Last chapter. Enjoy!
Mr. Carson was in the parlor absorbed in a newspaper when Mrs. Carson pulled aside the curtain and looked out the front window. "Looks like we've got a visitor from the Abbey, Charles. One of his lordship's cars just pulled up."
"I wonder who it might be." He put down the newspaper and donned his jacket, which lay over the back of the settee.
Mrs. Carson's mouth dropped open in surprise and she let the curtain fall back in place, her hands suddenly busy smoothing her skirts and making sure her hair was tidy. Before she found her voice to give her husband some warning, he had opened the door.
"Your lordship!" To say that Mr. Carson was surprised to see the Lord Grantham on the doorstep of his cottage would have been an understatement.
Mrs. Carson joined her dumbfounded husband at the door. "Won't you come in, your lordship?" she greeted the earl, gesturing for him to enter. He looked uncomfortable, but there was no trace of hostility or anger in his expression. He went with Mrs. Carson into the parlor and Mr. Carson closed the door and followed them. "Can I get you some tea?" she asked.
"No, no," he answered. "Please don't trouble yourself. And do sit down, both of you."
Mr. and Mrs. Carson hesitated, but when Lord Grantham took the armchair, they sat together on the settee.
Silence reigned for a few moments before the earl spoke again. "Carson, Mrs. Carson, I've come here to apologize. I behaved abominably all those months ago. I've shown you both great disrespect in a number of ways and I hope it is not too late to make amends."
"It is never too late for that, milord," Mr. Carson intoned. "If we part today as friends, I see no need for any other amends to be made."
"I can't agree with you there, Carson, although I am grateful to find you so forgiving. I want to offer you a cottage on the Downton estate, if you would care to take one."
"That's very generous of you, milord," Mrs. Carson told him.
"Not really," he replied. "It's what I ought to have offered in the first place. I had intended to provide two cottages, had you retired separately as Carson and Mrs. Hughes."
"Be that as it may, we have no need for a cottage," Mrs. Carson answered. "We're quite snug here and a mysterious benefactor has purchased it in Mr. Carson's and my names."
Mr. Carson's eyebrows drew together. "I don't suppose your lordship had anything to do with that?"
"Of course not!" Lord Grantham exclaimed. "It couldn't have been me; it was a woman who paid Mr. Martin for-" The earl realized that he had given himself away and stopped. Mr. and Mrs. Carson looked at him in surprise. "Well, it seems I'm no good at keeping secrets."
Mrs. Carson could not contain her curiosity. "If I may ask, milord, who was the woman? Mr. Martin's description ruled out her ladyship and Lady Mary, but we were otherwise entirely puzzled."
"Lady Edith was my co-conspirator, and the only member of the family who knows of it. The maid's uniform was her idea."
"She's very clever," Mrs. Carson said with a smile.
"She is," Lord Grantham agreed. "It was she who urged me to come here. She thought that to be on good terms again would mean as much to you as the cottage."
"Quite right," Mr. Carson assented. "But I'm afraid we can't accept such a gift from your lordship," Mr. Carson put in gravely. His wife was unsurprised that he balked at the gift, but she suspected the earl would dig in his heels as well.
"It's not a gift, Carson," he argued. "It's nothing more than what I promised you years ago."
"But a home for life is very different from ownership of this cottage, to do with as we please, milord."
"And I ought to have given you each a retirement settlement, besides your two cottages for life. You've not only both served the Crawleys faithfully for years, but you've done it better than anyone else ever could have done."
"But the value of this home is such that-"
"Carson, if you continue to refuse what is owing to you, know that I will not hesitate to confide in Lady Mary, who I'm certain will visit you this very day. Even if I am unable to prevail upon you, I know that she will not fail."
Mr. Carson looked disconcerted and his wife was hard pressed not to laugh out loud. He was a stubborn man, but he knew his own weaknesses. There were two women in the world, both very stubborn themselves, to whom he could refuse nothing, try though he might, and Lady Mary was one of them. The two men sat eye to eye, each mulish in his own way, though there was no longer any ill will between them. Mrs. Carson watched the scene with interest.
"Very well, milord," Mr. Carson acquiesced. "It will be as you wish."
"Good. I'm glad."
"If you don't mind my asking, what changed your lordship's mind, months after we'd gone?" Mrs. Carson inquired, her curiosity once more getting the better of her.
"I was dining in London," Lord Grantham mused to Mrs. Carson. "I was just on my own in town for a few days, but for some reason as I sat alone in a restaurant, I had a little daydream of taking her ladyship there. The maitre d' prepared a table for me, but refused to serve my wife. I can't think when I've had an odder daydream, but it made me think. What would I do if that ever happened? Naturally I would go elsewhere, and likely put the news about that the Countess of Grantham had been refused service there. That's just what Carson did when I refused to keep you on if you were married, though I am not aware of his having spoken a word against me."
"Nor have I, milord," Mr. Carson declared.
"I'm sure the rest of the Crawleys would think me a fool for taking so long to see just what I've done, and they would be right."
"I do hope it is some consolation to the Crawleys that Mr. Carson and I have been quite happy in retirement," Mrs. Carson assured him. "We have found it even more to our taste than either of us expected."
"Especially me," Mr. Carson put in. "I could not imagine what life would be like without work, but when I suddenly found myself living this very different life, I found it suited me very well."
"In no small part due to the presence of your good wife, I'm sure." The earl smiled pleasantly.
"Certainly," Mr. Carson agreed, looking over at Mrs. Carson. "I couldn't do without her." His voice had softened and he smiled at her, his eyes twinkling.
Lord Grantham cleared his throat. "Well," he floundered, uncomfortable at seeing his usually impassive former butler with such an expression of open affection on his face. "I'm afraid I must be going now. But I'm glad that we've had this talk."
Mr. Carson was shaken, a little embarrassed, out of his reverie by the earl standing up from his seat and he and Mrs. Carson stood as well. Lord Grantham shook hands with husband and wife and Mr. Carson saw him out. When he returned to the parlor, he flopped down gracelessly on the settee beside his wife.
"Well!" It was all he could think of to say.
"Indeed!" Mrs. Carson agreed.
"Elsie."
"Yes?"
"It's teatime, isn't it?"
"Yes, Charles, I believe it is."
They rose from their seats and made their way, hand-in-hand, to the bedroom.
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"Has it really been that long since you've been to London, Elsie?"
"Of course. Why else would I have said so?" Mrs. Carson watched London pass by through the cab window. "What's this hotel you've booked for us?"
"Nothing fashionable, but a nice place, and quite reasonable, although I did splurge on one thing."
"Oh?"
"An en suite bathroom. I've never stayed anywhere that offered one of those."
"Nor I. I think I shall feel quite decadent." Mrs. Carson smiled, still looking out the window.
"You deserve to be spoiled, Elsie."
"Then it's a good thing I married you, Charles. I don't think Mrs. Hughes would have enjoyed retirement quite as much as I do."
Mr. Carson moved over on the seat so he could look out of the window over her shoulder. "What do you see out there that is so wonderful?"
"Nothing in particular, except that it's not at all like the Yorkshire countryside."
"Well, that's certain." Mrs. Carson shivered a bit at her husband's voice in her ear and his breath on her neck. "We're almost to the hotel, love," he told her. "And I think it's about teatime, don't you?"
"Perhaps," she teased. "Though I am rather tired. I might prefer a nap over tea."
He growled a little, but answered pleasantly. "Perhaps I would, too."
"When do we go to the theatre, Charles?" Mrs. Carson would have liked to turn around and kiss her husband soundly rather than making inane conversation, but she didn't feel quite capable of going that far in the back of a cab driving through London. Anyone might see them.
"Tomorrow night. Have you brought that fancy dress I told you to buy?"
"Certainly I have."
"Well, I look forward to having you on my arm when we go out tomorrow evening." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "And after the play I look forward to removing that fancy dress."
"No more of that, please, until we're alone," Mrs. Carson scolded, blushing.
"I'll try, but I don't know how well I'll succeed," he said. "I find I quite like whispering naughty things in your ear."
She turned around and pushed him back to his side of the seat. "Very well, but I can give back as good as I get," she replied mischievously, then leaned in to whisper in his ear. "When we get to our hotel room and the door is locked, those trousers will be the first things to go."
Mr. Carson went a bit pink, but was otherwise unruffled. "As you wish, dearest," he returned smugly.
"I do so wish." Mrs. Carson's lips smiled and her eyes laughed as she looked at her husband. Impulsively, she kissed his cheek. Before she could settle back into her seat, however, Mr. Carson had turned his head and met her lips with his, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She relaxed with her hands against his chest and gave in to the heat that crept over her body. Perhaps anyone might see them, but who did she know in London?
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Mr. Carson woke before his wife and smiled sleepily. She was asleep with her head on his shoulder and her arm draped over his chest. Often when he woke first, he tried counting her eyelashes, though he never finished before she awoke. It was far too dim in the hotel room for him to attempt it now; night had fallen while they slept and there was only one lamp on. He was just as content to close his eyes and enjoy the delicate scent of her - vanilla and Elsie. Before long, however, Mrs. Carson awoke. Her hand wandered about his chest, caressing him lightly.
"That's nice, Elsie," Mr. Carson mumbled.
"It's odd to fall asleep when it's light and wake up when it's dark," Mrs. Carson observed.
"We've done it before," he chuckled.
She moved to sit on her haunches beside him, her finger still tracing patterns on his chest. Mr. Carson took the opportunity to admire her revealed form in the dim light. "Charles, do you ever have moments when it's hard to believe this is all real?"
"Hard to believe that what is all real?"
"Everything. Marriage. Retirement. This." She gestured to their naked bodies. "Six months ago I loved you, but if someone had told me that I would be waking up in a London hotel on a Wednesday just before dinnertime after an afternoon spent making love to you, I would have laughed at them. I don't know if there is any way my life could be more different now than it was then."
"The only thing that was the same is that you and I were together."
Mrs. Carson smiled affectionately at her husband. "We were, love, though not in quite the same way as now."
"Not quite. But I think I know what you mean. It did all happen rather quickly."
"Quickly and slowly all at once."
Mr. Carson's eyes questioned her. "What do you mean?"
She didn't meet his eyes. "Well, I don't know how it was for you, but for me the love moved slowly, and the courtship very quickly. I knew years ago that I loved you."
"There's no question that the courtship went quickly!" he agreed. "For me the love was both slow and fast."
She raised her head to look at him, her eyes asking for some explanation.
"It was knowing that I might lose you that forced me to acknowledge that I loved you, and that I had for a long time," Mr. Carson admitted. "Once I knew it, I wanted to tell you right away, to find out if you loved me, or even if you could love me. I wasn't sure if I would succeed with you, but I wanted more than anything to make you mine."
"Oh, my dear, I've been yours for a long time," Mrs. Carson told him, smiling. "I tried not to love you, but you made it impossible. It was only when I had faced the fact that I might be dying that I decided to speak up about it. I could never be the same after those weeks of dread and then my eventual reprieve. I'd been given a gift and I didn't intend to waste it any longer. I didn't know if I could make you love me, but I meant to try."
"Come here, love," Mr. Carson said, tugging on her hand. She lay back down beside him, propping herself up on her elbow.
"I love you, Charles," Mrs. Carson murmured.
"I love you, Elsie," he whispered back before leaning in for a deep kiss.
"I suppose we have to get up and go out if we want something to eat," she sighed.
"Not so, my love. Stay here." Mr. Carson got out of bed and rummaged in his suitcase for his dressing gown, which he donned before making his way to the door.
"What are you doing, Charles?"
"Collecting the dinner I ordered when we checked in." He pushed a little wheeled cart into the room and closed and locked the door. "We can sit here at the table or I can serve you in bed."
"I think I'd prefer the table," Mrs. Carson replied. "But I hope you won't object if I don't dress for dinner." She climbed out of bed and approached the table, in dishabille. Her body was completely exposed to her husband, who was now staring openly, but rather than vulnerable she felt powerful. "Aren't you hungry, Charles?" she asked, sitting down.
"Yes, yes, of course." Mr. Carson moved some of the dishes to the table and sat down with her.
"You're a little overdressed, love," she pointed out, a flirtatious smile on her lips, as she served herself and began to eat.
"So I am," he acknowledged with a smile that matched hers, untying his dressing gown and letting it fall over the back of his chair.
They made quick work of their dinner and then wasted no time getting back into bed together, where they made love without speaking, their earlier conversation about quick love and slow love lingering in their minds as they began again to touch and kiss one another. After a little while all thought was left behind, making way for emotion and sensation - fear and relief and love and gratitude expressed in their sighs and moans of pleasure. When they were quiet once again, Mrs. Carson burrowed close to her husband, whose arms were wrapped around her tightly. They knew how lucky they were, both in her good health and in their finding a way to love one another.
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By morning they had drawn apart some, though they were still touching. This gave Mr. Carson, when he woke, the perspective he needed for his usual occupation of counting his wife's eyelashes in the morning sun. As usual, she seemed to somehow sense that he was awake and opened her eyes before he had counted one hundred lashes.
"Good morning, love," he greeted her. "Are you ready to see London?"
"Not yet," she answered with a yawn. "But I will be once I've dressed and had something to eat."
"Good," he said, kissing her mouth gently and climbing out of bed. "I'm going to show you some of the best the city has to offer today."
"But don't forget this is meant to be a second honeymoon, Charles."
"I don't think I could forget that," he replied, wiggling his eyebrows.
"I'm glad," Mrs. Carson replied, getting out of bed. "I certainly do want to see some of London, but I'm mainly here for the company."
"You needn't worry, my dear. It so happens that this very bed is one of London's greatest sights and is so fascinating that it can be visited multiple times without any risk of boredom, a compliment that cannot be paid to every place we will visit."
Mrs. Carson bit her lip, but was unable to hold back her ringing laugh. "Oh, Charles, I do love you."
"I love you, too, dear," he answered. "Shall we get dressed and go down to breakfast?"
She nodded, still laughing, and they both dressed themselves and left the room, hand in hand.
The end.
A/N: Thank you for all of your reviews and support. During the posting of this story, I had a bit of an awakening of my own, rather unpleasant, but necessary all the same. Knowing that, in spite of it all, I was still able to participate in this community of readers and writers was a great comfort to me. Whether you wrote me a review here, liked or reblogged on Tumblr, or just put another "view" on my traffic stats, your participation in my writing process is much appreciated. Thank you.