Hi there! I'm really sorry to have kept you waiting this long, but I found some friends of mine here, so I'm going out every afternoon and evenin, and I don't have much time for writing... sorry about that!
To make you forgive me I wrote a very long chapter, hoping you'll like it of course.
My thanks as always go to Ame and to all of you who read and review. I'll try to update more often :)
Chapter Eleven: Medical Advice
"A half day off you say, Carson?" asked Lord Grantham that morning.
"I understand I asked with too little notice, m'lord, but if you could do without me today…"
"The thing is, Carson, you know we have guests at dinner tonight. Important guests."
He cursed himself mentally. How could have he forgotten? The family had enlisted this dinner two weeks before.
"Of course, m'lord. I remember."
"You have worked hard in these months, Carson, I've seen it. And you've never taken a half day off. I understand how tired you must feel."
Charles didn't reply.
"If you could just hold out for another day or two, I assure you you can take as many half days off as you wish this month."
"I only require one, m'lord. Thank you for your understanding."
"Thank you, Carson. You're such an essential part of this household, I'm not quite sure what we would do without you."
Charles straightened his back. Hearing his employer praising him and his work made him very proud of himself.
"Thank you m'lord. You're very kind to say that."
Lord Grantham smiled at him as Charles took his leave, after bowing slightly to him.
He was on his way downstairs when he was struck with a sudden thought and turned on his heel.
He knocked on the library door before entering.
"Lord Grantham, I forgot to ask if I could use the telephone for a minute. I need to call Doctor Clarkson."
"Of course you may, Carson. Are you not feeling well?"
"I am, m'lord. I'm feeling perfectly well, I just need a doctor's counsel."
Lord Grantham chose not to inquire any further. "Very well then. But if you don't feel well please inform me, I will not have you working if you are ill. We've lost enough people in this house."
"Certainly, m'lord. Thank you, m'lord."
*
"Thank you for coming, Doctor Clarkson," said Charles once he entered his pantry.
"It's no problem at all, Mr Carson. I'm glad to help you, it's my job after all," explained the other man.
"So, what seems to be the trouble?"
Charles closed the door carefully before sitting in front of him. "I've had some trouble falling asleep at night."
"Do you have any idea what might be the cause?"
"I don't know…" Charles lied, clearly ill-at-ease.
"Perhaps it's just the stresses of work?"
"Oh no, it's caused heart problems, as you may recall, but never interfered with my sleep."
"Do you eat regularly?"
"Yes."
Elsie was descending the stairs with her arms full of sheets. She had been helping some of the maids; that night they were having very important guests at dinner and some might stay for the night.
As she was walking in the hallway, Anna stopped her. "Mrs Hughes…"
"Yes, Anna?"
"I've just seen Doctor Clarkson entering Mr Carson's pantry. Is he feeling alright?"
Anna was a dear girl, always troubling herself for the welfare of others, but honestly, how could she know if he was feeling well? They'd scarcely spoken to one another in weeks.
"I don't know, Anna. He's old enough to look after himself, after all," she replied curtly.
Seeing her disconcerted look, she sighed and added. "Don't worry, I'll check on him later."
When the head housemaid left however, Elsie couldn't help but eavesdrop on the door of his pantry. She heard Doctor Clarkson's voice coming from inside.
"And you are having no digestive problems?"
"No."
Digestion? Was Charles having serious health issues again?
Doctor Clarkson sighed and look at the older man.
"Listen, Mr Carson. If you have any idea or suspicion about the cause of your trouble sleeping then you should tell me now. I'm your doctor and all you may say to me will remain confidential."
Charles turned a slight shade of pink and looked down at his shoes.
Clarkson waited in silence for his answer.
"You see, Doctor, between me and Mrs Hughes there isn't…well that is to say that…we…we aren't exactly on the best of terms."
Elsie strained her ears. Had she heard correctly? Had he mentioned her as the source of his issues?
"Oh," commented the Scottish man, visibly surprised. "Did you quarrel?"
Charles shrugged. "Sort of."
"I see. And does this affect your work?"
"No, my work isn't the cause of my problem."
Really, sometimes that man could be deliberately obtuse, Charles thought.
"Is it the quarrel with Mrs. Hughes then?"
Charles took a deep breath. "Yes. Yes, it is."
He was clearly embarrassed by the whole situation.
"And you… you can't possibly solve this issue? Maybe you could talk with her and apologize."
Yeah, apologizing might do the trick, but had he enough courage? And most of all, would she listen to him?
"It's complicated."
"I'll be sincere with you, Mr Carson. I could prescribe something to help you sleep but that won't help you at all. It'd be best if were to make peace with Mrs Hughes, if she's the cause of your problems. This will grant you a more relaxing and healthy sleep."
"Make peace with me? That won't happen even if Lady Mary asks it of him," Elsie thought, exasperated. "If he comes and apologize to me, I am King George. This business is ridiculous."
"During my life I learned it's better to apologize when in the wrong and sometimes even when not, especially when the person you quarrelled with is a lady," offered the Doctor with an air of one who knows what's what.
If possible, Charles blushed even more fiercely under his knowing gaze and Clarkson smiled a little. He had hit the target.
"Well, Mr Carson, my advice is to try and solve this matter between the two of you. You've always been good friends from what I recall, I'm sure it won't be too difficult for you."
"Yeah, as easy as pie," Charles thought sourly.
"If you have any problems, don't hesitate to call me."
Elsie left before Doctor Clarkson could open the door. As she made her way to the laundry, she thought to herself, "If he thinks he can simply walk to me, apologize and beg for my forgiveness to solve everything and go back to sleep peacefully, he's very much mistaken."
*
That night, Charles waited until the major part of the staff had gone to bed.
Mrs Hughes had spent her evening in the servants' hall as always, to avoid talking to him if not strictly necessary.
He didn't know if he had missed her going to bed or not, however, when he heard the sound of a chair scraping the floor and Mrs Patmore voice saying "Goodnight, Elsie" he strained his ears.
She was still awake then.
"Wait, Beryl, I'm coming too."
He heard their feet shuffling in the hallway and he decided to stop her.
He put his head out of his pantry and called her uncertainly.
Elsie stiffed in the middle of the corridor and turned slowly, looking at him. "Yes, Mr Carson? Do you need something?"
"I'd like to talk to you," he said. "It's about tomorrow's dinner," he lied, sensing Mrs. Patmore's eyes on him.
Elsie tried not roll her eyes at him. Did he really need to speak about it in that moment? She was going to bed for God's sake.
"I'm all ears, Mr Carson," she sighed going into his pantry and looking back to Beryl with an apologizing expression.
After she had entered, Charles closed the door, his hand hovering on the handle, uncertain whether to lock or not the door. After a good twenty seconds, he decided against it.
"Well?" she asked, crossing her arms over her…
"That is the last place you should be looking at in this moment, Charles Carson," hissed a voice in his head.
"I… I called you here to… not to talk about tomorrow's dinner," he confessed.
She opened her eyes wide, surprised. "And why did you call me here if not to talk about tomorrow's dinner?"
"You see… I wanted to apologize."
"Oh please, don't let it be that thing I heard this afternoon," Elsie thought.
"What for, Mr. Carson?" she demanded sharply.
"I tried to explain the whole thing when I returned from London but…" He trailed off, stopping entirely.
Elsie waited a while before responding, "I already told you I have no idea what are you talking about."
"Mrs Hughes, please, let me explain…"
"I'm sorry, Mr Carson, I'm feeling very tired. If you'll excuse me, I'm going straight to bed."
She exited from his pantry before he had the chance to grab her arm and let her see reason.
He shook himself out of his trance and followed her in the corridor. "Mrs. Hughes! Mrs. Hughes!" he called her twice.
Elsie ignored him; he knew she had perfectly heard his booming voice.
"Well, this is my repayment for not having cared a fig about her when I should have," he thought miserably, retiring in his pantry, alone. Again.
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