This is day 20 of the Chelsie Countdown.
Auld Lang Syne
The party is still going strong upstairs and from the looks of it the Granthams and their guests will celebrate into the wee hours. The alcohol is flowing freely and with punch, champagne, and cocktails being consumed in equal measure it seems that Mr. Talbot may well be on his way to a hangover. While many are celebrating, ringing in the new year with gusto, Mr. Talbot is not drinking in celebration. Mrs. Carson has noticed how he has not seemed to adjust very well to his role at Downton; she has heard whispers of his shouting in the middle of the night, of the nightmares that he suffers, and his grief is evident. Anna has mentioned that the terrors that come in the nigh, are vivid dreams of his friend being burned alive before his eyes. Everyone can see the strain that his melancholy has on his marriage to Lady Mary.
For everyone else there seems to be much to celebrate. Laird Flintshire, who arrived especially from London, is wreathed in smiles despite the crumbling of his marriage. He has toasted merrily to the impending arrival of his grandchild and accepted the congratulations of everyone present. Lord Merton seems happy enough. Mrs. Crawley has been by his side since they've arrived, since she rescued him from the clutches of his son and his conniving wife who had tried to drive him out of his home and make his life miserable. Yes, Lord Merton seems to have recovered his good spirits and the way he and Mrs. Crawley look at one another suggest that things may be looking up for them.
Lady Edith and Lord Pelham are snuggled together in a corner of the room, enraptured in each other, and in their own conversation. Everyone is happy for them. Happy that they have made amends.
After the final toast, after Lord Grantham extends his wishes for a Happy New Year to all and sundry, the servants are free to disperse and they make their way downstairs. Christmas decorations still hang in the servant's hall - the maids will take them down come morning and store them away until next Christmas- and Mr. Carson has seen to it that the champagne is chilled and waiting for them to toast in the new year. Mrs. Patmore has asked Mr. Mason to join them and Thomas has returned to participate in the festivities. Mrs. Carson extended him the invitation because after all, even though he is the rebellious son, he is their family.
Andy pours the champagne, makes sure that everyone has a glass, and even Mr. Molesley accepts one. Miss Baxter gives him a knowing smile and a pat on the arm. One glass in celebration, he's deserved it she tells him.
When he's sure that everyone has a glass, Carson stands before them, and clears his throat. He still commands their attention; he is the captain of their ship for a while longer. The housekeeper watches him and wonders if he will break, if he can keep up the façade. He has been out of sorts all week and she has worried that he will fall to pieces when he makes his traditional New Year's speech bestowing good tidings on all who are present.
"All right," he commands, his voice strong and imperious. He does not waver. A hush falls over the small gathering as they turn to him. His wife stands by him as he opens his pocket watch, careful to do so with his left hand. He does not wish to draw attention to his right hand, the one that has betrayed him, the one that trembles. "Five, four, three, two, one. Happy New Year," he announces. Cheers go up and as the others turn to one another and extend congratulations and well wishes, Carson turns to his wife and leans in to kiss her while she meets him half way. His eyes flutter closed and a smile tugs at his lips and spreads all the way up his cheeks; the corners of his eyes crinkle in happy abandon.
Their kiss is no more than a fleeting brush of warm, soft lips - a singular peck. But it is significant to her because before tonight he would have never dreamt of kissing her in the servant's hall, never dreamt of kissing her at work and it is thrilling. While the others are celebrating among themselves, Elsie kisses her husband and she doesn't close her eyes like she's seen in the movies, but instead she keeps them open. She has waited so long for him that she doesn't want to miss any of their life together, wants to see every expression of love that he offers her.
They pull away from one another and he has a simple request. Carson has made the same request for the past twenty-five years but this year, it takes on special significance. So many are missing from around the table. Anna and Bates are at home with their newly arrived little one. Though Thomas has returned to celebrate with them, he will return to home in a few hours. It is nice having Mr. Mason present, mostly because Mrs. Patmore seems pleased. Elsie sees murmurings afoot there. She wishes for her friend the same happiness that she shares with the Butler.
Elsie stands before her family, for they are her family in all the ways that count and she begins to sing the old Scottish tune.
She's always thought the tune melancholy, a celebration of old times gone by. She knows that the old ways are crumbling away, that her husband has finally accepted this and the words of this song have taken on new relevance. As their family will be breaking up, she lifts her glass to salute them, a symbol to celebrate what will soon be only memories.
Her voice breaks as she sings those last verses, hears her man sing words of paddling in the stream, from morning sun until the dine. The significance is not lost on her, nor on her husband either as he reaches for her and takes her hand. When he looks at her as they sing of the broad seas roaring between them they cannot help but to smile, their passions have always run deep. Love and devotion stand side by side with frustration and bickering.
After a while, when they've have more champagne and made conversation with the others, Carson realizes that his wife is nowhere to be found. Sometime later, when he was occupied with Mr. Mason or Mr. Molesley discussing village business or young Andy's interest in farming, she slipped away. Thinking that she is fetching some coffee or tea, he searches the kitchen with no success. He crosses to her sitting room and peeks around the open door, the room is bathed in darkness.
Just when he is about to panic, knowing that she would not wander away without telling him, he notices light shining beneath the closed door of his pantry.
His hand grips the door handle but he is careful not to startle her. He finds her standing in the center of the room, her back to him. A silhouette in black.
"Mrs. Hughes?" he calls softly.
"Do you remember the first time that you invited me to share a glass of wine with you, here, in this room?" she asks quietly. She doesn't turn around, doesn't necessarily expect him to answer.
"January 1, 1902," he answers. "You had just been promoted to housekeeper and I asked you if you'd like to have a glass of wine while we discussed the matters of the household." He closes the door, but grips the handle, holds it firm.
"It was here, that you broke my heart. Do you remember?" Carson doesn't answer. She sounds so melancholy, so unlike herself and it frightens him. She saves him for answering when she fills in the blank for him "When you told me that you were leaving Downton for Haxby."
"Mrs. Hughes, what is all this about?" he asks as he closes the distance between them.
"I suppose that I am waxing nostalgic," she answers, turning to face him. "So many things have happened in this room that have changed my life."
"Mrs. Hughes, I…I hope that they are good things?"
"Charles, you can call me Elsie now," she sighs. Her breathing is becoming more labored, her breasts rising and falling with increased urgency.
"I've told you Mrs. Hughes, not at work," he growls.
"But we aren't at work anymore, Charles," she corrects. "It is after midnight night after all." "I am no longer a housekeeper and you are no longer a butler," she reminds him. Sometimes he can be so frustrating.
Her hands are clasped tightly in front of her and she looks away for a moment, her gaze dropping to the floor before she looks back up. "I heard you sing for me. In this room," she finally says, her eyes boring into his.
"But, you never said," he questions.
"No," she answers with a smile.
Carson reaches for her and pulls her into a strong embrace. He cradles her head against his chest and drops a kiss to her hair. In this moment, he has the overwhelming urge to protect her, to put aside his own feelings of grief, the fear of retirement, of leaving the only thing that he has known for the whole of his life so that he may comfort her.
Sometimes he doesn't understand her. He has been the one to resist change, to struggle with the notion of retiring now, earlier than he had anticipated. She has been the stalwart, taking everything in her stride. Offering comfort to him, soothing his feelings. She always has.
Elsie pulls back slightly from her husband's embrace and slides her hands up his chest, her fingers dance over his shoulders and she tugs him down to her and kisses him for all that she is worth.
Carson's hands slide down her waist to settle on her hips as he pulls her impossibly close to him. She has rarely been the one to initiate their intimate activities and it is thrilling that she has claimed him in this way. Her fingers thread through his hair as she pulls back slightly to whisper against his lips.
"I've shocked you?" she asks.
"No. I'm not shocked," he answers sincerely. "I am surprised Mrs. Carson, but not shocked," he rumbles quietly against her lips before kissing her soundly once again.
"Charles…. I want…"
"What is it that you want, Elsie?"
"I want…you…to take me home," she answers releasing a deep breath.
She not only wants her husband, desires him, but she needs him. Needs him to make her feel wanted, special. Needs him wipe away the melancholy that she is feeling. For thirty years they have been the constant in one another's life, not Downton, not really. But they have each other and that is what she clings to, why she needs to feel him so closely, so intimately in this moment. She's thought of nothing but the man that she has known half of her life and how she wants to ring in the New Year in his arms. How she wants to think of only them and nothing else.
She always thought that he would be the one who would balk at retirement and that she could ease into to it gently. But she is wrong. She is giving up authority, the woman that she knows herself to be. She has hoped that she would see Anna's little girl grow up, but that is not to be. The Bates will be moving away as soon as Anna is strong enough and the baby is a little older. And while Elsie loves her husband, what will she do with her days when there are no housemaids to order about, no linen rotas to organize?
Charles has taken his wife to bed and she wants him, needs him badly and her passion has fueled his own. In an ever-changing world they are each other's constant.
Gentle kisses turn quickly into heated ones and suddenly, he cannot get enough of her.
His hands move under the hem of her nightgown and inch it up. His fingers skim along her legs, the inside of her thighs, the fullness of hips and bottom. She is beautiful to him and he tells her so with words of love and devotion. He hopes that she believes him.
Elsie smoothes her hands over his shoulder and down his back. She's becoming frustrated that she cannot feel all of him and when she finds the hem of his vest, she begins to tug it upward and help him remove it.
After months of marriage, she still marvels at her beautiful man.
Charles is eager to have his wife bare before him, to feel her against him. He helps her with her nightgown and lays it across the foot of the bed. He expects to find one additional layer, one final barrier to be removed before they can be together. Elsie hears him in groan in approval when he reaches to remove her knickers and finds none.
"Mrs. Carson, what is the meaning of this?!" he pretends to startle.
"Do you not approve, Mr. Carson," she answers, a giggle in her voice.
All Charles can manage is a low grunt of appreciation and he begins to lavish her body with kisses making sure that every part of her feels his touch. With each murmur of pleasure that she makes, she feels his smile on her skin. She tugs on the waistband of his shorts, begins to push them down. When he has kicked off his pants, he settles in above her.
Charles leans in and kisses her reverently. His steady weight a comfort. He feels her hand brush his ribs, her other entwined in his hair. She feels him warm and heavy against her hip and their kisses become furiously urgent. Elsie grasps her husband's hips and pulls him closer to her as she raises her hips to accept him.
He begins the motion of slowly slipping inside her, the sensation of their joining warm and welcoming. Into her ear, he whispers words of loving devotion, he tells her how good she feels, and how joyful she has made him. He promises her that he will do everything in his power to make her happy.
"I love you, I love you," she repeats again and again.
She holds him to her as he spills himself inside her. For as long as she lives, she can never quantify what that moment means to her, what it meant to her the first time, and to know that she and Charles have only shared this with one another.
His head rests on her belly and her fingers card through his hair. She feels him rubbing soothing patterns along her hip and thigh.
"It is going to be a different world," he remarks, his voice breaking the silence. Elsie realizes that her husband understands her after all, that he is feeling the same things, the same uncertainties about this new world in which they live.
"Yes, but we'll get through it. Together," she answers.