A/N: Hi there! Just a little one-shot for my 20,000th post on Tumblr. Slight A/U warning, timeline differences and such. Reviews would be lovely. Enjoy folks!
The crisp night air instantly sobered him up as he and Malcolm walked back to Downton Abbey. He could still smell the stale beer and smoke that had surrounded him for the past couple of hours. Charles had regretted going to the pub; but Malcolm, the first footman had been persistent in his encouragement.
"C'mon Charlie! Just a couple of pints down the pub, ay? We won't get caught; we'll say we're heading up to bed. Mr. Bentley will think we're just tired from workin' on the house party."
And with a wink and a tap on the nose, a plan was decided. It had seemed a good idea to slip out from under Mr. Bentley's nose, but as he realized the trouble they would be in; a sinking feeling began overwhelm Charles' stomach.
"Malcolm, can we just," Charles squatted down and rested on the front of his feet trying to settle his stomach.
"C'mon Charlie! The sooner we get back, the less likely Mr. Bentley'll catch us. Or worse, your mum could catch us. Then we'd be in a right fix." Malcolm reasoned whilst swaying.
Charles lifted himself up; Malcolm did raise a valid point. Being caught by his mother would be far worse than being caught by Mr. Bentley. Mr. Bentley would understand that "boys will be boys", but Mrs. Carson would subject all three of them to a harsh lecture on the inequality amongst the male and female staff.
The moon lit the path leading back to Downton, and the last perfumes of the gardens caught the air. Charles inhaled as deeply as he could, trying to eliminate the smell of ale from his sinuses. They finally reached the dim courtyard and Malcolm staggered towards the water pump.
As he splashed some water on his face and spluttered, "Charlie, you could do with some of this. Puts you right in an instant."
Charles ignored him, and checked that the back door was still open. They crept into the deserted hallway; Charles closed the door and sent up a silent prayer of thanks to find no light spilling from the butler's pantry, or the housekeeper's sitting room. Malcolm attempted to hush at the shadows as Charles guided him to the stairs.
"G'dnight Charlie, it were a fun night."
"Night Malcolm."
With a smug, sleepy look and a stagger, Malcolm disappeared up the stairs. Charles shook his head and smiled to himself. He liked Malcolm, but he could be too persuasive for his own good.
Right, a quick glass of water and bed Charlie. It'll be hard enough to get up in the morning as it is, he thought to himself as he navigated his way through the dark kitchen. With the glass empty, he put safely on the bench for the kitchen maids in the morning. As he briefly looked back towards the servant's hall, Charles noticed a soft glow of light coming from the corner.
As Charles stepped into the hall, he noticed a smallish figure sitting at the table with a candle illuminating her face. It was Elsie, the newest housemaid at Downton, with a thick Scottish brogue and a pretty smile; she had managed to capture Charles' attentions quickly. She always looks so lovely, Charles thought as he took in her simple cotton nightgown, and her long, thick, brown hair tied in a braid. As he emerged from the shadows, he saw that she was crying, or had been. Charles padded softly towards the chair next to Elsie and cleared his throat.
"Is this seat taken?"
"No," she sniffed.
Charles noticed that she was wringing a handkerchief in her hands.
"What's the matter Elsie? And why are you down here in the middle of the night? If Mrs. Carson were to catch you –-"
She cut him off with a sigh and a roll of the eyes, "Why do you call her "Mrs. Carson"? We all know she's your mam."
Charles was taken aback, he'd only tried to be friendly and show concern. He ran his hand through his hair.
"I know, but I don't want people to think I get special treatment just because she's my mum." He looked up to see if the answer he had provided was sufficient.
Elsie forced a small smile, "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so harsh."
"It's all right. But what is wrong Elsie? To have you up at this hour, I mean."
"It's my own fault really. But do you know that young fellow, Joe? The one who's been visiting me lately?"
Charles nodded; he actually thought he had seen the lad in the pub. Poor sod, looked as if he had had his heart broken.
Elsie continued as she twisted the handkerchief in her hands, "Well, we'd been walking out together before I left Scotland, and I didn't have the heart to break it off. So, we continued to write and any spare time he had, he made his way down here to see me."
She sighed and bit her lip to keep herself from crying. Charles hesitantly placed his hand over hers and gave her a weak smile.
Elsie nodded and carried on, "And yesterday, he asked me to marry him."
Charles pulled his hand away; he would hate to act improperly with another man's fiancée.
"And I turned him down. He was devastated. And that's why I'm so upset Charles."
Charles delayed in his response. He couldn't comprehend why Elsie was so upset. If she didn't want to marry Joe, wasn't she getting what she wants?
"So, you don't love him?" Charles asked trying to keep his tone soft.
"No, I mean, I care for him an awful lot. I suppose I do love him, just not in that way."
How can there be different ways of loving a man?, Charles thought to himself. He noticed that she was pensive and chewing that damned lip again. Almost as if she were trying to find the right words to explain herself.
"I love him almost like a brother, I suppose. But I don't want to be a farmer's wife."
Charles nodded in understanding. Well, at least he thought he understood. "So, you won't be leaving us then?"
"I only just got here Charles. And I think I quite like it here, so yes I think I might stay." Elsie chuckled.
"I must say that I'm glad. That you like it here, that is." Charles faltered with a gentle blush creeping across his cheeks.
After a few moments of silence and shared smiles, Elsie covered her mouth trying to stifle a yawn.
"You should probably head up to bed, Elsie. Long day tomorrow and all that." Charles suggested as he pulled out her chair.
"I think you might be onto something Charles." A yawn punctuating Elsie's reply.
They made their way towards staircase. The soft flicker of the candle their only guide. Even her silhouette was stunning, he mused before she interrupted him with a question.
"Are you sure you don't need a candle to find your way up?"
"I know this place almost better in the dark. Thanks to my sneaking around in my childhood." Charles joked with a smug, proud grin.
"My, my. Charles Carson sneaking about at night? I'd thought you'd be better behaved with your mam as housekeeper. But you've broken my belief tonight, I must say." Elsie chided.
"Well, I will concede that Malcolm has led me astray tonight. But as a boy, I was a naturally curious and hungry midnight wanderer."
"You'll have to tell me all about your adventures."
"They were hardly adventures Elsie, but if you'd like I can tell you tomorrow."
"I look forward to it."
The candle flickered faster as the wick grew smaller. Elsie took the first couple of steps, "Good night Charles."
"Good night Elsie."
Elsie had almost reached the baize door when she heard Charles' voice again.
"Elsie?"
"Yes?"
"I know that you don't have your half day until next Wednesday, but there's a dance at the hall in the village on Friday. And I was rather wondering if you'd like to join me? That is if you were willing swap your half day or –-"
"I'd like that Charles, very much. I'll let you know as soon as I've asked Mrs. Carson."
Her smile was the only thing the light picked up, and he was grateful. His throat was suddenly dry and he stuttered his goodnight. The glow disappeared behind the door and Charles stood at the foot of the stairs with a wry smile on his face.
Suddenly he was startled out of his daydreams, by a figure coming out of the housekeeper's sitting room. His mother, Grace Carson, housekeeper of Downton Abbey. Charles felt the colour drain from his face, as he tried to think of a convincing reason that he was in the servant's hall, and not in his pyjamas. As Mrs. Carson advanced on him, her blue robe and braided hair under her cap, made her seem less intimidating.
"Charles, I shan't ask why you're in your suit. Nor, will I ask you why you smell of ale and smoke."
"Mum, we were jus –-"
Mrs. Carson just held up her hand to silence her son.
"I know you and Malcolm went to the pub, of that I am certain. What I am unaware of is why you have Elsie up at this hour. It's hardly proper, Charles."
Charles nodded sheepishly. "I know."
Mrs. Carson took a step towards her son and touched his cheek despite the height difference.
"Charles, I know that Elsie is a lovely looking girl and very sweet as well. But I'm just warning you to be careful about who you court, especially if they work here," she said softly.
"I know, Mum. But she's something else. Elsie isn't like any girl I've ever met."
"I'm not saying don't pursue anything Charles. I just thought you wanted to work in service. Courting and being married doesn't suit servants."
"It worked for you and Da."
"I know love, but not for everyone. And I only want you to be happy Charles."
"Thanks Mum."
Mrs. Carson walked towards the stairs and indicated to Charles that he ought to do the same.
Charles nearly reached the top of the stairs when he heard the lecturing tone he'd been waiting for.
"However, you and Malcolm will be polishing all the silver this week."
"Yes, Mum."
"And Charles?"
"Yes?"
"I can swap Millie and Elsie's half days. I hear there's a dance at the village hall on Friday."
With that final thought, Charles climbed to the attics and fell asleep with Elsie's smile in his mind.