DA Fanfic
Title: Reflections
Rated: T
For the prompt of 'the morning after' at the lovebelowstairs Sunday funday.
Elsie had searched for any visible changes several times throughout her life.
There’d been the time she was eleven. After helping her father with the milking, she’d returned to the house to begin the breakfast, and she’d suddenly felt uncomfortable. Checking her underwear, she’d been confused. She couldn’t remember falling, but it was the only explanation.
For once, her Maw had delayed breakfast and explained what was happening.
She’d been ordered to stay in bed for the rest of the day. Maw had suggested praying while she was there.
Instead Elsie had touched her body, impersonally and clinically, in an effort to learn if this new grown up status was visible to others.
At fifteen, she’d received her first kiss.
She’d been returning home after walking her baby sister to the school. Joe had been heading for town to pick up supplies for his uncle. They’d met at a crossroads a few miles from her farm. He’d dismounted from his horse and they’d exchanged a few polite pleasantries.
“I have to get back home,” she’d said. “My chores won’t do themselves.”
He’d nodded understandingly and hooked one foot into the stirrup. But instead of swinging himself up onto the horse, he’d paused, and untangled himself from the saddle.
It was only a light brush across her cheek, and then he was gone, leaving her to stand in the middle of the lane, dumbfounded.
She’d returned home in such a daze, her Maw had wondered aloud if she was catching a fever.
“I’m fine,” she’d insisted, but she’d run straight off to the nearby burn to peer down at her reflection.
She’d particularly inspected the spot where Joe’s lips had made contact. However, even though her skin had felt hot to the touch, she could find nothing to make her think the kiss had altered her in any way.
At seventeen, she’d entered service at Downton.
The sheer size of the house had been daunting. Seemingly, everyone from the head housekeeper down to the scullery maid had thrown instructions at her that first day. She’d felt pride like never before when she’d retired for the evening with the knowledge she’d kept up with it all.
She’d settled into a small room in the attics, sharing with a laundry maid named Agnes. The room had been sparsely furnished, but it did contain one piece of extravagance not found in her family home: a looking glass.
When she was sure Agnes was asleep, she’d lit a candle and approached the small piece of glass and studied her image.
She’d seen a woman. The girl she’d sometimes caught glimpses of in shop windows and in the clear water of the burn was gone. This woman had purpose; this woman knew what she wanted from her life.
She knew that night that her family would see the changes when she returned for Christmas. A few Christmases later, her sister married, her Maw died, and she stopped returning.
And now, here she was again, staring at her reflection, wondering if others would see the small changes in her.
Would they see the new softness in her features?
She licked her lips. Would everyone else notice how swollen they still were this morning from the intensity of his kisses?
She patted down her hair, flushing as she remembered the way he’d loosened her clips and let the curls fall around her shoulders naturally.
She blinked, worried that the way her eyes shone so brightly would give everything away. If not, would her cheeks burn red every time she thought of their intimacies?
And how often would she think of them? Every time her legs brushed together would she recall the way he’d settled between them?
She took a deep breath and berated herself. No one would ever see that she was no longer a virgin. She was merely being ridiculous.
The one relief to her this morning was that she didn’t need to face Charles himself. He’d been required to leave with the family to London at first light.
“We have the telephone now,” he’d joked.
“You’ll call me, Mr Carson?” she’d asked. “That sounds very decadent: a butler calling his housekeeper.”
“No,” he’d said, his mouth finding her breast again in the dark. “Decadent is the butler calling his new lover.”
She gazed into the glass again, wondering how she would be able to repress the grin that kept spreading across her face for the rest of the day.
Finally looking away, she hooked her keys to her waist and headed off to join the others for breakfast.
“Good morning,” she said quietly as she entered the kitchen, concentrating on keeping the cheery tone from her voice.
Everyone bustled around her as usual. She took her seat and sipped on a cup of tea Mrs Patmore set out for her.
She snuck a look around. Everyone and everything looked normal.
“Good morning, Mrs Hughes,” Mr Bates said politely as he lowered himself into the chair beside her.
“Good morning, Mr Bates.”
“You’re looking well, Mrs Hughes.”
“Yes, Mr Bates. I feel very well too.”
She smiled. She did feel very, very well. And perhaps, at her age, it wouldn’t hurt to advertise the fact just a little.
“Yes. It’s a beautiful day,” she said, relaxing and, for now, not caring if her grin was a little too wide.
Rated: T
For the prompt of 'the morning after' at the lovebelowstairs Sunday funday.
Elsie had searched for any visible changes several times throughout her life.
There’d been the time she was eleven. After helping her father with the milking, she’d returned to the house to begin the breakfast, and she’d suddenly felt uncomfortable. Checking her underwear, she’d been confused. She couldn’t remember falling, but it was the only explanation.
For once, her Maw had delayed breakfast and explained what was happening.
She’d been ordered to stay in bed for the rest of the day. Maw had suggested praying while she was there.
Instead Elsie had touched her body, impersonally and clinically, in an effort to learn if this new grown up status was visible to others.
At fifteen, she’d received her first kiss.
She’d been returning home after walking her baby sister to the school. Joe had been heading for town to pick up supplies for his uncle. They’d met at a crossroads a few miles from her farm. He’d dismounted from his horse and they’d exchanged a few polite pleasantries.
“I have to get back home,” she’d said. “My chores won’t do themselves.”
He’d nodded understandingly and hooked one foot into the stirrup. But instead of swinging himself up onto the horse, he’d paused, and untangled himself from the saddle.
It was only a light brush across her cheek, and then he was gone, leaving her to stand in the middle of the lane, dumbfounded.
She’d returned home in such a daze, her Maw had wondered aloud if she was catching a fever.
“I’m fine,” she’d insisted, but she’d run straight off to the nearby burn to peer down at her reflection.
She’d particularly inspected the spot where Joe’s lips had made contact. However, even though her skin had felt hot to the touch, she could find nothing to make her think the kiss had altered her in any way.
At seventeen, she’d entered service at Downton.
The sheer size of the house had been daunting. Seemingly, everyone from the head housekeeper down to the scullery maid had thrown instructions at her that first day. She’d felt pride like never before when she’d retired for the evening with the knowledge she’d kept up with it all.
She’d settled into a small room in the attics, sharing with a laundry maid named Agnes. The room had been sparsely furnished, but it did contain one piece of extravagance not found in her family home: a looking glass.
When she was sure Agnes was asleep, she’d lit a candle and approached the small piece of glass and studied her image.
She’d seen a woman. The girl she’d sometimes caught glimpses of in shop windows and in the clear water of the burn was gone. This woman had purpose; this woman knew what she wanted from her life.
She knew that night that her family would see the changes when she returned for Christmas. A few Christmases later, her sister married, her Maw died, and she stopped returning.
And now, here she was again, staring at her reflection, wondering if others would see the small changes in her.
Would they see the new softness in her features?
She licked her lips. Would everyone else notice how swollen they still were this morning from the intensity of his kisses?
She patted down her hair, flushing as she remembered the way he’d loosened her clips and let the curls fall around her shoulders naturally.
She blinked, worried that the way her eyes shone so brightly would give everything away. If not, would her cheeks burn red every time she thought of their intimacies?
And how often would she think of them? Every time her legs brushed together would she recall the way he’d settled between them?
She took a deep breath and berated herself. No one would ever see that she was no longer a virgin. She was merely being ridiculous.
The one relief to her this morning was that she didn’t need to face Charles himself. He’d been required to leave with the family to London at first light.
“We have the telephone now,” he’d joked.
“You’ll call me, Mr Carson?” she’d asked. “That sounds very decadent: a butler calling his housekeeper.”
“No,” he’d said, his mouth finding her breast again in the dark. “Decadent is the butler calling his new lover.”
She gazed into the glass again, wondering how she would be able to repress the grin that kept spreading across her face for the rest of the day.
Finally looking away, she hooked her keys to her waist and headed off to join the others for breakfast.
“Good morning,” she said quietly as she entered the kitchen, concentrating on keeping the cheery tone from her voice.
Everyone bustled around her as usual. She took her seat and sipped on a cup of tea Mrs Patmore set out for her.
She snuck a look around. Everyone and everything looked normal.
“Good morning, Mrs Hughes,” Mr Bates said politely as he lowered himself into the chair beside her.
“Good morning, Mr Bates.”
“You’re looking well, Mrs Hughes.”
“Yes, Mr Bates. I feel very well too.”
She smiled. She did feel very, very well. And perhaps, at her age, it wouldn’t hurt to advertise the fact just a little.
“Yes. It’s a beautiful day,” she said, relaxing and, for now, not caring if her grin was a little too wide.