Hi Allison! Here is your Secret Santa present! It’s a modern AU, inspired by “Eloise at Christmastime”– which is, incidentally, my favorite Christmas movie, but I chose it here because I thought it provides a story for our dear Mary/Matthew and your original Downton OTP, Sybil/Tom. Because S/T is actually how I started following you, years ago now!
This is just part 1, an introduction really; the rest will come asap (December really got away from me) but I wanted to have at least a little something ready today. I hope you enjoy it!
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It was the week before Christmas. Outside, the first dusting of snow had fallen, and inside, the staff were caught up in a whirlwind of preparations. Despite the hotel manager’s meticulous oversight and planning, there was always plenty to do– even before something went wrong, as it always did, and made extra work. That mishap, any time of year, usually could be traced back to the little girl who now stood in the middle of the great hall, watching as porters put up the Christmas tree.
She was examining them carefully, leaning first one way and then the other and then back again. Finally, she decided that the tree tilted just a little to the left, and told the porter so. However, she did not linger to see whether her recommendation was carried out (although it was), instead skipping off to the front desk, where she cut ahead of the line.
“Good morning, Mr. Carson!” she sang out, accompanied by a chorus of clucking from the two elderly ladies she had interrupted. “Are there any messages for me?”
“Yes,” the hotel manager replied solemnly, “–the Royal Ballet has asked you to appear as Clara in their production of The Nutcracker.”
Alice considered a moment, and then sighed dramatically. “I’m afraid I must decline. I shall be too busy playing Tiny Tim. But perhaps next year.”
He nodded. “Indeed. I must also tell you that Mrs. Patmore has just finished a batch of gingerbread biscuits and needs your taste-testing.”
“That, I can do!” she exclaimed, beaming.
“Now, Miss Alice, I’m afraid I have work to do. But I am sure I will see you later.” He looked to the ladies apologetically.
“Alright, I’m sure you will.”
She headed away, in the direction of the kitchen, but was soon distracted by a girl at the end of the line who was holding a puppy.
“Oh, he’s adorable! What’s his name?”
“Snowball,” the girl replied.
“How darling!” Alice petted the dog, as she kept talking. “Are you staying at Downton for Christmas? I hope so! It is truly the most wonderful time of year. It’s all decorated, as you see, and there’s the big tree, and there’s so many parties, and when it snows a little more there will be sleigh rides!”
“Yes, my family is staying here,” the girl said. “And yours? Have you been here before?”
“I live here, with my parents and grandparents. My family has always lived here, even before it was turned into a hotel after the war.”
“Oh!”
“It was called Downton Abbey then. Abbey, because monks used to live here a long, long time ago. But then it was the Crawleys, just by themselves. But my mum’s grandfather changed it to the Abbey Hotel, and I’m glad he did!”
The girl nodded.
“Well, maybe I’ll see you again this week! But I have to go now.” Alice kissed the dog’s nose, and then she was off again. On her way to the kitchen, she passed by the sofas in the hall where newly-arrived guests could rest their feet. On one, she noticed, sat a man in a grey trench coat and hat. Only his eyes were visible over the top of his newspaper. That was certainly peculiar; and even more peculiar, when he noticed her looking, he immediately raised his newspaper to hide entirely.
She decided not to investigate further at this very moment– the prospect of fresh-baked biscuits was too overwhelming– but she filed it away to think about later.
Upstairs was a coordinated sort of busy, but downstairs was chaotically so. Alice loved it– especially because Mrs. Patmore, the chef, always had a moment to spare for her (and a sweet treat to try). Everyone had a soft spot for the earl’s little granddaughter– even though some, like the housekeeper Mrs. Hughes, were more reluctant to admit it.
“Mr. Carson said you made gingerbread!”
“I did.” Mrs. Patmore wiped her hands on her apron, and led Alice over to the table, where trays of gingerbread people sat cooling.
Alice delicately bit off the corner of the gingerbread lady’s skirt, and pronounced it, “Scrumptious!” She reached for another for the road, but the cook intervened.
“Your mother will have my head if I give you two biscuits before breakfast.”
“It’ll be our secret! Pinky promise.” Alice smiled angelically, and truly it was difficult to deny that sweet little face. She had inherited her father’s blue eyes, and her mother’s bright smile.
“Alright, then,” Mrs. Patmore relented, and Alice tucked the second into the pocket of her jumper.
Someone approached behind them. “How fine these look!” he said. “May I?”
Alice turned around, at the familiar voice. “Tom!” she exclaimed. “You’re in the kitchen! Are you helping as a waiter again?”
Tom Branson was one of her particular friends among the Abbey’s staff. He worked as a driver, usually, and they had met when he began driving Alice to school. He was a wonderful storyteller, with his specialty being Irish history.
He nodded. “Mr Carson has drafted me, in anticipation of a special event due to take place on Christmas Eve.”
“Ooh, what’s that?” Alice demanded. She prided herself on knowing all that went on within the Abbey, and she had not heard of anything out-of-the-ordinary on Christmas Eve this year.
Tom shook his head. “It’s still a secret, even to us. You must let me know what you hear.”
“Of course. But wait–” Alice’s brow furrowed. “Does that mean you’re not going home to Ireland?”
“I’ll go that evening, after– and arrive in time for midnight Mass, to Mam’s great relief.”
Alice nodded. “Oh, good.”
“It’s nearly nine o’clock, dear,” Mrs. Patmore informed them. “Your parents have rung for breakfast.”
“I’d better go! Thanks for the biscuits! And I’ll tell you if I find out anything but you must also tell me if you do.”
“You can bet on it.”
And Alice took off running upstairs. She and her parents lived in a suite on the second floor, right next door to her grandparents. Her great-grandmother lived down the hall. There were two other suites there, for guests, and then individual rooms on the upper floors.
Mary and Matthew were still in their dressing gowns, just sitting down to breakfast, when their daughter burst into the apartment and let the door slam behind her. She took her place at the table, where there was a bowl of porridge waiting for her.
“Hello, Al,” Matthew said. “How were the morning rounds?”
“Full of ribbons and holly and jingle bell cheer! I helped them put up the Christmas tree,” Alice reported, “and I saw Tom. He’s being a waiter for something happening on Christmas Eve. Do you know what that is?”
Mary and Matthew exchanged a glance. They did know, for Mary was her father’s second-in-command in all hotel business.
“Ugh.” Alice sighed. “Is it something only for grown-ups?”
“No, you’ll find out soon enough,” Mary promised. “But your Aunt Sybil wants to tell you herself.”
Alice’s eyes grew wide. “Auntie Sybil? She’s coming here? When?”
The family had, for all of Alice’s short life, gone to visit Sybil in America. Alice sometimes had trouble believing that her favorite aunt had grown up at Downton too.
“She’s coming back for good,” Mary said, before suddenly and deftly catching Alice’s hand just as she was about to spill a fourth spoonful of sugar into her porridge and steering the sugar back into its proper bowl. “That is far too much,” she scolded. “Must we have this conversation every morning?”
“We must,” Alice replied, now stirring in a generous serving of cream. “Porridge by itself is yucky.”
“It’s good for you, darling, and I’m afraid some things that are good for you just won’t be terribly pleasant.”
Alice turned pleading eyes to her father, but to no avail.
“Listen to Mummy,” Matthew said. “She always knows.”
And Mary knew then to change the subject. “Aunt Sybil is arriving later this morning. I have some work to do, so will you keep a lookout and meet her for me?”
“Yes!” Alice took one bite of her by now syrupy porridge, before pushing it away. “I just have to feed Dinah and Mrs. Piggle-wiggle first and then I’ll go.” These two were her cat and pet hedgehog.
She slid off the chair, and went round the table to Mary. “Love you, Mummy.” She kissed her mother’s cheek. Next she went to her father, and did the same. “Bye, Daddy.” And then she ran off once more.
“I’ve assigned Tom to drive the Allsops to York,” Mary said, once Alice was out of earshot. “He’ll be gone all day.”
Matthew nodded slowly. “That’s one day. But they must meet eventually.”
“Well, we have one more day to prepare ourselves.” She sighed, before holding out one hand. “Help me up? I ought to get dressed.”
He let out a theatrical sigh as he did so. “Phew!”
“Oh, shut up,” she replied, but fondly, resting a hand on her rounded stomach. “If I’m too heavy, you have only yourself to blame.”
“True, and I’ll gladly take responsibility for that.”
Now it was her turn to sigh. “Ugh, why does Sybil have to be getting married now? We’ve never met the man– what’s the rush? I say wait til spring, so we’ll know this Larry properly, and I’ll have my figure back.”
“Both matters of equal importance,” he teased.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.” His expression softened, and he put his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “It’ll all sort itself out, I know it.”
“Well, I admire your confidence.” She returned the hug, and then said, “Alright, time to go. Busy day– busy week– ahead of us.”
Oh my goodness, this is beyond cute! I love Eloise, and the best part about this is there’s MORE TO COME! I’m so excited! Thank you so much, my dear!
Musings of a Yankee Countess 