Things continued in this strained, formal way for the next four years. They seemed to all outward appearances to have a good working rapport, but they studiously avoided any personal inquiries or discussions. They spent the minimum time necessary together to discuss the business of the house. There were certainly no cups of tea served at these meetings. Each inhabiting and ruling their own domain, they were able to avoid any chance meetings. Where Charles would have once inquired of Elsie regarding staff decisions, he now made those decisions alone. Elsie found that there was no one in whom she could confide or laugh about the annoyances of running the large house. Without being able to share each other's load, they both found that load much heavier. Over time Charles began to look rather beaten down by the strain of dealing with such a large staff and household. Elsie found that she did not laugh nearly as often and came to be known as rather a severe woman.
Charles did find, however, that he could not be completely unfeeling in regards to Elsie. When a young footman named Thomas was being rather impertinent to Elsie, he glared at him over her shoulder, making certain to move away before she turned around. He noticed one winter that her coat was looking a little threadbare and contrived to have silver polish spilled on it, necessitating the purchase of a new one from the 'Uniforms' account. When Elsie protested, he coldly informed her that Downton Abbey could not be inconvenienced by the illness of its housekeeper.
On the other hand, Elsie made every effort to see that Charles was supported without him realizing where that support came from. She defended him to the younger staff, but never in his hearing. She would countenance no disrespect and this was well known among the staff. One winter he developed a rather severe cold, and she ensured that peppermint tea was delivered to him each evening until the cough subsided, with the understanding that it came from Mrs. Patmore of course. When there was a late evening for the family and consequently for the butler as well, he always found a plate of sandwiches and glass of milk on his desk.
The only outward sign that they had even had a deeper relationship was that each year Elsie made quite sure to be away from the house on February 14th and August 4th, the beginning and ending anniversaries of their relationship. Charles, however, stayed in on those dates, sequestering himself in his pantry, and had exactly three generous helpings of single malt. He rarely drank anything stronger than the occasional glass of wine at any other time, but found without this medication, as he thought of it, he could not get to sleep on those nights.
The first break in their estrangement occurred in April, 1912 as the devastating loss of life caused by the sinking of the Titanic became apparent. Elsie couldn't sleep and came down to the kitchen to make some cocoa to try to ease her nerves. She saw a light on under his pantry door. She could only blame her own nerviness that instead of passing by as she usually would have; she knocked and took his answering grunt as permission to enter. She found him with his legs stretched out before him and leaned back in his chair appearing totally exhausted. "Charles?" she asked, worried enough to use his given name for the first time in almost four years.
He looked up as he realized who had invaded his domain and was tired enough to forget himself and use her first name as well, "Did it occur to you, Elsie, that it could have been any one of the children who died on that ship? William, Daisy, Anna, Gwen. Any of them, had they chosen to go to America to 'seek a better life', would certainly have been in steerage."
"Yes, Charles, it did occur to me. That is why I am now headed to the kitchen to make cocoa instead of in my bed asleep," she responded and again she blamed her nerves for her next question, "Would you like to join me?"
He sat up in surprise then and looked at her intently, "Yes, I believe I would."
As they made their way to the kitchen, Elsie ventured a comment, "You didn't mention Thomas or Miss O'Brien."
"No, I'm certain they would have found a way off the ship," he replied with a half smile and raised eyebrows.
"Yes, I suppose they would at that," she agreed with a small laugh.
When they arrived at the kitchen, she started to heat the milk while he retrieved the cocoa from the pantry. As she stirred the milk, she glanced at him sideways, "You think of them as 'the children'?"
"Yes, I do," he nodded, "I've told you before that I feel a bit responsible for them. Since I've never been blessed with children of my own, I suppose I consider myself their substitute father in a way."
She started just a little at his comment and almost spilled the cocoa. After a moment she cleared her throat, "You would have seen children as a blessing, then."
"Well of course," he asked in surprise, "wouldn't you?"
Staring down at the stove she said, "Yes, I would have."
Her tone of voice four years ago would have caused him to draw her into his arms but that was four years ago. Now he just set the mugs beside the stove and waited for her to fill them.
Sitting at the table, sipping their hot drinks slowly, he looked over at her, and a stray thought came to him, "This is what it would have been like in those two cozy rooms above the tea shop." He had to look down into his mug then, studying the dregs for the answers to life. Setting it down quickly he rose, "Thank you very much, Mrs. Hughes; I'm off to bed now." With that comment he departed quickly.
To say that their relationship after that was easy over the next year would be a stretch, but it was certainly easier. They met more often to discuss the business of the house, eventually they were meeting almost daily. They were able to return in some ways to their previous ease with one another, but they continued to avoid any personal inquiries. They both found themselves seeking the other out for advice on dealing with staff. To keep this fragile amnesty from breaking, they were both very cautious with each other.
The next time Charles found himself thinking of the tea shop was when Lord Grantham asked him what he thought of the old chauffer running one. Charles didn't have to think for long. While those two cozy rooms would have been pure heaven to share with Elsie before, during and after each day, they would have been pure hell without her. He shocked his Lordship by letting him know that he would rather be put to death than run a teashop. "Without Elsie," he added mentally.