I meant to say that the first chapter is a prologue. Sorry for the information dump here.
Brooklyn, New York. Summer 1882
"Are you sure this is the place?"
Grigg's voice shouted behind him. The rain was coming down so hard it felt like needles against his skin. He wiped his face and squinted at the sign over the door. Before he could knock again, it flew open.
"Get in, get in!" A dark-haired man with an exquisite handlebar mustache gestured inside. Charles didn't hesitate, but Grigg still trod on his heels as they both practically fell through the door.
"Welcome to The Bard's Boardinghouse. I'm Eugene DeArdo, manager of Washington's Theater." He offered his hand and shook their hands in turn.
"I'm Charlie Grigg." His shorter partner took his hat off, which was a mistake. Water splashed from the brim onto the floor and all over Charles's sodden shoes. He sighed. Not that it mattered, as wet as he was. He would have given anything for a hot bath.
"And I am-"
"Charlie Carson. Of course, you both looked familiar. I know it's been several months since we met in London, but you haven't changed that much. Just leave your trunks at the stairs for now. Don't worry about the water on the floor, I'll get Mrs. Hanley to mop it up. There's a fire in here, let's get you dried off-"
Eugene continued to talk as they moved into what looked like a side parlor. Charles winced a little at the man's accent. These Americans and their strange ways of speech. So sharp, so direct, so...foreign. As he rubbed his hands in front of the fire, relishing its warmth, he suddenly felt an odd, lonely feeling. I am the foreigner here. Not them. He thought again of the letter in his coat. If he wanted to go back, he would have a place to stay. A home. If he wanted to go back, that is.
He turned back to the other two. Grigg was recounting their voyage from Southampton.
"Not so bad, the weather was fine. Crowded as all hell, as you can imagine." Grigg snorted. "On deck wasn't bad at all, most people stayed below, too sick to get out of bed."
Including you, thought Charles. He smiled to himself.
"And Ellis Island? Not too difficult to get through, I assume? Since you're both standing here, it must have been fairly easy for you." Eugene looked at Charles.
Easy?
He had never been one to feel claustrophobic, not even in the cramped steerage on board. That all changed the moment they arrived on Ellis Island. The massive hall they had entered upon leaving the ship dwarfed even the hall at Downton Abbey. He and Grigg had been pushed into the space by a wall of people. He'd grabbed hold of his partner's coat at one point when he realized the smaller man was literally being carried along by the crowd, lifted off of his feet. And the noise, the roar of a thousand people, a hundred different languages. It made him feel adrift, like a leaf on a stream. Nothing steady to hold on to.
Why did he let Grigg talk him into coming to America?
He started, realizing the other two were waiting for his answer. He stuttered a reply.
"Oh, it was tolerable. We got through all right." He took a deep breath, forcing a smile. "Mr. DeArdo, if it's not too much trouble, could you direct us to our room?"
"Right this way. I'm sorry to keep you standing in wet clothes." They walked back into the hallway. Eugene gestured in the opposite direction. "The dining room is in there. Dinner will be served in about half an hour. You must be hungry." He started up the stairs.
"Yes, thank you." Grigg picked up his trunk and followed him. Charles bent to pick up his own. He tried to ignore the water and muddy prints all over the floor. At that moment, the front door opened and several people came in. One man, a pale, thin fellow with blond hair, was laughing with two young women, one blond, another with light brown hair. Another woman followed behind the three, her face hidden beneath her hat as she shook her umbrella. The man behind her jumped aside, away from the water droplets spraying everywhere.
"Damnation! I come inside to get out of the rain, and you start flinging it everywhere!"
"Calm down, Walter." The blond man removed his hat as the other ladies brushed themselves off. "She didn't mean to get it all over you, did you, sweetheart?"
"I just bought this suit yesterday!"
"Walter, that's enough." Eugene came back down the stairs. He looked in pretended seriousness at the spots on the man's coat before shrugging. "It's just water. Ladies, are you staying for dinner? I told Mrs. Hanley you'd be here, so there's plenty for all." He rubbed his hands together.
"Rain or shine, we'd not miss her goulash!" One woman, the blond, smiled. Charles was suddenly aware of several sets of eyes.
"Oh, excuse me." Eugene stepped back. "Everyone, meet the newest members of our variety show.* The Cheerful Charlies. They've come all the way from London, England. That's Charlie Grigg, on the stairs-" Grigg waved, amused. "-and this is Charlie Carson here."
Charles wasn't sure what to do, so he bowed slightly. One of the women giggled.
"So formal. Are all Englishmen like that?"
"Well, we should let you get settled." The blond man moved toward the dining room. "There'll be plenty of time for introductions before dinner."
"Yes, your room is the second door at the top of the stairs." Eugene lifted Charles's forgotten trunk.
"I hope you don't think all Americans are as rude as Walter." The woman with the umbrella said quietly as Charles removed his cloak to hang it on the hook by the door, water dripping steadily.
"Of course not. Just as not all Englishmen are as formal as I." He turned to give her a small smile.
She had removed her hat. Dark brown hair and light eyes-blue, or were they more green? He couldn't tell. Tall, taller than most women he knew. The top of her head was level with his nose.
She was, without doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
A smile quirked at the corner of her mouth, showing a dimple, and she blushed. It made her even more beautiful. If that were possible.
"I'm Alice. Alice Neal." She offered her hand. He cleared his throat.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Neal." He shook her hand, pulling away quicker than was normal. It would not do to think about how her hand felt in his, no, it wouldn't do at all.
She laughed, a breathy sound that made his heart flutter.
"Ever the formal one, aren't you, Mr. Carson?"
"Sometimes." He managed to stammer.
"I'll see you at dinner. Perhaps you'll enjoy it more when you aren't so wet?" She gave him a last smile and went into the dining room. He looked down and for the first time noticed the pool of water he was standing in. He groaned in embarrassment at the wet stains all over his clothes as he quickly climbed the stairs.
Grigg came out of the room as Eugene passed him going down.
"It's not bad. Small. That bed might be a bit small for you, though." He went over to the small mirror in their room and began slicking his hair back. Charles sank down on the opposite bed.
"You all right?"
"Mmm." He murmured. Ten minutes ago he was questioning if he should have come at all. Whether it was right to take the leap without answering Mr. Palmer's last letter. If you ever wish to return to Downton, there will be a place for you. He thought of the young woman downstairs.
Perhaps America wasn't so bad after all.
Near St. Louis, Missouri, that same day
The landscape flashed by in a cacophany of colors - the fields in bright gold and dark green, the blue sky above. She stood at the rail, at the end of the chugging train, grateful for the breeze. Strands of hair clung to her neck while beads of sweat ran down her back. She never imagined it could be this hot. Da had described it in his letters, but feeling it was an entirely different matter.
She would have given almost anything for a cold bath.
How long had they been on this train? The entire journey felt like it had lasted an age.
The fog that last morning at the farm, the house disappearing into it like it had never existed. The last glimpse of Argyll. Mam's weeping on the train in Glasgow. Holding onto Becky's* hand in the crowds in Liverpool, terrified of letting go, of losing the curious youngster in the mob and never seeing her again. Wondering what it would feel like to dip her feet in the ocean. Crammed into steerage, Becky sleeping between her and Mam. The stares and pointing fingers at Ellis Island. Momentary terror that Becky would fail the physical exam, that she would not be allowed to enter America. Mam's boldness. She shook her head. Would Da believe it? Slipping the agent money...she could have been arrested!
Why didn't she write Da back and tell him Mrs. Donnelly had offered her the position of head housemaid? It wasn't a big house, but the housekeeper seemed sure that in several years Elsie could get a better position elsewhere. More money. A better life for all of them. Better than traipsing halfway around the world...
Through the open doorway, she could see the two of them. Becky slept against her mother's chest. Rhona's arms were clasped around her youngest child as though she expected her to fly out of the window.
Reluctantly, she left the blessed breeze. The air inside was warm and stifling, only stirred by the open door.
"Mother?"
"I know." Mam huffed, raising her eyebrows. "Don't bother, lass. We're nearly there. Mr. Benson says East St. Louis is the next stop." She gestured to a man sitting across from them, absorbed in his newspaper.
"You should still let me hold her for a while." Elsie tried again. The dark shadows under her mother's eyes were so deep they looked like carvings on stone.
A smile ghosted across Mam's face. "Not a chance. Your Da won't want to let go of her, so I'd best hold her while I can."
True. Becky was barely more than an infant when the last harvest failed and Da sailed away. At least when she was working near Glasgow she had been able to go home on several occasions. Her salary, and the money Da sent back, had been enough-barely-to keep Mam and Becky on the farm.
The train slowed, and Elsie was knocked off balance. She grabbed at the seat opposite Mam.
"You'd best sit down. After the next stop, it's not more than four miles to the city." Mr. Benson folded his newspaper. "And you'll want a good view when we cross the Eads Bridge*. Only the birds have a better view of the Mississippi from there."
Houses appeared as the train slowed. A man driving a wagon waved at the train from the dirt road running alongside the track. Mam gasped.
"Is he - dark-skinned?"
"Yes." Elsie waved back, surprised when he smiled at her. She always thought of herself as a practical person, not caring about appearance. Becky had a lot to do with that. But she wasn't used to seeing people so different from her. This isn't Argyll, Elsie. Not Scotland.
I guess they call it the New World for a reason.
They were stopped for less than fifteen minutes in East St. Louis. By the time they had begun moving again, Mr. Benson had very kindly spoken to the porter about their trunks. There would be no need to worry at the station. Becky woke up and climbed into the seat next to Mam, her face glued to the window.
"May I sit here, Miss Hughes? Until we arrive? You'll have a better view from this side of the train." He seemed apologetic.
"Of course, sir." She moved over, across from Becky. Her little sister gave her a toothy grin. She smiled widely back, her heart melting. From the moment that bairn was born, she loved her.
"Have you traveled across the Eads Bridge, Mr. Benson?" Mam asked. "After it was built, we read about it in the newspaper, even in Argyll."
"Only once before. The steel arch spans-" The man next to Elsie seemed to be in awe as the train lumbered onto the bridge. Elsie tried to listen, but she couldn't understand half of what he was talking about. Then she looked down.
"Oh my! That's a long way down to the river from here."
"Wi-ver, wi-ver." Becky sang, pointing at the swirling water. Mam laughed and leaner closer to the window.
"That's right, wee one. It's the river."
The brown water passed by, replaced by building after building. As the train slowed one last time, Elsie began to feel nervous again. Would Da be there? What was this place really like?
She and Mam held tight to Becky's hands as they left the train. It felt strange to be standing once again on solid ground. Mr. Benson tipped his hat to them as they said goodbye. Elsie sighed in relief as the porter removed their trunks. The three travelers hovered next to them, looking everywhere in the crowd.
"Rhona!" A booming voice called. Mam turned so fast Elsie had to steady her.
"Patrick?" Mam's voice quavered. "Patrick McNally, is that you?" A big, broad man with bushy sideburns strode through the crowd. Mam let go of Becky's hand. The man embraced her, nearly lifting her off of her feet.
"I haven't seen you since the day Ailsa and I got married!" He patted her gently on the shoulder as she wiped at her eyes with her handkerchief. His mouth fell open when he saw Elsie.
"Is this little Elspeth? You were just a wee thing!"
She barely remembered Ailsa-her mother's cousin. But she did have a memory of the big man twirling her around when she wanted to dance.
"It's good to see you again, Patrick." She scooped up Becky in her arms. "This is Rebecca. We call her Becky." She bit her lip, holding her breath. Surely Da had told him.
A gentle smile spread across his face. He softly touched Becky's cheek. "She's as pretty as her Mam and sister."
Elsie and her mother let out their breath together. Mam touched her cousin's arm. "But where is Ewan? Is he here?"
"He's waiting beside the wagon. I'll get your trunks, go on and don't keep him waiting any longer!"
Elsie put Becky down and hurried her along the platform. Her mother moved with a speed her daughter hadn't seen in years. By the time she had gotten Becky down the stairs, Mam was beside the wagon.
Tears blurred her vision and she caught her breath. Mam was sobbing into Da's chest. He was thinner than she remembered, and he never had that many freckles before! But then he looked over his wife's shoulder and their blue eyes met.
"Elsie! My Elsie, you're here! And Becky too." He reached out with his other arm and a moment later the four of them were together. Elsie's head rested against her father's shoulder. Later there would be time to talk, and plan. But right now she wasn't sorry she'd come.
*1882 was very early in vaudeville history. The first "clean" vaudeville show (no bawdy content) began in New York City in 1881 (per Wikipedia, which may or may not be accurate). I doubt the term vaudeville was in general use at this time.
*I couldn't find anywhere in canon evidence of Becky's age. For this story, I made her birthdate 1878 (Elsie is said to have been born in 1862, so twenty years old in 1882.) Becky's precise condition is unknown in canon, so again for this AU her symptoms are similar to Down's Syndrome. Regarding Ellis Island, all immigrants had to pass a physical exam to be admitted to the United States. If an adult failed, depending on the condition, they were detained until they were well; barring that, they could be sent back to Europe. If a child failed the physical examination and was unable to pass it later, they would be sent back-but not alone. A member of their family would be sent back with them. Naturally, many families were willing to do extraordinary things to keep themselves intact.
*The Eads Bridge was the longest arch bridge in the world when it was completed in 1874. It is still used by cars, trains and the light rail system. My dad is a virtual geek about this bridge.