A/N nanowrimo day 4. Goal almost reached :). Thank you so much for the reviews! It makes the writing experience so much better.

Enjoy the next chapter about the young Charles Carson.


Mr. Wilkinson had not forgotten about last night's mistake. Early the next morning Charles was sent down to the village to pick up the morning papers. Usually the post clerk's boy would deliver them to the house every morning. But the butler obviously thought it might be good practise for Charles to have some time on his own, contemplate about his position and the associated tasks. If he must, then he had to go.

Charles hated to get up even earlier than necessary. It was still too dark outside although the sun began to rise already. The room was cold and he shivered when the cold water from the mug touched his skin. In the semi-darkness he began to shave, comb his hair, and make that one lock that always threatened to fall across his forehead stay in place. On tip toes and without his shoes on, he left the room. He did not want to wake up John who was still fast asleep for at least an hour longer. At the end of the servant's staircase, he put on his shoes and then took the rest of the stairs in a hurry. The walk to the village would take at least 20 minutes if not longer and he could not risk being late again.

The morning air was fresh and enjoyable though it was already getting colder a bit. The end of August was near and soon summer would turn into autumn and then the long dark hours of winter would come. He turned up the collar of this old coat and kept his hands inside the pockets. With every step he took towards the village, he felt a bit lighter, less worried and restricted. The darkness around him slowly changed into the red glow of sunrise, matching his good mood. Last night, before he finally found sleep, he had thought so long about his future and a plan on what do to other than being in service. Escaping Downton Abbey had seemed impossible. He could not leave his mother worrying for him. But now, as he walked to pick up the newspapers, he suddenly saw things in a different light.

=o=

At the post office the yellow glow of a gas lamp indicated that someone was already up though probably as tired as he was. Charles knocked at the door and a few minutes later was greeted by the post clerk's sleepy face.

"What are you doing here Master Carson?" he let him step inside. "Has something happened over at the house?"

Charles wished the man a good morning before he answered. "No sir, everything is fine. I am here to pick up the morning newspapers."

The confused look on the man's face told him that a longer explanation was required. "I was late for dinner service last night and Mr. Wilkinson thought the early walk to the village would teach me a lesson."

A smile crossed the tired face of the post clerk. "Ah, I see. Very well. I'll fetch you the papers."

While he waited, Charles had a look at the billboard next to the main door. There was always something interesting on them. Announcement for new plays at the local theatre in Ripon, advertisements for peculiar appliances and sometimes even job vacancies. He was not sure wha he was looking for. Usually he read the billboard out of curiosity. Today though one particular placard caught his attention immediately. A fair would come to the village in two weeks. It meant seeing strange creatures, acrobats, a dance band, delicious food and drink. As a young boy he had always enjoyed the hustle and bustle of such events, the strange smells, exotic looking people and the excitement a fair brought into town.

"Ah you've already seen it." Charles turned around, startled, he had so been lost in his own thoughts and memories that he had not noticed the post clerk behind him. "Came yesterday. This time they will also show strange animals I've heard."

Charles turned his attention back to the billboard to read the announcement once more. There was nothing about strange animals but the post clerk usually was right with his predictions. "Thank you Mr. Ashton. I am looking forward to it already."

"Here are your papers, boy." He handed over a pile of newspapers that Charles carefully took, balancing them on his right arm. "Now hurry up before you are late again."

=o=

He could try to get a job at the fair, travel across the country, help with the construction work or with the horses. Most important: he could earn some more money fast and after a while leave this life behind and open his own business, the way he had dreamed about it last night. Maybe the people from the fair were looking for a young strong man like him who understood a bit about horses. His steps were so much lighter now on his way back to the house.

When he entered the grounds again through the large black iron front gate and saw the house in front of him, illuminated by the early morning sun with this special golden-red glow, he had made his decision. In two weeks he would leave service and start a new life. It did not matter what his father would think about it, he might need a bit of persuasion to calm his mother but Charles would simply promise her to write often and to take care of himself.

The only problem now was how to tell his Lordship that his third footman wished to leave his service in order to pursue a life on the road, among travelling people? Charles steps slowed down significantly. Lord Grantham would not like this decision at all. He was a kind employer but he also held on to the old fashioned idea of the nobleman that provided shelter and employment to those less fortunate than him. It meant that he did not think highly about jobs outside the world he was accustomed to. He accepted the farmers on his land, the servant's under his roof, all the men and women working in the village. They were all part of his estate. He would not like the idea of his third footman leaving service to travel through the country!

Perhaps Charles needed and ally. His father was out of question and the other footmen would laugh at him and his silly idea. Grace Carson though, as much as Charles had feared last night to disappoint her and leave her behind worried about him, might help him. His mother always wanted her son to be happy and if he could persuade her that this new life would make him happy than she might talk to his Lordship herself and ask for permission to let her son go.

=o=

The backdoor was open. Henry, the first footman stood in the doorframe to smoke. A habit Charles detested. With the papers draped over his arm he tried to pass the older man without being caught up in some uninteresting small talk. Henry was the one who always knew about everything that was going on downstairs and upstairs. His gossip was legendary.

"Morning Henry," he mumbled and squeezed through the doorframe. But as soon as he was almost inside the house, Henry caught his shoulder.

"Where've you been?" The cigarette landed on the ground and was put out with the heel of his shoe. "It's too early for you to be up Charlie."

He rolled his eyes, his back still facing the older footman. When he turned around to look at Henry, it was with a snarky smile. "I deliver the newspapers this morning." To emphasize this he lifted his arm and pointed at the papers. "And I am afraid I have to hurry up and iron them now. Excuse me Henry."

The grip on his shoulder was still a bit firm but Charles managed to free himself from it and quickly walked down the corridor towards the butler's pantry, away from the backdoor and Henry. Mr. Wilkinson was already up and waiting for him.

"Charles! There you are. I see you where fast this morning. Well done. You can start ironing the papers and then get some breakfast."

=o=

It always felt a bit odd to fulfill this task. When he was first asked to get the board and the iron out, Charles thought he had misunderstood Mr. Wilkinson. Why would anyone iron a newspaper? The pages were not crumpled. But he had been too afraid to ask for an explanation. Instead he had asked his mother later the same evening and Grace Carson had explained to him that it dried the ink and when his Lordship picked up the newspaper in the morning he would not blacken his hands with the fresh printing ink.

Charles took the board out and had the iron heated on the kitchen stove. While he waited he flicked through the Times and the Yorkshire Observer. An advertisement in the Observer caught his eye immediately. The letters in the headline were ornate and it stood out against the other rather plain advertisements.

Cheerful Charlie and his magnificent Show of Tricks, Enchantments and Illusions – he dances, he sings and he will fascinate you. At the village fair in Downton – do not miss it!

A magician? He read the small advertisement again and again until one of the kitchen maids brought the now hot iron back to the butler's pantry and he set to work. He would go and see this Cheerful Charlie in two weeks. Although Mr. Wilkinson had not mentioned the fair yet, Charles was certain the butler knew about it. Hopefully they would all go down to the village one evening. And it would then also be his last day in service – if all went well and he could find the courage to talk to his mother tonight.


TBC

(Next Chapter Charles Carson again and then we will see what happened to Elsie)