Chapter 12

A/N More secrets… I hope you like it…. Your reviews keep me going, thank you so much!

~oOo~

'Milady,' Mr Carson showed the Dowager Countess to the drawing room.

'Tea please, Carson,' she said. 'And inform Lord Grantham I wish to speak to him.'

'Very well, milady,' Carson bowed and left the room to give out orders to the footmen. He himself went to see Mrs Hughes and found her in the linen room, counting sheets and towels. He pulled the door close behind him. 'Elsie, the Dowager is here, is there anything I can do for you?'

'Not yet Charles, I have some additional research to do… Well - actually there's something. Do you remember a riding master or stable keeper named Jones? He should have worked here say, somewhere between fifteen to thirty years ago.'

He shook his head. 'I can't say that I do, but I'll think about it and let you know.' She smiled up at him, stood on tiptoes and placed a small kiss on his cheek. 'Thank you Charles,' she whispered.

'I got a kiss for not being able to answer your question?'

'For not asking why,' she said.

~oOo~

Finding the stable keeper proved to be more difficult than anyone would expect. Twenty years ago, before the motorcars, the stables were much larger and busier than they were now, with lots of horses and carriages. And lots of staff. However, the mysterious Jones had been the man in command, still no one seemed to remember him.

Following clues from the diary Elsie had on her half day visited the York police headquarters, asking for information. To her surprise they had been very helpful, after they had recovered from their bewilderment. Having someone asking about that strange, old case was an event in and of itself, that person being the Downton Abbey housekeeper was beyond anyone's imagination. They had dug up the old dusty files and gave her one of the interview rooms to go through them, even bringing her tea and a sandwich. It didn't take long before she was engrossed in the old story. It read like one of those wild west novels the hall boys sometimes enjoyed. The tea was left turning cold.

Several hours later a young policeman entered the room, bringing her a fresh cuppa and clearing his throat. 'Excuse me, Mrs Hughes?' the young man said. She looked up at him.

'I'm sorry to interfere Mrs Hughes, but I noticed which case you're interested in. My uncle was the officer who did most of the investigation. He is retired now, but I think he would be happy to speak to you about it, should you wish him to. I know he has never been satisfied with the turn this affair took.' She nodded at him, understanding what he was saying. 'I suppose you mean the way it has been covered up?'

His cheeks coloured a bit. 'That's correct Mrs Hughes, but how do you know about that?'

'I came upon another source,' she told him, 'and I would be glad to meet your uncle. Is he inspector Ronald Nash? I've read his name a lot of times.'

'Yes he is Mrs Hughes, my name is Andrew Nash. I will inform my uncle.'

'My first opportunity to meet him will be in a fortnight, when I have my half day. Could you ask him to write me?' He nodded and she penned down her address for him.

'Thank you, Mr Nash, and for the tea. What time is it? Oh my goodness, I should be on my way back already!' she startled.

'Mrs Hughes, allow me to take you home in one of our cars,' Mr Nash offered. 'It would give us the opportunity to talk about the old case.'

'In a police car?' she asked curiously.

'Yes,' he smiled, 'you'll see we can be very discreet if we wish to be.'

~oOo~

Although her trip to York had not shed any light on the whereabouts of Mr Jones, Elsie was not unhappy with the results. John Joseph Jones had been mentioned in the old files, proving he had indeed existed and providing his first name, which could be useful. And she had a meeting with the policeman that handled the case to look forward to, not to mention having met his nephew, a young man whom she liked the moment she set eyes upon him. The ride home in the police car had been exciting. Mr Nash had showed her all the extras and she had felt a little embarrassed by how much she'd enjoyed the speeding…at her age! Better not tell Mr Carson, she'd thought with a smile.

The next days brought a letter from Jean.

Dearest Elsie,

Thank you for whatever it is you have done, our Margaret is going to go to university! Someone has paid for her education and provided quite a generous extra sum for her daily needs. I just know you are behind all this; the person wants to remain anonymous but since it all happened after you asked me to send you Margaret's photograph I do have a hunch. You don't have to tell me, I suppose it's better not to write certain things down.

But Elsie darling, how about you? You were there, you know what I mean?

Love you, forever your Jean.

I know what you mean, Elsie thought, folding the letter and putting it in her drawer. And I am doing well, Jean. I just can't tell you, not yet.

Young Mr Nash also sent a note.

Dear Mrs Hughes,

My uncle is looking forward to meet you and has already started to arrange his personal notes and memories about the case. Please let me know when you would be able to meet him.

Yours, Andrew Nash.

~oOo~

A week later Mr Carson knocked at her sitting room door one evening, bringing a bottle and two glasses on a small silver tray. 'Those are the family's crystal glasses,' Elsie noticed. 'They are,' Mr Carson confirmed. 'This wine is a leftover from upstairs dinner of course, but it's one of Downton's cellar's finest. It deserves crystal and lovely company to appreciate it fully.'

She smiled at him. Over the years they had shared many a bottle, and Mr Carson had never been able to restrain his inclination to teach. She'd loved it for many reasons, the least of which was a desire to learn about wine... His deep voice, the passion that made his eyes sparkle, the comfortable and pleasant hours they'd spent together, the familiarity that had grown between them. And she had learned to appreciate a fine glass of wine.

'Mmm Charles, it's exquisite,' she said. He had brought some assorted nuts and cheese to accompany the rich red wine.

'I knew you'd like it, my dear. And sharing it with you makes it even better.' Her cheeks turned pink, she wasn't used to endearments like that, he noticed her confusion, took her hand in his and kissed her fingers.

'I mean every word Elsie, you know I do.'

'I know Charles, thank you,' she whispered. Their eyes locked. Not yet, she's not ready, Charles thought and he cleared his throat and broke the spell.

'About the stable master you asked me about,' he began. 'I've made enquiries and I haven't found anything. The records of staff members in those years mention no less than twenty-seven Jones's. However, when I went to Ripon yesterday I spoke to the blacksmith's assistant, a merry alcoholic who used to work here in the stables at the time, and he said the 'master's' name was Jays. He was absolutely sure, and he told me Jays had been sent to prison for something he didn't do.'

Elsie sat back and her mind raced.

'His name was Jays? Charles, the police files mentioned a John Joseph Jones…with so many Jones's around some of them would have to had a nickname… Jays, three J's... It must be the one…'

~oOo~

A/N thank you for staying with me! All your reviews are cherished, you know it… x george