Thomas and the Society of Sentinels: Epilogue (15/15)

Mar 25, 2013 20:43

Epilogue (AKA Christmas Special)



Christmas eve found Thomas and his lordship working flat-out. The day began mercilessly early, with the local hunt meeting at Bellerock. Neither Thomas’s riding nor his lordship’s was quite up to riding after hounds, but after a stern lecture from her ladyship on how “You cannot evade all of your social responsibilities, Gerald,” they had agreed to mount up and put in an appearance. As it turned out, on such an important hunting day, there were plenty of old people, children on ponies, and occasional riders who had no intention of keeping up with the avid foxhunters, and trailed them at a much more modest pace, going around the jumps instead of over them. His lordship, in his scarlet coat, was quite conspicuous among these, and it was not possible to fall far enough behind that they could slip back to the stable unnoticed.

After the hunt came the hunt breakfast. It was the one time in the year when Bellerock threw open its doors to the Insensate county, and was even more well-attended than the hunt itself. The family did not noticeably alter its habits in deference to the guests’ sensibilities-all of the personal Guides who’d ridden out stayed and ate with their Sentinels. It was a bit amusing to watch the guests try and puzzle out who was supposed to be waiting on them and who wasn’t. Even the women Guides looked a bit like footmen, since their riding habits had jackets styled like livery coats.

As Thomas filled a plate at the sideboard, a young woman commented, “Such a good field today, didn’t you think?”

There was no one else nearby; she was speaking to him. “Yes,” he said cautiously. “Did the house proud, I thought.” It felt strange to end that sentence without an honorific, but he had no idea if she was a “miss” or a “ladyship.”

“Are you staying with the Pellingers? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Now Thomas was even more surprised-he supposed thinking that he was a guest was a natural mistake, given that he was wearing his lordship’s old riding things and not livery, but in that case, it was awfully bold of her to strike up a conversation like that. “No, it’s my first hunt,” he said, not quite answering the question.

“Oh, and here I was thinking how kind it was of you to stay back with Lord Pellinger,” she said with a dimpled smile.

“No, ah, he’s a better horseman than I am. Excuse me.” He hurried back to sit on his lordship’s ottoman as quickly as he could without being obvious about it.

“Was Miss Ainsley flirting with you?” his lordship asked.

“I didn’t catch her name,” Thomas said. “But yes, I think she was. If we’re doing this next year, I might want a hunt livery.”

“Are you sure? Only daughter of an independent farmer; she could be quite a catch for you.” His lordship’s tone made clear that he was only teasing.

“Not really my type,” Thomas reminded him with a smile.

“Lucky for me.”

They were able to escape the hunt breakfast a little early, in order to get started with their next task of the day. His lordship had eagerly volunteered them for widows’ Christmas hamper duty, explaining that it was rather fun and would get them out of addressing Christmas cards. Earlier in the month, they’d consulted with the kitchens and the home farm about what they could provide, then placed orders with the village shops and a London department store to fill in the gaps.

His lordship’s enthusiasm had been slightly dampened by the realization that there were quite a few more widows and fatherless children in the village and on the estate than there had been the last time he’d done this task. He’d rallied, though, and had taken great pleasure in selecting a few little luxuries for each family, while Thomas focused on the more prosaic items. His lordship, for instance, had argued for the inclusion of a plaything or two for each child, while Thomas had thought that wool from which their mothers could make them mittens or socks was more practical, if his lordship wanted to extend the hampers beyond Christmas dinner itself. They had compromised by adding both.

The task of actually packing the hampers had fallen to the kitchen staff, and the ones for the village were delivered by the vicar, but the tradition was that the ones for the estate families were always delivered personally by one of the family. After changing out of their riding things, they got into a cart-driven by Clint-to do just that.

When they started the deliveries, all Thomas could think of was how much his own mum would have hated it, if she’d had to stand there and look grateful while some toff and his servant handed her a basket full of charity and disdain. As soon as the door was closed, she’d have dropped the pretense of simpering gratitude and cursed their names.

The women they visited didn’t seem to take it that way, though. It may have helped, that his lordship’s manner was so genuine-and that he knew their names, and what had happened to their husbands. It also helped that the cottages were snug and fairly warm, the widows and orphans well-fed. As Guides, they were pensioned quite well, and the Christmas hampers were more like genuine gifts than an annual sop to conscience.

The job took quite a long time, because most of the women offered them tea or other refreshments, which his lordship found hard to turn down. One old woman brought out a bottle of execrable whiskey which, his lordship explained in a whisper when she sat the dusty thing down on the parlour table and went into the kitchen to fetch glasses, she kept on hand specifically for this occasion.

When they did finally make it back to the house, all of the baskets delivered, Lady Georgiana met them in the entry hall. “We’ve been waiting for you in the drawing room,” she said.

“We’re doing that now?” his lordship asked.

“Yes-Mama thinks it’ll be too rushed tomorrow.”

“That” turned out to be distributing Christmas gifts to the servants. Thomas thought her ladyship had a point-he’d already learned that Bellerock started Boxing Day quite early, with most of the staff going home after Christmas Day lunch and not returning until late the next day. Fortunately, personal Guides usually stayed for Christmas and took a day or two for family visits sometime between Christmas and New Year’s, so Thomas didn’t particularly stand out for having nowhere to go.

It felt distinctly odd to Thomas to be standing with the family, rather than the servants, for this ritual, but the other personal Guides were doing the same, so he fell into line. The presentation of gifts took longer than it ever had at Downton. Instead of giving the same gift to everyone-a length of fabric for the women, an envelope of money for the men-Lord and Lady Yernemuth selected something at least somewhat personal for each of the staff: a pretty scarf or a book, for instance. And instead of her ladyship saying, “Here, you are, happy Christmas,” and the servant in question bowing or curtseying and saying, “Thank you, my lady,” they had to have a brief conversation about why her ladyship had selected whatever it was, and why the recipient liked it.

Thomas could have done without it-and he thought his lordship would have liked to be off his feet-but as the line was getting down to the hall-boys and kitchen girl, he remembered that there ought to be a gift for him in this somewhere. He’d been hearing hints that personal Guides got fairly extravagant presents, and was looking forward to it with what he tried to tell himself was detached interest.

The last time he’d been surprised on Christmas had been 1914, when he’d had a scarf from O’Brien, a fruitcake from Mrs. Patmore, and a tin with some cigarettes from Princess Mary. (Everyone in the BEF had gotten an identical parcel from Her Majesty, but still, Thomas had considered it thoughtful. The next year had been a disappointment, as both the royal family and Mrs. Patmore had forgotten about him.) His lordship could outdo that without putting himself to much trouble, Thomas thought.

So he was surprised when, after the last hall-boy had received a handsome pocket-knife, the group broke up. “What about us?” he asked his lordship.

“Hm? Oh, personal Guides get their tomorrow, with the family. Is that all right?” he asked, searching Thomas’s face.

“Yes-I was just starting to wonder if you didn’t love me anymore,” Thomas said lightly.

“Never worry about that,” his lordship advised him.

Since they’d evaded the Warwicks’ ball, the rest of the evening was their own. But having made such an early start that morning, and needing to make another the next day for the early church service, they turned in early and fell asleep before they could do more than kiss.

By the time church was over, Thomas was thoroughly eager to know what his Christmas present was. He only kept quiet about it because he didn’t want to invite comparison with the Hon. Master Dennis, who pestered his nurse about what Father Christmas had brought him constantly during the journeys to and from the church, and at selected points during the service itself.

“What did he get?” Thomas asked on the way back, trying to distract himself from his own, related question.

His lordship eyed him. “How would I know? I’m not Father Christmas. And Dennis is a Sentinel too, remember.”

Oh. Yes, Thomas supposed it had not been a well-timed question. “I’m surprised he didn’t wake you, coming in. Father Christmas, I mean.”

“He sends Guide elves to Sentinel houses. They’re very quiet.”

“That makes sense,” Thomas said.

“He also has a firm policy against giving Sentinel children trumpets or drums. No matter how good you’ve been. It’s his gift to their parents.”

Thomas agreed that that was sensible as well.

When they got back to the house, Master Dennis was taken up to his nursery to tear into his stocking, but the rest of them, Thomas learned, had to wait until after lunch.

“We tell ourselves that the others won’t realize how much better your gifts are if you get them after they’ve gone,” his lordship explained. “I’m sure we’re not fooling anyone, but that’s how we do it.”

Still, the delay gave them a bit of time to relax in front of the bedroom fire, which had rapidly come to be one of his favorite things to do with their clothes on. Thomas sat with his head in his lordship’s lap and they had a pre-lunch sherry, in place of the usual whiskey, since it was Christmas.

“Rocking horse, by the way,” his lordship said, with a slight wince.

“What?”

“What Dennis got. You didn’t hear that shriek?”

“No.”

“Lucky you.” He stroked Thomas’s hair. “Still, I remember getting that excited about Christmas, when I was small.”

“What was the best thing you ever got?” Thomas asked, rolling his head back so he could look up at his lordship. “As a child, I mean. Ever, you’d have to say me.”

“I would, wouldn’t I? I got a clockwork train, when we were twelve or so. Simon was so jealous I feared for my life.”

“He would be.” Thomas stared into the fire for a while. “My dad always wanted to expand into making clockwork toys, but Mum thought it wasn’t very practical. Made me a wind-up soldier, once.” That had been a good Christmas. Not a surprise, since he’d seen Dad working on it for ages, but nice.

“Do you still have it?”

“No, but he made my watch, too,” Thomas answered. “’s why I have such a nice one.”

“Can I see?”

Thomas took it off the chain and handed it up to him. “It doesn’t actually look like much, but it keeps better time than yours.”

“Mine doesn’t keep good time?”

“It loses a minute and a half every day. I always put it right when I wind it.”

“Oh.” After admiring Thomas’s watch for a suitable period, his lordship passed it back. “What else do you do that I don’t know about?”

“All sorts of things,” Thomas said. He had no idea what his lordship had noticed and what he hadn’t-it wasn’t as though re-setting his watch had been a secret. “Making the sun rise, and the stars come out.”

“Oh, I’d noticed that,” his lordship said.

“Have you? I usually do it while you’re asleep.”

“The sun, yes, but I’d noticed about the stars.”

“Good God you’re soppy,” Thomas said.

“You started it.”

He supposed he had. Checking his watch, Thomas changed the subject. “The luncheon’s early today, isn’t it? Half-twelve?”

“Yes; we’d better go down.”

Christmas lunch was one of those odd Sentinel things-or perhaps just an odd Bellerock thing; Thomas wasn’t sure. It was elaborate enough to be a mid-day dinner, but was taken in the breakfast room, with the personal Guides serving themselves and their Sentinels from the sideboard. This made things a bit easier on the serving staff and-not at all incidentally-allowed the family to dine together with their Guides. There was a limit to the extraordinary privileges afforded to Guides, and sitting down in the dining room was beyond it. So was having breakfast in the breakfast room-the hunt breakfast had been set up in the great hall. But other meals in the breakfast room were, apparently, special cases.

The lunch was both good and ample-“It had better be,” Lord Simon said, “since we’ll be eating it cold for supper and lunch and supper tomorrow.” That, Thomas later learned, was not completely true-Mrs. Pirbright was staying, and made a couple of new hot dishes for each meal-but the ham, roast fowl, and game pies did indeed reappear. That was fine with Thomas, since there was too much to choose from to be able to sample everything at one meal.

After lunch, they repaired-finally-to the drawing room, where a Christmas tree that went up nearly to the ceiling was surrounded by wrapped gifts. His lordship’s family, Thomas had learned, went in for Christmas gift-giving in a big way. His lordship had gotten something for each of his family-even, grudgingly, Lord Simon-and it looked like the rest of the family had done the same. Seeing Margery and Louis picking up the presents and delivering them to their recipients, Thomas did the same.

Guide elves indeed.

The family didn’t stand much on ceremony, tearing into their gifts as soon as they were handed them. By the time Thomas returned to his lordship’s side, he’d already gotten a handsome walking stick from her ladyship, a book of poems from Lady Georgiana, and a bottle of brandy from Lord Simon. “Look,” he said, nudging Thomas. “It’s the same one I got him.”

“You should have got him whiskey; then you could swap.”

“I expect I can manage to force it down. Here,” he added, handing Thomas a disappointingly small and flat parcel. “From Mama.”

“Oh,” Thomas said. He hadn’t realized he was getting two presents.

At least, there had certainly better be two. There was nothing left under the tree, however.

Her ladyship had given him gloves-very nice calfskin gloves, but very much in line with the kind of thing the others had gotten yesterday. He nodded his thanks to her and looked expectantly at his lordship.

“Oh, yes, here,” his lordship said, taking an envelope from his coat pocket.

An envelope wrapped in silver paper, with a ribbon on it, but still, an envelope. Thomas concealed his disappointment-he was quite used to getting Christmas envelopes. Had his lordship forgotten that he’d given up on being a valet?

“Open it, before you look at me like that.”

Thomas did so, thinking that he was not going to be impressed, no matter how much money it was.

Instead, he found…a letter. Really? He didn’t want anything as cold as money, but in his mind, a love letter-or worse, poetry-wasn’t a proper Christmas present.

A sexy letter, maybe, but he didn’t want to read that in a room full of his lordship’s family.

Fortunately, Thomas managed to actually look at the letter before he got too indignant about it. It wasn’t actually from his lordship at all-it was from Murchinson’s, informing him that he had an appointment on December 28th, if that was convenient, to be fitted for a suit. “Blimey,” he said-or rather, didn’t stop himself from saying, because he knew his lordship liked it when he forgot his manners.

“I was going to have him make one from the measurements he already has,” his lordship explained, “but then I remembered how much fun you had last time we went, and thought you’d enjoy picking it out yourself. Even if it doesn’t make for a terribly exciting Christmas day.”

“You thought right, my lord,” Thomas said. “Just so I’m sure-you’re having him make me a suit? I mean, I’m not picking out another one for you.” He was almost entirely sure that wasn’t the case, but a suit, of his choice, from his lordship’s London tailor was extravagant beyond his wildest dreams.

“No-I mean, he may talk me into getting something for myself while we’re there, but that’s not your present. D’you like it? I hope you do.”

“Love it,” Thomas said.

“Good,” his lordship said, obviously relieved. “You know, I very nearly got you a watch. I’m glad I didn’t do that.”

“No, this is perfect,” Thomas said. On impulse, he leaned over and hugged him, despite the fact that there were ten other people in the room. “Best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

“At the risk of being soppy,” his lordship said, “it’s the best one I’ve ever had, too.”

downton abbey, guide!thomas, sentinel

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