Authors Note: As you can see - I AM BACK from the dead! This fanfic is my entry for this year's NaNoWriMo (2017) and it is a finished story. So unlike my 2013 entry, you will get an entire wrapped up fanfic full of Chelsie Fluff. Enjoy reading! Oh and: I might have jumped between different tenses and there might be plenty of typos... whoever wants to beta it: please let me know :) Thank you!

Chapter 1 – January 1926

The heavy doors of the castle are closed, locked with the large iron-wrought key he always brings upstairs with him once the family has retired for the night. It is too large and bulky to be carried in his waistcoat pocket. Elsie had, at one time, suggested adding it to the ring of keys he keeps for the silver vault and the wine cellar. But he refused. This particular one had to be kept on its own, on its own hook at the wall next to his desk.

He removes the key from the keyhole, makes a mental note that the lock needs a bit of oil. For decades now this routine has been the final task of his long workday. He will miss it when one day is successor takes his place. Being in charge of the huge, old key, making sure all doors are locked for the night has always given him a sense of belonging. Of course he is aware that this house is not his property, he does not own a thing inside the castle aside from a few books and other small items he had accumulated over the many years while living here. But as butler he treats everything the Crawleys own with the utmost respect, as if all the inanimate objects were his.

He holds the key tightly in his hand, checks the door once more, makes sure it really is locked, then turns off the lights and heads back downstairs. His steps echo through the quiet and empty stairway. He holds on to the bannister, to steady his descent a bit. All these years of climbing up and down the many stairs of the castle are slowly taking its toll. Or maybe the signs have been there earlier, the left knee sometimes hurting a bit, his shoulders sore in the evening. But he always had this bad habit of ignoring the sure sings of getting older until last year, when the tremors began. He grips the key even harder. Better not brood over this topic now.

He directs his thoughts to something more pleasant. Elsie is probably already waiting for him and impatiently keeping an eye on the clock. It has been another long day in this first week of the New Year. They both deserve to be in the warmth of their own home now. And he will soon open and close the last door of this day: the one to his own cottage, where the key belongs to them, where the furniture, the crockery, the pictures on the walls and the books on the shelves in the living room make up their collective belongings. And these things will stay with him for the rest of his life, no matter what happens in the near future, in his job, at this magnificent house he has been working at for so long. Both, the Abbey and their little cottage mean the world to him. A year ago he would never have thought anything could replace the Abbey on its pedestal he had created for it in his heart. Or that he would actually live somewhere else than in his attic bedroom. Of course, after he had proposed to her, he had known that things would change, had to change at some point. Yet he had not been able to think so far ahead, plan so far in advance for this own, private future. He never had to before.

He passes through the final doorway that leads down into the servant's quarters; he turns to walk down the dimply lit corridor towards his pantry. She is standing in the doorway, coat and hat in hand, and smiles warmly at him. Her lovely, kind face raises his spirits immediately.

"I heard you coming." She stands on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. It's a small gesture, one she often uses during the day to cheer him up, or to say sorry without words. And he loves her even more for it, for her closeness, the easiness of the kiss. "It's time we go home. You need some rest."

He caresses her cheek gently, takes the offered coat and his bowler then helps her into her own overcoat. "Goodnight Mr Barrow." Charles puts the large key onto his desk where the underbutler has waited for him. "Put it away safely and please make sure the back door is properly locked."

"Of course Mr Carson. And a good night to you, too. I'll do the breakfast in the morning so there's no need for you to be here early."

Charles furrows his brow, is about to tell Thomas that of course he will be there at the usual time! But the look on his wife's face tells him not to argue about this topic.

"Thank you for the offer." Although it has probably been more a command from Elsie to make sure he gets a bit of well-earned rest after the busy and eventful New Year's celebrations. So he accepts the offer without further hesitation.

The stars are out that night. Not a single cloud covers the sky above their heads. They walk arm in arm down the snow covered path that leads to their cottage. No words are exchanged between them, she rest her head on his upper arm, keeps close by his side. He can feel the warmth of her body next to his own and is looking forward to lying down and fall asleep with her embraced in his arms. That is also home to him, a different definition of the word, one he had not known a year ago but it has easily become his most cherished feeling of home.

When the cottage comes into view, Elsie speaks the first words since they have left the Abbey. "It is good to be home."

For his home she holds the key tonight. Where he has closed the door at work, ended their workday at the big house by locking the impressive front door, she now rings in the hours of free time. It is their moment of freedom, of letting go of their professional selves. He never had that opportunity until their marriage and now that the days of his working life are numbered, he has come to appreciate the two or three hours in the evenings that only belong to them. They usually read a book over some tea. Sometimes they go straight to bed, especially when they day at the Abbey has been long and tiresome.

Yet he still craves the busy and stressful hours spent at the big house. He is not ready to live without it completely. He still needs a while to get used to the thought that Mr Barrow will follow in his footsteps. Charles heaves a sigh, steps over the threshold into the warmth of the little cottage. Time will tell whether he has made the right decision. For now it feels as if he has. Albeit with a heavy heart.

"It'll be a different life." – "But we can make a go of it Charlie. And I definitely mean to try."

She had said that at New Years, and she had meant it wholeheartedly. Every single word of it. Of course their life together will change once he stops working and even more so when she decides to hand over the key to a new housekeeper. But change is not always a bad thing. They prove that every day. Ten years ago no one would have thought that a butler could actually be married and still serve the family who employs him. They are no longer living the life of the Victorians or the Edwardians. Young girls work in shops now, in factories, are more independent and some of them do not even marry and live on their own, or so she has heard from Lady Edith. Elsie is not sure she approves of this new independence in general but she admires the courage of these young women.

She has never really thought about the path she had chosen for herself so many years ago. Unlike many young women of her generation and social status she has had a choice: marriage and life on a farm or going into service. Both careers meant long working hours and hardship as well as little reward. But service, as opposed to farm work, additionally offered the possibility to climb the social ladder within one field of work. And she had therefore chosen the option that allowed her to move away from her old life and that promised a secure income.

The life she leads now is already the second major change she is going through. She is better at adapting to a new routine because she has done it before. Whereas he has always lived within the shadows of the Abbey. Charles' one attempt to break free, to walk down a different path had failed decades ago. Elsie can understand, can empathize with him that his negative experience might be reason why he is so afraid of breaking out of his daily routine. Who guarantees him that it will all be different this time, that he will lead a happy life from now on? That he is not alone anymore?

The answer is easy for her: because they have learned from previous mistakes, because they are not a young, naïve couple. They have weathered so many storms together already. This last obstacle won't ruin their well-earned retirement. She can handle his illness, they will both learn to live with it, this tremor. And as far as Doctor Clarkson knows, the chances are not that bad that Charles won't be affected as bad as his father or grandfather.

Elsie forces herself not to dwell on these thoughts tonight. It is their spare free time together. She wants to make the most of it.

"I'll make us some tea. Would you mind and rekindle the fire? I had asked one of the hallboys to start it earlier but it must have gone out again." She pats his shoulder to get his attention then places another small kiss on his cold cheek before heading towards their small kitchen.

She definitely means to try!

TBC

I would love to hear what you think about this first chapter. Please, if you like, leave a comment :)