselves busy upstairs by helping the upper-class lords and ladies out of the cars and with their coats and showing them to the library where the family was waiting, the ladies managed everything from below - by welcoming the overnight guests' servants to where they would be staying and receiving the guests' bags and the kitchen by taking in all of the many meal preferences for the breakfast the morning after the party. Safe to say, not one servant was left bored or without a job.
After the bustle upon the guests' arrival started to slowly decrease as the family and their guests sat down for dinner, the servants - other than the footmen, Mr Barrow and Mr Carson, who were serving the party upstairs - could put their feet up for a moment. Mrs Patmore and Mrs Hughes were one of the many taking the opportunity to chug down a cup of tea once the dessert had gone up. They decided to reside in the housekeeper's parlour and enjoy a moment of silence whilst sipping on a cup of tea.
"When I was younger I used to enjoy these kinds of nights, with the visiting staff bustling around our own and me having to work my fingers to blisters to get a meal ready to serve upstairs to the tens of guests," Mrs Patmore said and sighed as she took a seat across from Elsie at the little table that resided just beside the door in the housekeeper's sitting room.
The housekeeper let out a little laugh and poured them both a cup of steaming, hot tea. She too took a seat at the small table and then took a sip of her freshly poured tea.
"I suppose-," Elsie began but took a second to swallow a mouthful of the warm liquid, "we've both just gotten old."
"Oh, speak for yourself."
Elsie hid her amused smile in her teacup as she took another sip. It was relaxing that even during a night as busy as this, they could still take a moment to chat - and joke around. Though, much to Elsie's dismay, Mrs Patmore decided to change the atmosphere by steering the conversation in a different direction. Something which the housekeeper should have guessed, really.
"Have you heard from Dr Clarkson yet?"
Elsie eyed the cook as she placed her cup down on the table.
"I have not yet, no," she answered.
Beryl nodded rather absentmindedly but still steered onwards.
"Should you go see him, just in case?" she suggested.
"Whatever for? He told us that he would seek us out when he's gotten the results."
"Suppose he's forgotten?"
"Mrs Patmore, Dr Clarkson hasn't and will not forget such things. Honestly, you have the patience of a four-year-old. If me and Mr Carson can wait, you can as well," Elsie told her friend as gently as possible, but the cook was getting on her nerves with her fussing, and thus making it very hard.
"Very well, I shall drop the subject. I am only making sure."
"I have Mr Carson nagging about this every chance he gets and I certainly do not need anyone else impatient as my burden," Elsie explained as she tried to cool down, "I appreciate it if you would leave it be."
The cook nodded, and for a moment Elsie thought she'd hurt her feelings as she started clearing out the tea cups without saying anything else.
"I won't mention the subject again after this but won't you tell me when you do hear from the doctor?" Beryl asked, stopping at her current task of clearing out the table cups to look her friend in the eyes.
Elsie did smile at this, relieved to know the cook had not been too hurt by her rather harsh words.
"You were a good friend to me years back when I had to go through this ordeal the first time, and even if you are not the one I went to first in search of support this time round, I do believe you've the right to worry and stand by my side. So don't worry, you shall hear as soon as we hear from the doctor."
"And I'm not asking for more."
"For now," Elsie corrected after a moment.
"For now, yes. We can negotiate about me receiving the good news when they're more topical."
With a last shared smile, Beryl gathered the tray, and Elsie moved to open the door for her. As the cook stepped into the hallway - the housekeeper following soon after - and headed towards the kitchen, a familiar voice called out.
"Mrs Hughes, Mrs Patmore," Richard Clarkson bowed his head as he walked down the hallway.
"Dr Clarkson, how are you?" Mrs Patmore looked pretty content to see him.
"Very well, Mrs Patmore, the meal was very delicious."
"Ah, thank you."
"I didn't know you were invited to the party, doctor," Elsie steered the conversation onward - hoping to find out the reason the doctor was talking to them in the first place.
"I was not originally, no. I saw Mrs Crawley and Lady Grantham in the village earlier today, and Mrs Crawley insisted I would join the party tonight."
"Well, I hope you enjoy yourself, Dr Clarkson," Beryl smiled. "Was there anything we could help you with? The party is not down here after all."
"Well, that much is true, I am not much of a good guest, as it is. I was actually hoping to speak to you, Mrs Hughes, and thought you might have a moment to spare when the guests are dining. So I slipped away as soon as we left the dining room."
This made the housekeeper's heart beat ever so slightly faster, and a gulp formed in her throat.
"Oh…I'm not in a hurry right now. Though that won't last too long as I have to go up to oversee the cleaning of the dining room in a minute."
"I won't take much of your time then, Mrs Hughes," the doctor said in honesty and with a slightly expecting expression on his face.
"Step into Mrs Hughes's sitting room, and I'll make sure you won't be disturbed," offered the cook politely, before the other woman had the chance to reply to the doctor's words herself.
"That would be most kind, Mrs Patmore, thank you," Clarkson smiled in return, then turned back to the housekeeper. "Shall we, Mrs Hughes?"
Later that night, after the servants had been dismissed from the drawing room
The clock had just struck midnight when the servants got dismissed from the drawing room, where the remainder of the family and their guests still sipped on their drinks and chatted. Lady Mary and a few of her friends had wanted to do some dancing before going up, so Charles had asked Andrew to fetch the gramophone into the great-hall where a hallboy would remain for the rest of the night until everyone had gone to bed. He would be given the morning off, Charles had promised.
As the butler now made his way through all of the family's rooms downstairs, he made sure everything was tidy enough for the night, whilst the whole house would be given a proper sweep tomorrow after the rest of the guests had left. He noted it was, and thought his wife probably had taken care of it all while he had been in the drawing room serving drinks and overseeing the party. Charles made his way towards the dining room, his last stop before climbing the stairs downstairs to search for his wife. It was high time they left Mr Barrow in charge and headed home. To his surprise, however, he found his wife in the dining room with the under-butler, both of them carrying the last of the candle stands from the place setting earlier to their proper place of storage.
Elsie was the first to notice him when he stepped into the room - of course, she would know the sound of his footsteps anywhere.
"Ah, Mr Carson," she smiled slightly as she handed Thomas the very last candle stand, and he headed to put it in its designed cabin.
"Shouldn't the maids be doing this?"
Elsie rolled her eyes before replying; would he never stop worrying about keeping up with the standards?
"I sent them up to bed. After all, they're the ones who have to be up the earliest in the morning."
"What about Anna or Ms Baxter?"
"Both tending to their mistresses' needs, I believe. I know her ladyship went to bed a bit earlier, and Anna is helping a friend of Lady Mary's, who headed upstairs with a bit of a headache."
"I see," Charles relented apprehensively.
"Mr Barrow, luckily, was happy to lend me a hand, as he thought he wouldn't be needed in the drawing room anymore."
For once, Elsie knew Charles would not argue with her reasoning or Mr Barrow leaving the drawing room without his permission since he would be glad she had had some help and hadn't tired herself out too badly with Barrow's help.
Just then, the under-butler returned to the dining room after he had put the last one of the candle stands away into storage.
"Thank you for your help, Mr Barrow. You've been very helpful."
"Not at all, Mrs Hughes. I was happy I could help," Thomas smiled faintly and turned his gaze towards the butler, who cleared his throat.
"Yes, thank you, Mr Barrow. And now, I trust I can leave you in charge for the rest of the night and get a full report from you in the morning?"
"Of course, Mr Carson."
"Then we shall say goodnight and see you in the morning."
"Good night," Elsie echoed.
"Good night, Mrs Hughes."
And with that, the under-butler headed out of the dining room and towards the servants' quarters. The Carsons were left alone in the now-empty dining room. Elsie stepped closer to the table to take the tablecloth she and Mr Barrow had folded earlier with her as they made their way downstairs as well.
"What a day this has been," Charles sighed after they had crossed the great hall - staying in the shadows to remain hidden from the guests still dancing to the rhythm of Foxtrot - and entered the stairway towards the servants' quarters.
"Well, I'll be glad after I've had a hot bath and can curl up in bed next to you," Elsie admitted, unable to contain her smile.
"Hush now, Mrs Hughes," even if he didn't like it when she talked about their personal life at the abbey, he couldn't completely resist his desire to join in on her teasing.
A yawn forced it's way to Elsie's lips, and she lifted her left hand to cover her mouth, trying to hide her tiredness from her husband. She wasn't successful, however, as the folded cloth almost toppled over from her grasp and down the stairs when her other hand wasn't there anymore to balance it. Charles, luckily, was quick enough to secure the cloth in his arms before it could fall from hers.
"Careful," he warned her gently.
Instead of arguing, she relented and let him carry the tablecloth down the stairs since it wouldn't do any good to start a fight this late. She'd only lose a good night's sleep. Although, she doubted she'd be able to sleep anyways. Prompted by her thoughts of a night's rest gone and her own tiredness, she said;
"Dr Clarkson paid me a visit after you had finished with dinner."
Charles was slightly taken aback and simply replied with a questioning, "Oh?"
"He wanted to let me know he's gotten a message from his colleague in London, saying he will have the results ready tomorrow, and Dr Clarkson wants us to go down as soon as we can get away," Elsie explained carefully, re-playing the doctor's words in her mind over and over again, as to not miss anything important as she relayed the message to her husband.
Instead of saying something, like Elsie had expected, Charles slowed his pace and eventually stopped entirely, coming to eyelevel with her. He held out his free hand and took a hold of hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. He was just about to say something, to reassure his wife, but she stopped him before he had the chance.
"Don't. Let's just go home, Charlie."
She could feel a lump in her throat.