This was written before the infamous 5.06 episode aired. There are no spoilers in this (apart from hints at storylines that have all happened in season 4). It was my attempt to deal with the frustration that was season 5… therefore this piece is not to be taken too seriously. It's unapologetic and pure fluff. Part two will be up on Saturday.

My eternal gratefulness goes to Kouw. She is a brilliant writer, a fantastic beta (famous for her never-ending patience and deserving of an award for not hitting me with a frying pan when I forget to capitalize a word for the 100th time) and most of all she is one of the kindest people I've ever met online.

Beryl Patmore was a woman on a mission, a mission that up until this point was going far better than she had expected. She was enormously pleased with herself and the amount of stealthy planning she had managed.

But there was only so far she could get with her plans on her own. She had reached an impasse and realized that she had to ask for help. The choice of who she would confide in wasn't a very tough one. There was only one other person she could safely trust with a secret of this magnitude.

"Mrs. Bates," she called out when she spotted the Lady's maid making her way through the servants' hallway. Anna stopped immediately and turned towards the older woman with a friendly smile. The Cook bustled over to Anna and pulled her towards the servants' entrance.

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Patmore?" Anna asked. The young woman raised an eyebrow in bewilderment when the Cook looked around nervously, obviously trying to see if anyone was listening to them.

"I need your help," Beryl whispered – as much as she was capable of whispering with her voice.

"My help?" Anna asked in confusion and had to bite back a chuckle when the Cook shushed her. The older woman looked around stealthily again before moving a little closer to Anna.

"I'm sure you know that Mrs. Hughes celebrates a special birthday this Saturday," the Cook said.

Anna felt her cheeks flush in mortification. With everything that had been going on recently, she had completely forgotten about the housekeeper's birthday. After everything the kind Scotswoman had done for her and her husband, the least she could have done was to remember her birthday – even if she wasn't sure whether Mrs. Hughes had ever revealed her age to her. She simply nodded towards the Cook, not wanting to voice a lie again. She had told enough of those in recent months.

"I thought that she deserved a special treat that day – what with how she's always taking care of everyone."

"I will help in any way I can," Anna promised.

"Good, you see, I need a little money to prepare a special birthday lunch for her. The family will entertain in the evening and we wouldn't really be able to enjoy a large dinner then, but we should be able to squeeze in a small, festive lunch. I'd like to prepare her favourite dishes and maybe make a special cake," the Cook rambled excitedly and it touched Anna's heart to see Mrs. Patmore's enthusiasm about doing something nice for her friend. "I obviously can't ask Mrs. Hughes for money from the household funds. I also can't use products from the store cupboard because she's bound to notice and ask me about their whereabouts. So I was wondering if you might speak to Lady Mary and explain the situation to her, maybe the family could offer a little extra money for Mrs. Hughes' birthday."

"I'm sure the family would love to contribute but wouldn't it make more sense to ask Mr. Carson for help? He can ask his Lordship or her Ladyship directly," Anna mused.

Beryl sighed deeply. She had been afraid that the Lady's maid would point out that one weakness in her plan. "You're right of course, but Mr. Carson – for all his redeeming qualities – is the world's worst liar. He'd never be able to keep this from Mrs. Hughes until Saturday." There was no need for Anna to know that Beryl had more reasons to keep this from Mr. Carson; despite their having managed to return their relationship to somewhat of its past state, she still hadn't quite forgiven him for his behaviour during the war memorial discussion.

"I guess so," Anna concurred, although not very convinced by Mrs. Patmore's explanation. "I will speak to Lady Mary today."

"Thank you, your help is most appreciated!" Mrs. Patmore beamed. "There's one more thing. I thought we might also give her a little gift, all of us downstairs."

"That's a splendid idea, do you have anything in mind?"

"She mentioned a hat she's seen in Ripon last week. Now, I've called the shop and …."

"You called the shop?" Anna asked incredulously, barely managing to stop a disbelieving chuckle from escaping.

"Yes, I did! I'm not completely useless when it comes to modern appliances," Beryl replied indignantly but her proud stance faltered almost instantly. "Oh, alright. Daisy talked to the operator, but I managed the rest. Anyway, Mrs. Hutton there immediately remembered which hat Mrs. Hughes admired and has promised to put it on hold for me. It's not cheap but if we all throw our money together, we should be able to afford it easily. I'll gladly provide any money that may be missing at the end." Her aunt's money would be well spent on a gift for the woman that had become such a close friend to her over the last years.

"And you want me to pick it up when I go there on Friday to bring Lady Mary's dress to the cleaners?" Anna asked with a smile.

"Exactly. I mean, you're going anyway and I really couldn't explain why I'd need a halfday to go to Ripon."

"Don't worry about it, Mrs. Patmore. I'll be glad to do it. I could also covertly help you collect the money from the other servants. It might seem more inconspicuous if you weren't suddenly seen conferring with maids and hallboys."

"Good idea, Mrs. Bates. I knew why I came to you with this. And if anyone doesn't want to add his or her share, just give me their names, I'll make sure they pay," Mrs. Patmore promised darkly.

Anna couldn't help the tinkle of laughter that escaped her this time. "I'm sure that won't be necessary. I can't think of a single servant who wouldn't want to chip in for a gift for Mrs. Hughes."

"Can't you?" Mrs. Patmore asked, her eyes fixed on the Underbutler who had seconds before stopped from his way to the Servants' Hall to throw an interested glance in the direction of where the two women were talking quietly.

"Come now, Mrs. Patmore, he has become a little friendlier lately."

"Yes, well, just tell him that if I find out that he has done anything to spoil this surprise for Mrs. Hughes, I will gladly acquaint his charming face with my frying pan." With that last sarcastic remark and a smile at Anna, Beryl returned to the kitchen, very pleased with herself. Very pleased indeed.

"Excuse me, Mr. Carson."

The Butler looked up from his desk where he was currently decanting the red wine for that night's dinner. While he would readily admit that he was no great fan of all the modern inventions that had found their way into the house over the last few years, the new apparatus in front of him had managed to capture his favour.

"What can I do for you Mrs. Patmore?" he asked and returned his eyes to the decanter, watching it with fascination. He looked up again, startled, when he heard the Cook closing the door to his pantry firmly behind her.

"It's Mrs. Hughes' birthday on Saturday," Mrs. Patmore stated bluntly.

"As head of staff, I'm aware of that," he replied levelly.

"Good, well Anna and I have prepared a little surprise for her – only some of her favourite food to be served at lunch, with the blessing of the family of course, and a small gift of appreciation that Anna will collect tomorrow. Every servant has agreed to give a shilling or two and I wanted to know if you'd like to contribute."

Charles lowered his eyes towards the decanter once more, trying to hide how deeply it cut him that they hadn't involved him in the planning of the surprise. "I don't think so, Mrs. Patmore."

"Beg your pardon?" Beryl inquired incredulously. Surely she had misheard him.

"It's all very well for you to get Mrs. Hughes a gift and I'm sure she will appreciate it very much but it would be quite unseemly for me to join," he declared firmly.

"Unseemly? What… even the family is contributing," Beryl stammered, completely thrown by the turn of events.

"It's only just that they should express their appreciation of her hard work."

"But not for you?" Beryl seethed, tightly locking her hands in her lap for fear that she'd otherwise reach out and shake the butler – or worse.

"Exactly," Charles replied matter-of-factly.

"You are the most infuriating, unfeeling man I've ever met!" Beryl exclaimed heatedly – her temper finally having got the better of her. "At least make sure that you don't ruin the surprise for her before lunch on Saturday!"

In her haste to leave his pantry, the Cook missed the stricken look on the Butler's face.

By the time Saturday came around, Beryl was at least able to be in the same room with Mr. Carson again. So far the dirty looks she had sent the Butler had gone largely unnoticed by the Housekeeper due to her involvement with this night's dinner party. Breakfast went without a hitch, no servant spoiling the Housekeeper's special birthday surprise (as a precaution she had kept Daisy firmly in the kitchen. As much as she loved the girl, she was dozy enough at times to unintentionally spoil the whole scheme at the last minute).

When Elsie Hughes entered the Servants' Hall for lunch, she immediately noticed the atmosphere of nervous energy there. She looked around the table in the hope of gleaning what had created that atmosphere, but most servants were avoiding her eyes. Some accomplished the task by engaging their neighbours in lively discussions while others were suddenly busy looking for one thing or the other, studying the table top or the opposite wall intently.

"Mr. Carson says that he is to be excused from lunch today. He's too busy upstairs," Mr. Barrow stated when he entered the servants' hall a minute later, taking his seat next to Mrs. Hughes.

Elsie couldn't deny that she was a little disappointed. Birthdays weren't a big deal downstairs but this year neither Mr. Carson nor Mrs. Patmore – the only two people who knew the actual date of her birthday – seemed to have remembered it. She hadn't expected a gift or any such thing but a kind word from the Butler after breakfast would have been nice. And to learn now that he wouldn't join them for lunch when she would most likely not see much of him for the rest of the day, caused another wave of disappointment to wash over her.

Just then Daisy entered with lunch and Mrs. Hughes was surprised to find that the young Cooking Assistant was carrying a bowl of Cock-a-leekie. Before Mrs. Hughes was able to ask after the strange choice for lunch, Daisy had bustled from the hall again.

She enjoyed the taste of the hearty soup, memories of her home flooding her mind. Somewhere further down the table she heard someone whisper that they had expected worse. She paused in the middle of bringing her spoon back to her lips, a strong suspicion beginning to take hold of her.

It was confirmed when a second course was served – unheard of at servants' lunch. The kitchen maids carried plates full of Forfar Bridie into the room, followed by bowls filled with a light spring salad. While the side dish wasn't exactly Scottish, the pastries most certainly were and Elsie couldn't help a soft smile from breaking out on her face. So Mrs. Patmore had remembered after all.

All the servants dug in with hearty appetite. As much as Elsie enjoyed the good food and the nice conversation that had slowly started at the table, she couldn't help but worry about all the work that was still left to be done before the dinner party in the evening. Mr. Carson would not be pleased when he found out that lunch had run late and the last thing she wanted on her birthday was for him to make an unfeeling comment or worse express his disappointment over her slacking work ethics.

When the second course was cleared, Elsie got up and faced her maids, prepared to sternly instruct them on the jobs still left to do around the house. She didn't get very far though because in that moment Beryl and Daisy entered the servants' hall once again, carrying a plate with a lovingly decorated birthday cake between them. A single candle was burning on top of the cake.

Elsie was overwhelmed by the sight in front of her, the cake, Mrs. Patmore's smug smile, the happy faces of the other servants (even Mr. Barrow looked less displeased than he usually did).

"Cat got your tongue?" Mrs. Patmore teased. "It's good to know that some things in this house can stay a secret."

Elsie sank back into her chair before being overrun by the many birthday wishes of her subordinates. She thanked all of them, choked up in light of everyone's kindness. She hadn't even noticed Anna slipping from the room and re-entering with a large box in her hands. The Lady's maid placed the box in front of the housekeeper.

"Happy Birthday, Mrs. Hughes. We just wanted to show you how much we appreciate your kind leadership and your support." Anna's voice hitched at the last part and Elsie gave a nearly imperceptible nod, letting the young woman know that she had understood completely.

Elsie turned towards the gift and opened it carefully. She gasped quietly when she recognized the hat inside. "How did you…?" she asked in bewilderment.

"I'm a woman of many talents, Mrs. Hughes," Mrs. Patmore replied cheekily. Elsie nodded, her eyes lowered in order to give herself the chance to blink away the tears in her eyes.

"I can't thank all of you enough," Elsie said softly; grateful that her voice didn't betray her as the sentimental, old woman that she was. "But I think it's time for us to return to our duties."

"Don't worry about a thing, Mrs. Hughes," Anna replied, laughing. "Your dutiful maids and the rest of staff have worked overtime the last two days so that all that is needed from you this afternoon is your final nod of approval. The guestrooms are all ready and await your inspection. But only after you've blown out the candle and read your card."

Elsie felt another rush of tears and this time she wasn't able to stop one of them from spilling onto her lashes. Her unheard of show of emotion caused some of the other female servants to become teary eyed.

"Oh please, just blow out the candle, won't you?" Barrow interrupted the emotional moment gruffly and Elsie was actually glad for his intervention. She hastily wiped the tear from her face before leaning forward and with closed eyes wishing for the one thing she was sure she'd never have.

The cake was carried back into the kitchen, a piece of it promised to every servant after the most pressing matters still left for the dinner party had been taken care of. Elsie grasped her card and quickly made her way to her sitting room – intent on cherishing the card in the privacy of her parlour where she could let her emotions unfold without anyone observing.

She opened the envelope and took out the charming card that depicted some lovely Scottish scenery. The short verse of appreciation inside caused her to tear up once again and she was glad that she could freely cry her tears of gratitude now. She lovingly ran her finger over all the names gathered on the card. So many people had thought of her and worked to make this day memorable for her. She took in Anna's loopy handwriting, Mr. Bates' jerky signature. Mr. Molesley had added a little doodle to his name, which looked ridiculous, and Daisy's handwriting was still almost childlike.

They were all there – everyone except one person.

There was a short knock at her door before Mrs. Patmore pushed it open, carrying a tray laden with tea and two pieces of cake.

"I thought the woman of the hour deserved to get the first piece of cake. Surely your rounds can wait until after this," the Cook declared happily. Elsie didn't have the heart to send her friend away and instead made an inviting gesture with her hand.

Beryl finished readying their tea and Elsie smiled appreciatively at her friend.

"My, my, I feel quite special being spoilt like this," she teased.

"Every woman deserves to be spoilt once in a while."

"I won't disagree with you. Thank you so much, Mrs. Patmore. I can't tell you how much all of this means to me."

"It was nothing, Anna helped," Beryl deflected the compliment.

"I noticed her handwriting on the card," Elsie told her friend. "I also noticed that someone seems to be missing."

Mrs. Patmore sighed deeply at this. She internally debated what to tell the housekeeper but in the end decided that it was best if she knew the truth. "He didn't want to join in. I'm sorry if he has ruined your birthday for you," Mrs. Patmore grumbled, angry blotches of red appearing on her face simply thinking about the Butler's behaviour.

"He has done no such thing, Mrs. Patmore, don't fret," Elsie soothed. It hurt, she wouldn't claim otherwise. In fact it stung worse than she could have imagined, but she tried to force herself to stay practical. What reason did she have to expect a gift from him when she had never given him one (at least not for his birthday)? They usually wished each other many returns of their special day and then took great care to lighten the other's workload throughout the day. In her case she made an extra effort to not tease him too much and she suspected that he usually tried to grate on her nerves a little less than he normally would.

Still, he hadn't even bothered to wish her a happy birthday this time. Disappointment settled over her once again, taking away some of the joy she had felt ever since lunch.

Mrs. Patmore, sensing her friend's shift in emotions, resolutely pushed a plate with birthday cake towards her.

"Maybe it's better this way. Who knows what kind of gift he would have come up with?" Else joked, her hurt feelings manifesting herself in her derisive question.

Beryl gave a sympathetic snort. "Probably an edition of Burke's landed gentry."

"Or a guide to the best international wines," Elsie quipped. Both women were laughing now.

"Probably some dreadful collection of poems," Beryl suggested and put her hand to her mouth to keep her very inappropriate snorts of laughter silent.

Elsie forced a laugh to gloss over the fact that she'd have loved to get such a gift from the Butler – something that showed that he cared about her as a friend, not just a colleague. In order to not put a damper on their mood, she quickly joined Beryl's slander of Mr. Carson's gift giving abilities again.

"Oh god, yes, probably something like female poetry through the ages or some such nonsense," she giggled.

Unbeknownst to the two women, a solitary figure stood outside of the Housekeeper's parlour. The door that was only slightly left ajar hid the person from the laughing women's eyes, but their conversation easily carried outside.

The person's shoulders dropped dejectedly as he pressed the lovingly wrapped gift in his hands closer to him – as if the small parcel needed protection from the cruel words spoken inside.

When another salve of laughter carried through the open door, the person resolutely squared his shoulders, quickly moving away from his place by the door, striding towards the staircase – but not before discarding the gift into the nearest wastepaper basket, not sparing it another glance.

The person wasn't as unobserved as he had thought, though. As soon as he had made his way up the stairs, another person stepped from the shadows, slowly making their way to where the gift lay among the other waste. The second person quickly retrieved the small package, taking in the expensive looking floral gift wrapping, trying to decide how to proceed.

So who found the gift? Thank you for reading and if you have the time, I'd love to hear from you! Your reviews always mean the world!