Expect some time jumps over the next few chapters. Some answers will slowly but surely come out. Many thanks to Batwings for giving this a first read to keep me on the straight and narrow

Disclaimer: I do not own them. If I did they would be happily married with sons named Henry, Victor, Geoff, Gerry, and Malcolm and two daughters with red hair.

April 1904

Elsie rolled her neck and tried to reach the tight spot to massage the cramp out. She had thought being a housemaid was hard work, and it was physically demanding. At times, though, she thought that a day as a housemaid again might be preferable to dealing with invoices, household accounts, and working out household matters with Lady Grantham. That didn't even take into account the difficulty of dealing with staff members like Mrs. Patmore and Miss O'Brien, although she'd take Mrs. Patmore over the ladies' maid any day of the week. At least Mrs. Patmore didn't actively cause trouble, unless it had to do with the store cupboard she thought wryly. Still, she had done this job for just over eight months now, and she felt more and more as though she was settling into her position. She had even found establishing a working rapport with Mr. Carson relatively easy. It helped, she supposed, that he was so unfailingly polite and seemed as eager to stay away from personal topics as she was. In a way it was almost pleasant to sit down with him at the end of the day to review any missteps that might have occurred and to plan for the upcoming day. Occasionally they would even discuss some of the foibles of the staff and how best to deal with them. At times, she could almost pretend that they were discussing the running of their own home and children. Usually she tried desperately to keep her mind from straying down that path.

Now, though, there was a problem, and unfortunately it was a large one. It was also a problem that she could not discuss with either Mr. Carson or Mrs. Patmore, because if she was right, they were both complicit in the deceit. She supposed the best thing to do would be to just go and talk to him. Today was his half day. If she was right in her suspicions, then he would leave the house with a package. She wondered where he took it. To a lover perhaps? If that was the case a small part of her didn't want to know, but she felt that she must either confront him or present her evidence to Lady Crawley. Her mind was made up. Rose was set to watch the house for the afternoon so that she could discuss this with him or if she needed to she would just follow him to his destination. Guilt seeped in at the thought of spying on him.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a knock on her door. At her invitation, the object of her concern entered the room. He stood politely just inside the door, "I hope that I haven't interrupted you, Mrs. Hughes."

"Not at all, Mr. Carson," she replied, trying to keep her face completely neutral, "Was there something you needed?"

"No, that is, yes," he answered, appearing unusually nervous. He shut his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and then continued, "I need to ask you to do something for me while I'm in London this season. If you're agreeable, I would like you to come with me this afternoon so that I may explain."

She tried to keep her jaw from dropping. Not only could she not believe that Mr. Carson wanted her to accompany him anywhere, but she was also going to hopefully find out exactly what she wanted without having to confront him or spy.

She agreed, to his obvious relief, and he left her to her thoughts as quickly as he'd disturbed them. Surely he wouldn't take her to meet another woman, would he? What possible reason would he have for that? Unless, of course, there was a child involved, and he wanted her to provide the stores from the house for them while he was gone. She shuddered inwardly at that thought. No; even Mr. Carson wouldn't be that unfeeling.

After luncheon, she met him at the back door, noticing that there was a package on the floor beside him. He held her coat for her, and she watched him carefully while she drew on her gloves. He wouldn't quite meet her eyes, but he waited patiently for her to finish. Perhaps, she thought, he had guessed that she had found the discrepancy and was going to try to make her a party to their deception. The most likely thing, no matter what her fears were, was that they were selling the extra stores. That level of dishonesty seemed so unlike him, even this him not the Charles that she thought she knew, that she couldn't bring herself to believe it.

They were on the path toward the estate cottages before he spoke, "Mrs. Hughes, I need to explain some things about the very special person you're going to meet. I want you to be prepared."

Her heart began to race, but she kept her face carefully neutral.

"He is not quite what he used to be," he said and her pulse began to slow to normal, "The reason that I am secretive about him is that he would not want others to see him like this. He always had quite a lot of pride about his appearance."

Elsie was intrigued, she knew Charles's, Mr. Carson's, she corrected herself, father was dead. What man could he be so concerned about?

"Mr. Jerkyns was the butler of Downton before I took that position," he explained, obviously deep in his own thoughts, "When my mother became ill several years ago…, you know that she was the housekeeper, don't you?" he paused to look at her and waited for her nod of affirmation, "About 14 year ago," he paused to look at her significantly, "as you know, she became ill; apoplexy, stroke, there are different names for it, but the important thing is that after her attack, she couldn't move her left side. She had difficulty doing even the simplest tasks to take care of herself. Mr. Jerkyns and she had an understanding; I suppose you would call it. After her attack she had to leave service," his frown turned to a fond smile, "Mr. Jerkyns surprised everyone by leaving with her. That is when I became butler."

Understanding began to dawn, "Is this who you take the stores to? Does the family know?"

He looked at her in surprise, "You noticed?" then answered his own question, "Of course you would. Yes; the family does know. Did you think I was stealing?"

She refrained from commenting, except with a downward turn of her eyes, and he spoke softly, "Surely you know me better than that."

Steeling herself, she met his eyes squarely and nodded. The corner of his mouth lifted at her acknowledgement, and he continued, "Mrs. Patmore knows that he is here, and the family knows, but no one else from the house, because he wouldn't want them to," he looked almost pained, "His mind isn't what it was. He doesn't wander, and he can take care of himself, mostly. There's a girl from the village that comes in to cook a little and stays with him during the day. He forgets, though, and gets distracted easily."

Her voice was tight with emotion when she spoke again. This was Charles exactly as she remembered him, and he was trusting her with one of his biggest secrets, "And you've cared for him all this time?"

"Elsie, he took care of my mother for over two years, night and day. No one could have asked for or expected more devoted care. Of course it is Lord and Lady Grantham who have" he admitted, "given him this cottage to live in and allowed me to bring supplies from the house. They take care of their own," he finished with pride.

She nodded, understanding a little more of his devotion to the family, "Why are you telling me about him now?"

"Because, while I am in London, I will need someone to visit him; to check on him and bring him supplies," he answered patiently, "Mrs. Patmore will be gone for quite a while to be with her sister. I needed someone I could trust to not pity him or be embarrassed. I think he might be more comfortable with you, since you didn't know him before. I'm introducing you to him, and vice versa, now because I want to give him some time to get used to you."

They had arrived at the cottage by this point, and Elsie could see a man sitting quietly in the front garden. Charles grasped her arm to pull her into the shadow of a tree so that they could observe him. As they watched, the man stood and straightened a tray that was sitting on a table beside him then stood at attention for a moment. After forgetting the tray and looking around distractedly, he sat back down. In just a few more moments, he seemed to notice the tray again and the cycle repeated itself.

Charles watched him sadly for another few minutes and then they entered the garden. The man stood formally to greet them, "Good afternoon, may I help you?"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Jerkyns, it's me, Charles," he answered a little sadly, "I've brought someone to meet you. She's our new housekeeper, Mrs. Hughes."

"I'm pleased to meet you, madam," he addressed Elsie with a little bow, "Charles's mother is a housekeeper and one of the best. You should meet her as well, but I'm not sure where she is just now." His voice trailed off, and he looked around as though to find her.

Elsie didn't miss the pained expression that crossed Charles's face before he answered, "That will have to wait for another time, Mr. Jerkyns. Perhaps we could go inside."

They started toward the front door of the cottage, but Mr. Jerkyns stopped them with alarm and directed them to the back door with an admonishment for Charles, "You know better than to enter by the front. Take the servants' entrance."

Once inside, they were able to spend a comfortable hour in conversation. Mr. Jerkyns in a well-worn armchair while she and Charles sat shoulder to shoulder on the settee. They were close enough that she could feel him tense when the conversation waned and relax when it flowed easier. Mr. Jerkyns might be confused, but he was pleasantly so. She did see occasional flashes of frustrated temper when he tried to remember recent events and couldn't, but Charles smoothed over the awkwardness to make him more comfortable. Elsie could easily see the dignified butler that the frail older man had been.

Once Charles seemed satisfied that the two of them could carry on a reasonable conversation without him, he excused himself to put the stores away. Elsie listened to the shuffling sounds in the kitchen for a few moments and noticed that Mr. Jerkyns had begun to doze. She rose to look around the room and moved to the mantle to examine the pictures there. There was a picture of Mr. Jerkyns and another of a woman who looked remarkably like Charles with warm eyes and a barely concealed smile. On the other side there was a picture of Mr. Jerkyns with the same woman, except she looked different. Elsie noticed that she held her arm tight against her body and her face seemed to droop a little on one side.

"My mother," Charles said grimly from just behind her shoulder, "They had promised to marry when they left service. He didn't hesitate to marry her after her attack. The vows are for better or worse, sick or well. At least that's what he said," his voice trailed off as though he was deep in thought.

Charles shook himself out of his reverie, "I made tea while I was in the kitchen. We should have it and then go back to the house. You can still have a little of your day to yourself."

"I don't mind," she said, looking at him over her shoulder, "This has been a pleasant afternoon, full of surprises."

She saw his eyes drift down to her lips for a moment before he swallowed suddenly and turned back to the tea things.

Sinking down gratefully on the settee once more, she took her cup with a hand that shook only slightly. Charles woke Mr. Jerkyns, who drank his tea greedily but only nibbled at the bread and butter that Charles had prepared. Elsie just sipped her tea silently and tried to gather her thoughts.

When they had finished she rose gratefully to clear up the few tea things and left Charles to talk to Mr. Jerkyns. When she returned, both men rose and Mr. Jerkyns gave her another small bow.

"It was very nice to have met you, Miss, ah, um," a look of pure panic came over his face when he couldn't recall her name. Charles stepped in rapidly to supply it, "Mrs. Hughes, sir."

"Oh yes, it was nice to have met you Mrs. Hughes," then he looked in puzzlement at Charles, "Hughes, why does that sound familiar?"

Charles held up his hand to cut him off, but was unable to stop him, "Oh yes, I remember. That is the name of the girl you are going to marry," turning back to Elsie, he asked her with the most innocent of expressions, "Are you related to her?"

Elsie met Charles's shocked expression evenly for a moment and was surprised at how steady her voice was, "No, sir, I am not."

When they had said their goodbyes and were on the path back to Downton, Elsie quickened her strides so that she could move away from Charles. Unfortunately, his long legs made that impossible. He walked by her side in silence for several long moments before she stopped and turned to him, "Mr. Carson, I know that you do not want to speak of the past and truthfully neither do I, but it is sure to come up from time to time. Could we, once for all, make peace with our past now?" she took a deep breath and exhaled before saying the most difficult words of her life, "I forgive you."

"You forgive me?" he asked incredulously, and she saw his jaw clench. A flash of anger passed through his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by resignation. He ground out, "Very well, Mrs. Hughes. Thank you."

She continued, "We may never be more than friends, but surely we can at least be that."

"At least that," he agreed nodding stiffly, but looking anywhere but her eyes, "Will you be kind enough to look in on Mr. Jerkyns while I am away?"

She nodded, puzzled by his sudden anger, "I will be glad to, Mr. Carson."

They walked back to the house in stony silence, and there were no evening conversations for the next several nights.

Elsie couldn't understand why this path had grown so rocky in such a short time.

Reviews are welcome as always. I hope you don't get frustrated with the pacing of this story.