Making their way into the wine cellar, it soon occurred to both Elsie and Charles that they would need to concoct a plausible explanation for how and where they'd found Marigold.

Three wine bottles sat flush against the base of the door leading back to the house, signifying that the room had not been searched in the time since Charles and the older witches had ventured beyond the locked door.

"Eulalia thought to set those up so we'd know if someone had been in here or not, and it appears no one has, so it's safe to say this is the spot where we found O'Brien hiding with her…"

Elsie nodded, interrupting with, "And she did have her just on the other side of the wall."

"I'm beyond the need to justify, my love. Let's just come up with a plausible story."

She smiled, admiring his pragmatism. "Very good. We'll stick with the motive that she was retaliating for the refusal of the reference and obviously was quite mad." Elsie glanced around the immaculate room. "Now, I know it is going to kill your soul for me to say it, but if we scuffled with her, there would be some broken bottles and overturned crates at least, Charlie."

He closed his eyes, sighing deeply before nodding in agreement. "Just let me…"

She shook her head. "Step outside the door. We don't want to wake Miss Marigold yet, and besides, I don't think you have it in you to do what needs to be done."

Charles opened his mouth to object, but sighed as he realized she was quite right. "Just nothing from the back wall. Try to break mostly whites. They will be easier to clean up."

Elsie patted his arm as he slipped just outside the door, his hand gently covering the child's ears.

Deciding one large crash would be better than several, she made her choices quickly, but conscientiously, gathering fifteen bottles that all had fairly recent vintages, twelve white and three red, and placed them strategically around the room before closing her eyes and whispering:

Spirits of the vine within these vessels bound

Lift from the earth, then crash to the ground

Raising her hands, she watched all fifteen bottles float two feet off ground, hover for a few seconds and then smash against the stone paved floor.

She bit her lip, ashamed at how satisfying she found the experience, all the while knowing the agony her husband was in having undoubtedly heard the crash from the other side of the door. Having added a few empty crates to the mess, she gently pulled open the door before slipping to the other side and whispering, "It's best you don't look. It would break your heart."

"I'm choosing not to think about it."

"So we found her hiding Marigold in there, managed to get the child away from her…"

He quickly added, "And she took off towards the back of the house and turned right to go out the back door and we haven't seen her since."

She nodded. "I sealed off all the entrances to the space but the cellar door. It's the only way in. We'll come back for the bodies in the night and then I'll seal it permanently."

"What exactly do we say happened?"

"She would have had to have jimmied the lock to get inside." She turned and directed her finger at the lock, a subtle motion completely destroying the mechanism inside. "We found her hiding with Marigold. Her plan, we assume, was to escape from the house through the cellar doors in the dead of night…"

"But she panicked when we threw open the door and she let go of Marigold in an effort to escape…"

"And then threw and knocked over the bottles in your direction to keep you from chasing her, which is why you have wine on your pants."

"I don't have…"

Charles didn't finish his sentence as he watched Elsie disappear back inside the cellar, only to reappear with a bottle in her hands. Leaving the door open behind her, she stepped to the side. "Don't look, but step inside."

"You wouldn't…"

"It has to be believable, darling. Now hurry, please."

His face drawn up in agony, he gently shook his head as Elsie splashed the contents over his shoes and up the legs of his pants before dousing her own skirt with the remnants at the bottom of the bottle. "Well, at least you are using that disgusting moscato."

"More candy than wine, as my husband likes to say." She commented with a grin.

Scowling as he lifted his feet, he muttered, "I know it is necessary, but I feel guilty about all the lies we are about to tell."

Patting his arm, Elsie gave him gentle smile. "I know, but if we told them what really happened, they'd probably have us locked up in an asylum, darling."

"True." He was beginning to make his way up the stairs when he heard her suddenly whisper.

"Wait."

He held still as his wife gently pulled up the back of the child's nightgown. "I was afraid of that. She's going to be bruised from the rope."

"Can you heal it with magic?"

Her eyes lit up. "Wait here!"

Charles kept a lookout near the top of the steps as he anxiously waited the few minutes it took her to manage her task, breathing a sigh of relief as she suddenly slipped back from the wine cellar, a small jar in her hand.

"Where did you go?"

"The greenhouse." She breathlessly supplied. "I gave this jar of salve to the gardener after his fall from the ladder last month, but when I was in there the other day, I noticed he hadn't used it all."

He grimaced. "But won't it still take a few days to heal."

Elsie took a deep breath before answering, "Not if I make it a bit more concentrated." She turned away from him, whispering the charm that allowed her glaeme to shine at its fullest wattage.

Charles flinched as he heard her gasp, his own soon following as he leaned around to find a glowing gold liquid dripping from a gash she had made in her hand.

"Elsie…" he whispered.

"It's the only way, Charlie. She'll heal immediately with it."

Twirling her finger above the lid of the jar, the contents were soon evenly distributed and she quickly rubbed the concoction over the angry red mark that spanned the circumference of the child's torso, as well as her own injured hand.

Charles watched in amazement as not only the rope contusions, but the small chicken pox spots in the same area disappeared from view; Elsie's own gash having closed as soon as the salve touched it. "Will there be any after affects?"

She shook her head. "She should be safe from anything ever hurting her in the area where the salve was applied, but other than that, there shouldn't be any lingering signs that I used magic."

Having paused to wake Marigold before passing through the green baize door, the couple's entry into the main part of the house was met with a return of the power. Hearing the voices of the family sounding from the library, Elsie was the first into the room, her face bearing a warm smile as she caught Isobel Merton's eye.

"I believe Mrs. Hughes might have some news."

"She's safe and sound." She announced, stepping back and nodding to the doorway through which her husband appeared with a drowsy, but smiling Marigold.

Weeping, but smiling, Lady Edith pulled her daughter into a tight embrace, her words of thanks to the couple barely intelligible through her sobs.

A brief explanation from the Carsons soon had the newly arrived Sergeant Willis sending his two junior officers off in the direction of the back of the property to where the Carsons had reported the deranged Sarah O'Brien had recently escaped.

Elsie and Charles tried to politely eschew the tremendous gratitude offered them, insisting they had only done what anyone else would have in their situation, but the entire Crawley family, as well as the Mertons, did all but lift them aloft their shoulders in appreciation.

The sergeant served a welcome reprieve from the attention as he asked to be taken to the wine cellar where, after having been given a brief, but satisfying account of the scuffle, he thanked the Carsons for their time.

Left alone, they began to survey the damage Elsie had wrought as the lights in the cellar revealed several large, plum colored puddles which had collected in the crevices and dips in the large stone floor, as well as a great deal of shattered glass and loose labels. Biting her lip, Elsie was surprised to look up and see Charles wearing a bright smile.

"You're smiling? Why on earth are you smiling?"

"All those nights."

She looked at him curiously. "All what nights?"

"All those nights I droned on and on at you about Margaux, Chablis, Syrah, Semillon…you were listening."

She continued to stare at him. "What are you talking about?"

He leaned down and picked up a soggy label from the ground. "You broke exactly what I would have been willing to sacrifice; all the wines you knew I cared about least."

She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Of course I did and of course I listened to you. I've was in love with you, Charlie. I would have listened to you drone on about cricket or the monarchy or fall of the Roman Empire. I just enjoyed being with you. I still do."

Pulling her into an embrace, his lips brushing over her ear as he whispered, "My sweet girl."

Having insisted they would see to the clean up of the cellar in exchange for Elsie staying home the following day, the couple had the floor cleared and mopped in the time it took the house to settle into slumber.

Slipping back into the space behind the old door, Elsie grabbed Charles' arm as her torch landed on the spot in which Sarah O'Brien's body had fallen, which was now covered in nothing but dark black ashes. "Oh my goodness."

Charles cocked his head before making his way to the ladder. Climbing roughly eight feet off the ground, he shone his torch on the floor. "Sweetheart, come here. You have to see this."

Trading places with her husband, her suspicions were confirmed. Running her light around the curves and points, she highlighted the shape the ashes took. "The Goddess' mark. She made her decision." She closed her eyes as she whispered the dark warning her grandmother had once shared.

If a witch's deeds are deemed evil by the Goddess, her soul is doomed to hell's fire, her flesh consumed by white hot flame and an eternity of damnation her punishment.

"Dear God." Charles uttered in response.

She climbed down the ladder, her face downcast as she commented, "She took two lives that we know of and hurt so many others."

He was surprised to look over and find tears falling down his wife's cheeks. "Are you alright, love?"

"It didn't have to be this way. If she'd had the love and guidance I had…"

Charles pulled her to him. "Shhh…don't cry, my sweetheart."

"She was right."

"What?"

Elsie's lip trembled as she leaned back to look up at him. "I wasted it. I was given such a rare gift and I've done nothing but waste it."

"How can you say that? You may not have woven powerful spells on a regular basis, but you have healed and comforted and loved so many; changed so many lives with your gift. What was it you said the other night? 'Powers are a gift to be used for good. Heal the sick and comfort the hurting. Protect the innocent among us. Always let your humanity determine your use of magic.' All your maids, all the homesick or heartsick hall boys, Thomas, Ethel Parks, Mr. Branson, Anna, even Charlie Grigg…and goodness knows me. You've performed magic every waking minute of your life, Elsie, through your goodness and your kindness and your compassion." He placed his hands on either side of her face. "Wasted? Oh, no my girl, you've done nothing but magic your whole life."

She buried her face into his chest for several moments before finally managing to lift her head, offering him a teary, but grateful and sweet smile. "Thank you."

"I need no thanks for speaking the truth."

Levitating briefly she kissed his cheek, "Thank you all the same."

She knew it would take every ounce of the remaining strength she had, but she was quite certain she could manage to levitate and pull Eulalia and Mercy's bodies the distance between where they now rested and the cottage.

Charles waiting in the cellar doorway, she had just focused her gaze on the women's forms when she heard Gran's voice. "I am so proud of you, my sweet one, my dove. You've been so brave and strong. Now it is time for you to rest. You've no need to shift their earthly trappings. Place your hand over theirs, whisper the pledge of the coven and you will be able to carry them in your heart. The Goddess will take care of the rest."

Lowering to her knees, Elsie leaned over the women, placing her hand atop theirs before closing her eyes and lifting her face to the sky.

Care and comfort, guide and support, protect and honor, but above all love. In the name of the Goddess I am one with my sisters and my sisters are one with me.

A warm bloom ushered through her chest as beams of white light emanated from her body.

His attention drawn to the bright light glowing from the doorway, Charles' breath was taken away as he watched his wife's body illuminate the entire space. A sound like that of a sudden gust of wind issued down from the direction of the ceiling and he had to grab onto the frame of the door, his eyes drawn heavenward to a swirling mass of what looked like clouds forming overhead, horizontal flashes of bright green, blue and white lightning shooting through it, while gales of wind that seemed to be careening into the space from all directions. He opened his mouth to call out to her, but a sudden force pushed him back into the wine cellar and the door slammed shut.

Thrown back off his feet, he was stunned for a few moments, but managed to gather his wits and scrambled back in the direction of the door as the roaring suddenly came to a complete halt. He had just risen to his full height when it slowly fell open. There, standing in the middle of the completely barren space, was his wife, her hair wild and loose from the event, but a warm, peaceful look filled her face.

"Elsie, are you alright?"

"I am."

"Where are Eulalia and Mercy?"

She smiled and looked down at where her heart rested in her chest. "They're with me. We'll need to take them home to Scotland, but for now, they are safe and in good company."

He stepped into the space, his gaze sweeping over the floor and wall which only moments before had been covered in thick black vines and the sentimental trappings of so many who had occupied the house. Now the wooden wall was simply that; a wooden wall, and the floors bore traces of not even a single leaf from the vine, nor a sliver of glass or porcelain.

"It's gone. It's all gone."

Elsie slowly made her way to him, her hands held behind her back. "Not everything."

Charles watched as she moved her arms towards him, his heart swelling at the small collection of objects in her hands.

"I believe these belong to you."

In one of her hands held a small red paper heart trimmed with faded lace bearing a child's scrawl which read: To: Carson, my best friend Love: Mary Crawley, as well as a small, well-worn children's Bible which was marked with the inscription: To my dear Charlie on his fifth birthday. May these lessons guide you through a happy and prosperous life- Goodness is rewarded. Kindness is more important than pride. Love is everything. All of mine, Mother.

He could only nod, his eyes filling with tears as he gratefully accepted what she offered. Gathering himself, he cleared his throat and looked up at her with a smile, but his attention soon turned to the item in Elsie's other hand. "What have you there, Mrs. Carson?"

"The wishes and dreams of a young head house maid."

"Do tell."

She opened the small leather tome, flipping a few pages until her eyes spied a particular passage. Smiling, she read:

He has the air of a proud lion, but I think there is a bit of a lamb about this Mr. Carson. I find it hard to concentrate when he speaks. His voice is like being wrapped in a warm, soft blanket, unless he is barking and then it seems more like that of some angry God. There is kindness in his eyes, however, and I think it must also be present in his heart. He seems to have a particular soft spot for the beautiful, but spoiled eldest daughter, Mary, and she obviously cares for him in return, for which I am thankful because I think she could hurt his feelings quite easily.

She glanced up just in time to see him look down towards the red valentine in his hand, but looked back down at the diary before he caught her gaze as she continued:

I found myself staring at him several times throughout today's luncheon. He caught me once and lifted those wonderful eyebrows, but I just looked away.

He moved closer to her, reaching out and gently rubbing a lock of her hair between his fingers.

Silly. I don't know why I carry on so. I am sure to him I am nothing more than "that Scottish maid." Gran would tell me to charm him, but I would never. It wouldn't be right. If he were to love me, I would want him to do so because of who I am, not because I tricked or cajoled him into it. So I admire from afar.

Her voice halted as his fingers released her hair and his warm palm moved to cup her cheek.

Perhaps one day we will be friends. My friend, Charles Carson. Yes. I would like that very much.

She let her eyes dance over the final line of the page before looking up at him, her voice a whisper as she recited:

My husband, Charles Carson. I would like that even more.

A tear escaping the corner of her eye, she looked down once more at the book. "I was mortified when it disappeared. I thought for certain someone had snooped through my things and taken it, but no one ever mentioned it and I had quite forgotten about it. Now nearly thirty years later..."

Charles swept his thumb gently over her soft lower lip. "From the moment you came to work here I thought you beautiful, and special, and lovely, and I made a point of trying to glimpse your smile every single day."

"And now you make me smile every day." She turned her face into his hand, her mouth pressing a delicate kiss against his palm.

Gently tucking the valentine and the Bible into his pocket, he kissed her forehead before wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "Let's go home, my Scottish maid, my beautiful witch, my sweet bride."

"Gladly, my husband, Charles Carson."

Nanny's funeral occurring the following week, the entire family set off for a two week trip to Brancaster Castle the following weekend during which major renovation of a section of guest rooms took place, providing a brand new nursery, as well as personal bedrooms for each of the grandchildren on the far opposite side of the house from where the former nursery and nanny's room had been.

Taking advantage of the family's absence, Elsie and Charles set off on a different train, their luggage light, although their cargo precious, as they made their way towards the land of her birth and the final resting place of Eulalia and Mercy.

The weather was sunny and fair for a late October afternoon in Scotland as the couple made their way to the cemetery in which Elsie's family, as well as the rest of the coven, were interred.

"Ye wee mongrel! What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Elsie Hughes? It's been nigh on an age since you last visited, lass!"

Elsie couldn't help but grin at the old man on whose grave she used to lay when she was showing off to her friends. Letting go of her husband's hand, she answered, "I'm sorry I've been so long Mr. Phillips. I have been in England for a time."

Charles stopped mid-step, turning to look at his wife who was seemingly addressing the air.

"And this big fellow? He looks to be quite the Englishman."

Elsie laughed, "A truer statement there never was, I assure you, Mr. Phillips."

"Is he good to you, lass?" The old gentleman floated to the end of his grave, his grin gentle as he looked into the large blue eyes he remembered so well.

"That he is, Mr. Phillips. More than good. He is the best husband a wife could ask for."

"And he knows you are special?"

Elsie managed a modest smile. "You'd have to ask him that."

Charles let his curiosity win out as he asked, "What? What did Mr. Phillips ask?"

She tucked her arm into the crook of his as she explained, "He asked if you knew that I was special."

Directing his gaze at the spot on which Elsie had been focused, he swallowed hard before answering, "There is no one more special, Mr. Phillips, and no husband prouder than I to have a woman as his wife."

The old man gave Elsie a wink. "I think he'll do, lass. I think he'll do."

Beaming, she assured her old friend, "I think so, too."

"There it is."

Charles looked over, setting his eyes in the direction to which his wife pointed, spotting a large, rather primitive stone formation at the edge of the cemetery.

"It's the coven's rock." She explained. "It's where the witches have always left their gifts for the goddess and a few of the sisters are buried near it."

Having reached the spot, Charles was cautiously, but curiously studying the eight-foot tall formations when a familiar voice suddenly sounded behind him.

"It's quite beautiful, isn't it?"

He whirled around, shocked to hear the voice of the little witch once more. "Eulalia?"

The two witches hovered on either side of Elsie, their figures glowing in the dusk that was falling around them.

"We wouldn't go without saying goodbye, Mr. Carson." Mercy offered with a grin.

Charles took a few steps towards them, his voice filled with wonder. "I can see you." He looked at his wife. "Is this what you see when you see Lady Sybil and William?"

She nodded, crossing to him, her hands held out for him to take. "Sort of, but they don't have Eulalia and Mercy's glaeme. They've retained a bit which is why you can see them."

"Ah." The timbre of his voice shifted to disappointment as he looked back at the women. "So I won't be able to see you after today?"

"I'm afraid not and we've only a matter of moments now." Mercy gently floated towards him, a sadly smiling Eulalia in her wake. "We've lived a long, wonderful shared life…"

Eulalia reached out and slid her hand into Mercy's as she finished her mate's sentence. "And now we will share a wonderful eternity."

As the witches' glaeme began to subtly fade, Charles whispered through a sob, "I am so grateful for your sacrifice."

Elsie's bottom lip quivered as she tearfully added, "I don't know what would have happened…"

"You would have done what was needed to in order to protect Charles and the child," Eulalia assured her.

Mercy wrapped her long arms around Eulalia, her voice fading along with her glow. "Having spent time with you and your husband, it's clear that you have become the truest you, dove, and it isn't because you've begun using magic again. It's because of the love this dear man has shown you and what you feel for him. That is magic in itself. As Eulie told you, love is key and you have found the truest and purest form of it with your Charles. You deserve more time with him here in the earthly realm. We couldn't take a chance that your precious life might be cut short, and we are happy to be going home if it means the two of you can continue on with your happy lives."

"Use your gifts as you always have, but know it is alright to allow it to enhance your own life for the better, Elsie. Magic isn't about saving the world. It's about loving people and celebrating life."

"Oh, please don't go yet!" Elsie cried as the women began to disappear from view.

"We're with you, dove. We're always with you…" Mercy's voice faded away with the last bit of their glaemes.

"Thank you, thank you both…I love you…." Elsie slipped from her husband's grasp, rushing in the direction of where the women had just disappeared.

Allowing her a few moments, Charles glanced down to find a long headstone embedded into the ground that he was certain hadn't been there a moment ago.

Mercy Avanelle Merriweather born 1801 Eulalia Grace Goodwin born 1799

Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart courage to make love known?

William Shakespeare

"They are unusual and quite unlike any other elderly women you've ever met or will meet, for that matter." Moving behind his wife, Charles wrapped his arms around Elsie's waist as he whispered the words she had used to describe the women only a few weeks before. "You were right and my life is all the richer for knowing them. You said they lived a life much like our own? I will spend the rest of my days trying to make you as happy as they made one another."

Elsie's breath hitched as she looked up at him, smiling through a cascade of tears. "And I you." Turning around and wrapping her arms around his neck, she brushed away the few tears that lingered on his cheeks before attending to her own.

"Would you like to go up there now?" Charles asked looking up at the hill Elsie had pointed out to him upon their arrival.

"Only their graves remain now. My mother and father went on to the next place not long after I moved to England, and Gran and Grandpa Mac didn't linger much longer than that."

"But your Gran…"

"She is my sister within the coven. We are irrevocably linked. As Mercy said, they are always with me."

"I'm glad for that, but I'm sorry about your family…"

Levitating so she could wrap her arms more tightly around his neck, she rested her head upon his shoulder as she whispered, "Don't be. I've all the family I need right here."

They arrived back in Downton late the following day, the sun setting as they made their way through the village towards home. Approaching the churchyard, Charles reached out and gently took Elsie's elbow. "Would you mind if we made a stop?"

A warm smile on her face, she nodded. "Of course we can."

Both remained quiet as they made their way among the weather mottled stones. They were approaching their destination when Elsie sensed her husband had stopped. "Do you want me to talk with them first?"

He nodded, reaching out to take her valise, surprised when she suddenly ran back and kissed his cheek.

"Don't be afraid, Charlie. There are no three people in heaven or on earth who could love you more than we."

She had walked about twenty meters when he saw her lift her hand in a greeting. A minute passed before she turned back to him, a warm and beckoning smile on her face. Leaving their bags behind, he felt his knees weaken as he approached the headstone he had visited so many time in his life; intensely grateful when Elsie intertwined her fingers with his, a gentle squeeze given to his hand as she looked up into his timid face.

"You've the same look on your face as you had your first day of school, your mother says."

Charles let out a tearful laugh, wiping his eyes as he looked in the direction to which her wife was nodding. "Hello, Mother, Hello, Dad. I'm so happy you've gotten to know my Elsie…"

Their naked, exhausted bodies wrapped around one another in the sanctuary of their soft bed, Charles let out a sigh, his fingers lightly dusting down the soft skin of her back. "Thank you for today."

Pulling back her head she looked up into her husband's moonlit face. "Thank you for every day, my darling."

"Three weeks and then I have you all to myself."

"I can't wait."

He pulled her tightly to him as she nuzzled her face against his chest. "You'd best get some rest, love."

"Wait." Elsie suddenly sat up and looked to the fireplace which burst into a warm blaze before climbing out of bed.

"Sweetheart?"

The sash of the window lifting, Charles watched as white wings gently emerged from his wife's naked back; the bird soaring through the window and into the night sky.

Climbing back into bed, she returned to his welcoming arms, delighting in the knowledge that she would soon fly once more. Placing a gentle kiss over his heart, she began to softly sing:

Oh, he's bonny my lad

The image of his dad

And you'd love him, too

If my Charlie you knew

A lion, my man

I'm his biggest fan

And you'd love him, too

If my Charlie you knew…

And there you have it.

Thank you for all the support (goodness knows I relied on it heavily) and kindness offered to me through your lovely, clever, and so appreciated reviews and Tumblr reposts.

Special thanks to Chelsiesouloftheabbey- three-fourths of this fic wouldn't have been written without your steadying hand reaching out to me from across the country. You are a blessing.

Love, Jen (and the sweet witch)