Barrow's Boy - A Downton Abbey Fanfiction

Knighton Before Christmas

(Twas the) Knighton Before Christmas

A Christmas Special

     December, pre-Christmas, 1907

     Elizabeth Knighton knew that it was wrong of her to be waking up in this bed. It was especially wrong of her to awake with the sheets next to her warm and creased; remnants of the man who had spent the night there.

     Quietly, Eliza stood, bare feet padding across the room as she found the clothes that had been discarded there the night before. She put them on, though not in haste. While she was making little noise, her companion from the night before was not. 

     Though she had put on her stockings, she carried her shoes in hand as she crept out of the bedroom to discover the rest of the flat that she had paid so little attention to last night. She was well aware of how it may sound to a downstairs neighbour or worker to hear heels in a bachelor's flat. 

     It was nicer than she remembered. Richer, even. She noted the furnishings of a pure brown wood that she couldn't name and the art pieces on the wall. A portrait of someone stared at her, the person wearing clothes from at least a century ago. Of course, she had to have found an upper-class man. Just when she was trying to forget that life.

    She found him sitting on his kitchen counter, wearing his pyjama trousers and an undershirt, sipping tea. He glanced up at her as she walked in, eyebrows raised and soft curls of hair falling over his forehead.

     "Ah, you're dressed."

     Eliza smirked, raising an eyebrow.

     "What? Would you rather I walk around your flat naked? I should have known after last night."

     The man chuckled, placing down his teacup.

     "No, I'm pleased to see that we're in the same place."

     "What do you mean?" Eliza asked, placing her shoes down on a chair as the man hopped down from the counter. He turned to the teapot next to him, grabbing another teacup and pouring into it. 

     "Well, this was lovely, I won't lie, but-" he paused, looking over his shoulder at her. "How do you take it?"

      Eliza's mouth fell slightly ajar.

      "Excuse me?"

     "Your tea?"

      "Oh, um-" Eliza glanced down at her feet, wiggling her toes. "Milk, one sugar. Please."

      He silently followed these instructions, then handed the cup over. Eliza looked at the liquid, not perfect, but it would do, then back at him.

     "So, about last night?" She asked. He drank from his own teacup, seemingly finishing his own drink, then nodded.

     "I had a nice night with you. But it'll just be that. One night."

     Eliza froze with her cup halfway to her mouth, staring at the man through its steam.

    "Oh. Did I do something wrong?"

     "No! No, not at all." The man took a step toward her, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder. 

     It was interesting how people could go from being so intimate one night to barely knowing how to touch each other the next morning.

     "Then why?"

     The man swallowed, pursing his lips.

     "Well, it's not official, but it may as well be." He met her eyes, his mouth pinched at the corner. "I'm betrothed to someone. Though neither of us truly feels that way for each other, it's family expectation."