War of the Wisteria (Secret Santa for TheCakeIsALie, Downton Abbey, M)

[Dusty15]

Hi Cake! I know your SS hasn't arrived yet and I was in a writing mood, so I've whipped up a little something for you since you so lovingly wrote something for my SS! Enjoy <3

War of the Wisteria

Lady Mary finds Charles Blake alone in the Downton library, and something's not quite right.

(Takes place before an official romance start...Mary's not quite warmed up to him yet!).

The late spring sun warmed the back of Lady Mary's neck and she crossed the expanse of lawn at Downton, headed for the front entrance. She'd been to the gardens on a leisurely stroll to take stock of some of the estate's rarer plants and flowers as part of her work to improve Downton's prospects. In one hand she carried evidence of her visit; a large bouquet of wisteria. The delicate flowers hung in a curtain that curled up and over the garden's gazebo, enveloping it in burst of purple colour. She'd plucked a dozen or so of the vines and arranged them together with the intention of putting them in the large vase in the library.

It was just past half-two and the house was quiet when she entered. Her father was probably in the study and her mother upstairs in her sitting room. Edith had gone to London for the week, thankfully. Besides the servants, the only other person staying at Downton at present was one Mr. Charles Blake. And it was Mr. Charles Blake who Mary found sprawled in a chair in the library, much to her chagrin.

He straightened up in the armchair, shutting the book he'd been reading, and nodded in greeting.

“Good afternoon, Lady Mary.”

“Mister Blake,” she replied in curt acknowledgement, passing behind his chair to access the large nearby urn in which she intended to deposit her cuttings. “I didn't expect to find you in here. I'm surprised you aren't out conversing with the pigs.”

Blake shook his head, chuckling softly at her disdain.

“I'm afraid they don't understand much English. No, I was rather enjoying this book your father recommended. I've little else to do until Evelyn gets back from London.”

“I suspect you're not used to this kind of leisure,” she remarked, tucking the last strand of flowers into the vase and tugging at some stems to adjust the heights. A gentle cloud of light yellow powder hung visible in the sun-lit air, spreading a heady aroma from the copious flowers.

“You are more than welcome to join my bit of leisure time,” Charles replied. “Though I'm not sure this library has much in the way of novels for...heh...pardon me...for...”

He paused, pinching two slim fingers at his nose and moaning softly. Lady Mary took no notice, ignoring him as she put the finishing touches on her bouquet.

“I was saying,” Charles continued. “There's not much in the way of novelheh....hehh...ehh-TSGH!”

He snapped forward, sneezing forcefully into his fist before surfacing with a bewildered expression.

“Bless me,” he said, giving his nose a slight rub with the side of his palm. “My nose evidently does not wish me to comment on your reading habits.”

“I have a book on some local history that I'm reading here at the moment, thank you,” Mary replied cooly. “My reading habits are not purely leisure.”

“Nor, unsurprisingly are mine,” Charles said, raising his book to show Mary the title. “Local Estates of York and their Dynasties.”

“Goodness me,” remarked Mary as she retrieved her book and sat in a nearby chair. “Are we a dynasty then?”

“Something of the sort, I'd say,” Charles quipped. He sniffled quietly and palmed at his nose again, avoiding Mary's attention.

“Dynasties are a powerful force--” Lady Mary began to say.

Hehh....nhh'tsGHTT!

Unable to hold it back, Charles interrupted her with a ticklish-sounding sneeze.

“Goodness, Mr. Blake,” she remarked, looking at him with an odd expression.

“I'm terribly sorry,” he muttered. “I'm afraid I—I..ihhh..ngh'TSGH!”

He snapped forward again, muffling the sneeze in the sleeve of his jacket.

“I do hope you're not catching,” Mary said, raising a slim eyebrow. “Perhaps you'd be better off with that book upstairs in your bed chambers.”

Charles shook his head, partially trying to stave off another impending sneeze and partially to disagree with her statement.

“I don't believe I'm catching,” he said, voice breathy with anticipation of another outburst. He pressed his palms to his eyelids making an exasperated sound as his breath continued to hitch teasingly. He rubbed at his eyes, tears leaking from the corners.

“Should I ring for a footman?” Mary asked, now sounding a bit concerned (if such an emotion was possible from her, Blake mused).

“No- I rather...ehh....hehh....”

He was unable to speak further, breath hitching wildly now. He turned away, cheeks flushed with slight embarrassment at his outbursts. Burying his nose in his hands, he began to sneeze in a tumble of ticklish explosions that made his shoulders convulse with each forward spasm.

Eh-TSGHHT! Tsh'ghtt! Tsh! Ehh....hehhh'tshGHSTT!

He took a noisy, wet inhale after the last sneeze and reached a hand inside his jacket for his handkerchief, only to come to the horrible realization that he'd forgotten to put it in its normal spot.

“I'm afraid I neglected to put my handkerchief in my jacket before I came down,” he admitted hoarsely, keeping one hand firmly over his reddening, damp nose.

Mary pursed her lips as if to hide a smile and crossed to a nearby desk, searching the drawers and finding a spare one monogramed with her father's initials.

“Here,” she said, handing it over. Blake took it with a gracious incline of his head and tucked it around his offending nose, giving a soft blow.

“Please excuse me,” he apologized again. “I do think it's your little purple flowers that have set me off.”

“The flowers?” Mary said incredulously.

“My physician says I suffer from a rather modern ailment,” Charles said, giving his nose a last wipe before setting the handkerchief in his lap for inevitable future use. “They called it a 'rose cold' or 'rose fever'. It's a reaction to the powder from some plants. It's not much of a problem down in London but I've been badly afflicted on occasion while visiting some of the more country estates.”

“It makes you ill?” she asked.

“It makes me sneeze,” he replied. “And I itch. It swells the eyes and throat as well as the nasal passages. I should excuse myself to go lie down. The longer I stay here, the worse I'll get.”

“Should I ring Thomas to bring up anything?” she asked.

Was Mary being kind to him for once, he thought, dumbstruck at the idea.

“Um, some cold towels and a pitcher of water would be a help,” he replied, rubbing absentmindedly at his eyes. “Thank you.”

He stood, clutching the handkerchief in hand and putting his book under his arm.

“Enjoy your reading,” he said.

Mary smirked and crossed to sit in his chair, leaning her head back to take a sniff of the bouquet on the nearby table.

“I will,” she remarked.

He shook his head. Her teasing would never end, despite her occasional acts of affection. Turning, he headed out of the library and towards the guest chambers. In the library, Mary could hear the sound of a single, irritated sneeze echoing down the hall.

Urhh-TSGHTT!

[Watercolor Daydreams]

Oh...Oh my... Downton Abbey, at last!!!

[TheCakeIsAlive]

First of all, thank you so much for writing for me. I feel incredibly spoiled. I always love your stories and you wrote Charles too. Very little beats a gentleman in the presence of a lady, suddenly overtaken by a fit of sneezing.

Your characters are so spot on. I could quote the whole thing, but I've tried to limit myself somewhat.

He paused, pinching two slim fingers at his nose and moaning softly. Lady Mary took no notice, ignoring him as she put the finishing touches on her bouquet.

That is surely the best kind of moaning.

“I'm terribly sorry,” he muttered. “I'm afraid I—I..ihhh..ngh'TSGH!”

Apologising just before the act... you may have to carry me out. .

“Bless me,” he said, giving his nose a slight rub with the side of his palm. “My nose evidently does not wish me to comment on your reading habits.”

*giggles* Serves him right, the smug git.

Mary smirked and crossed to sit in his chair, leaning her head back to take a sniff of the bouquet on the nearby table.

“I will,” she remarked.

He shook his head. Her teasing would never end, despite her occasional acts of affection.