There was no denying it, she owned too many things and, given her station in life, that came as a bit of a surprise.
Elsie had been anticipating the task for weeks, almost from the first moment Charles had proposed. All their recent talk of cottages had meant in the days immediately after, the matter of where they were to live had consumed much of her thinking. Not that she'd given voice to it. But she'd entirely given up on ever having a home of her own, one that she could buy for and decorate as she saw fit, and so she let herself indulge in thoughts of colour schemes and soft furnishings. However, it had only taken half a day of wondering what style of headboard she might prefer for these delightful musings to be replaced by the more pressing concern as to what kind of marriage they might be embarking on, and then what the wedding day itself would look like. But somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind she'd continued to plot and plan for the time when she'd pack up her belongings and depart her attic bedroom for good.
She stood next to her bed and gave it a hard stare. Her majority of her clothes were still in the wardrobe but everything else was now piled up in front of her, and it was overwhelming. At the pillow end were all the things she was certain about taking - bundles of letters held together with bits of strings, a sewing basket with one or two unfinished projects nestled inside, three stacks of books of varying ages and condition, a slender photograph album with over half the pages blank, and more trinkets than she could remember ever purchasing but that held too much sentimental value to contemplate getting rid of. Towards the foot of the bed were the things that definitely weren't going - scraps of linen that she'd discovered in the bottom drawer and an old cardigan that had more moth holes than those for buttons. But the real cause of her frowns was the section in the middle, the things that she had no idea about.
Towels, for example. Did she need her own or were they going to get new ones that matched? Or maybe someone would buy them some as a gift? Which would be nice, she thought.
What about pictures? Charles had his own, of course. She'd seen them hanging on his bedroom walls when she'd tended to him when he was ill. But they weren't especially to her taste and likely hers weren't to his either. Does one just throw them all away and start again, or enter into some kind of negotiation as to what should be kept or sold?
And then there were the objects that felt essential but she imagined a married couple wouldn't particularly need. She picked up her hot water bottle and considered its worth. Would she ever be cold again sleeping next to her husband? He struck her as being warm bodied and there was no denying that whatever the headboard was going to look like, the bed was not going to be as wide as the ones she'd been changing the sheets of for decades. They were going to be quite close together. She felt warm just thinking of it. And what about this, she wondered, reaching for one of the brass candlesticks and fighting to distract herself from that previous thought. The cottage would have electricity, wouldn't it? Surely only one set would be required, if at all, and besides she was fairly certain his were silver.
With only more questions inserting themselves where she'd hoped to place definite decisions, it was some relief that she heard a knock at her door.
"Come in," she called, replacing the items in her hands back into the bed.
The door opened to reveal a smiling Anna, a tray in her arms.
"I thought you might need a cup of tea."
"Oh, how right you are," Elsie sighed, gesturing for her to come in, and set about clearing a space for them both to sit.
"So, how's it going?" Anna asked brightly as she poured, adding a dash of milk exactly how the housekeeper liked it.
Elsie didn't reply for a moment, not quite sure how to explain.
"It was different for me and Mr Bates," Anna continued, passing the cup over and taking up her own, "But I can remember being quite nervous at the idea that it would just be us in the cottage, alone at last. I'd waited so long and thought about it so often that I was surprised to find myself worrying as much as I was."
"I didn't know that," Elsie said, her mind slipping back to that dark time.
"Well, I wasn't worried for long, Mrs Hughes," Anna reassured, "We'd had our wedding night so I knew I was alright with that bit." And she said it in such a way, with an eyebrow curving upwards into a knowing expression, that neither could help their blushed cheeks and girlish laughs.
Elsie turned her focus to her belongings and between sips of tea speculated as to whether she should just take it all. The cottage was a generous size and she could always get rid of things later if they didn't fit. Anna seemed to think this was a good idea.
"You'll want your things around you, Mrs Hughes. It'll help make the place feel like your own."
"I'm not sure Mr Carson would agree with you there, but it's something to think about."
A companionable silence followed, the eyes of both women glancing over the belongings that surrounded them, their thoughts kept to themselves as one recalled her own transition from maiden to wife and the other allowing herself an indulgent period of worry. And to Elsie, it was an indulgence having decided months before not to allow herself to dwell on anything not directly in her control.
"Are you excited?" Anna asked, her question interrupting both of their contemplations.
"I am," Elsie nodded, "Especially now everything is organised. It's been quite fun planning the menu and all the decorations. It's a bit different when you know you're going to get to enjoy it all. Although..." She tailed off.
"Although?" encouraged Anna with a smile.
But Elsie didn't elaborate. It was too much to contemplate, the idea of asking for advice on one thing certain in the knowledge it would only lead to her asking further questions. She hadn't any doubt that they'd be answered and that she'd find the advice helpful, but it would be horribly embarrassing, worse than before even. Better not to know, she concluded. All would become clear before too long.
She patted the younger woman's arm, hoping to convey just how grateful she was despite no
advice having actually been given. Perhaps, she mused, it was enough to appreciate that help was there should she ever want it.
"Well, I best be getting back," Anna said as she stood, her cup returned to the tray and then, carefully negotiating a pile of magazines on the floor at the foot of the bed, crossed to the door. With her hand halfway to the door knob she turned back and appeared to think for a moment.
"It's a wonderful thing, marriage," she started. "It's not all easy, in the beginning at least, trying to work out how you fit together as two people. But it's worth it, once you've figured each other out."
Elsie looked up sharply, her eyes wide with surprise. She had been studying a chip that her finger had just discovered on the underside of the saucer.
"You mean..."
"I mean all of it, Mrs Hughes," Anna said pointedly with a look of determination about her that Elsie recognised would be fruitless to try and temper. "It's like buying a new pair of new shoes. Maybe you've seen them in the window and you finally convince yourself that they're not an extravagance. You're keen to try them on and when you do they're exactly what you want them to be. Of course they're going to feel odd the first few times you wear them out and about. They inevitably start to rub and you question why you ever thought they were a good idea. But give it a few weeks, a few months, and you forget they were ever anything but exactly what you needed all along."
"Nothing to worry about then," Elsie concluded with a shrug, but her tone was subdued and she knew it gave her away.
"No, nothing to worry about."
Anna offered a reassuring smile and Elsie felt some of the tension she hadn't known she'd been holding in her shoulders reduce. They held each other's gaze for a second, a silent exchange of understanding and appreciation that was broken as Anna moved to open the door, a rush of cooler air filling the room as she crossed the threshold.
"It will be okay. I'm sure of it," she reiterated but this time with a smile that was different, livelier and certainly more knowing. "After all, who knows how to care for a new pair of shoes better than a butler." _
Sorry, this chapter seemed to take an age to materialise. I've always imagined they'd be a fine line maintained by the housekeeper between herself and her staff. Working in such close quarters would surely engender not friendship exactly but almost something more intimate. Marriage would perhaps give Anna permission to be bolder with what she might say, especially to someone she cares about. But what are our Mr Carson's thoughts on it all, that's the question that's bothering me now...