Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and I do not obtain any economic benefit out of them.
This is a series of snippets of Chelsie moments where the characters are thinking about each other. It's very experimental and I'm not sure what I'm doing with these two and I am yet to see what this leads to but hope you like it! I would very much like to hear what your ideas about this are.
Throughout the series we hear several wise quotes from both Charles and Elsie but those of Charles are of a more poetic nature. Here I have imagined the poet in Charles Carson writing about Elsie and what follows.
Chapter 1: Scottish Rose
In her voice the gentle Highland winds
Come blowing upon my face.
In her smile a thousand stars on a clear night
Twinkles with silver light.
In the depths of her deep blue eyes
Where far away Scottish seas reside
I would drown quite happily
Every time they look upon mine.
Her hair, a richer shade
Than the finest wine I've known
Glistens in the dim evening light
Leaving me spell bound.
Her lips, oh those lovely lips!
I try my best to avoid
But every time I close my eyes
I stare at them in my dreams.
The prettiest Yorkshire roses
That boast the softest petals
Couldn't even try to compete
With those lips of her, so fine.
My darling Scottish rose
When can I call you mine?
Engulfed in the gentle silence of the night, Mr Carson found himself scribbling these words on a piece of paper while he waited for Mrs Hughes who was summoned by Lady Grantham after dinner, as his thoughts drifted to the time that he spent in the past few days with Mrs Hughes looking at houses, mingled with memories from all the decades they spent working side by side. He wondered if she actually knew about the real purpose behind his business proposition. She always knew his thoughts even before he did and so he suspected that she did. But it also increased the number of times he thought about her.
A swift knock on his door and Mrs Hughes entered with a smile. He quickly crumbled the piece of paper fearing that she would see it.
"It was nothing very important. Something to do with keeping a few guest rooms ready," she said as she walked towards his desk.
"Oh was it?" was all he could say in reply.
"Hmm, yes," she replied and then immediately spotted the piece of paper crumpled in his hand.
"What's that?" she asked titling her head to a side and eyeing him suspiciously. And he knew that despite his years on the stage he was a hopeless liar. A good pretender maybe, but a hopeless liar.
"Oh just a few lists that I made. I was going to throw it away," he replied, hoping that the tips of his ears didn't turn red as in the other moments when he was feeling embarrassed or flustered.
"Alright," she replied yet not fully satisfied with his reply but choosing to ignore it, "I got a few short bread cookies from Mrs Patmore. Shall I fetch them?"
"Yes… Yes. That would be nice," he replied quickly and watched her leave with her usual swift yet graceful steps.
Quickly he spread out the paper and removed its creases. Then put it carefully inside a rather large book, smiling to himself. One day he would make her his, and then maybe he would give it to her. Not today. It would wait. But some day he would give it to her, better still, tell her all of it. Lay bare his heart. For the moment it can wait till he makes his Scottish Rose truly his.
"My Scottish Rose," he whispered to himself, smiling. Then shook his head and put the book away as he heard her approaching footsteps.
The End.
(Will most probably a few other Chelsie snippets posted under this as separate chapters!)