A/N: Long time no see, huh? I know it's been far too long and I'm so sorry! School started on Monday and I hate it (as usual). My schedule was messed up and I've been so stressed. I literally got 17 hours of sleep last night and it was amazing. So, I decided to take my shift at work today off and relax with some good ole' fanfiction. I've set a schedule to write a chapter at least once a week, maybe more if I have time. Anyways! In this chapter there will be no Charles/Elsie interactions. Ha, I know. But they need some time apart so I've dropped in a few guests! (yayyy shouts the crowd I feel like I've been doing a terrible job at keeping this story on tract, they all seem like one shots to me… Which is not how I wanted things to flow with this story. Enjoy anyways and expect more soon! Love you all, xoxo.

"Did you have a life? Before Downton I mean?" She asked quietly under the shaded tree. The light was casting just right on her hair. The sun shining through her blonde curls illuminated her face, almost angelic. Her hands poured him another glass of lemonade when she repeated the question. "So, did you?" Giggling she laid back on tree.

"Yes, of course!" Charles was never one for sarcasm but he couldn't help but make a few remarks in her presence. "I wasn't born with a waistcoat on, Grace." Early that evening they agreed that when alone they would refer to one another by their given names. She said that it was too formal for a picnic to use titles, something he genuinely agreed upon.

"Well, you could have fooled me!" She giggled at his joke but saw the look of disappointment on his face. "I was only joking, Charles." Patting his shoulder she sat up straighter with her head tilted sideways. "Would you tell me?"

"About my life?" He shook his head. Never, in his 64 years had he revealed his past. It was a cruel and ridden with shadows. They crawled into his sleep and turned his dreams into nightmares with a flash of light. Shadows of Grigg and the men and women he met in the bar halls. He wasn't Charlie anymore, he was Charles Edward Carson. That would be the only man Grace ever met.

"Alright." She leaned closer to him and tilted his head towards hers. "How about we play a game?" A smile illuminated her face and she nodded her head for his answer.

"A game?" His brows furrowed.

"I tell you a secret, you tell me one in return." Rubbing his cheek in way that was far too forward for just friends, she continued. "Shall I start?" Her voice was far too excited. Charles knew she wanted to ease the hurt that was buried deep inside of him but, the game would only lead to a damaged heart for the both of them.

"I was born in America." She smiled at this.

"America?" He was astonished! "But… You are so…"

"Poised?"

"Well… yes." Blushing he looked at her with a grin that matched hers.

"Not all Americans are slobs, Charles." Grace flattened her dress.

"I never implied-"

"Your turn!"

He shook his head. How did he come to be sitting here in the first place? One minute he's on the verge of tearing a woman's head off, the next he's sitting under a tree playing games with this woman. Maybe there was some kind of medical condition to explain his actions. He looked at her and was amazed. She was nothing he had ever expected. Grace was young and lighthearted and she reminded him a spring flower. Blooming when he laughed at her jokes, or wilting when they parted their separate ways. Did she have the same feelings for him? Not that he had any feelings…

"I was in an orphanage." He stated as she nodded and her smile faded away. The game had turned sour.

"For how long?"

"I was dropped off as a babe, not even in a name in my possession. I grew up in multiple ones, actually." He lay down on the torn up sheets they used as a blanket, his elbow propped up his upper body. "I believe it was Hattigan's til I was 7, which was my first home in Sussex. They then transferred me to Blakely's in Yorkshire which was a long way from Sussex I can assure you." He actually laughed at this. "Then it was-"

"Charles." He looked up at her solemn face. "How can you speak so calmly of such horrors?" She fiddled with her fingers resting in her lap.

"They are hardly horrors; it's just the way things were." He grasped her hands on impulse. Rubbing his thumbs over her soft hands he said, "Would you like me to continue?"

"Yes." He looked into her eyes, full of concern. It was then that he decided. If she knew every secret about him then maybe they wouldn't be considered secrets anymore. Letting go of her hands he continued.

"I stayed at Blakely's for 3 years. By the time I left I was a few months from my 10th birthday. Around that time it was very uncommon for a child to be adopted, so they sent me to a home. It was called…" He scratched behind his ears and made a curious face, "Do you know, I think I've forgotten it!" He laughed and continued, "Anyways I was at that home for the rest of my childhood. I made a few friends but I haven't heard from them in years… And that's it. My life." He licked his lips and sipped his lemonade.

"That's terrible… And no one wanted to adopt you?"

"I was horribly ugly!" His deep laugh practically shook her tiny frame. She held back a giggle.

"I doubt it, Charles." She blushed deeply at this comment.

"My nose was far too big for my face and- would you like to know something?" He placed his hand on her knee and shook it slightly. "Would you?" Charles was acting completely unlike him. Speaking of his childhood was bringing back such memories and he was far too happy about it, but that was the fun of the game right?

"Yes, yes! Do tell, man." Her hand slid over his to keep him in place. It was natural. It was expected.

"I had no eyebrows." He whispered. A grin spread widely across his face as he chuckled.

"No…" She tilted her head back and let out a loud laugh, letting the light pass over her face again. Grace looked back at him as he shook with laughter. "How is it possible?!" She was violently shaking now from the tremors of her giggles.

"I could not tell you, Gracie!" He lay on his back and clutched his stomach. Her laughter stopped but her smile was still present, wide and shining. He had called her Gracie.

"But, you have such…" Shrugging her shoulders to tried to make her comment sound unoffending.

"Large ones, I know."

"I like them." The hand that was not clutched in Charles came to stroke it thick brows. His gaze was now upon her, not that she noticed. Her thumb was stroking them loving. "Strong, and full. They show expression, Charles. I like them." She repeated.

"Thank you."

"My turn, is it not?" She pulled her hand away from his face.

"Yes." Although their hands were still intertwined on her knee, they felt distant from each other.

"Let me think." Her head fell upon the tree once again. Grace chewed the inside of her cheek and pondered her next secret. Charles hand was idly rubbing circles on her knee and it felt so right. She sighed and closed her eyes to take it in. She wanted to remember this moment.

"Whatever you say, I won't hold it against you." He whispered.

"I'm afraid you would…"

"Never, Gracie, never."

"I was married."

The circles on her thigh stopped. And when she opened her eyes she saw he was sitting up. His body was facing her. Cautiously he placed his hand back on her thigh.

"Tell me."

"You'll tell me I'm foolish." She smiled sadly.

"I won't, I swear. Not on such a fragile subject, Gracie."

She sighed and responded rather curtly, "His name was Timothy." Grace inhaled deeply and told her story, "There really isn't much to tell. Young love, tragic death. Nothing spectacular I assure you. Just don't make me tell you it today, alright?" He nodded, understanding her pain. She wiped away a stray tear and placed a smile on her face, "But I believe it's your turn, Charles." Nudging his hand with a strange sense of cheer, he responded with only solemnness.

"I think that's enough for today, don't you think?" He gave her weak smile and placed his other palm on her knee, rubbing both of his hands on her thighs to create a warm friction. It was getting colder. The rays on sunshine still had a soft warmth to it but winter was coming. She shivered and wrapped her shawl around her.

"Would you like to leave now?" He whispered.

"Yes, please."

They packed the few things that were left from their picnic and strolled through the autumn leaves.


Elsie paced in the kitchens, biting her lip in a furious manner.

"Where is that man?!" She cursed under her breath. She hadn't seen him since their 'fight' in his pantry, which was over 5 hours ago. "The dressing gong should be rung in five minutes and no one has seen hide nor tail of him! Blasted man, Mrs. Patmore." She ran into the stocky woman and apologized, fumbling with the silverware in her hand.

"Mrs. Hughes!" She shouted grabbing the falling spoons from Elsie's hand. "Please! We have forty-five minutes til the dinner is served and that Daisy hasn't even put in the tarts! So, if you would please exit from the cooking area, I would be grateful." She slammed the silver on the table, placing her hands on her hips. Elsie stood dumbfounded. She stumbled with her words of protest but Beryl only pointed to the door and shouted, "Out!"

Elsie stormed out the door, furious with the whole damned house. Her heels were clicking on the paved floor. When she rounded the corner she ran into Anna. Placing a hand on the young woman's shoulder to steady herself she let out a deep breath.

"Please, Anna. Tell me you know where Mr. Carson is." Elsie was practically on the verge of tears. This was a disaster! If Charles wasn't upstairs in five minutes to ring the gong then the whole night would crumble. He wouldn't serve the dinner and then she would have to answer a load of questions she didn't know the answer to. And when he finally appeared he would blame this all on her, saying that she should have found him sooner. The whole night would be on her shoulder.

"Why yes, Mrs. Hughes." Anna said calmly holding the woman steady. "He left a little after lunch time with Ms. O'Donnell." Elsie felt sick. "Are you alright Mrs. Hughes?"

Elsie rolled her eyes and responded, "Fine, just bloody fine, Anna." She stomped away from the young woman and walked into the servant's hall spitting orders.

"Thomas!" He stood up immediately flattening his waistcoat (bless him) "I know its last minute but, it seems Mr. Carson is preoccupied." She snarled, "So, you will have to serve the dinner, by yourself tonight." His eyes grew wide with horror.

"Bu-"

"No excuses just do it! Please, Thomas." She begged the young man for his help.

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes." He grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and slipped it on. He walked over to Elsie for further instructions. Almost in a motherly way she tightened his tie and straightened his coat, making sure he was perfect. When she grabbed his shoulders and looked into his eyes with determination, he knew this was serious.

"Listen, and listen good, if you ever want to be butler in this damned house; you better be as professional and poised as Mr. Carson himself. You will ring that dressing gong then; ten minutes, Thomas, ten, that is all you get to learn the wines. Anna will help you, go find her before you ring the gong, she shouldn't be far. I want you to be the best, can you do that?" The poor man was scared out of his mind.

"But, Mrs. Hughes, why am I doing this?" Thomas said hastily.

"Because I believe in you, Thomas." She turned him around and gave him a slight push into the hall. "Just, don't disappoint me, please." Elsie was practically begging.

"I won't Mrs. Hughes, I promise." He nodded his thanks and scurried up the stairs.

"Oh! And Thomas!" She hollered behind him.

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes." He popped his head in the doorway.

"If they ask where Mr. Carson is, tell them he wanted you to serve the dinner in his place." She grinned, almost maliciously.

"Very good, Mrs. Hughes." Thomas chuckled and shut the door behind him.

It's going to be a long night… Elsie thought as she walked into her pantry.


They stopped by the lake on the way to the house. She wanted to see it but, he told her it was nothing special. Just a small pond really, he had said.

"This is no pond," She stood at the end of the dock. "This is a lake and a proper lake at that." Grace set down the basket that held the remaining food and dishes. Shimming off her shawl she threw it with the rest of the stuff. "Is this too forward of me, Mr. Carson?" She teased as she hiked up her skirt to unhook her garters. Her shoes and stockings were already in grass before he noticed what she had said. Lord, what had he gotten himself into.

"No, Ms. O'Donnell. I don't think it is." He smiled and turned around making sure no one was peeping.

"Oh come now, Charles. I'm only dipping my toes in." She giggled and motioned him forward. "You'll have to court me before you start that talk, you silly man." Her toes hit the water and she shivered but still immersed her foot in the water.

"I thought I was courting you?" He took off his shoes and socks as well, "Do you mind?" He sat beside her and rolled up his trousers.

"I believe I was the one who asked you to accompany me for the day. Does that mean I'm courting you?" She giggled and kicked her toes in the water to splash his leg. He only scoffed and shook his head.

"I'll make you a deal. From now on I'll be the one asking you on the outings." He held out his left hand for her to shake. "We can just pretend this was practice, hmm?" When he felt her soft hands grasp his hand; he shivered and sighed.

"Deal." She whispered and leaned closer towards him, his hand still in hers. She stilled halfway and just smiled, chuckling to herself.

"What?" Charles said.

"Are you going to kiss me or not?" Grace laughed melodiously.

"Am I-What?" He took a double take and almost lost his balance on the small dock. "I mean… If you want me to?" He questioned slowly.

"Charles, you daft man, I wouldn't be leaning towards you if I didn't want you to kiss me." She released their hands and grasped the back of his neck pressing her lips to his. It was perfect. They knew what was acceptable and what was inappropriate, what they wanted and what they didn't want. He stayed still until he felt her pull him closer and he melted. This was no rushed frenzy on the table, this was slow and true, something that Charles had never experienced with anyone besides Grace. He tangled his hands in the soft curls of hair and got lost in everything that was her.

Her scent, her sound, her everything, and in those few minutes he felt a spark within his heart. Not a fire, not something that would burn his to the touch. But it was warmth, which spread through his veins. This was what it was supposed to feel like this, right? It must have because; he had never felt anything more pleasing.


Elsie tried to sort out everything that had happened in the last twenty minutes. Charles was with that woman again. Two days! It had been two days since their rendezvous and he was already with that woman again. Thoughts were tumbling in her head and things were adding up, what was he thinking?

Did he think I wouldn't find out? What does it matter if I found out or not, right? He practically told me that there was no future for us… But what does it mean?

Tears prickled in her eyes and she tried to suppress them. There were more things at hand than their relationship.

Do we even have a relationship anymore?

Okay, she thought to herself. No more. Tonight's dinner, that's what was important right now. Tonight's dinner…

The tears still fell as she scribbled nonsense onto a piece of paper.

"Mrs. Hughes?" Isobel Crawley knocked on her pantry door and entered. "I'm sorry to inter- Oh dear…" She started to back out of the room when Elsie motioned her to stop and come in.

"Please, it's nothing important. What can I do you for Mrs. Crawley?" Elsie wiped away the stray tears and motioned for Isobel to sit down. Isobel did what she was told and sat down in the seat across from Elsie.

"Well, I just wondered if you knew where Mr. Carson was at the moment." It wasn't a question, particularly, just an observation. Isobel tilted her head to the left as she tried to see Elsie's hidden face.

"I do, Mrs. Crawley. Do you need him?"

"Quite the opposite, my dear. My question is… Do you need him?" Isobel leaned closer and seemed to whisper the last words that dripped off her lips. Elsie's head shot up as quickly as the words left the woman's mouth. What was she insinuating?

"I don't mean to be rude, but is that any of your business?" Her Scottish temper, that's what it was.

"Can I tell you story?" Mrs. Crawley said as she looked down to her feet.

"I…" was all Elsie could muster.

"Mrs. Hughes, do you remember that day in Thirsk? The fair, I mean." Elsie nodded, remembering it quite well because Charles was too daft to realize she was asking him to the fair with her. "Well, I accompanied Dr. Clarkson that day, as you well know." At this sentence Isobel smiled.

"But, I did something very stupid, Mrs. Hughes." she took a deep breath and smoothed the imaginary creases in her dress. "Rich- Dr. Clarkson proposed to me." Isobel looked up at the sound of Elsie's gasp. "Well it wasn't really a proposal… He asked if I ever thought of marrying again. I knew what he was implying though. Dr. Clarkson wanted to know if I would every think of marry him. And to tell you truth, I had thought about it. On multiple occasions, actually…" She chuckled and her face became grim. "Do you know what I did Mrs. Hughes?"

Elsie's brow was creased and her heart ached with the pain that Mrs. Crawley held within her.

"No, Mrs. Crawley, I don't."

"Isobel, please."

"No, I don't, Isobel." Elsie stated again.

"I brushed him aside. I acted as if his question didn't even faze me. And the look on his face…" She practically sobbed at the thought, "He looked so helpless and confused at what I was saying to him. I mean, I practically told him that he meant nothing more than a friend to me, that I would never marry him. He drove me home that day, you know." Isobel smiled through her oncoming tears. "Through all the suffering that man went through with me," She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "He still drove me home."

Elsie felt her own tears prickling at the corner of her eyes.

"I had a chance to redeem myself. On the day that Matthew passed. Can you believe it? He told me that he regretted what he said at the fair, and what did I do? I told him I had no idea what he meant, but he persisted. 'I think you do' he said. Oh god," She sobbed, "and he thanked me. Thanked me, Mrs. Hughes! He thanked me for breaking his heart. That man, I swear."

Elsie rose from her seat and stood in front of Isobel's Crawley's chair. She handed her a worn down handkerchief, nothing for a woman of her stature.

"Mrs. Cr- Isobel… I'm so-"

"He came back." She looked into Elsie's eyes, red and full of unshed tears. "A week after Matthew died, he came back. He stepped into my household and held me as I ruined his suit with my tears. He told me that he loved me, Elsie." Isobel Crawley stood up and wrung the handkerchief with her hands. "I told him to get out. Can you imagine? What he felt?" She shook her head fiercely in grief.

"Yes. I can." Elsie didn't know what to do.

"I know you can. Because I know you love that man that is with my maid. I know that you feel something for Carson like Richard felt for me. And I want you to do something about it because; Dr. Clarkson doesn't even talk to me anymore, Elsie." Isobel returned the cloth and said "Please, don't let him get away. I assure you, losing a man you love is one the most painful thing you could go through."

"Yes, Isobel." Elsie set the cloth on her desk and wrapped her arms around this woman, as she sobbed like a babe in her arms. This woman was a standing mess, full of sorrow and despair, something that broke but you could never fix.


They walked through the back door and he motioned her to enter behind him. When he turned back he was greeted with a sight.

"Have you any idea what time it is?!" She shouted at him.

"We've only been gone a few of hours, Mrs. Hughes." He said puzzled.

"A few hours?" She scoffed. "A few hours, Mr. Carson?"

"Yes, a few. What on Earth is the matter?" His temper was growing. Grace stood by his side like a wounded pup.

"You were supposed to ring the dressing gong an hour ago, you know." Elsie crossed her arms over her chest and glared at both him and Grace.

"AN HO-" He scurried to take off his hat and coat as he threw them on the hook. Not bothering as they dropped to the floor he practically sprinted to the stairs. A hand stopped him in his track. The small, but strong hand of Elsie Hughes stopped him.

"Don't bother." She stated viciously, "Thomas is upstairs serving the second course right now." Her grasp on his arm only tightened as he glared her into the eyes.

"Thomas?" He stated with such anger that Grace seemed to shrink into the corner of the hall. "You let Thomas serve the dinner?"

"Yes, seeing as you weren't here to serve the dinner yourself, I told the most experienced to serve."

"Thomas is hardly experience, Mrs. Hughes! You could have told Alfred to do it! He knows how to serve a proper dinner, instead of that Thomas." He slithered the boy's name out of his lips.

"Please, Charles. I think I'll leave…" Grace began to open the door when Charles took large strides to stop her. He shut the door and stood over her. Her body was pressed up against the door.

Elsie just watched as he did this. She couldn't argue with him. She couldn't pull him away. She just stood there as he whispered his apologies to the young woman. Elsie couldn't really blame her; after all she fell for Charles Carson as well. When he leaned in closer to her to whisper something into her ear, Elsie turned. She walked pass Mrs. Patmore who was leaning against the doorway from the kitchen. She heard her say something. 'Elsie' she assumed. But she kept walking, not even acknowledging the cook. Striding up the stairs and down every corridor every hallway in the house to conceal herself; to hide herself from all the pain in the world. At the end of the corridor she turned right into the room. Her head banging against the door as she composed herself, inhaling in and out to steady her breathing.

"Mrs. Hughes?" was the last thing she heard when everything went black

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