Picture Perfect
"Gòrach bodach!" she grumbled affectionately, moving the silver frame to gather the inventory sheets forgotten on his desk. Turning it to catch the soft lamplight, she gasped and hurried back to her parlor. Charles looked up to find Elsie standing beside him silver frame in hand. "I don't understand, Charles," she said hesitantly. Trying to keep his own voice calm, "Because Alice is my past, and you are my present," he said carefully, "And if I am a very lucky man…" What happens next?
Charles woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest and his nerves on edge. This was the third night in a row he'd had the same dream, the same image of Elsie holding the framed photograph in her hands. And for the third night in a row, he'd been jerked awake at the same moment in his dream.
He scoffed at the idea of him being a lucky man as he swung his legs over the side of his small bed and ran his large hand over his face. Lucky, indeed. He'd spent half his life pining over a woman that jilted him only to realize much too late that she'd chosen poorly. He'd worked incredibly hard for a family that sometimes said and did things to him which stung worse than any direct blow from a double-edged sword. He'd given up all hopes and dreams of marriage and children, of watching his grandchildren running about in a garden he'd cultivated with his own hands. He'd spent his life alone instead of having a lovely woman he adored to greet him with open arms at the end of each day, to curl up next to him each night and to remind him of all the reasons he had to consider himself a lucky man.
He poured some water into a glass and drank it slowly. For each and every one of items on his "unlucky Charles" list, he could counter them with reasons why he should be grateful, things he did have in his life, things he had seen or done, people he'd met when their paths would not have crossed otherwise. He had seen some of the world, not just that little corner of Yorkshire. He'd met some of very influential and important people. He'd watched as new generations were born to a family he loved as if they were his own. But at the very top of his list was the most important reason of all … Elsie Hughes, Housekeeper of Downton Abbey.
As his thoughts turned to her, he settled back against his pillows and stared at the ceiling. His mind drifted back to the day she first arrived at Downton, all smiles and seemingly endless energy with a keen eye for details and thoroughness. He appreciated her work ethic, her deep regard for doing things properly, taking pride in her work. He could still vividly recall the conversation he had shared with Mrs. Robinson about her impending retirement and the suitability of Elsie Hughes to be recommended for the position. Looking back, it had been the single most important decision in his life, aside from giving up the stage and retreating to a more respectable profession.
From that one memory, he slipped easily into others. Long forgotten instances flooded his mind where they had shared a laugh, a secret, and even the occasional heartbreak. Images of Elsie in her younger days, just as beautiful then as now, filled his waking thoughts. He chuckled softly to himself, thinking that he could almost work out the exact year of a memory based on her hairstyle. Then again, it only served to prove to him that he truly had been paying more attention to her as a woman and not just the housekeeper, his counterpart at work and in their daily lives. He had slowly been falling in love with his best friend.
Yet despite each and every year they had spent working together, living under the same roof, nurturing their deep friendship, and working as a true team as the parents of the downstairs staff, he had only recently started to recognize the feelings bubbling within him just below the surface. What surprised him most, though, was that the more he acknowledged those feelings, the stronger they grew, the more intense they became, the deeper than ran, until they played out their own scenarios in his nightly dreams. He turned over onto his side and stared at the picture frame on his bedside table. There, staring back at him with a lovely smile was Elsie Hughes.
He reached out and took the elegant frame in his hand and ran his index finger over the image of her behind the glass. His mind drifted back to the spring of 1912. Her Ladyship had felt it would be a lovely treat to hire a photographer to visit Downton Abbey. She wanted a series of family portraits, some of the each of the girls, and even a few of the majestic house. The cost wasn't as great as she had anticipated and, as a treat for working so hard in preparing the house and the family, she requested that each member of the staff be photographed and gifted the prints. It was a small token of thanks, but they would be able to send the photographs home to loved ones or keep them for themselves. Being the heads of the household staff, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes had been afforded the luxury of more than two photographs like the rest of the staff. Having no one in particular with whom they wanted to share their extra photographs and needing a place to store the additional staff pictures, Elsie offered up a hat box for their use. Carefully wrapping the black and white images in tissue paper, she and Mr. Carson packed them away and stored them upstairs. When the urge struck him to replace Alice Neale in the frame gifted to him by Elsie Hughes, he wasted no time in seeking out the old hat box in the attic. And now, instead of being long forgotten in a dusty box, her beautiful smile was the first thing that greeted him in the morning, the last thing he saw each night, and the one thing that could soothe him back to sleep after his restless dreams.
Perhaps, he mused, that was the reason for his recent nighttime imaginings. He'd started saying goodnight to the photograph before turning off the bedside lamp. More than once, he had drifted off to sleep imagining the life they might have led together if they'd met under different circumstances. Still, even in his waking hours, he could not deny the pull he felt towards her. It had grown stronger and deeper since Grigg had left, taking with him all the bitterness and hurt he'd harbored for all those years. It was, as she'd said, very healing. His wound was much less painful now and lessening with each passing day, each new day he spent in her company. It was growing harder and harder to keep his emotions in check, his thoughts from spilling from his mouth like a fountain, his confession hidden safely in his heart.
He sighed heavily, realizing that sleep would be his elusive friend for the remainder of the night. He might as well get up and start his day, perhaps finishing a few tasks in the quiet early hours which might afford him a longer time with Mrs. Hughes in the evening. Still, it would be a long time until he could crawl back into his bed, but if it meant he could spend even an additional half hour with her, the lack of sleep would be well worth it.
He washed up and dressed for the day then quietly slipped downstairs. He had intentions of starting the kitchen fire for Ivy. It would be a kindness for the girl and it would allow him to make a pot of tea for himself before the others started trickling downstairs to start their day. But, as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he heard sounds coming from the kitchen. He paused, waiting to hear a voice or perhaps something else which might indicate the identity of the early-riser. Sounds of running water greeted his ears along with the clank of the kettle being set on the stove. A few bumps and clumps followed by the sound of the stove door opening and closing shut alerted Charles that someone was stoking the fire. It was much too early for Ivy to be stirring about in the kitchen, though it was very possible Mrs. Patmore had decided to rise early to start her baking. And then he heard it. Her soft voice broke through the silence and she was singing softly, something in Gaelic. He did not understand the words, but the sounds of them warmed his heart and put a smile on his face. With practiced ease, he tiptoed the last few steps towards the entrance to the kitchen.
Elsie had been unable to sleep. She woke from a lovely dream featuring the handsome butler and a different life. It was a recurring dream, though since the discovery of Carson's past life and regrets, the dream had become more and more frequent. Some nights, they would be happily married with a home and family of their own. Other evenings, they were older and retired together, sitting happily on a small settee in front of a fire with a shared blanket covering them as they read. This particular evening, Elsie had been visited by the more exciting dream weaver.
In her dream, she was in an apple orchard with a basket at her feet. She was selecting only the reddest, prettiest apples to add to her collection. As she reached up to obtain the most delicious looking apple on the tree, she felt a pair of warm, familiar arms glide around her waist and soft lips pressing against her ear.
"Why all the apples, Elsie?" She shuddered as his hot breath against the shell of her ear sent a shiver of excitement through her.
"It's your birthday. I wanted to bake you a fresh apple tart as a treat." She dropped the apple in her hand to the ground and wrapped her arm around his neck, drawing him closer to her. Long after her dream woke her, she could still feel the sensation of his lips moving along the column of her throat, eliciting delicious sounds and feelings.
"I would rather have you as my treat, right here in the apple orchard." His answer was always the same, always whispered in that seductive voice that could coerce her into almost anything. His nimble fingers would slowly unbutton her blouse as his lips grazed her creamy skin.
Sometimes, the dream would end before things were well and truly heated. Other nights, such as this one, Elsie would wake panting from the activities in her dream. These were the nights when she couldn't go back to sleep. She was too wound up to settle her body and mind. So, rather than spend the remainder of the early morning hours tossing and turning in her lonely bed, she would start her day earlier than the rest of the house.
Elsie placed the cup and saucer on the work table in the kitchen then waited patiently for the kettle. As she leaned against the sink, she stared out the windows into the darkness and continued softly singing her song. Her mind was filled with images from her dreams and in a moment of folly, she imagined this was her home, her kitchen, making tea using her kettle and stove. As the song continued to fall from her lips, she could easily give into the notion of Charles, sleeping soundly upstairs dreaming of her, waiting on the cup of tea she was preparing just for him.
She sighed heavily, brushing all those foolish thoughts from her mind. He was her closest friend, her colleague, nothing more. They had shared a lifetime of memories together in this house, and yet there was still something missing. They loved each other, as best friends do, but she was saddened by the thought that he was still too much in love with Alice and a life he would never have with her. She had more easily given up on the thoughts of a life with Joe Burns. She'd never truly been in love with him. She could not imagine going another way with him. With Charles, however, the prospect was exciting and invigorating, though just as likely to happen as one of the scenes in the novels she often read in her spare time.
Charles had remained motionless, listening to her singing, quietly enjoying the moment. But, he noticed that her shoulders had slumped and that her voice was no longer softly caressing the quietness of the room. Instead, something like an invisible cloud seemed to have passed over her and she stood motionless in front of the sink, gripping it rather tightly from what he could see, and it pained him.
"Why did you stop singing? It was lovely to hear first thing in the morning," he said softly, stepping out of the shadows in the hallway and into the kitchen.
Elsie turned, stunned, upon hearing his voice. She had been completely unaware that anyone else in the household was downstairs or she would have been more guarded. She would not have let herself slip into daydreams and folly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Carson. I had no idea you were awake at … heavens, what time is it anyway?"
"A little past three, I'm afraid," he said softly. He stepped into the kitchen and took a seat at the table. "I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd try to get a little work done." He motioned to her teacup on the table. "Is there enough for a second cup, or shall I leave you to your thoughts this morning?"
"There is always enough for a second cup. A good housekeeper always anticipates the needs of everyone in the household, including the butler," she said teasingly. "Besides, it would be a nice way to start the day, sharing a cup of tea with you while the rest of the house is quiet and we're not dead tired on our feet."
He watched as Elsie prepared their cups of tea then took a seat across from him at the table. "If you don't mind my asking, what's got you up this early? I hope it's nothing serious." For a moment, his mind retreated to the unnerving days when they were waiting on her test results from her cancer scare. Those had been long, sleepless days and nights, but he reassured himself that if something like that were to happen again, Elsie or Mrs. Patmore would not have kept him in the dark.
"No, nothing serious, just … well … life I suppose." She took a sip of her tea and stared at him over the rim of her cup. "Oh don't mind me. I'm not even fully awake yet," she lied. "But, what about you? Why couldn't you sleep?"
He took a moment to study the tea, blowing it a little, noticing how she always knew exactly how to make a perfect cup of tea for him. "To be honest, old wounds, old loves, different paths. You name it and it has been on my mind this morning."
"Goodness! Are you certain you ever went to bed, Mr. Carson? Those sound more like late night musings instead of early morning thoughts." She dared to reach over and pat his hand, giving him a smile as she worried her bottom lip. "It will get easier with time. You'll see. Your Alice … "
"She was never, truly "my" Alice, though was she? She was always someone else's. I see, now, that we were not well suited for one another. She would never have been happy with what I could give her even if that was everything I had in me at the time or ever hoped to have in our future together." He placed his cup gently back on the saucer and took her hand in both of his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "She never truly saw me, only what I could provide for her in the moment. When someone better came along …"
"Stop right there, Mr. Carson. Alice was a fool! There, I've gone and said it. You loved her with all your heart, and I'm sure you would have given her everything within your means. You would have provided her with a loving home, food on her table, a fire in her hearth, and children to fill the house with laughter and happiness. She could not have found a better man than you. She was selfish and shallow, especially where you are concerned, so we'll have no more of that talk, if you please."
Charles felt the tips of his ears starting to turn red if the heat in his cheeks was any indication of the blush he was now sporting. "Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. You have no idea how much it means to hear you say those things." He suddenly realized that he was still holding her hand in his, his thumb lightly brushing across the back of it. He dared to look up into her eyes and what he saw there gave him a courage he'd never had before. "What I was going to say, before you interrupted," he said with a wink and a teasing tone, "was that when Alice felt someone better had come along, she jumped at her chance for happiness. I cannot honestly say I wouldn't have done the same."
"Mr. Carson, I've said it before. You are a man of integrity and honor. I don't see you falling in love with someone, only to leave at the first flash of a pretty smile or a hint of something more. As with everything else you do in life, I'm sure you moved cautiously, waited for the moment, making certain of detail before moving forward. That is part of what makes you so wonderful at your job and so well respected among the family and the staff."
"And you. They all love you. You are the glue that keeps us all together, Mrs. Hughes, myself included. Things are not the same when you're not here." He took a deep breath and added, "I am not the same."
It was Elsie's turn to blush. Her long abandoned cup of tea had been pushed to the side and she reached out to cover his hands with her free one. "Oh, go on with you. I'm sure the house … and you … could manage very well without me. It will have to, one day, I'm afraid."
"The house may be forced to be without you, but … but I hope I'm never in that position." He silently rose from his chair and walked around the table until he was at her side. He reached out and once more took her hands in his, bringing them each to his lips for a very soft kiss. "It has taken me the better part of my life, Mrs. Hughes, but I have finally found the one woman I would gladly sacrifice all of this for." He brought her hands to his chest and held them there. "I thought I loved Alice, but I have come to realize that I was more in love with the idea of Alice, what she represented, what I felt I'd lost. I've, since, come to realize that I was missing what was right in front of me. You have always been right in front of me. You've cared for me when I was ill. You've held my hand in our darkest hours of grief. You've laughed with me, shared your secrets with me. You've been my constant companion, my best friend. You have made me a better person than I ever would have been with someone else." Suddenly, Charles realized that he had just bared his soul to Elsie without any warning, any consideration for how she might feel or what she might say. He took a step back, though he did not relinquish her hands. "I apologize for my boldness," he said softly and sincerely.
"Please, don't apologize. That was a lovely thing to say, and I'm very flattered to hear it. I'm simply a little surprised and struck speechless, which you will confess is not very often," she joked, hoping to add a little levity to the situation.
Charles had the good nature to laugh appropriately. "Yes, I will say you've not one for mincing words, but that's another thing about you that I admire. You're not afraid to say what you think. One rarely has to wonder what's on your mind, but I will confess that I'm wondering that very thing at the moment."
She pulled their joined hands towards her, resting them on her chest, mirroring his actions from moments before. "Then let me share with you what I'm thinking so you aren't kept in suspense." She leaned down and lightly brushed her lips against his hands. "I've built my life in this house, made friends, some enemies, good memories and bad, but the one constant in my life, through it all, has been you. We've cared for each other through everything life has thrown our way and we've come through it all stronger than before. Your thoughts of leaving for Haxby, my health scare, Ethel, Alice … all of that has brought us together in one way or another. It's shown us that we can weather the storms of life and we do it better when we're a team than when we try to go it alone. So, if I had to give it all up tomorrow for a life with anyone else or stay in my job and be close to you, the answer is simple. I would choose you, Mr. Carson. I would always choose you."
A broad smile broke across his face, the likes of which Elsie Hughes had never seen on the face of her butler before. She never truly realized how much younger he looked when he smiled, truly smiled. It was as if she had watched the years melt away and she was standing face to face with a younger version of the man she loved. "Wait here, please. Wait right here. I won't be long. Promise me?"
She laughed and gave him a questioning look. "I promise. I won't leave this spot until you return, but are you well?"
"Mrs. Hughes … Elsie … I have never been better! I have something I wish to show you." He gave her one last lingering look then dashed back upstairs to his room. They had bared their souls to one another this morning and he wanted to be completely honest with her. He wanted her to know, to see, just how much she truly meant to him. As quickly as he's ascended the stairs, he returned with just as much speed, reaching her side once more. "I have a confession to make. I've known how I felt about you for quite some time, though it took the ordeal with Grigg to make me understand it and to face the truth. I've loved you as my best friend for years, Elsie, but I was always afraid to let go of that one bit of my heart that had been broken. I wasn't waiting on Alice to return. I was waiting for her ghost to leave me in peace so I could focus on the present and future." Charles took a steadying breath and held out the silver frame Elsie had given him weeks ago.
With a shaking hand, Elsie looked down at the frame and took it from Charles's hand. The back was facing up so she hadn't yet noticed the photograph inside. "Are you returning my gift, Charles?" Her voice was a little unsteady. The photo frame was the very last thing she had expected upon his return from his room. "I gave this to you as a gift."
"Turn it over, Elsie. Take a good look at it, please."
She locked eyes with him as she turned over the frame in her hand, then slowly looked down at the image staring back at her. She gasped softly, instantly recognizing the old photograph of herself from so many years ago. "It's … it's me," she said with a shaking voice.
"I hope it is not too forward of me, but I replaced Alice's picture in the frame weeks ago. I remembered the hat box in the attic, and I took the liberty of replacing her photo with yours. I've been trying, rather desperately I'm afraid, to find a way to speak to you, but as I said on Valentine's Day, I'm not a stranger to romance. A bit of out of practice, certainly, but I hope that's something you will allow me to remedy in the future."
"You dear, sweet man! I can think of nothing that would make me happier than to be romanced by you, but only if you will allow me the same liberties. I'm not a woman to be placed on a shelf and admired, lovely as that may be from time to time, so I trust you won't object when I say or do things for you."
"I would consider myself the luckiest man in the world to be courted by you, Elsie Hughes." He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss upon her cheek, then cupped it with his hand, rubbing his thumb across her lips. "Would you have any objections to my placing the photo of you on my desk? I'd like to be able to look at it when I'm working, to remind me of my bright future ahead with you by my side."
"That depends."
Charles felt a lump forming in his throat. "Depends upon what? If you'd rather I keep it in my room, I will abide by your wishes."
She shook her head and grinned. "I don't mind you keeping the photo of me on your desk. I think it's lovely, and I'm honored. I was thinking more of it being dependent on you walking me into the village this afternoon. I would like to purchase a matching frame for my desk as well. I seem to remember the old hat box storing a photograph of you, and I have a perfect place for it on my desk."
"Consider this our first date, then, Elsie Hughes. I will accompany you into the village where I will purchase the frame of your choice and escort you to a lovely tea before we return, if you'll allow it."
"It would be the highlight of my day, Charles Carson." She stood on her tiptoes, but instead of placing a kiss upon his cheek, she brushed her lips softly against his. "We've waited long enough for each other. Let's not waste another minute, hmm?"
He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to him as he lowered his lips to hers. His kiss was soft and gentle at first but building in intensity and passion. When he finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers.
"Goodness! I'm afraid you've left me a bit weak in the knees, Mr. Carson. Would you like to join me in my sitting room? I do believe we have another hour before anyone else in the house is awake. We could sit together in front of the fire and talk about our trip this afternoon. I have a blanket, if you don't mind sharing."
"Mrs. Hughes, I plan on sharing everything I have with you starting today."
She smiled and wrapped her arm around his waist, guiding him towards her sitting room. These walls may not belong to her. The tea cups and the other fine things may not claim her as the owner, but one thing was certain. Elsie Hughes and Charles Carson were finally home where they were loved, cherished, and happy.
The End.