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10th & 11th November 1918

"They will be gone by the end of the month then?", Lady Mary asked crestfallen.

"I'm afraid so. But how could you blame them?", the Earl replied. "They deserve some peace and quiet after all they've been put through."

"We are put through a lot and no one grants us any peace", Lady Edith remarked bitterly.

"What are you complaining about? You didn't have to worry about anyone at the front only to find out something terrible had happened to him", Lady Mary snapped back.

"But you had to?", her sister countered, receiving nothing more than an exasperated eye roll from Lady Mary who then continued to sip her tea.

"Would you stop this, please?", Lady Grantham asked. "Your father is right. They do deserve to be left alone by all of us. You will let them live in a cottage on the estate, won't you, Robert?"

"Of course, I'm very grateful to them both and sorry to see them go. But it's their decision and I will respect it", he answered. "Although I wished I could change their minds", he added.

"What about the replacements? Who will train them?", Lady Edith asked.

"They both promised to give those a hand when they arrived. I hope that will make it at least in part easier", the Earl responded. "You are being awfully quiet, mama."

The Dowager raised one eyebrow. "And why wouldn't I be? Downton without the Carsons. Why must we keep inviting chaos to stay for a holiday?"

xoxoxo

Elsie tidied up the papers on her desk, waiting for tea to be served in the servant's hall. It still surprised her how fast life had gotten her back. Charles had been truly wonderful, nursing her back to health, finding a way to tell her about Henry. The first shock had left her sobbing into Charles' chest. He had held her protectively. Then she had slept snuggled to him. When she had woken up, she had felt better, at least in part. The relief that the wait for news was over came later. The first time she had left the bed had been for William's funeral. More tears were shed, but then they began to dry out. Mr. Travis arranged a symbolic funeral for Henry. Without a body there was no more than a cross placed on Downton's graveyard. Elsie had written to Rachel, but she couldn't come, was needed at work with all men gone.

Elsie was glad that Jo recovered swiftly. Her daughter ought to move on. She was young and Elsie had a feeling that there was something lingering in the air concerning Jo's love life. The brother of one of the officer's was visiting his relative a little too often while spending most of his time at the Abbey in Jo's company.

Charles, only Charles worried her. He had turned quiet. While the uncertainty about Henry's fate had already troubled him deeply, the certainty of his loss seemed to finish him. She hoped that it were her eyes failing her, but he aged at a frightening pace that also seemed to have a negative effect on his health. He didn't sleep much at night. In the morning, he was pale, dark circles under his eyes. It was good that they had decided to leave as soon as possible. His job wasn't helping him to get better. And Elsie hoped that the peace of retirement would change that.

Elsie gave up on tidying her desk. Her thoughts weren't with the task at hand, but Charles who she knew was in his pantry next door. And that was where she went. He was sitting at his desk, staring down at the latest page of the household accounts. When she saw how the hand holding his pen was shaking, she felt her heart clench. Slowly, she walked around his desk. Standing next to him, her side stroking his shoulder, she took his hand in hers to calm him. She heard him swallow hard. Then he dropped the pen. He leaned into her, pressing his cheek against her middle. She raised her free hand to stroke the back of his head. A few gentle kisses to his hair later, she dared to speak to him in a quiet, tender voice. "Talk to me, Charles", she asked. "Please."

He backed away from her. "My son is dead. What else is there to say?"

She closed her eyes, tried to ignore how much his words hurt. He was rather good at that. Hurting her with words. But she knew this time he didn't mean it. "Charles, there's more to it than you let me know."

"I'm sorry it bothers you that I'm not over the death of our boy after a few weeks", he said bitterly.

"I'm not over it!", she replied forcefully, her accent stronger than usual. "If you've forgotten, I almost got myself killed by worry. That worry was taken from me and all I have left of him is that final letter he wrote in which he tried in his own way to ease our pain. He didn't want us to be sick with grief."

"I feel like everyone has already started to forget him. I feel like everyone is getting on too fast."

"Getting on with our lives doesn't mean that we forget him. There are moments when I remember him. Moments that make me wish he was still alive. Moments that make me sad. But the world around us won't stop. And we mustn't feel guilty for not stopping." Elsie was at a loss how to make it clear to him how she felt. That was the best she could do.

"It's happening too fast. He has been dead for a few weeks."

"Everyone accepts a loss in their own time. While Henry was at the front, the thought of his loss was quite real to me. So real that when it did happen, I had already gone through a huge part of grief. I understand how you feel and I want you to heal in your own time, but please, don't think you're alone in this", she said softly, reaching for his hand. He let her take it. Let her comfort him.

"There's something that makes this so much harder for me", he whispered. She could hear that he was afraid to say these things, but she encouraged him to go on by squeezing his hand. "You did spend time with him during his childhood, didn't you?"

She had feared that they would reach this point. And now that he asked her about it, it was more than clear to her why he appeared as if Henry had only died this morning. "I did visit them during the season. I couldn't always make time and if I could never for longer than a few days. I saw him growing up, at least in part. And I was able to put both of them to bed and telling them a goodnight story even if I was Aunt Elsie then."

"Do… Do you understand wh…" His voice failed him.

"I'm so sorry", Elsie whispered.

"I don't know anything about him. Not really. And now I can't stop thinking that I will never get a chance to change any of that. I don't even know what he looked like as a boy." The last sentence was almost swallowed by the high-pitched voice he was forced to speak with by the tears he tried to hold back, but fell anyway.

Elsie hugged him to her, resting her chin on top of his head. She led him sob into her chest for a change, peppering his face with tender kisses when he had calmed. She looked into his eyes, able to feel his pain through them. "He looked just like you. He always did", she told him softly.

He failed at trying to smile, but she noticed and loved him only more for it. She kissed him on the lips and then leaned her forehead against his. "I'm sure Rachel got pictures of him somewhere. I'll ask her to send them over if you want me too. And you can always talk to Jo about him. She is his twin sister and knows him probably better than anyone else."

"Thank you."

She heard the servants gathering for tea. "I'll give you a moment to yourself", she said, kissing him, before getting up to leave his pantry. It felt like she had spent hours in there when in reality only fifteen minutes had past. She poured his tea for him, expecting him any moment. When he entered, Elsie knew everyone could see that he had been crying, but thankfully they all had the decency to ignore it. Their conversation had showed her once more that it had been the right decision to leave. Who knew how many years they had left? They were better of together, living a life of their own, Downton only being partly in it.

He poured her tea for her, adding just the right amount of milk and sugar. Really, it wasn't difficult to imagine life without the whole staff around them. "Has Jo told you about her plans?", he asked.

"What plans?", she replied, taking a sip of her tea.

"She is thinking about life after the war."

"Oh. What is she having in mind?" She tried to sound normal while she understood that Jo talking about her future must have had upset Charles.

"She'd like to go to London."

"You don't sound like you are very fond of that idea", Elsie remarked carefully, not wanting to push too far.

"No", he sighed. "I'd like to have her closer to us. But if the capital makes her happy I won't stop her."

"She needs to find her own way. When the war is over, we will all need to find our own way whether we get it back or get one for the first time."

"I'm sorry to disturb you", the Earl's voice interrupted the moment. Chairs were scratching soundly over the floor while everyone hurried to stand. "But I've just heard news from the war office and I thought you'd all like to know…" The atmosphere got heavier during Lord Grantham's short speech, but there was something about him that didn't fit the bad news everyone was expecting. "That the war is over."

While most servants burst into a relieved and cheerful mood, Charles and Elsie exchanged a short, pained glance, before he took Elsie's hand and forced himself to smile. They had thought the same thing and it would haunt them for a while, there was no stopping it. Henry had died, being so close to returning to the safety of home. The frustration and desperation they had faced before crawled back up in them. They wouldn't let these feelings take over them again. And think, this heart, all evil shed away. Henry's words rang clearly in their ears. And they welcomed the comfort they offered them.

"The ceasefire will begin at eleven o'clock on the morning of the eleventh of November", the Earl continued.

"Why can't it begin now?", Mrs. Patmore asked confused.

"The eleventh of the eleventh seems pretty tidy to me", Thomas replied.

"We will mark the moment in the great hall and I expect all of you, including the kitchen staff and hall boys, everyone, to be there", Lord Grantham announced. Charles nodded, trying to ignore the pitiful glance the Earl gave him when he turned to leave. "And Carson", he added, gesturing for Charles to follow him to the hallway. "I understand your and Mrs. Carson's reasons for wanting to leave, but I still feel I need to tell you that you are most welcome to stay."

"In a way we will stay, milord", Charles replied, appreciating the offer. "But we won't change our minds."

The Earl nodded. "As you wish. I'll leave you to your tea."

Elsie and Charles watched the celebrations of the staff, not really being able to join them. They were relieved, of course they were, but it felt so strange to be free from the nightmare that had become a constant companion over the past four years.

At some point, Charles excused himself. He searched the quiet of his pantry, needing to sort his thoughts. Sitting at his desk, staring at the wall he wondered if Elsie and he really could ever get past this. They had lost a child to the war. Whatever the future would bring that would always be real and never forgotten.

Someone knocked. It wasn't anyone who often knocked on the door to his pantry, otherwise he would have known whom to expect. But when Thomas entered he was quite surprised.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Carson, but there's something I'd like to tell you", he said.

"Go on", Charles responded, not sure if he wanted to hear whatever it was Thomas wanted to tell him.

"I'm sorry about your son. I truly am", the young man began.

"Thank you", Charles replied half-heartedly, missing how Thomas swallowed hard before he continued.

"Before the war started I thought joining the medical corps would keep me away from the real danger. I really was that stupid to think it would be safe. But I was wrong. They did send me to the front, not to fight, but to care for the ones who did. I saw things, horrible things, I had tried to avoid seeing. I know most of us don't talk about it much, but the trenches are hell on earth. At the front the men pray to be spared, of course, but if that's not to be they pray for a bullet that kills them cleanly", Thomas told him, getting more emotional with each sentence.

"Why are you telling me this?", Charles said, his voice barely a whisper.

"I've seen men die in a matter of seconds, all their hopes and dreams lost and destroyed. And they are all scared. I was scared too, terrified. Death rules the trenches and I lived in constant fear. At some point I couldn't take no more. I held my hand up, my lighter in it, burning brightly in the dark and a German sniper sent a bullet through it. It was my ticket home. I didn't have the strength in me to stay. My bravery had reached its limits. I ran for it. But so many others didn't. Men like William and Henry, however scared they were, they didn't run. They stayed to fight. No matter how much they wanted to live, they stayed to fight. However you feel about the war, you have every right and reason to be proud of your son. Don't let that be taken from you." Thomas was shaking by the time he finished. His face pale, his shoulders slumped, his eyes shining with tears, the horrors he had seen gripping him.

Charles felt sorry for him. He had never thought about how Thomas felt. And yet there he stood, telling him what he probably never had dared to say before only to help Charles' in his grief. "Thank you", he said, not knowing what else he could say.

Thomas nodded and retreated to the door while Charles' view on quite a few things changed. "And Thomas", he said kindly. "Don't think of yourself as a coward. You are none."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson", Thomas said so quietly, Charles hardly heard it. He left the room and Charles to his thoughts.

xoxoxo

Charles was gathering the servants in the great hall. They had just lined up opposite of the officers when the family arrived. Jo was standing behind Mr. Crawley. When Charles caught her gaze she gave him a reassuring smile he accepted with a friendly nod.

"Are we all ready?", the Earl asked quietly. Charles' eyes wandered over the hall. Everyone seemed to be there and the clock was set on the table on the other end of the hall. "We are", Charles responded.

Lord Grantham turned to the company who was already very silent. "I think, while the clock strikes, we should all make a silent prayer, to mark the finish of this terrible war, and what that means for each and every one of us. Let us remember the sacrifices that have been made and the men who will never come back, and give them our thanks."

Charles reached for Elsie's hand, holding it softly while the clock struck eleven. The moment passed quickly. The image of Henry in full attire, smiling and being happy to be home was on both their minds, but faded as soon as the tension left the hall with the last strike.

"Thank you, everyone. Remember, this is not just the end of a long war, but it is the dawn of a new age. God bless you all", Lord Grantham said, dismissing everyone gathered. Charles made sure that the staff returned downstairs. He made Elsie stay by tightening his grip on her hand. "Will you be in your sitting room? I'd like to have a moment to ourselves when I come downstairs."

"I'll be there", she assured him, squeezing his hand before she left him. Only Lord Grantham was still there, standing outside, just before the front door. Charles joined him, clasping his hands behind his back. "I thought that was very dignified. Very calming. Thank you, milord."

"I'm glad. Downton is going to be safe again or so I hope. It won't be quite the same. Not without you and Mrs. Carson anyway", Lord Grantham said.

"We will make sure to find proper replacements before we go."

The Earl swallowed hard, fixing his eyes on the distant scenery. "Whoever we find won't replace you."

Charles also stared into the landscape as silence fell over them. For the first time in four years they were able to enjoy a complete and real peace. However, the world wasn't the same as before the war and they never would be either.

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