Chelsie Dagger here! For my second and final contribution, we dance into the more distant future. This includes some speculation based on the Christmas Special promo, but no official spoilers.
Christmas Eve, 1932
The bus pulled to a stop at the end of Brounker Road. Charles Carson helped his wife down from the tall vehicle. Elsie pretended not to notice his small wince as she took his hand. She knew the weather had caused Charles' arthritis to worsen though he tried to downplay the pain.
It was the coldest and wettest December in years, certainly since they'd made the permanent move to Brounker Road. Frost and ice covered every inch from the stop to their front stoop. Charles had sprinkled salt on their immediate doorstep, but the rest of the way was rather treacherous. The couple clung to each other as they picked their way carefully home along the slippery pathway. The intent concentration required by the journey precluded any conversation on the short walk home.
At the front door Elsie produced her key and let them in. They both sighed in relief at the solid footing and laughed at themselves for feeling such relief. With their coats and wet boots secured in the entryway closet, Charles and Elsie made a beeline for the small sitting room near the kitchen. At present, it was the warmest room in the house.
The house was usually full of bustle and activity, but it was currently peaceful and quiet. Both of their long-term tenants were away for the holidays. Young Mr. Fitzwilliam, a craftsman working on the latest wave of houses being built on the estate, had returned to his parents' in Belfast. Old Mrs. Pruitt's son-in-law had collected her almost a week ago, driving her to Sudbury in a borrowed car. With no lodgers to feed the Carsons had given Theresa, their cook and maid of all work, a few days off to spend with her family in Thirsk. Elsie and Charles enjoyed the quiet, but were looking forward to the annual chaotic Christmas Day at Yew Tree Farm.
Ever since the Abbey had been shuttered, Mr. Mason's farm had become the most convenient place to celebrate important events with their friends and former colleagues. Sometimes members of The Family would join them, but this year it would be only the Bransons. Lord and Lady Grantham were Christmasing with Lady Edith and her growing family. All five Talbots were in London spending time with Henry's family, though they were often in residence at Crawley House the rest of the year.
Elsie exited to the kitchen to put the kettle on while Charles lit the fire he'd built that morning before leaving for church. He was just straightening up when Elsie returned.
"Interesting sermon today," Charles commented. "Though I'm still not convinced it had anything to do with Christmas."
Elsie chuckled at her husband's predictable response. Truth be told, Charles had not approved of anything the new Reverend, Mr. Fletcher, had done since Mr. Travis' retirement. She had been expecting this conversation ever since they'd left church.
"What were you expecting?"
"I'm not sure; shepherds or wise men or angels. You know, something…Christmassy."
"You don't think 'nine ladies dancing' is Christmassy enough?" Elsie asked with a smirk.
"It is from a Christmas song, I'll grant you, but I've never heard the nine ladies dancing compared to the nine fruit of the Spirit," Charles frowned. "I think he made that part up."
"And if he did?" Elsie challenged, settling on the couch beside Charles. "It's a sweet notion. I think it is right that we take this time of year to reflect on the people in our lives and the gifts they possess that they bring into our lives."
Charles harrumphed and shrugged. His wife did not find his attitude acceptable and she told him so with a look. "Just for that, Charles, I am going to make you name the ladies in your life who exemplify the different fruit of the Spirit."
"That's easy," Charles beamed.
"And you can't say me for any of them," Elsie quickly amended.
Charles' expression darkened. This would be more difficult than he'd first thought.
"I'll give you time to think on it whilst I prepare the tea," Elsie offered. She'd only just left the room when Charles heard the kettle whistle. Her timing really was uncanny, he reflected.
Several minutes later, Elsie returned with the tray containing their tea and sandwiches.
"Well?" She asked, beginning to pour his tea. "I'm listening."
"The first is easy," Charles began.
"Love," Elsie provided.
"That has to be my first love," Charles said with a dreamy, nostalgic look in his eye.
Elsie bit her lip anticipating hearing Alice's name. Maybe she should have let him use her in this case, Elsie mused.
"My mother," Charles revealed. "A mother's love is unconditional and the first affection most children experience. Could there be any better example?"
"No," Elsie agreed with a relieved sigh. "That is a fine choice. And Joy?"
Charles considered. "I would have to say Lady Sybil. I never knew a more joyful soul as a child or as a young woman."
Elsie nodded her approval. "And Miss Sybbie has followed in her footsteps. It's a marvel how like her mother the child is."
"More so every year," Charles said fondly. "Indeed, the day Mr. Branson returned from America with Miss Sybbie was the most joyful day of my life."
Elsie laughed at her teasing husband as she handed him his tea.
"Though you might have had something to do with that too," Charles admitted with a grin.
"I should hope so," Elsie giggled and kissed his cheek before sitting beside him. They sipped their tea in happy silence for a time. "Who have you chosen for Peace?" Elsie prompted after her tea was half drunk.
"You might find it odd, but I've selected Mrs. Crawley."
"It was not someone I considered. She was always fighting with the Dowager when the old… girl was still with us." Elsie caught herself before saying 'battle ax'.
"That's just it, she wasn't fighting. The Dowager was always waging war or girding for battle, but Mrs. Crawley seldom took the bait. Mrs. Crawley would disagree and state her objections, but she always did so in the spirit of reconciliation. She was looking for answers and a peaceful resolution."
"Even when the Dowager was looking for a fight," Elsie smiled. "Alright, you've convinced me."
"Which is next?" Charles wondered. He set down his tea and picked up the Bible he'd taken to church that morning; a lovely edition gifted to him by the Dowager many years ago when he was promoted to first footman. He opened the book to the bookmarked page in Galatians. "Ah, longsuffering," he read.
Having noticed how stiffly his fingers moved while turning the delicate pages Elsie stood and wordlessly crossed the room to a small table with an almost hidden drawer. Charles watched her, knowing exactly what she was doing. He opened his mouth to argue with her, but thought better of it at the last minute. His hands really were quite painful today, after all. He continued his assignment as Elsie retrieved the salve from the drawer.
"Lady Edith must be the most patient and longsuffering people that I know. She suffered the 'slings and arrows of outrageous fortune' for so much of her life, but took it all remarkably in stride," Charles noted. "At times it was as if she believed that she deserved the things that happened to her."
"I sometimes thought that too," Elsie chimed in. "I'm so glad everything has turned out better than any of us ever hoped for her."
Elsie settled back on the couch. She opened the small jar and then held a hand out for Charles. He reluctantly gave her his right hand, the one that had first betrayed him and driven him to what he deemed early retirement. Elsie took a dollop of the salve and began to massage his hand.
"What's next?" Elsie asked.
Charles looked at the open Bible on the table beside him. "Gentleness. That has to be Lady Grantham. She's a gentlewoman through and through."
"You do know that it's gentleness, not gentility," Elsie reminded Charles.
"I know that, but I would argue that she is both. Even when angry, I've rarely heard Her Ladyship raise her voice; once, maybe twice," he remembered. "And even then, it felt against her nature to do so."
Elsie glimpsed the Bible verse. "Goodness is next."
"That would be Anna, of course." No explanation was needed here. Elsie was in absolute agreement. Anna was good to everyone. This had been one of the greatest sources of frustration and irony during those times of false accusations and suspicions. It was a testament to her nature that the experience had not soured her. It could not be said that she'd weathered the trials unscathed, but it could be said that her core self, her soul, remained unchanged.
Elsie took another dollop of the salve the doctor had recommended and moved her attentions to Charles' other hand. He smiled down at the scene gratefully. His infirmity had embarrassed him at first, but his wife's steady love had made such pity impossible and indulgent. Charles leaned down and kissed the top of her head.
"Are you trying to soften me up because I'm not going to like your next selection?" Elsie teased. She knew full well what was coming.
"Lady Mary has always been faithful to me," Charles proclaimed defensively. "And to Anna and to Downton."
Elsie shrugged noncommittally. "Well, I knew you would have to include her and I couldn't allow you to attribute any of the other virtues to her." She smirked up at Charles. "So I must accept your choice."
"Do you remember when we told the Family about our engagement?" Charles asked.
"Of course. How could I forget," Elsie laughed. "I was terrified that we'd be sacked, but you insisted that we wouldn't."
"I knew we wouldn't be, because I trusted that Lady Mary would support us. I know you find her selfish and vain."
"Perhaps less so in recent years," Elsie admitted.
"But she is capable of absolute loyalty," Charles insisted.
"I do believe that," Elsie conceded. Whatever Lady Mary was, she was an important part of Charles' life. The fact that she'd made the effort to remain in contact with them even after retirement proved that it was not just a polite tolerance on Mary's part. There was true affection and loyalty on both sides of the relationship.
Also, it was Mary's tenacious loyalty to Downton that had held the Family together during the most recent financial crisis. Though things were still tight all around, the estate had weathered those dark, early days due almost entirely to her stubborn will.
"What comes next?" Elsie couldn't remember.
"Meekness," Charles read.
"Didn't Mr. Fletcher refer to it as Kindness?" Elsie tried to remember.
"Hmm. Kindness? Yes, I believe he did. I like that much better. If it was meekness, I'd have to say Mrs. Molesley or Daisy."
"Daisy as she used to be," Elsie commented. "She's quite the bold woman now."
"Yes, and I believe that is owing to the kindness of one Beryl Patmore," Charles declared. "For all her blustering and barking there really isn't a kinder soul in Yorkshire than your best friend."
"You know that I fully endorse that selection," Elsie smiled enthusiastically. The cook and housekeeper had butted heads when Elsie first came to Downton, but through the years the two had built a true and lasting friendship. After her relationship with Charles, Elsie's friendship with Beryl had been one of the most unexpected joys of her life.
"And finally?" Elsie asked, setting aside the salve and helping Charles into a pair of cotton gloves. Not only did the gloves keep his hands warm, they kept him from getting the greasy salve all over things.
"I had a hard time with Temperance," Charles admitted. "We don't know a lot of people who practice self-restraint."
"No, we don't. But there must be someone," Elsie encouraged.
"You'll laugh."
"Try me."
"Lady Violet."
Elsie did indeed laugh. "If that is self-restraint, I would have loved to see what she was like unbound!"
"True, she never held back her opinion, but there are other forms of self-control," Charles argued. "I've witnessed many a dinner that might have gotten out of hand without her steady influence."
"Wanting to keep the family business away from nosy servants is not temperance," Elsie disputed.
"Maintaining an outward dignity despite whatever she might be suffering is a type of temperance. You didn't see her immediately after Lady Sybil's death," Charles sighed. He would always remember her valiant and almost successful attempt to appear anything but devastated by her granddaughter's sudden death. No one else had witnessed that moment of weakness when she paused briefly to gather her strength to face the rest of the Family, but Charles had seen and would never forget.
"So, you have your nine ladies then," Elsie smiled. "And maybe you can admit it wasn't such a bad sermon after all."
"I never said it was a bad sermon. It just hasn't anything to do with Christmas," Charles stated stubbornly.
Shaking her head, Elsie returned the salve to its drawer. She then gathered the used tea things on the tray. "I must wash my hands or I'll get ointment everywhere."
"Why don't I turn on the radio? There is a Christmas broadcast tonight," Charles offered.
"But His Highness isn't speaking until tomorrow, is he?" Elsie asked, halfway out the door.
"Correct. Three o'clock. You're certain Mr. Mason has a radio?" Charles was most anxious not to miss the King's address.
"He doesn't know it yet, but Mr. Mason will have one by three o'clock tomorrow," Elsie confided. "Beryl and Daisy bought it for him last week. Beryl has seen how much he loves listening to ours when they visit."
"That was kind of them, but it must have been dear," Charles commented.
"It's used, but in near perfect condition. It was the demonstration model in the store. Beryl haggled a great deal over the price."
"Why am I not surprised?"
Elsie hurried off to the kitchen and returned shortly. The radio was softly playing a Christmas carol. The early afternoon light was golden outside the window. The room was lit only by one small lamp and the glowing fire. Elsie was surprised that Charles had not returned to his seat on the couch, but stood in the middle of the room. He stood tall, smiling warmly at her. Elsie's heart skipped a beat.
My, but he is still the most handsome man, she thought.
Though the years had thinned his hair and cramped his hands it had done nothing to diminish his proud posture. He offered her a gloved hand.
"May I have this dance, My Lady?"
Elsie blushed as she took his hand and they began to waltz.
"Elsie, if you'd allowed me, I would have chosen you for each and every Lady," Charles sighed as they spun around the room. "You are a person of rare gifts and spirit and I am so thankful for you each and every day. You embody all the fruit of the Spirit. I know I have tested your Temperance, Kindness, and Patience ever since we met. You have always been Good, Gentle, and Faithful. By being my wife, you have brought such Joy, Love and Peace into my life as I never dared dream possible."
After all this time, she was still sometimes caught unaware by the limitless adoration of her husband. Elsie was too overwhelmed to speak immediately. She simply reached up to touch his face. She gazed lovingly into his Kind eyes which showed her his Good and Gentle soul.
"My darling man, you have filled my life with so much Peace, Love, and Joy that it feels like Christmas the year round," she whispered before reaching up to kiss him. Their dancing slowed to a stop as they kissed.
"Happy Christmas, Mrs. Hughes."
Elsie laughed at his use of her old nickname. He really did enjoy trying her Patience.
"Happy Christmas, you old booby."
AN/ And Happy Christmas to you all. Many Chelsie returns!
