Metamorphosis

A story of regrets and change

He rose from the chair, eyes watching as the younger staff made their way from the room, about to follow when he caught her eyes staring up at him. In the years she had been at the house, had been by his side, he'd never been able to look away once he was held in that gaze, felt he'd come to know the emotions in them and the exact shade of blue. There was something different in them right then, something he'd seen before but had no words for, though he quickly came to realise what it was when he spoke, he lilt more pronounced.

"I suppose you never wasted a chance"

He realises quickly that she knows exactly what chances he had wasted over the years, could see it in her expression, in those eyes that held him captive so easily. All those opportunities wasted and squandered to be regretted late at night when he lay alone in his bed with only regrets and shadows to keep him company. But he can't tell her, can't admit to his mistakes even after all this time together. Instead he pulls on that Butler mask, tells her he'd learnt from any chances he might have wasted, tried not to think of the double meaning to his words, but he can tell in her cutting remark that he's let another one go. Wasted another chance to put an end to this stalemate, to this suspended existence he's found himself in with her.

He watches her go, says nothing like always, feels that familiar wave of shame and realises that he regrets it much sooner than he had before… but there isn't time to ponder as there is still work to be done, as there always is, and he finds his escape in the neat lines of the accounts books. Lets it all drift away on a sea of figures and additions, trying to make it all balance at the end, have it all make sense. He likes the order of it, how there is always an answer to be had and how his mistakes can be found and corrected easily and without much trouble, so different to how he fumbles through his deals with her. Always double thinking every action, every word, not wanting to let slip the years in which she has held that special place locked away tightly, how it had been her and only her from the day she'd stepped into Downton.

She'd been bright eyed and eager, not even having seen her 35th winter by then, and he'd been lost when their eyes met for the first time. He was already a Butler by that point, had no real business to ever speak with her, but found every excuse he could to share a brief exchange, to ask how she was doing and if she'd had any problems. He was always respectful, but he sometimes caught his gaze lingering longer than was proper, found himself sharper with any footman he suspected were showing an interest. He wouldn't admit to himself how he felt or what was happening inside his chest, but it was there, slow and steady and growing rapidly behind the scenes.

She was a capable worker, knew her trade well and built a fast rapport with the other staff members quickly, so it wasn't any surprise when Mrs Smythe approached him stating she was retiring and would be naming the Head Housemaid as he recommended replacement. It had been a smart choice, one that made his heart pound in a way he tried not to look into, and she stepped into the position gracefully when the time came. Things were awkward and stilted between them in that first week, but she'd broken down his reserves as easily as she had everyone else's and soon they were working well together.

And now, some 20 years later, he found himself leaning back in his chair and pondering those early days of working together, mind rushing through every detail, every milestone, every discussion and disagreement before landing on one day. On day that would change everything between them, would change him forever and the way his life would go. His first regret since having joined Downton. His first wasted chance.


Disclaimer: I own nothing or the series would look a lot different and there would be far more interactions/scenes between there under-appreciated characters. I also get nothing but kicks from writing this work of fiction.

Author Note::

I had muse for this fic appear after a very feels-heavy conversation with someone and it hasn't left me since, though the next chapters will be longer. From the day they met until the present, he's wasted chance after chance, and here is the exploration. It couldn't exist without that conversation, and so I'm dedicating this story to a very amazing woman and someone very special to me and my life; Madamavioletta, the Elsie to my Charles, and a very insufferable woman!