The Wait Is Over

Summary: For weeks, they've been on edge as they waited for Elsie's test results. Now the wait is over. What happens when they decide to share the wine that same evening? SPOILERS FOR SERIES THREE!

Carson: "Well? Is it or isn't it?" He waited anxiously, feeling his heart thumping hard in his chest, his palms sweaty, every nerve in his body on edge.

Mrs. Patmore: "It's not cancer, no. It's a benign something or other, nothing more." She takes great pleasure in giving him this information, knowing how happy and relieved he will be. And she is not disappointed. The look of sheer joy that graces his face makes her wish her friend had been able to witness it. Better still, Elsie Hughes should have given him the news herself. That would have made this whole ordeal worth the agony of the last few weeks.

Carson: "Don't mention that you've said anything. She doesn't know that I know." He looks around, as if expecting Elsie to burst through the door any second. But it's clear by the look in his eyes that even if she had, he'd have tried to pretend to be discussing the pudding for the evening meal. The stoic butler of Downton Abbey could never let his guard down … except this time he had.

Mrs. Patmore: "I won't say a word." She watches him leave, standing taller and straighter than before. And if she is not mistaken, there is a spring to his step … and was he … humming?

Elsie: "Did you tell him?" She knows the answer before she ever asks. She's heard the conversation from just outside the doorway. The way his voice has quivered when he'd asked about her diagnosis had confirmed that he had been just as worried as she had been, and his adorable notion that he had managed to keep his knowledge a secret only served to touch her heart even more.

Mrs. Patmore: "I would prefer to say I put him out of his misery." With a slightly bashful smile, Elsie nods and leaves her friend standing there in the room, smirking at the folly of the two senior members of the staff and loving every second of it.

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Elsie stepped out into the hallway, ready to face the rest of the day with renewed vigor, a spring in her step, a peace of mind that she hadn't known for weeks. But she was stopped on her way to her sitting room. That voice! That lovely, deep, rich voice was caressing her ears and her heart. He was singing … happily singing. She stopped to admire the sound coming from his pantry, the tone evident with happiness … a happiness that would almost match her own, and she could not keep the broadening smile from her face.

Dashing away with a smoothing iron

Dashing away with a smooth iron

She stole my heart away

Dashing away with a smoothing iron

Dashing away with a smoothing iron

Dashing away with a smoothing iron

She stole my heart away

Cancer! The very word had scared her like nothing ever in the whole of her life. She shuddered, even now, to think how drastically her life would have been changed had Dr. Clarkson given her a different prognosis. As soon as the words had left his mouth, she slumped back into the chair, feeling a wave of relief and thankfulness wash over her. It had taken her a moment or two to fully grasp what he was saying.

"Benign … nothing to worry about … just fine … long and healthy life ahead …"

She hadn't been truly focused on anything else other than the fact that she was going to live. LIVE! Elsie Hughes was not being handed a death sentence. She was being given a new contract on life, her hopes, her dreams, all her desires. It felt almost like a second chance, and from the moment she stood from the chair in Clarkson's office, she knew she was a changed woman. She wanted to grab life with both hands and run … run through fields of summer flowers, rain showers, snow, early morning dew, and moonlit garden paths. She wanted to run straight to Charles, to share her good news, to ease his worried mind.

Instead, she opened the door and was greeted with an anxious Beryl Patmore. The woman she had once fiercely battled over a silly key and kitchen supplies was now waiting with baited breath to hear the news. Never would she have dared imagine years ago that they would become such good friends, facing this harrowing experience together as true friends. Suddenly, Elsie smiled and reached out for Beryl's hand. "It's nothing. Not cancer, merely a benign cyst. I'm not going to die," she said happily as tears filled her eyes upon seeing the relief and tears in the eyes of her friend.

Beryl repeated the words, wanting to make sure she understood everything. "I'm so very happy for you, and I know Mr. Carson is going to be relieved. You'll have to let me know what he says when you tell him …"

"I can't tell him! Bless him! He thinks that I don't know, though why in heavens name he thinks I'm that daft is beyond me. He went to Her Ladyship and spoke to her on my behalf and he's been mothering me since the day you let it slip that Dr. Clarkson suspected cancer." Elsie held up her hand to stall the apology and the explanation. "Yes, I knew about that, too. I'm the Housekeeper at Downton Abbey. There isn't much that I don't know, or at least hear about. And you two aren't exactly the softest spoken people in the downstairs corridors," she said with a laugh. "No, he believes he's been very stealthy in his gestures of help, making certain I don't overdo things, removing papers from my desk and finishing them for me, delegating work to the maids on my behalf. Let's not shatter the man's reality, please." She gave Beryl's arm a little squeeze. "Please, he's been through so much, and he's tried desperately to keep his worry from me while taking on more and more duties. Let's not embarrass him by telling him I knew all along."

Beryl smiled and nodded. Despite their troubles in the past, Mrs. Patmore had to admit that Elsie Hughes was one of the kindest women she'd ever met. She could be hard but fair, stern yet soft and even more, especially where the butler was concerned. On the way back to Downton Abbey, the master plan of announcing her outcome to Charles Carson was born.

Now, standing here listening to him singing, Elsie knew, now more than ever, that she'd made the correct decision and that going forward her life was going to be different. Regardless of what the rest of her life had to offer her, she was going to embrace it, stop wasting so much time on the less important things and focus on what truly mattered. The prospect of this new outlook on life excited and scared her a little at the same time.

She remained in the corridor and listened for a few seconds more, until she saw him turn to place the tray back in the cupboard. Not willing to risk being seen as he returned to polish then put away another piece of the silver she retreated to her own sitting room, sinking gratefully into her chair. Only a short while ago, she'd been sitting in this very same chair feeling very differently, as if a dark cloud was hanging over her. Now, she felt as if every bit of her was being kissed by the warmest sunshine, and it felt so deliciously good. She paused for a few moments for silent prayers of gratitude, then to refocus on the tasks which still loomed between her and the end of her working day.

Charles Carson could not contain his happiness upon learning that Mrs. Hughes had been given a clean bill of health. The worry and anxiety that had invaded his mind and plagued his normally peaceful dreams was banished. Now, it was time for his heart to rule, even if only in his pantry as he polished the remaining bits of silver. He would sleep soundly this evening, for sure, since his upside down world had been righted once more.

As he carefully folded the cloths and apron used in his polishing, Charles thought ahead to the remainder of the day. There was still a family upstairs to serve. He would need to find time to quietly tell Her Ladyship about the news … or should he trust Elsie to do so? He paused a moment to consider the situation carefully. Yes, he would tell her but ask her not to mention it to Mrs. Hughes, just as he had once before. Then, if and when Elsie spoke to her, it might make things a bit easier.

Once everything was stored properly and he'd had a bit of a wash to rid himself of the smell of silver polish, he made his way to Elsie's sitting room. "I trust your errand went well this morning?" he asked, trying hard to remain in control of his reactions.

She turned in her chair at the sound of his voice and smiled. "It did, Mr. Carson. Thank you. It went much better than I had anticipated." She silently wondered if he would say anything more, broach the subject with her.

"Wonderful," he said with a soft sigh and a smile. "Would you, perhaps, be free for a glass of wine this evening after dinner?"

She gave him one of her best smiles and clasping her hands together in her lap to refrain from some foolish gesture. "I would, Mr. Carson. That would be lovely. I must say, I've missed our evening discussions recently."

"As have I, Mrs. Hughes. It will be lovely to return to our old routine," he announced, though he knew things would never quite be the same again. He'd almost lost her, almost lost every chance of telling her how he felt. He would take things slowly, but one thing was certain. He never wanted to take her for granted again, and that would change starting this evening.

The remainder of the day passed in a blur for Charles and Elsie. Each was consumed by thoughts of their evening together. As Elsie shooed the servants off to bed, Charles stopped by the kitchen for one last word with Mrs. Patmore.

"Thank you, again, for what you did today." When she gave him a questioning look, he went on to explain. "Mrs. Hughes would not allow me to accompany her, even if she had known that I was aware of her situation. I'm glad she had you there with her, in case the news was not good. And I would also like to say thank you for telling me as soon as you returned. You are a good friend, Mrs. Patmore, to both of us."

That was the nicest thing Charles Carson had ever said to her and she couldn't think of a thing to say in return. Normally her sharp and sarcastic wit never failed her but this time she was not so lucky. "Just make sure you never forget what it was like to almost lose her," she said softly. "I know I won't be forgetting that anytime soon."

Elsie walked in just as Beryl was taking her leave. "Everything all right?" she asked, looking from the cook to the butler.

"Perfectly fine. I was just thanking her for a job well done today," Charles answered vaguely. "I sometimes forget to be appreciative of things but that's not to say I do not notice when things change."

"Right, then … you're welcome … both of you. Now, I'm going to bed. Breakfast won't cook itself in the morning and I have to be up earlier than either of you." With a slight smirk, she left them standing alone in the kitchen.

"Shall we retire to my sitting room or your pantry, Mr. Carson? I believe we discussed having a glass of wine and a bit of a catch up this evening. That is, if you're not too tired, of course. "

"Give me a few minutes to tend to one matter and then I'll join you in your sitting room." He gave her a slight bow, something he might do for one of the upstairs ladies before taking his leave.

Elsie watched him disappear into his pantry, assuming he was retrieving the wine. She quickly returned to her own room to make sure everything was in place for his arrival.

With the renewed vigor for life, Elsie had decided that life was to be lived, not wasted on missed opportunities or planning for events which may never come. In that spirit, she had made a few changes and wondered if Charles would even notice, but hoping he might.

A light tapping on her door announced his visit, and she opened the door a little wider. She was shocked to see a full decanter of wine and two crystal glasses being carried on a silver tray. "Mr. Carson? What's all this?"

He could feel his cheeks warming but it was too late to change his mind now. If he did, he would regret it all his life long. "I thought we might celebrate a little this evening, and what better way to celebrate than with a vintage bottle of wine, excellent presentation, and superb company." He placed the tray on her small table and immediately noticed that the table covering had been changed to a very dainty and intricately woven white lace one. He fingered the edge of the cloth appreciatively. "This is very nice. Is it new?" When he turned to face her, his breath caught in his throat. He noticed she was wearing the shawl he'd purchased for her several Seasons ago in London. Until now, she had only ever worn it on Easter Sunday or perhaps to the Spring dance in the village, but only if he had accompanied her.

She walked to stand by his side. "No, it was something my grandmother made an age ago. It's the only thing of hers that I possess."

"It's beautiful, but what's the occasion for using it?"

"I realized I don't need an occasion to appreciate the things in my life," she said, fingering the edge of the shawl draped around her shoulders. "No sense in saving it, or anything else that's truly special, for a particular day or specific event which may never come. I'm sure my Gran wouldn't have appreciated it being locked away in a trunk in the attic when it could be used and admired daily. It's a disservice to her hard work, time, and patience to let it rot away somewhere." He nodded his agreement with her logic. "And what's this, then? We've never used the family's crystal glasses or had an entire bottle of wine for ourselves. Usually we share the leftover wine in the evenings."

He rubbed the tip of his ear and guided her over to her settee, inviting her to sit, before he returned to the wine. "As I said, I thought it would be nice to indulge this evening. We've both had a lot on our minds and today seemed like an excellent opportunity to start fresh, to leave the worries and woes behind us. Wouldn't you agree?" When she nodded and smiled, he continued. "The shawl looks very pretty on you, by the way. I'm happy to see you wearing it this evening."

She bowed her head a little shyly. "I must apologize to you for not making use of it more often. It was an incredibly lovely gift and my only reluctance in wearing it more often was that it might somehow be damaged. But, I realize that you spent a lot of time and effort, not to mention money, in this gift, and it should be treasured and used. Thank you, again, for it. It's beautiful and so very soft. It must have cost you a fortune."

He brushed off her words with a light scoff, something, anything to lighten the mood around them. "I saw it in the shop window and knew it was perfect for you. The cost was irrelevant once I had an image of you wearing it in my mind." He cleared his throat roughly, a mild panic settling in at his near admission of his true thoughts and feelings. "It's nice to see you enjoying it."

"I plan to enjoy wearing it more often, though with the utmost attention to care, for certain." She stood and walked over to the small cupboard in the corner of her office, removing two plates. "These were my mother's best. Since we've both agreed that tonight is a celebration of something, let's use these for our late night snack, hmm?"

"Are you sure? They're very dainty … precious … and …" He stopped when he saw her looking at him over her shoulder, a smile curling about her lips.

"Right! Let's use those this evening, though I might need to have more than one or two biscuits, the plate being a bit larger than our customary ones," he teased.

Elsie couldn't help but laugh and shake her head. "You and your sweet tooth," she teased. "I took care of that, too. I managed to persuade the cook to save us two generous slices of her Strawberry Victoria Sponge cake and she made a fresh batch of whipped crème just for us. If you'd be so kind as to pop back into the kitchen and secure two forks, I'll plate the cake, then you can pour the wine."

He was on his feet and out the door before she had a chance to ask if the wine would complement the dessert. But, she knew that even if it didn't, neither of them would truly care … not this evening at least. She quickly switched off two of the lamps in the room, creating a softer atmosphere for them then plated the dessert just as he returned.

His breath caught in his throat as he stepped back into the sitting room. The light spilling around her was softer, subtler and she looked decades younger. She had always been beautiful to him, but now, having almost lost her, he was seeing her with a different perspective, a different set of eyes. This was the woman who was beyond compare. In his mind, she had no equals. She was everything he both loved and feared about life: the happiness, the smiles, the good times … the worries, the tears, and the unhappy times.

She looked up and caught his eyes staring at her, and there was something different about him. She had always found him handsome, the most attractive man she had ever seen. His solid presence and authoritative personality were comforting, even if his reticence to change could infuriate her beyond words. In that one moment, staring into his eyes and enjoying the intense atmosphere, she knew she could never go back to the way things had been before her cancer scare. She was going to grab life, her life, by the reins and make the most of it, even if it meant taking things one step at a time. As long as her steps coincided with his, life would be for the better.

With the dessert plated and the wine poured, they took a seat and stared at each other across the small table separating them.

"A toast to you," he said softly, "for being the irreplaceable housekeeper of Downton Abbey, a true and loyal colleague, and the best friend I have ever or will ever have."

Elsie was nearly speechless but tried to recover quickly. Mr. Carson was not one prone to sentimentality but perhaps he was trying to tell her something. "And a toast to you, Mr. Carson. For remaining steadfast and true through difficult times, for always trying to protect those closest to you, for being the best man I have ever known or will ever know."

As their glasses clinked together to seal the toasts, their eyes locked and suddenly a new understanding was born between them. It might take weeks, months, even a year or more but everything around them was changing. Where the changing times would take them, only time would tell but one thing was certain. Elsie Hughes and Charles Carson had glimpsed the darkness, had lived through the thunderstorms and were more than ready to clasp hands and run into the summer fields … together.

A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read the story. Reviews are very much appreciated.