The servant's hall was buzzing as New Year's wishes began to spread around the room and bits of conversation drifted into Charles Carson's ear.
Mr. Mason: "…hope this will be the first of many, Mrs. Patmore."
Daisy: "Really, Andy? Every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings? Where did you hear such a silly thing?"
Andy: "I forget, but just think how many angels there must be based on the number of bells that are rung in this house!"
Mrs. Patmore: "Whatever the future brings, I just want to enjoy the evening. So much change is about to occur…"
Mrs. Patmore's comment causing him to take a deep breath, he turned to find his wife gazing up at him. They had shared a few private moments earlier after the decision of his semi-retirement had been made, but they had said very little as they embraced on the settee in her sitting room, his head tipped so that it rested atop hers as his good hand rested against her hip while she gently stroked his tremor filled one between her two. He now had the impulse to pull her to him, to whisk her out the door and take her somewhere private where he could pour his heart out. Knowing their current circumstances wouldn't allow such a gesture, he surprised himself by simply remarking, "It'll be a different life."
Elsie's eyes twinkled as she answered him, "But we can make a go of it, Charlie, and I definitely mean to try."
Her indefatigability never ceased to amaze him, but it didn't ease the apprehension and sense of defeat he still felt from the earlier incident at the reception. Unable to find anything uplifting to offer, he realized they were wasting the opportunity to share their first New Year's kiss. Leaning in, he was grateful for the smile she offered and the sweet kiss they shared.
"Happy New Year."
"Happy New Year, Elsie."
His heart had lightened momentarily, but then Barrow appeared offering wine. Deep down Charles knew the man was showing only kindness, but the gesture still hit him like a punch in the gut. Managing a "Thank you, Mr. Barrow" he had barely taken a sip from his freshly filled glass when his wife's voice filled the room.
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…and days of auld lang syne
A bright smile filled Elsie Carson's face as the room finished the Scottish tune. Turning to her left, she was surprised to find her husband staring at her with a slightly worried look on his face.
"What is it, Charlie?" she whispered leaning up towards his face, her hand gently resting on his arm.
He shook his head. "Just…oh nothing, really. Just thinking how cold our walk home is going to be."
Glancing around to make sure no one was paying them attention, she raised an eyebrow and offered a playful grin as she squeezed his arm. "I suppose we'll just have to keep one another warm." To her dismay, however, he didn't return her lightheartedness as he abruptly changed the subject.
"I imagine you want to look in on Anna and Mr. Bates before we go. I'll see everyone upstairs to their cars and make certain things are in order before we set off."
"Alright."
Her bewilderment was quite evident, but her husband ignored it, simply stating, "I will meet you at the back door in half an hour."
Having placed his glass on the table, he was on his way out of the room when she called out, "Mr. Carson?"
His turned back sharply, a look of impatience on his face.
"Are you alright? We don't have to…"
"I'm fine. Thirty minutes?"
"Very well." Elsie felt a pang in her chest as her husband disappeared into the corridor.
"Everything alright?" Mrs. Patmore had caught the tail end of the couple's exchange.
The housekeeper forced a brighter countenance as she turned to the cook. "Oh, just a very eventful day catching up with us, I suppose."
"I should say. But he's..?"
"He's Mr. Carson, Mrs. Patmore." A sigh escaped her lips.
Beryl was hesitant, but managed the courage to speak her mind. "When the clock struck…you were both so…"
Elsie nodded. "I thought so, too, but it isn't fair to think that he could accept this new situation with no qualms. He needs time...we need time, I suppose."
"If there's anything I can do…"
"Thank you, Mrs. Patmore. Your kindness and patience would be much appreciated. Everyone's would be."
"Of course."
The two friends briefly exchanged a squeeze of hands.
"Happy New Year, Mrs. Patmore."
"Happy New Year, Mrs…Carson."
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The cars full of their respective occupants and the remaining upstairs revelers having returned to their rooms, the butler found himself alone in the entry, his only company the ticking grandfather clock near the foot of the stairs. Heading back towards the dining room, he noticed a small tan object on a nearby side table. He had no sooner picked up what turned out to be a discarded champagne cork than it slipped from his grasp, bounced to the carpet and landed near the base of the gong. Cursing his shaking hand under his breath as he bent down to retrieve the small object with his other, he halted in his movement to gently run his fingers over the cold, textured surface of the metal disc in front of him.
Straightening to his default ramrod position he let his eyes drift about the large space through which he had passed thousands of times. Closing his eyes, he fought valiantly, but his will was no match for the lump that was forming in his throat, nor the surge of tears gathering in his eyes.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. This wasn't the plan. Hadn't he earned a bit of happiness? Hadn't they? He had set and maintained standards, and deprived himself of his own personal pleasure in order to reach this age and status which would grant him the right to not only serve the family, but also make a life outside the house with Elsie. And now, after all those years of work and sacrifice he had only been able to experience a few months of joy before it had all fallen apart with nothing and no one to blame except his own body's betrayal.
He suddenly felt very warm, the still blazing fireplaces filling the house with dry heat. Bringing his hand to his neck in an effort to pull his collar away, he became overwhelming aware of the steady ticking of the clock. Time. The fact that with each tick he had less and less of the precious, but intangible concept weighed greatly on him. No longer able to endure the stifling warmth and percussive torture, he found himself rushing towards the front door.
The cold air was a welcome relief, as was the relative silence of the night, and with no thought as to where he was going only knowing he wanted to get away from the house, Charles Carson set off into the dark.
The crunch of the gravel beneath his feet vanished as he stepped onto the ground's blanket of late December snow, his destination he gradually recognized as his wife's favorite: the estate's small pond. He'd only traveled there a handful of times in all of his years at the Abbey, and as he thought about it, he realized each trip had been made in an effort to find her. The wind picking up and temperature dropping the closer he got to the water, he let his thoughts drift to thirty years before.
Fairly new to the staff, but already head housemaid, she had been standing still as a statue the first time he had found her there. Face to the sky, her eyes were closed and a peaceful smile graced her lips as she dared the summer sun to bring her freckles to the surface as she basked in its glow. She had a crown of vibrant auburn tresses then and a lithe figure with alluring curves he couldn't help but admire. He remembered being unable to speak when he had come upon her, letting several minutes go by until she had turned and found him watching her, and the smile she had given him marked the precise moment she had taken up permanent residence in his heart.
The memory of the warm summer day fading, he encountered a few icy patches, but with little effort he made it to the middle of the small dock, stopping dead center in the spot where she had stood all those years ago.
"It isn't fair to you." His voice cut through the clear, cold air. "I wanted to give you…I wanted to be…" He choked on his own words. "You're not meant to be a nursemaid for some old man. That's not why I asked…" He was outwardly sobbing now, the palms of his hands covering his eyes.
He suddenly saw the faces of the Crawley family. They had been kind, but so much pity had swam in their eyes. Pity and charity was all he had to look forward to from all of them, staff included. And Elsie. His thoughts once again drifted back to her and despair filled his entire being as he envisioned his beloved girl spooning food into his mouth, buttoning his clothes for him, and shaving his face. What use would he be to her? To anyone? A burden. A nuisance. A doddering old fool.
He looked out onto the moonlit, shiny surface of the water in front of him. It wouldn't take long. The shock of the water's temperature would take his breath away and his limbs would grow heavy and numb. He'd just drift down into the dark. It would all be over. No more despair. No becoming a burden.
He looked at the sky, his words whispered. "They will all be better off without me. Would have been better off without me from the start." Closing his eyes, he took a step in the direction of the edge.
"You really think so?"
Charles stopped suddenly and turned around, unsure exactly where the voice had come from.
"Hello."
He spun back around to face his original direction and almost ran into a small elderly man in a shabby suit.
"Clarence is the name and you're Charles Carson."
"How…where?" He couldn't fathom from where the man had come; the only thing beyond where he stood was a few feet of wood before the pond.
"Don't worry about semantics, friend. I'm here to help."
"I…this is the property of the Earl of Grantham. You are trespassing, sir. Please leave at once."
Charles could just make out the diminutive man's kind face in the moonlight.
"I'm afraid I can't do that until I complete my mission."
"Please?" He gave the man a pleading look. "I need…I need you to be on your way, sir."
The man's mouth turned down slightly at the corners. "I'll not get my wings, Mr. Carson."
"Your wings?" Charles closed his eyes and shook his head, beginning to wonder if he had fallen and hit his head and that the man was some sort of hallucination.
"Surely you've heard of angels, Mr. Carson?"
Charles simply stared at him.
"I've had a string of bad luck with previous missions, but tonight's the night I earn my wings. I'm sure of it."
"I'm afraid you're not well, sir."
"I wasn't the one about to take a nighttime swim in January."
"I…Look, you really need to be on your way."
"Please, Mr. Carson. In order to earn my wings, I've got to help, to convince, to set things right. You see I've been given one more chance, and in a way, so have you. Do you really believe all of the people who love you would be better off if you'd never been born, Charles?"
The use of his Christian name caught him off guard, but he found himself feeling compelled to answer the man.
"I'm of no use to them as I am now and they all deserve better. The family, the staff, Lady Mary…my God Elsie. She certainly deserves better than spending the rest of her life with a broken down old man."
Clarence reached out and gently wrapped his hand around Charles' wrist. "I'll make you a deal. Come with me and if you still feel the same in a bit, I'll leave you alone and you can carry on with your plan."
"Please just leave me be."
"It won't take long. Only a few stops."
"But…"
Charles' speech stopped abruptly as he suddenly found himself standing in the doorway of the empty servant's hall. The pictures on the wall were different, but otherwise the room looked very much like it had only a short time before when they had welcomed the New Year.
"How did we get here?" He looked down at Clarence, but found his attention quickly drawn to the sound of footsteps coming from the direction of the kitchen.
"I'm certain the family would want her…"
Mrs. Byrd, the one-time cook for the now Lady Merton suddenly barreled into the room, her hands thrown up in exasperation at the pleading of a very young Daisy who followed in her wake.
"She may have lost her sight, but the woman is not without the use of her limbs. You may take her a basket. Get you out from under my feet for a bit. But we'll not add her presence to our Christmas dinner as a distraction during the busiest time of year in my kitchen."
"Daisy?" No recognition was made and Charles quickly realized he and Clarence were merely specters in the situation; observers, not partakers. His look was one of shock as he glanced down at Clarence. "Mrs. Patmore? She…she didn't have the surgery? She lost her sight?"
"You weren't here. It went on too long and by the time Dr. Clarkson was brought in, it was too late. Surgery wasn't an option. She lost her place here, lost all those years of pension. She has no income property, only the smallest cottage on the estate. Her sister moved here after her nephew's death in the war, but the woman was so heartbroken by the loss of her son and her sister's plight, she died not long after. The niece is being raised by neighbors back home. Mrs. Patmore is quite alone other than the infrequent and short visits from Daisy when she can be spared from the kitchen."
"They must take care of her. His Lordship, Lady Mary- they aren't heartless people. I am sure they have seen to her care since then."
The words had barely left his mouth when he suddenly found himself in new, quite different surroundings. He had only visited the grand house a few times, but he instantly recognized the interior of the library of Haxby.
"Why would you bring me here?"
Clarence stepped back from his position in front of the doorway that led from the entry just as a very angry Lady Mary stormed into the room.
"How dare you talk to me like that in front of our guests?!"
Charles sucked in a hiss of air as a furious Richard Carlisle suddenly appeared behind her, his loss of temper evident in the violent way he grabbed the young woman's arm and jerked her back against him.
"I'll teach you a lesson in whatever manner I see fit for you reap what you sow, Miss High and Mighty. I told you there would be a price to pay if you turned me out of your bed again."
"You are a pig!" Lady Mary broke free from his grasp.
"And you are a whore! You'll not forget I have literal proof of that fact!"
"After what I have endured? After all that happened last week and you still choose to behave…"
"You made your choice! You chose me over him. You're precious Matthew is gone for good. You need to accept it and what your life is!"
"A bloody nightmare!"
Charles shook his head in disgust, "No. This didn't happen. Mr. Crawley, Master George…"
"I'm afraid Matthey Crawley's fate was written in the stars. You see, he moved to London after he buried his fiancé. Lady Mary was there last week and they spotted each other on opposite sides of the thoroughfare. He was distracted at the sight of her, desperate to get to her, and he stepped into traffic. He never saw the car that ran him down."
"But she didn't marry Carlisle! She spurned him!"
"You weren't there and Anna didn't feel comfortable going to the current butler with her fears. Lady Mary didn't have you confronting her with the truth. She didn't have your guiding hand then, in fact she never had your guiding hand. Her vanity and entitlement color her every move. There is no Master George to inspire her maternal instincts. She's lost and stranded here in a life with no love and no purpose."
"But the family? Her father? Her mother? She could leave him and return to Downton."
"Matthew didn't live long enough to inherit Mr. Swire's money, Charles. There was no one to save Downton so the Granthams no longer have possession of the estate."
His hand lifted to his heart, Charles begged the little man, "Please take me away from here. Take me to Elsie. I need to see her. I need her."
"Ah, Mrs. Burns, you mean."
Charles felt as though his legs might buckle beneath him. "Don't…she didn't…don't call her that!"
The large library faded and Charles soon found himself standing in a strange kitchen.
"Elsie! Elsie, I need your help with this heifer!"
Charles moved towards the open door, the direction from which the Scottish brogue's call came, but whipped his head around at the sound of a more recognizable voice.
"I'll be there, Joe, but the dinner…"
"Forget the dinner! I need you here, woman!"
She came through the doorway from the other end of the house. It was Elsie, his girl, his sweetheart, but she looked very different from how he had ever seen her. Her usually tidy appearance was quite absent he noted as he took in the faded blouse and skirt with torn hem that she wore. Her hair was gathered in a loose bun, wisps of the mostly grey mane falling about her face. He felt an ache in his chest as he observed her thinness and lines which had never shown on the face he had caressed and kissed that now surrounded her eyes and marked her forehead, aging her dramatically.
"Oh, Elsie." His whisper went unheard as she reached past where he stood and fetched a thin shawl from the hook by the door. He was startled when she seemingly stepped through his form, a slight hiss escaping her mouth as she pulled a hot pot from its place on the aga.
"We've barely two potatoes left between us and this will be wasted," she muttered under her breath, a slight sob in her voice as she continued, "We'll be in the ground before spring if this keeps up."
"I can't…I don't want to see her like this," he cried to Clarence who had stood quietly in the far corner of the room.
"Winter is Scotland is a harsh time of the year and life on the farm is hard no matter the season. Things aren't going well for them. Resilience and strength are bestowed on the young and hopeful and she is neither. She is stuck in this desolate place in a loveless marriage. You, Charles. You were the reason she told him no when he offered his hand, but you weren't there, Charles. You weren't there to keep her from saying yes. You weren't there to keep her from this life."
Charles looked back at Elsie. No strict outline of corset was detectable, but he could see the delicate vertebrae of her spine visible in her thread bare blouse as she bent over to retrieve a fallen loaf of bread from the aga.
"Elsie, good God, woman! Get out here now!"
He watched her cringe at Joe's bark.
"Take me back, Clarence. Please take me back. I can't…she deserves…Elsie, I need you."
"I need you, too, Charlie! Oh, you foolish man! You've scared me to death!"
Charles opened his eyes to find his wife's tear-stained, but beautiful face gazing down at him, his head in her lap.
"Elsie, you're…you're beautiful. You're you."
"Of course I'm me! I'm worried, bewildered, and mad as a hornet me. But who are you? Who is this silly, stupid man that traipsed out alone to the pond in practically the middle of the night? What on earth were you thinking?"
Looking around, he realized he was in the bed of the first floor guest room closest to the stairwell. Wrapped under several blankets, he detected the warmth of a hot water bottle tucked in by his feet. Wondering for a moment what had happened to Clarence, he looked around briefly before catching sight of the insistence on his wife's face which inspired him to offer the first thing that popped into his mind. "I just needed to think. I thought the cold air and a short walk would allow me to do just that, but I...I must have slipped, fallen down and hit my head…wandered in the direction of the pond…."
She gently ran her hand through his hair and explored his scalp in search of a knot or bump. "I don't feel anything, but thank goodness that stranger found you. You could have frozen to death or fallen into…" Unable to keep her emotions in check, Elsie stopped speaking as she fought a sob.
"Don't cry, Elsie. Please don't cry." He managed to work one arm out from under the heavy blankets and reached up to caress her cheek. "Tell me about this stranger."
She swallowed painfully, but managed to calm herself enough to explain: "It was quite odd. Lady Mary had asked to see you, but when I couldn't find you, she, Mrs. Patmore, and I began searching the house. We had been everywhere with no result and were all meeting back in the servant's hall when there was a loud pounding on the back door. We opened it and there he was. I don't know how he managed it. He was older than we are and quite small, but somehow he managed to get you back here. He said he had found you near the pond, in the middle of the dock. He helped us get you as far as my sitting room, but when we offered him a cup of tea, he refused and said he needed to get home because his mission was now complete. It was the strangest thing, Charlie. We got you onto my settee and then suddenly all of the bells on the board rang at the same time. We all turned our heads in that direction, but the bells immediately stopped and the man was just gone. He was there and then he just disappeared. Mrs. Patmore looked around the kitchen and out the back door but there was no sign of him. Andy, Mr. Barrow, and Mr. Molesley helped us get you in here and Dr. Clarkson had been called and arrived just after we got you into bed. He said to keep you warm and let you sleep."
Charles closed his eyes, an amused, but grateful sigh escaping his lips. "He got his wings."
"Dr. Clarkson?"
He shook his head with a smile before asking, "Did the stranger tell you his name?"
"He said he was a Mr. Angel. Clarence Angel. Do you remember him? Do you remember him finding you?"
"I will never forget him. I can guarantee you that." Looking back up at her face, he gently cupped her cheek in his hand. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, darling. It was foolish. I was being so foolish. I know that now and I know what I would be missing…I'll never…I want you and I want to be wherever you are. Whatever comes we'll face it together."
His words struck her as confusing, but heartfelt and quite sweet so she leaned down and gently kissed his lips.
A light knock on the door sounded and the heads of Mrs. Patmore and Lady Mary soon appeared. "We heard talking and wanted to check on the patient," Lady Mary offered with a smile as she made her way into the room.
Mrs. Patmore appeared shortly after, a tray in her hands set with two cups and a steaming tea pot.
"I am terribly sorry I worried you all. I was just…" he took a deep breath as he considered how to continue. "I just needed to clear my head."
"It's been a long and eventful day, Carson. You are quite forgiven, I'm sure. Just promise you will never take off on your own in the dark again."
"Never, milady."
Glancing around at the three smiling faces, he heard the words leave his mouth before he realized he had spoken them. "It's a wonderful life." He cleared his throat as he continued, "I hope you all know that. And mine is wonderful because each of you are in it. You, Mrs. Patmore and all of the staff, you, Milady and Master George, and the family." He moved his gaze back up at his wife's face, his whispered, "And you. You're everything, Elsie. Everything."
Elsie bit her bottom lip before she managed a choked, "As are you."
Mrs. Patmore's sniff coincided with a warm smile from Lady Mary who managed, "We will never be able to tell you what you mean to us, Carson. I don't want to imagine what my life might be like if it a certain butler hadn't always been a part of it." Feeling herself becoming emotional, she elongated her neck and swallowed before announcing, "Now, I think we have all had quite a day. Mrs. Patmore and I will leave you to your rest."
"Good night," Mrs. Patmore offered before moving the tea tray to a table near the bed.
The little cook having exited, Lady Mary was nearing the door when she stopped and gently caressed her stomach. Looking back at the couple, she gave them a smile. "You are quite right, Carson. It is a wonderful life."
Left alone, the couple climbed out of bed so Elsie could pour them cups of tea while Charles undressed. His efforts completed, he climbed back under the covers and was sipping his tea as he watched Elsie begin to remove her dress. Her corset discarded and chemise pulled over her head, he couldn't help but reach over to run his hand down the soft, warm skin of her back.
"Charlie?"
"Thank you."
"For what am I being thanked?" she asked over her shoulder with a smile.
"For not leaving me for Joe Burns all those years ago…For telling me you'd miss me if I left Downton for Haxby...For saying yes to marrying me…For always knowing best...For being mine."
Undressed, she climbed back into bed next to him, her arms wrapping around his chest and legs tangling with his. "We were meant to be. I think deep down I have always known that." Reaching past him, she switched off the bedside lamp, her face close to his as she whispered, "The angels sent you and they meant you just for me."
Kissing her deeply, he was breathless as he pulled out of the kiss; a smile on his lips as he uttered, "Thank goodness for angels."