With the family away at a garden party, he leaned back in his chair, enjoying the muted sounds of servants and maids scurrying to and fro. His gazed focused on a scrap of paper tacked to the doorjamb, "Follow the Signs". Moving into the empty hall he noticed another scrap, and another, leading him deep into the Abbey as he collected them. The curious quirk to his brow turned to a deep scowl when he saw light flickering from what should have been a locked door. What happens next?

Charles scowled and paused outside the door, eager to resume his little treasure hunt. Why on earth would anybody be in the linen cupboard at this time of the evening? With the family all away and the remaining staff enjoying the subsequent lull in their workload, there was absolutely no reason for it to be occupied. After a few moments of indecision, his curiosity and meticulous nature got the better of him and he decided to investigate further.

Being careful not to make a sound, Charles stepped closer to the door and pressed his ear flush to the cool wood, listening intently for any incriminating sounds that may emerge from the small cupboard. If I find it's either of my footmen fooling around with one of the new girls… he thought angrily. It would not be the first time he'd caught two younger members of staff engaging in activities not exactly conducive to their work.

Hearing nothing, Charles admitted defeat and straightened up, smoothing out his jacket. He would leave the light on and shout at whoever was responsible later. Right now, he was only interested in one thing- following the 'signs', to what he hoped would be a rather wonderful 'X marks the spot'.

Aquiet sniffling noise drifting through the crack under the door of the linen cupboard broke him from his search a moment later. Curiosity well and truly piqued by now, Charles strode back over to the cupboard door and again pressed his ear close, listening for the sound again. Yes, he thought, there is definitely somebody in there. He winced as the floorboards beneath him creaked, no doubt alerting the cupboard's occupant to his presence. It was only when he heard the small sob through the door that he realised who it was, and his heart sank.

Elsie sat alone in the dim light, arms wrapped tightly across her middle, crushing the tear-stained letter closer to her as she rocked gently back and forth. Things like this didn't happen to her, she thought, tears tracing down her cheeks. They just didn't. She'd come through a war unscathed, evaded a disease that had claimed so many others, seen everything there was to see during her years in service and sustained no lasting scars. Then why, she sobbed furiously, why has this happened to me?

She felt raw from the sensation of feeling so much at once, it made her almost numb. The sorrow, the anger, the guilt, and the sudden fear of loneliness that had all begun to bubble up as she had initially read the letter were now rushing forth in this torrent of unbridled emotion that she had never had occasion to release, until today. Today, of all days.

Today when she had planned a lovely surprise for the love of her life. She wondered what he must be thinking. She had set such a deliberate trail with the little notes, even Charles would have been unable to miss it. He would certainly be at the end by now, wondering what had happened. Probably getting angry with one of the footmen, thinking he'd been set up.

Thinking of Charles brightened Elsie's eyes momentarily, dulling the pain that was coursing through her, until she remembered the purpose of her little scheme to contrive their meeting. This only served to make her cry all the more. Suddenly, there was a creak outside the door, making Elsie start, and recoil further into the shadows of the cupboard, hoping nobody had heard her sobs. The door opened softly.

The sight before him made Charles' heart break in two. His beautiful Elsie, curling up like a frightened child among the creased linen, the barely visible traces of so many tears making her pale face glisten, ghost-like in the hazy light. Her hair was somewhat untidy, several unruly ringlets dropping down by her shoulders and around her ears.

Even when she is upset, she still manages to look stunning, Charles thought as he took his place beside Elsie, pulling her close to him and beginning to rock her gently. All thoughts of the explanation he had been about to demandvanished as she crumbled limply into his arms. "Oh, my love, my girl…" he whispered into her hair as she continued to cry steadily into his chest.

They stayed like that for a while, Charles whispering to Elsie and stroking her neck and back in the way he knew soothed her, while she gradually stemmed the flow from her eyes and readied herself to give the explanation she knew that he deserved.

Finally, Elsie spoke. "I am so sorry Charles" she began, pulling away to look him straight in the eye. "I am just—so sorry—this isn't how today was supposed to go…this isn't what I planned…" she bit her lip to avoid another crying episode.

"Shhh, my love, shhh" Charles wrapped his arms around her once more. "Just take your time. Don't worry about what you had planned, I'm sure we can do it another time…"

"That's just it." Elsie cut him off, sitting up a little straighter and turning away from him. "We can't."

Confused at her curt interruption, Charles moved to crouch in front of her, taking her hands in his. "Why Elsie? What's happened?" The worry in his voice was evident as his eyes searched for hers, imploring her to explain.

Releasing her right hand from his warm grip, Elsie reached behind her and after a few seconds fumbling among the messy sheets, brought it back, this time clutching the crumpled letter that had caused her so much pain. "Read it."

She thrust the first page of the letter into his hands and watched, shaking as she saw his face fall just as hers had only an hour before. Finishing the page, Charles returned to his seat beside her, running his hands over his face to try and mask the distress he was feeling and to give him time to come up with something reasonably comforting. Nothing came immediately to mind, and he remained mute.

Taking his hand, Elsie broke the silence once more. "You see, Charles, the reason I wanted to meet you today, why I set all those ridiculous clues… well… I just wanted to surprise you… just as a treat, I was being stupid…" Charles shook his head, trying to silently assure her that she could never be ridiculous in his eyes and encouraging her to go on.

"I had arranged with Aggie and George that we'd go over to Lytham St Anne's, just for a visit, you know, as a sort of anniversary celebration…" she hesitated again, but swallowed her threatening tears and forged on. "In her last letter, she mentioned that she had been a bit unwell, but that it was nothing too serious and that I shouldn't be at all worried."

"Well, that evidently was not the case!" Charles exclaimed, before shrinking back and allowing Elsie to continue.

"No. It was not. I thought something might be wrong when she didn't send a letter last week, and then today this came… but it wasn't her writing…" she began to choke up again, and fell quiet.

"When did this happen?" Charles asked gently, trying to keep his love from crying again. He hated to see her cry. He could deal with any amount of rage, in fact he rather enjoyed it at times, but seeing her cry made him feel like his own stuffing had been knocked out.

"Four days ago, on Sunday." She said it matter-of-factly, as if she were recalling a grocery or wine delivery. This made him feel slightly better, and encouraged him to ask his next question.

"When is the funeral?" All at once, Elsie had fallen against his chest again and was sobbing harder than ever. Oh, Lord, Charles thought, noticing the several sheets of the letter he had not read. What haven't I heard yet?

"The funeral…" Elsie breathed "The funeral was yesterday." Thick silence fell once again.

"But… I… I don't understand, why did nobody telephone about this?" Charles blurted out, almost shouting, unable to understand quite how Elsie had not been delivered news of this magnitude by a friendly voice, not a hastily written scrawl of letter. He now felt not only pity and heartache on Elsie's part, but a growing anger that she had been dealt with in this way, just as he had been.

He remembered how he had been informed of his own sister's death, more than fifteen years ago now, yet it still stung. He had received a small package in the post, not dissimilar to the charity bundles that His Lordship had recently been sending to the Russian refugees. It had contained a few of Janey's more personal effects, and a brief note from the ungrateful excuse of a man that had taken her from him all those years ago. 'She wanted you to have these- cremated last Wednesday, ashes scattered in Harrogate'. That's all he'd got. That's apparently all he had been worth. He knew how Elsie felt.

"Elsie…" Charles began tentatively, unsure of whether his next proposal would be a welcome one.

"Yes Charles?" Elsie raised her head, her red-rimmed eyes meeting his own.

He continued carefully- "Elsie, I wonder… would you… would you like for us to hold a small memorial service here, at Downton? We could find a quiet corner of the grounds and you could take something there that reminds you of Aggie, you could say a few words. Say goodbye properly? With His Lordship's permission, of course. "

At these words, Elsie's previously troubled expression softened, transforming into a glowing, albeit tearful, smile. "Oh, Charles…" she sighed deeply as her arms wound tightly around his middle, pulling him as close as she could "that would be wonderful. As long as you will be there by my side." A few of Charles' own tears fell now as he laced his fingers up into his wife's tangled hair, burying his face in her neck.

"I will always be by your side, my love…" he whispered softly. "Always."