A – is for Angel

Elsie stood at the front door of the cottage and waited on her husband to join her. She dreaded walking out into the darkness, the cold winter wind ready to nip at her nose and cheeks, so she waited until the last possible minute to open the door. Their walk to work would be chilly, and they would each need to step carefully since pathways could be somewhat treacherous on colder, wetter mornings. Glistening and shimmering dewdrops frozen to tree branches, leaves, grass, puddles … everything had the potential to be dangerous yet incredibly beautiful. Even the torch that her husband used to light their path seemed to enhance the scenery while adding a sense of security to each step they took. Then again, she always felt secure when her Charlie was near.

"Sorry, love. I think I have everything now," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek as he secured his hat on top of his head.

She shook her head and sighed sweetly. "You men think you're all invincible. Scarf and gloves, please, Mr. Carson, or you'll catch a cold for Christmas!" She handed him both garments and watched as he swiftly obeyed her wishes. "I promised to love you in sickness and in health, but you're much more fun when you're healthy and strong."

His eyebrows wiggled and one corner of his lips curled in to a smirk. "Are you saying I'm a bad patient, Mrs. Carson, or are you trying to compliment me on my vitality and vigor? I think, to quote a Scottish lass of my acquaintance … we should be clear about what we're discussing."

"Ach! You're incorrigible. We need to get to work and flannelling on in our entryway is getting us nowhere." She looped her arm through his and leaned in to his side before standing on her tiptoes to give him a swift kiss to the cheek. "And for the record, Charlie, I think, after last night, you should know in which direction my thoughts were heading."

Fortunately for Charles, it was almost too hard to tell if his cheeks were reddened by the sudden blush as he remembered the previous evening or if they were simply being assaulted by the biting air as he opened the door. Almost …

Their walks to the great house were often filled with conversations about what needed doing that particular day, who was visiting, dinners to be organized, paperwork to be completed … routine household and staffing matters. Other days, their banter was more personal, more intimate: socks to be darned, wine Charles wanted to purchase, a summer trip to Brighton, finances, and even more private talks about health, satisfaction, and happiness. And then there were mornings which were completely unpredictable, mornings such as this one.

"We really should sit down and decide on our tree decorations since you wanted to get that sorted on our day off on Friday."

"I thought it was sorted," she replied, giving him a confused look out of the corner of her eye. "We're having Andy and Albert bring over the tree on Thursday so it will have time to settle. I'm pulling the boxes from the attic tomorrow so the ornaments will be ready. You had that lovely tree skirt sewn for us, so we don't need a new one. I think that covers everything."

Charles huffed and a puff of warm air clouded his face as it collided with the coldness of the morning. "You're simply avoiding the conversation because you don't wish to discuss it. But, sooner or later, we're going to need to reach a decision, and something tells me that you've already made up your mind on the matter."

"I just don't understand why you're making such a fuss about it. At the end of the day, it's our tree, and we can do anything we'd like with it. If we wanted to hang your handkerchiefs and socks on it as decorations, it would be no one's business but our own." She caught his shocked expression and gave his arm a squeeze. "Oh, don't look so horrified. I'd never do that and you know it good and well." She reached over with her free hand and patted his cheek and bumped her hip against his. "We both know I'm more apt to use my knickers and stockings to properly toss our house into a Christmas scandal."

"That's not funny, Elsie May! It's important to me, and I don't understand why it's such a sticking point for you."

As they neared the servant's door, Elsie walked in front of her husband, causing him to bump in to her and catching her upper arms to keep her from toppling backwards. "Because, sometimes Charlie, I want things done in my own way. Is that so outlandish? Posh people don't always get it right!" And, with that firm declaration, she entered the house and her sitting room, not sparing him a second more to continue the discussion.

By the time the servants breakfast was ready, Elsie had managed to regain her composure and push the conversation from her mind, though not entirely. It still lingered, resurfacing at random moments, though it no longer dominated her thoughts. With her focus fully on the day ahead, she joined her husband and the others for toast, porridge, tea, and coffee. However, as soon as she sat down, she could tell that Charles was still brooding. With a soft smile cast in his direction, she prepared his tea and toast in the hopes of smoothing over some of his hurt feelings and offering a truce until they could revisit the topic later.

On his morning rounds, Charles stopped by the nursery to let Nanny know that the footmen would be bringing up the children's Christmas tree and ornaments after lunch. "Better to be prepared for their enthusiasm," he announced with a small smile. "They're at the age where everything is magical and filled with wonder. That's the way all Christmases should be."

"Just because we grow up doesn't mean we have to grow older, Mr. Carson. I dare say there's still a bit of the small child left in most of us if we look hard enough."

"You sound like you've been talking to Mrs. Hughes." He tugged on the bottom of his waistcoat and arched a single eyebrow. "I should continue with my rounds. I only stopped in to give you the information about the delivery." As he left the nursery, his shoulders slumped a little as the Nanny's words replayed in his mind about growing up and older and the abrupt way Elsie had spoken to him settled deep in his heart. He was almost to the top of the landing when he heard the sweet voice of Sybbie calling out to him from the nursery door.

"May I come and see you later, Mr. Carson? Please? We could eat some biscuits with Mrs. Hughes."

He walked back to where she was standing then knelt down in front of her. "You'll need to check with Nanny first. We wouldn't want to get in to trouble for disappearing, now would we?" he asked, tapping the end of her nose and causing her to giggle.

"Don't worry, I won't disappear, silly. I can't do magic tricks." And then a thought occurred to her and she whispered rather loudly. "Can you do magic tricks?"

He gave a hearty chuckle and waggled his eyebrows at her. "Perhaps," he said before reaching behind her ear and producing a sixpence to her sheer delight. The last thing he heard before descending the staircase was Sybbie's animated voice excitedly explaining how she came to be in possession of the coin.

To be honest, Charles Carson did not expect to see Miss Sybbie at all for the remainder of the day. He assumed, incorrectly, that once the tree was delivered, she and the other children would be decorating it and enjoying the treats Mrs. Patmore and Daisy had been baking earlier. He was completely surprised when a timid knock broke through the silence of his pantry, rousing him from his thoughts of home and decorating the tree with Elsie.

"Yes, come in."

"Mr. Carson, is now a good time to visit?" Sybbie looked decidedly unhappy and her eyes bore little red rims which gave testament to tears shed sometime recently.

Capping his pen and closing his ledger, Charles stood up from his desk and reached out his hand to the little girl. "Goodness, I didn't expect to see you this afternoon. I thought you'd be upstairs with the others decorating that pretty tree I saw them bringing in earlier."

Without asking, she climbed in to his lap and settled comfortably against his broad chest. Her voice was low but her words were clear. "I don't want to decorate the tree. It's a silly little tree, anyway. I thought you and Mrs. Hughes might let me help you decorate the tree down here or maybe at your cottage."

Perplexed, Charles wondered if he should send the unhappy child to his wife for answers but, at the last minute, he decided he might try his hand at cheering the little girl. "Surely, the tree isn't a silly one. I'm relatively certain we ordered serious ones for the house, though your tree may have just been a little nervous and trying to make you all laugh."

His joke coaxed a snicker from Sybbie, and she shook her head at his teasing. "Mr. Carson, you're the silly one today. Trees can't be silly, but I guess I did say that, didn't I?"

"You did, so would you like to try again to explain what happened? I would happily go with you to the nursery to help sort out this "silly tree" of yours."

"It's not the tree, really. It's George. We were going through the decorations in the boxes, and I found a really pretty angel that I wanted to put on the top of the tree. He argued with me that all trees have stars on the top, and I told him that I didn't think that was right because we've seen angels on the trees in the village. Some of them had angels and some had other things. He wouldn't even listen to me, and when I was trying to talk to Nanny, he put his star on the top so I couldn't put the angel there. She didn't make him take it down or even listen so I refused to help."

Charles listened carefully, and he could completely relate to the child and her predicament regarding the tree topper. Elsie had wanted a star while he had preferred an angel topper. That had been the crux of their disagreement this morning. "May I ask why you were so determined to have an angel on the top of the tree instead of the star? I'm sure both would have been very pretty, and, just perhaps, you could have talked Nanny in to changing them every few days so you both got your wish." The reality of what he'd just suggested to the child in his lap hit him like a ton of bricks. Briefly, he wondered if Elsie might be willing to compromise in such a fashion with their own tree.

Sybbie sniffed a little and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, hoping he hadn't noticed her tears. "Promise me you won't laugh?" He kissed the top of her head and whispered his oath. "She reminded me of Mrs. Hughes. She has pretty, dark hair and, her cheeks were a little pink like Mrs. Hughes. She has blue eyes just like Mrs. Hughes and when I think of angels, I always think of her, and Mama because she's a real angel now."

"What a lovely thing to say, Miss Sybbie. Your mother was a very sweet and angelic person, and she, no doubt, watches over you. Now, what makes you think of Mrs. Hughes as an angel, if you don't mind me asking a personal question? You don't have to tell me if you don't want."

"She's kind and funny, pretty and warm, gives the best hugs, and reads to me. If I need help, she's always in her office, and she listens. We have tea parties, sometimes, and if I'm upset, she will cuddle me until I am happy again. Mr. Carson, she loves me, and I love her. I think she's my guardian angel, so I wanted to put the angel on the top of the tree because it reminds me of her."

He gave the little girl a fierce hug, though gently enough not to startle or hurt her. "You know something, we have a lot in common. You see, just this morning, I had a similar conversation with someone I love more than anything about this very topic. But, I didn't get a chance to explain my side of things to her, just like you didn't have a chance to explain anything to Master George or Nanny. I'm sure, though, that I can speak to her on your behalf and arrange for the topper to be replaced on a regular schedule so you both get a turn. Would that be fair, do you think?"

She nodded her head and kissed his cheek. "I would love that so much. Would you really do that for me?" He nodded and pressed a light kiss to the back of the little girl's hand. "Will you tell me why you wanted an angel on the top of the tree instead of a star?"

He thought for a moment, contemplating whether or not to be candid or simply gloss over the true reasons. Since she had opened her heart to him, he felt it only fair that he returned the favor, though perhaps not sharing all that was in his heart. He leaned back a little in his chair and waited until she was settled before he answered.

"It wasn't that long ago that Mrs. Hughes and I were married. But, she's always been my best friend, and I've always been able to trust her with my secrets, just like you. Twice, when I was very sick, she took care of me, making sure I rested and ate properly, took care of my duties or saw to it that others did. She cared for me in ways that no one else could have and all out of a loving heart. And, over time, we realized that we love each other enough to marry," he said, as if that explained it all to the little girl.

"So, you want an angel because … Mrs. Hughes is your guardian angel, too?" A bright smile broke across her face and her eyes started to regain some of their earlier happiness and enthusiasm.

"Yes, in so many ways, Miss Sybbie, she is. I had hoped to surprise her with an angel for the top of our tree that I'd purchased and had shipped from London, but now it looks like that's not the case. That's to remain our little secret so no spilling the beans to your favorite housekeeper," he said with a wink. "I might be able to return the angel and get Mrs. Hughes the star for the top of our tree. I'll have to make a phone call this afternoon, if I want it here in time for decorating."

"You know, Mr. Carson, you might want to talk to Mrs. Hughes. If you tell her what you told me, she might let you put the angel on the tree or maybe use the star some days and your angel on others. It's only fair, and she's always saying we should be kind and share, especially toys and biscuits."

"Speaking of biscuits … should we go see if Mrs. Patmore has any left from her baking? I think we've earned a little treat, and maybe your angel might like a gingerbread man with her tea. She might even give you a bit, if you ask sweetly."

"Good idea. Let's go," she said, hopping down from his lap. Before he could stand, though, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a hug. "Thank you for helping me, Mr. Carson. I hope you get your angel on your tree."

"You're most welcome, and even if I end up with a star on the top of my tree, I promise to tell Mrs. Hughes about the angel. It is a really pretty one that I think she'll love."

Unbeknownst to the two occupants in Charles's pantry, Mrs. Hughes had heard everything. She'd gone to Charles's office to try to make amends for her abrupt behavior earlier in the day when she'd heard Sybbie's voice and Charles trying to soothe her. As she listened closely, silent tears fell down her cheeks as her husband and the little girl who occupied a large portion of her heart each called her their special angel. She couldn't remember a time when she'd been so moved.

She hurried back to her office before they caught her lingering in the hallway. She would, most certainly, be giving Miss Sybbie a large piece of her gingerbread man, and later, she would make everything up to her beloved husband. She would be open and honest with him about her preference for a star … because it reminded her of strength and warmth, brightness and stability, happiness and a bright future … all the things she associated with him … her shining star.

As she softly closed the door to her sitting room, she decided that as soon as Miss Sybbie returned to the nursery, she would speak to Charles about the star and angel tree toppers. After all, no one said they couldn't reach a compromise like he'd suggested for the children. If she talked sweetly enough, he might even agree to two trees in their modest cottage … each with its' own special angel and star.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading this chapter. I hope to update daily until the alphabet challenge is completed. All of my chapters will feature Charles Carson, Elsie Hughes, and Sybbie Branson with appearances from a few others in the household or village. None of the chapters are connected to one another so this is just a bit of holiday fun, and I hope you'll join me on the journey through a Chelsie Christmas.