This is in response to a chelsie-anon prompt from Tumblr. It is inspired by the recent release of photos from the Series 5 filming in Bampton of the War Memorial scenes. Slightly spolier-ish. But not really. Go to Tumblr to view the photos.
His eyes sought the comfort of her face as the last verse of the poem rumbled from his chest. Even as she dabbed at teary eyes, he thought her the most beautiful creature. He knew she cried over young William on this day of remembrance and would have liked nothing more than to gather her in his arms to comfort her. The sun dappled through the trees, setting off red and silver sparks in the hair peeking from under her hat. A tilt of her head brought his gaze to rest in hers, what happens next?
Their eyes locked for a moment. She nodded slightly and offered a gentle smile, giving him the validation that he sought. He had practiced his reading, hoping to recite it from memory. She had listened carefully as he practiced every night for the past week, memorizing each word, and working out each nuance and inflection. She knew that he was nervous; only she could tell. His voice was steady and his posture perfect. Though he knew every syllable of every word, she noticed him glancing down at the program to make sure that he had not abused the author's text. He relaxed at her approval. However, in the next moment he saw her look down and study the program she held in her own hand and a wave of sadness passed over her face.
As she sat with the other women, the mothers, wives, sisters, and aunts who had sent their men off to war, she felt a bit foolish for being so emotional. She had not had a son, husband, or nephew to see off. She had no right to shed tears.
After the bugler's last note sounded and Lord Grantham made his lovely mention of Mrs. Patmore's nephew, Elsie quietly worked her way through the back of the gathering. She did not stop to talk to anyone having neither the time nor the inclination to make small talk. The day had been a trying one and she needed some breathing space to sort herself. Charles began to search the crowd for her but could not find her. He asked several people if they had seen her but no one seemed to know her whereabouts. It would seem natural that Elsie should be with Mrs. Patmore but Mr. Mason occupied her attention. Charles felt panic arise in his chest. He knew that she could not have gone far but she was upset and he took to seek her out.
He did not have to go far for as he rounded the corner of the church he caught sight of her hat; the lovely new hat that she purchased just a few weeks earlier. Her back was to him as she stood in front of William's grave. Charles stood for a moment watching her as he had so many times before. How many times had he watched her over the years? Hundreds? When he stood in the doorway of her sitting room as she pinned her hat in place? When they argued and she turned on her heel, stalking away from him in anger? A few weeks ago as they stood in church?
"I like to think he would have been like our son," she said quietly as he stood beside her.
"How do you mean?" he asked.
"Tall like you, a mind for detail, loyal," she replied.
"Warm and kind, with love of music, like you," he offered. She tucked her hand into his elbow, the sunlight catching her ring and casting a brilliant spark of light. He covered her hand with his own. "Elsie, we may not have had a son of our own, but it is all right to think of William as ours. Mr. Mason shared him with us for many years. "
Elsie looked up at him with a smile. "I suppose you're right. We've shared many children over the years and some of them hold an extra special place in our hearts. William is one of them."
"Yes, that's true. Just look at the legacy that he left behind. Mr. Mason and Beryl are getting on nicely and Daisy is well cared for. She has a family now. His brief life meant something, Elsie."
Elsie reflected for a moment and then placed her hand to her lips and placed her hand to William's headstone. "I'll weep no more for you, dear lad. Would that we could all leave such a legacy."