Christmas Part 2
Christmas Part 2Tom and Mary entered the breakfast room all smiles. Their Downton bed will be repaired by the end of the day and Mary had secured Tom a small office situated next to the Estate Steward. Safely out of the way, where he won't disturb the family and most importantly his pregnant wife, when he is in one of his frantic creative moods.
Mary woke at the same time as Edith and went to her rooms to get ready for the day. She was very happy to spend half an hour making up with her husband before she rang for Anna and bathed for the day.
She had selected her sensible walking clothes, as she and Tom were off to explore the estate together. The same outfit she and Tom wore that first day of married life when she first toured the grounds with her new husband.
Her tweed skirt had been let out to allow for her new figure, but she thought they looked very well together as she admired her husbands appearance.
Lord Grantham lowered his paper at the entrance of his eldest daughter into the dining room. He was surprised to see her, as he had expected her to eat in her room, as was her privilege as a married woman.
The dim morning light of daybreak was warmed in the dining room by the flickering light from the fire set in the hearth.
"Morning Papa," Mary bent and kissed her father's cheek, before moving to the sideboard to choose her breakfast.
"Mary, I am surprised to see you at breakfast with us," Robert commented, giving his paper a shake before turning the page.
"Lord Grantham," Tom said quietly, before following his wife to the breakfast layout. "Good morning, Edith, Sybil," he politely greeted his new sisters.
Tom smiled looking down at the food before him, happy to see the selection available to choose from. He marvelled at the extravagance when he remembered the hearty porridge and toast on offer to the servants below them.
As he expected to get a good walk in this morning, he selected a substantial breakfast including toast before selecting a seat at the table. He strategically left a space beside Lord Grantham vacant for Mary, while he faced Edith.
Edith had glanced up from a letter she had been reading when her sister and Tom entered the room.
"Anything of interest?" Mary directed towards Edith, as she sat before her father.
Looking up, "It's a letter from my editor, about a piece I am writing for the magazine," Edith said. She could feel a slight burn to her cheeks and cursed the Crawley pale complexion. At the mention of Michael, she couldn't help but think of Mary's scandalous suggestion from the night before.
Robert 'harrumphed.' He wasn't thrilled that all his daughters were determined to work.
"What is your piece going to focus on?" Sybil asked as she spooned raspberry jam on to her toast, trying not to admire Tom sitting diagonally from her. He looked so much better in his fitted country clothes than he had in his working clothes.
"Oh, I am going to write about the Christmas Market in Ripon on the 20th, I will speak to some of the local producers and the Estate of course, about how we prepare for the big end of year market," Edith happily explained, before blowing on her porridge, before spooning it into her mouth. "For some of the locals, it is very important to make as much money to sustain them until the spring crops can be harvested."
"Edith, must you talk of money?" Robert complained, it was so uncouth for one of his daughters to be talking of money at the table.
"Papa, the Estate making money is how we are able to live as we do, we should all pay attention to these things," Mary supported Edith.
Sybil and Robert looked in surprise at Mary's opinion. They had never heard such a comment from her before or supporting an opinion of Edith's.
Tom smiled fondly at his wife, always interested in whatever she had to say.
Mary didn't pay anyone else around the table any attention, she had only recently gotten her appetite back and she was focused on her poached eggs. The smell of eggs no longer made her feel ill.
At that moment Carson entered the room, carrying the silver tray he carried the families' letters on. Robert frowned, he and Edith had already received their mail.
"A letter for Mr Branson," Carson said stiffly, he had particularly been offended that morning when he saw that there was a letter for Tom Branson, as if he were a resident of the house and not just a guest. Even if he was now a member of the family.
Standing beside Mr Branson, he lowered the tray so the other man could remove the letter. Once Mr Branson had removed the letter, he walked to the sideboard to check on the warmth of the food set out there. With deft fingers he checked the tea and coffee pots, a little cool.
Cool winter's light filtered through the large window into the dinning room with the rising sun. Glancing up at the sky Carson thought it would probably remain dry for the day.
Carson turned his back on the view outside. "Shall I fetch some more tea or coffee, my lord?" Carson politely asked his employer.
Robert had been distracted as he surreptitiously tried to watch Tom read his letter. "What? Oh, ah, I don't want any more tea or coffee, girls?"
"No," was the chorused answer.
Mary's eye flickered, she had noticed her father hadn't included Tom in that question.
"Tom dear, do you want any more tea?" Mary asked her distracted husband. She admired the blondness of his hair in the morning light.
"Oh no, Mr Carson, I don't mind cold tea," Tom blithely said distractedly. Not realising that his comment would cut Mr Carson to the quick of his professional soul.
Mary sighed, it was a perfectly true statement, Tom would happily forget a tea was placed before him for an hour or more and when reminded, he would drink the lukewarm beverage, Mary couldn't help the twist of disgust at the thought of the quality of tea Tom would voluntarily imbibe.
"I will bring fresh tea at once," Carson gritted out, before he practically flounced out of the room.
The Crawley's in the room shared a look.
Mary suppressed a sigh; Tom's thoughtlessness wouldn't win over Carson.
Sybil looked at the interaction between Tom and Mary with interest.
Robert shook his paper again, more in annoyance than in any effort to straighten the pages.
"Well, who is the letter from?" Robert asked a bit briskly, earning a frown from Mary.
Before answering his Father-in-Law, Tom handed the letter to his wife who quickly scanned it. She at once saw that it was from his publishing house.
"Oh, Tom," Mary said softly, before giving her husband's hand a tight squeeze. She looked for all the world like she wanted to embrace her husband at the breakfast table.
Robert put the paper down on the table in alarm, while Mary's two sisters looked at the pair in interest.
Sybil shifted in her seat at the obvious display of affection.
"Well Mary, what is going on," Robert said, a bit more gruffly than his want. It made him uncomfortable seeing his daughter bestowing such affection on that bounder, Branson.
"Erm, I have reached ten thousand orders on my book," Tom said a pleased flush on his cheeks, he grinned at Mary, relief clear on his face.
"See, I told you, you had no reason to worry," Mary said squeezing her husband's hand. She just knew he would be a resounding success.
"Is that good?" Sybil said, curiosity in her expression, she noticed Edith looked happy at the news. ' Working in publishing, she probably had insight in the world of professional writing,' she thought.
Beaming now Tom replied. "It means that the various book shops in England and Ireland have ordered my books, it is a very good indicator that my book is a success." A faint blush was in his cheeks. "The Publishers have even given the command to print a further ten thousand copies."
Robert frowned. "Ten thousand, that sounds like a lot," Robert looked around the table at the happy faces of his daughters. He knew nothing of the life of an author. He only had the vaguest idea how working people made money and what there jobs involved.
"It's marvellous Papa," Edith exclaimed. "Well done, Tom," she smiled her congratulations to her Brother-in-law. "I should write another article for the Sketch on your success. Or if you can give me another short story. Mr Gregson was very pleased with the response of the last story you wrote for the magazine. I will ask him directly after breakfast," Edith enthused.
"I have a couple of pre-prepared stories with me," Tom says. "When you get your answer, we can sit down together and select the most suitable for your audience," Tom suggested.
Mary nodded her encouragement, while she had another bite of her toast.
At that moment, Carson re-entered the room with a fresh pot of tea.
"Tea, Mr Branson," Carson added fresh tea to Tom's fine porcelain cup, his tone a bit frosty for a servant speaking to a guest of the household.
Mary decided to overlook it this time, Tom was too distracted by the good news about his book to notice and, well Tom had unconsciously goaded the butler with his comment about the tea.
She turned her attention back to her husband. He had already been in a good mood before breakfast, but he was practically beaming with happiness now. She would need to get him out of the house, or else he will be bouncing off the walls with uncontained energy.
Robert, his paper completely forgotten, wanted to know what this meant for Tom's annual earnings, but he had already reprimanded Edith for commenting on money at the table he could hardly do the same.
"Golly," Sybil said. "A hard back book must cost at least a 7s 3d, and you are going to sell ten thousand of them," Sybil shook her head, that was an astronomical amount of money.
Mary and Tom laughed.
"I wish," Tom said good naturedly. "Unfortunately, money for printing the books have to be paid for as well as the cut that the publishing house makes too," Tom gently explained.
"Tom earns royalties," Mary told her sister. "He is very good at negotiating his rate, he got a whole 13.5% in royalties," Mary looked at Tom her face clearly showing how proud she was of her talented husband.
"13.5%," scoffed Robert, that wasn't much at all, his stomach twisting with disappointment. It seemed Mary would have to rely on her allowance and her settlement to be able to afford a lifestyle suitable for a daughter of an Earl.
"It is £500," Mary said, defending her husband. It would take Mary more than two years to earn that much money.
Loosing interest in the conversation now, Robert returned to the financial section of his paper. He read it faithfully every day, but truth be told, he couldn't make 'heads or tails' out of it. He didn't really have to bother with it. The chaps at his club were all agreed that the railroad was a great investment, he thought complacently.
Mary frowned.
Tom sighed.
"Papa!" Edith protested. "That is a very high rate of royalties for a writer, many writers only get 10% or less, especially when this is only Tom's second book," Edith tried to explain to her father.
"I think it's wonderful Tom," Sybil said warmly, trying to compensate for her father's coolness to Tom's good news. Though she was trying to calculate how much Tom could make in a year. It was such a bother trying to calculate percentages of profits when the money system was so complicated. For a moment she wished England could have an easier currency to deal with, like France's, francs, multiples of ten or a hundred was much simpler.
Sybil snickered to herself, thinking what her grandmother would say at her treasonous thoughts.
"What's so funny," Mary lightly asked, looking curiously at her sister, while she contemplated whether to get a second helping or not.
"Oh, I was just thinking how much easier percentages would be to calculate if we were speaking of francs," Sybil said innocently.
"Sybil!" Robert exclaimed looking in alarm at his youngest daughter and her scandalous ideas. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her, it was probably political. 'Really, I'll will have to speak with Rosamund and see who Sybil was consorting with in London,' he thought.
Robert's eyes darted to his son-in-law who was speaking quietly to Mary. Sybil was attracted to radicals. What if she was stepping out with man who supported the ' Labour Party!' he thought in consternation. He would have to go and talk with Cora at once.
"I am done with the paper Carson," Robert told the butler. Standing from his chair, he bid good morning to his daughters and the barest acknowledgement of Tom before striding from the room.
"I think you upset your Father Sybil with your appreciation of France's economy," Tom said grinning at Sybil.
Edith chuckled, from her seat she was in the perfect position to observe Carson, whose eyes had gone wide and was practically red in the face from holding in his tirade about the French. No doubt poor Mrs Huges would have to bear his venting below stairs.
"I do understand Sybil, percentages are terrible hard to work out," Edith commiserated with her younger sister. She reached out and patted her sister's hand.
"Mary is excellent at percentages," Tom said proudly, looking fondly at his wife.
"Really there is nothing difficult in working out percentages," Mary said, with an air of superiority to her voice. Her chin was raised just a tad higher, and a slight smirk was about her lips.
Turning her attention back to her husband Mary informed him she was finished with breakfast if he wanted to leave for their walk.
Tom just happily agreed with his wife, that he was ready for their walk. Tom stood and then graciously helped his pregnant wife to her feet before escorting her back to their room to put on their warm outer wear and collect their writing and drawing materials.
Each of them bade farewell to Edith and Sybil, leaving them to finish their breakfast in peace.
Once the two younger Crawley women were alone, Edith eagerly turned to her sister. "Right, what is this I hear about you stepping out with Constance Merriweather's younger brother?" Edith demanded.
Sybil couldn't help blushing a little as she gave her sister a cheeky grin before telling Edith about a nightclub she had been to in Soho. Mama and papa were sure to be scandalised if they heard tale of Sybil's adventures.
Walk About the EstateTom and Mary strolled through the estate's woods, discussing Tom's progress on his second novel.
"I think the hermitage could be a good spot for a clandestine meeting," Tom said happily as he marched down the wooded path.
Mary nodded thoughtfully, "your heroines could be invited to a house party; a shooting party would give a good mix of characters, you provide the opportunity for strangers to be present, including servants of the guest's servants," Mary suggested from her experience in society .
Tom had practical experience of the inner workings of the Estate. What went on behind the scenes, to achieve the families social responsibility to the local area. Who did what, from his direct boss the Estate manager opposed to Carson, whose sole responsibility was the male staff in the household.
"Should they be family, and that's why all three ladies are invited?" Tom asked. He knew from experience as the family chauffeur that it was not unusual for only one or two of the sisters to attend a dinner party or a social weekend. Tom relied on Mary and her lifetime of experience.
"Mmm, maybe a distant titled cousin, his mother is one of the girl's Godmother?" Mary suggested. "They would need the girls to balance the number, as the gentlemen, unless married, would only travel with other men."
Tom nodded thoughtfully.
They continued for a few yards in silence. A wood pigeon softly cooing in the treetops, taking shelter in the evergreen's trees dispersed in this otherwise sparse wood.
Their boots crushed leaves with a pleasing crunch under their feet. Their joined hands gently swinging between them.
"Ok, so we have the setting and a reason for our Lady Detectives to be at the hall. The hermitage and the old Mill you showed me have possibilities for secret meetings. I will bump off a guest or two. Money or revenge, with a possible romance thrown in," Tom pondered.
As they strolled about the parks lanes their shoulders would brush against one another.
Tom looked at his wife and admired the blush on her cheeks from the chill winter air, the speckled sunlight through the branches of the trees caught her eyes, bringing out the gold flecks in her iris's.
Overcome with love and desire, Tom swept Mary in his arms and kissed his wife soundly.
Mary laughed breathlessly when Tom released her and she wrapped her arms around her husband and held him close to her, enjoying the smoky scent of his cologne.
"What was that for?" she asked, happiness shining in her eyes.
"You looked so beautiful I couldn't help myself," Tom grinned unrepentant.
Mary smiled, pleased at her husband's compliment, she looped her arms through his and gave his arm a squeeze as they continued their walk, chatting about the possibilities of murderers and victims.
"How are feeling here now?" Mary asked gently. "I thought Papa sounded interested in the news about your book."
Mary looked hopefully at her husband to gage his expression.
Tom pulled Mary slightly closer to himself. "I didn't think he looked as murderous this morning," he gave Mary a quick grin.
Mary sighed.
They walked on quietly, enjoying the crisp December air.
Tom was fascinated by the white puffs of breaths he was creating in front of him as he walked. He started to change the shapes of his mouth to see if he could make rings in the frigid air.
"What on earth are you doing?" Mary asked looking at her husband in bemusement.
Tom looked down sheepishly at the ground before confessing. "I was trying to make smoke circles."
Mary's brows drew together in puzzlement.
"When I was a young lad, I would help my granda around the farm during the summer. He smoked a pipe and when he exhaled, he was able to make smoke rings," Tom said, his features soft as he reminisced.
Mary was happy to see her husband relaxed in her company. She had expected Tom to experience some awkwardness, returning to a place where he once worked. She hadn't expected to feel uncomfortable herself.
Though her relationship with Edith had improved tenfold, there was now a barrier between her and Sybil. Her sister looked as beautiful as ever, she seemed in good spirits, yet there was a stiltedness that had never been present before. Mary's stomach churned at the thought.
Tom must have sensed her change in mood as he gave her arm a comforting squeeze. Shaking off her melancholy she returned her attention back to her husband.
"Why don't you show me how to make these smoke rings," Mary said.
Soon the pair were laughing so hard that Mary was doubled over clutching Tom's arm while she clenched her thighs together to prevent herself from wetting herself.
At last, they gathered their senses and taking huge gulps of icy air, they calmed themselves.
Looking tenderly at his wife, "I love you, Mary Branson."
"I Love you too Tom," a gentle smile graced Mary's lips, her eyes were dark and inviting.
Leaning forward the pair engaged in a passionate embrace.
Mrs Hughes walked briskly down the path through the woods. It was the most direct route from the village, avoiding the long sweeping curve of the Abbey's drive. The last part of her journey, she would have to cross the lawn, but she was wearing her winter boots and had her dry shoes to changed into when she reached the house.
She had, had a low grade headache all morning, to give herself some relief she walked up to the village to post some of her Christmas cards, hoping fresh air would help relieve her headache.
It was one of the few perks she had earned in her long career in service, her time was her own to manage. Anna was a capable head housemaid and could be trusted to supervise the other maids during her short absence.
Rounding the bend, she came across the unexpected spectacle of Lady Mary and Tom Branson in a passionate clinch.
'Darn and Blast!' she thought. What was she to do now. She didn't want to turn around, it would add another 30 minutes on her journey.
Sighing she backed up, around the corner. Scouring the ground, she looked for a suitable branch, one large enough she could break with her boot.
Finding what she needed, she dragged the brittle branch on to the damp path. Setting it to the best angle she stamped hard on the branch, breaking it with a loud crack, that echoed through the trees. A couple of pigeons hooted before loudly tumbling into air.
Quietly she kicked the two pieces of branch off to the side of the path and continued back around the corner.
She sighed in relief. Lady Mary and her husband where now standing a respectable distance from each other.
"Lady Mary! Mr Branson!" Mrs Hughes acted in surprise. With a simple nod to the other two people, she briskly passed them on the path.
"Morning Mrs Hughes," Tom said politely, as they turned to watch the other woman pass them on the footpath.
"Good morning," Mrs Hughes called back, before hurrying out of site.
'Phew!' that went well she thought in relief, hardly any delays at all, she thought, as the remaining tasks of the day rattled through her head.
Breathing in the fresh air she enjoyed the rest of her walk back to the house.
The Servants HallThe austere and bare servants hall, with it's white washed walls and stone floor was kept warm from the heat of the range and fire in the iron hearth. The clatter of pots could be heard ringing out of the kitchen as a maid washed the various pots, ready to be used for the evening meal.
Lady Mary swept into the Servants Hall with her usual air of authority, accompanied by Tom. He was holding a wicker basket.
Tom had recommended that this would be the best time to visit the servants, as the family had finished their own lunch, and the servants would be at the tail end of their own break.
This was the quiet part of the day for the servants of Downton. The luncheon dishes were washed. The family was less likely to need any assistance until it was teatime. Except for the scullery maid, who had to do a round of all the fires upstairs.
The maids and valets were attending to the task of the never ending mending that such a large household required. Heads bent, quietly talking amongst themselves.
When Lady Mary boldly appeared in the doorway, all the servants jumped to their feet. Tom felt uncomfortable standing at Mary's shoulder. Where he would have bidden everyone be seated again, this hadn't occurred to Mary.
It was often these little differences in their social interaction that most starkly highlighted the differences between their origins in society.
"We need to do some research for Mr Branson's next novel," Mary announced to the room. The confidence with which she made this statement indicated that she was entirely sure of the servant's cooperation.
A couple of the younger maids tittered together at this unusual occurrence. The family hardly ever ventured below stairs. The two young hall boys perked up at this news, they were always eager to find a task that would take them away from their tedious duties, like polishing the silver.
"Experiment, what type of experiment, my lady?" Mrs Hughes said politely, suppressing a sigh at the interruption to her busy day.
Mrs Patmore, hearing a disturbance in the usual hustle and bustle of the servant's hall, came out from her hot kitchen to see what was going on. Her round face flushed red.
"Mr Branson will explain," Mary said to the room before stepping to the side so that Tom could come more fully in the room.
Tom smiled happily at everyone in the room, doing the best he could to disguise his discomfort. He tried not to fidget as he stood before his former work colleague.
Tom clapped his hands together before he started explaining. "I am writing a murder mystery set in a grand house like Downton. The characters who are servants will have a pivotal role in the plot of the novel."
Tom felt his body sag in relief as he saw the interested looks on his former friends faces. He had braced himself for derision.
"I like to include a certain realism to my work." Here Tom paused smiling at Anna and Albert, who were both sitting at the large wooden table the servants used to eat and work from.
At Tom's words Daisy looked excited and hoped she could be involved. Despite herself, Mrs Patmore stepped closer to the action.
"Here I have some common dinner ware," Tom started to take objects from a basket he was holding. A simple cup and saucer the likes they would use in the servant's hall. A pretty patterned plate. A sturdy brown tea pot and a crystal tumbler, someone like Lord Grantham would drink whiskey from.
Even Mrs Hughes felt curious at seeing these objects, the hall boys craned their heads to get a better look.
"What I would like to find out, is if these objects were broken, would you be able to tell from sound alone," Tom explained, he quickly glanced at everyone's faces to see how engaged everyone was.
Mary silently nodded beside her husband, endorsing his endeavour.
"I'll help," Daisy eagerly volunteered. "I've never been in a book before," she continued, giving a little bob in excitement.
"Excellent!" Tom proclaimed.
"What I propose, is that Mrs Patmore take these objects down the corridor out of sight of the rest of us, and then drop them one at a time, while those remaining in the table write down what they think the object was," Tom said.
Mary reached in the basket and took some pencils and slips of paper and placed them on the table.
"If everyone can place their name on top of the piece of paper," Tom instructed while he placed the items on a tray for Mrs Patmore, who looked quite excited to be involved in the experiment.
"Mr Bates, I would appreciate it if you could have a guess as well," Tom smiled at Anna's husband Mr Bates, "no copying, mind," Tom playfully warned.
"Mrs Hughes would you guess too?" Tom politely asked.
"All right Mr Branson, I see no harm in the matter, except we will have broken shards everywhere after this experiment of yours," Mrs Hughes replied.
Tom did look a bit guilty at the reminder that it would b one of the maids who would be clearing up this mess.
"I don't mind clearing up Mrs Hughes," one of the young maids said. Tom didn't know her name, so she must have started after he left Downton.
"Bertie, will you stand at the entry there and signal to Mrs Patmore when we are ready to break the first object."
Bertie rushed to do Tom's bidding, enjoying This break from the monotony of his daily duties.
"Mary dear, will you guess too?" Tom asked his wife. He pulled out a chair for Mary to sit at the servant's table.
Mary blinked, startled. She had never sat with a servant in her life. Sighing she sat in the chair Tom indicated, taking a pencil and a piece of paper for herself.
The servants hid their surprise at Lady Mary sitting with them at the table.
Tom opened his own notebook and took out his pen ready to capture the moment.
Anna bent her head over her paper, pencil in hand, a look of concentration on her face.
The others got ready to record their impressions too. Daisy beamed in excitement.
"Ok, Bertie, give Mrs Patmore the first signal," Tom smiled in encouragement at the boy.
A moment later a heavy crash could be heard and those around the table quickly wrote their guess at the object that had been broken.
"I wrote tea pot, what did everyone else guess?" Daisy eagerly said looking around the table to see if she could see the others guesses.
"Daisy, it will be best if we don't share our guesses until all the objects have been broken," Tom gently admonished. "Is everyone ready for the next object?" Tom looked for everyone's nod.
"Go ahead Bertie, give the next signal."
A Moment later there was another crash, this sounded much lighter, more a tinkle than the crash of the first. The men and women sitting around the table wrote down their guesses.
The signal was given twice more shortly followed by the sound of another object being broken.
The maid, who's name Tom had found out was Becky hurried from the table to sweep up the debris from the experiment.
While Mrs Patmore came back into the main room. Her cheeks were flushed, she had enjoyed breaking those cups and plates.
"Could you give us the order of the objects broken Mrs Patmore?" Tom said.
"It was the tea pot, glass tumbler, followed by the plate and then cup and saucer," Mrs Patmore informed the room.
"I got them all right!" Daisy exclaimed excitedly bouncing in her seat, beaming at the others around the table.
"No wonder with the number of items you have broken," Mrs Patmore said acerbically.
Daisy's smiled dimmed slightly at this comment.
"I do believe I got them all correct as well Mr Branson," Mrs Hughes said as she slipped her piece of paper towards of Mr Branson, while turning a comforting smile towards Daisy.
Mrs Patmore just huffed.
Mary looking at all the pieces of paper. "It looks like everyone guessed the glass correctly, most guessed the tea pot, too," she informed her husband.
"Mmm," Tom went through the papers. "This will be very useful," muttered Tom, before scribbling more notes in his little book.
"How will you use the information, Tom?" Daisy asked, in her excitement she forgot to use his honorific, she blushed fiercely from the looks of rebuke from Lady Mary and Mrs Hughes.
Tom ignored Daisy's faux pas. "I am not quite sure yet. I thought I might have the murderer break something and a servant could identify what was broken from the sound alone," Tom replied, a slight frown on his face as he thought things over.
"Thank you all for your assistance and taking time from your busy day to help me with my experiment," Tom said gratefully to all servants Present.
"Yes, thank you for helping Mr Branson," Mary added, her tone of voice was softer than her usual crisp tone when speaking to her servants.
Just before Lady Mary left the room she turned once more and addressed Mrs Hughes. "I am hoping to sketch some tableaus for Mr Branson's novel, if I might have some volunteers to act as my models."
Tom discreetly coughed.
"If that wouldn't be too much disruption to the household duties, of course," Mary smiled at the older woman.
"It would be a grate help Mrs Hughes," Tom added with a much warmer smile than his wife.
Daisy was practically vibrating at excitement at the thought of being a model. She wasn't quite sure what that would involve, she just knew she wanted to do it. This Christmas was turning out to be a lot more exciting than any other Christmases in the recent past.
"How long would you need a model for?" Mrs Hughes cautiously asked before committing any of her staff.
"No more than 30 minutes, it's just a quick sketch to capture the moment," Mary said, her voice held a tinge of hopefulness now.
"30 minutes, mmm, I suppose I can spare some of the maids for that length of time," she said. She had seen the excited smiles on the maids faces, the life of a servant was hard, with not many instances of excitement to enliven their day to day existence.
"Excellent Mrs Hughes," Mary said, she smiled pleased with the outcome, Tom took Mary's hand ready to head back upstairs.
"I will send a message when I need someone," Mary said before exiting the servant's domain.
Dressing RoomRobert paced in his wife's room as Baxter helped her mistress prepare for a simple family dinner.
Baxter twisted curls into Lady Grantham's hair, her face pleasantly blank as the couple spoke as if she wasn't there. A normal occurrence for any servant.
Cora looked at her husband through her looking glass. She had been married to Robert for thirty years, she knew what was upsetting him. 'Tom and Mary'. The reality did not meet with his imagination, and he did not know how to resolve the dissonance.
"I thought Mary looked very well, didn't you?" She decided to start gently guiding her recalcitrant husband to the correct conclusion.
Robert "harrumphed."
"Mary told me that Tom's books have reached over ten thousand orders," Cora said, carefully observing her husband's deep frown. "And the publisher has ordered a reprint of his book," Cora pointed out hopefully.
"He only gets 13.5%," Robert grumbled, unwilling to acknowledge Tom's achievements.
"I asked Edith about it, and she says that it speaks highly of Tom's standing in the publishing world to be able to command such high royalty rates," Cora assured Robert. She was careful to include her second daughter's word as collaboration.
"And his first Novel will be published in February," Cora smiled encouragingly at her husband. "Mary was terribly excited when she told me about it," Cora turned in her seat to look directly at her husband. Baxter had to turn quickly with her, so as not to tug at her mistress's hair.
"She even told me that there might be a book launch in London. With a book reading and autographs. Mary said I would be able to go too," Cora exclaimed, her own excitement unfeigned.
Cora thought it all sounded exciting. She had already eagerly written several letters to her friends and acquaintances to inform them of her Son-in-Laws success. She even wrote to her mother in New York. She was sure her mother would have useful connections that could be used to further new son's career.
Baxter was taking everything in, eager to pass on the gossip in the servant's hall with their own dinner. There, she pinned up the last curl. Baxter walked to the draw that kept Lady Grantham's evening gloves.
"Black or white tonight, my lady?" She softly asked.
Cora, momentarily distracted, "I'll wear the white gloves tonight, Baxter."
Robert wasn't blind, even he could see the change in Mary, he hadn't seen her so, Robert drew in his brows, soft! Since she was a girl in the school room.
"I don't know if it is a proper career, this writing business," Robert said gruffly, not willing yet to let go of his resentment to his former employee, no matter how happy Mary appeared to be.
"Robert," Cora sighed.
"Do you know what I saw today?" Robert demanded.
"Tom Branson in his night clothes pretending to be murdered in the library!" The way Robert said the words, sounded as if he wished Tom wasn't pretending.
"Edith was in her nightgown too!" now Robert sounded scandalised. "That maid Daisy was there, and Mary was making sketches."
Cora delicately frowned; she hadn't heard about this.
Baxter was bringing Lady Grantham her jewel box so that she could decide on the pieces she wanted to wear that evening.
"What have you heard about this Baxter?" Cora directed to her lady's maid.
Baxter jumped, not expecting to be addressed by Lady Grantham.
"Lady Mary asked Mrs Hughes for models, so she could sketch tableaus," Baxter said quietly.
"We were happy to help Lady Mary," Baxter said slightly nervous as she reassured her employers.
"Tableaus, that sounds interesting," Cora said to Baxter, while giving Robert a raised eyebrow.
"Both Anna and Albert posed in different locations around the house too," Baxter told her mistress in relief at her interest. She didn't feel so confident a moment later when she noticed Lord Grantham frowning reflection in the mirror.
"But only thirty minutes each," Baxter hurriedly reassured, in case he was unhappy about the servants shirking their duties.
"And the sketches where to help Mr Branson's novel?" Cora said aloud, not really expecting Baxter to reply.
"I think so," Baxter said hesitantly, anxiously looking at Lord Grantham again. She much preferred it when she was alone with Lady Grantham. She was such a kind employer.
"I mean, is that respectable?" Robert demanded.
"Now Robert, Mary is a professional illustrator." Cora stood from her seat and walked to her husband.
She ran her hands down her husbands diner jacket, offering comfort.
"Mary often draws from life. I know I told you so from her letters," a hint of reproach was in her voice. But her husband was a stubborn man who found it difficult to let go of his position. But he loved Mary and would come around eventually.
Cora held out her arm as Baxter fastened a beautiful gold and ruby bracelet about her wrist. She checked her reflection in the mirror, satisfied she smiled and nodded at Baxter.
Baxter started to unobtrusively tidy the room.
"There ready," Cora said, smiling up at her husband. She reached up and kissed his cheek.
Robert's expression softened as he looked at his wife. He was lucky to have found such an understanding woman.
"Come, let us head downstairs."
Cora took her husband's hand and drew him from the room. "I want to ask Mary if I can be in one of her sketches," she teasingly told her husband, before heading downstairs.
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