A/N So sorry for the long wait but you know: Christmas, New Years... and I lost my muse for a while. Enjoy reading and let me know what you think.

chapter 21

There was something fascinating about this diary. She had not felt the same when reading his letters to Mrs Hughes. The butler had not been a person who easily revealed his feelings or thoughts, neither on paper nor in front of other people. Viola reckoned him to be very guarded in combination with a stern outward appearance that did not reveal how insecure he was when it came to his own feelings. His letters were interesting, filled with a lot of information about himself, the house, his work, albeit hidden between the lines, probably only detectable by Mrs Hughes who had known him for so many years already. The diary on the other hand showed a much more private side of Mr Carson. He did not necessarily reveal everything that was going through his mind but there were moments when Viola got a glimpse of the vulnerable, kind and loving man the butler was. Still, the longer the war raged on the continent, the more distant and serious his entries became.

She snuggled deeper into her sleeping bag and took another sip from her wine, rearranged the cushions behind her back and continued reading.

May 5th, 1916

Every other day news from the front line reaches us. Mr Crawley is fighting in France, risking his life for us, for King and country. It is honourable but foolish when we all know that this war is fought with weapons so horrible one cannot even imagine them and one cannot escape the destruction they cause. The hospital in the village, so Dr Clarkson told me the other day, is treating men who have lost their legs, eyesight, or arms. Such unimaginable horrors! What has become of this world? There had always been wars but this particular one seems to be the cruellest so far.

Whilst others protect our country from the enemy, we must keep up standards. No one should later say that the home front surrendered. We need to be strong even if it means additional work for me. There is a lot to organize for the concert his Lordship holds in a few days and with only one footman left, I have to pull my weight. She does not agree with me, in fact, we haven't talked properly for a few days. I know Elsie does not want me to take on the extra work but it has to be done. I cannot choose how much work there is for me. What has to be done needs to be done. I whish she would understand that.

Viola could only imagine how difficult it must have been for Mr Carson to run the house with less staff and less provisions. He had to handle the shortages on a larger scale than the simple housemaid who got her orders from the housekeeper, or the kitchen maid who might have realized that the food the cook prepared was still extravagant but lacked a few things. From the tone of his diary entry, Viola concluded that the butler most certainly also had problems or perhaps a misunderstanding with his wife, the housekeeper of Downton Abbey. She wasn't mentioned at all in the entries prior to May 5th or after that day. So their relationship might have been very tense during these weeks. Viola assumed that beyond their work there was no other topic the two talked about. It made her a bit sad, knowing that this loving couple could not simply ignore their duties for a few hours or days and concentrate on their relationship. Had she been in such a situation, Viola would have tried to avert the crisis by talking to her boyfriend even if he did not want to. They would have found the time after work. But these two had no private lives. You could not count the hours they had left after a busy day as free time. Viola heaved a sigh. As romantic as their courting had seemed and later their marriage, it could not be compared to life nowadays.

She read the next entries in the diary, always looking for her name or a hint that the butler and housekeeper had managed to find a moment for a private conversation. But she could not find anything. Only in early June, did Mr Carson mention Mrs Hughes again, however his words did not speak about their love, their companionship or of the comfort they could and should give each other during these difficult years. Obviously the couple had had several arguments over the running of the estate.

June 2nd 1916

She does not understand why I need to work longer every night. I have tried to discuss it, emphasised the necessity of running the house exactly the way we used to the other day but she was her usual stubborn self. It is vital to not let things slide. We need to motivate the staff, need to show them the importance the large estates have in these times of uncertainty and chaos. Downton has to be strong. We need to set an example.

Instead of sharing a glass of wine with her or our usual cup of tea, I am sitting in my room, alone. We haven't spoken privately for weeks now. All we did was fight. Although we work in the same house, we hardly see each other these days. I miss her but she has to understand that I cannot ignore my work. Especially not now when we are already short of a footman and will probably lose another soon. I cannot bear to think about it now. The world is falling apart around us and there is nothing we can do to stop it.

1916

With Mr Barrow gone and William possibly leaving soon, he wondered how on earth he should keep up standards without risking the reputation of Downton Abbey. Every day a new burden was added to his load of work. Not only small things like having to polish all the silver himself but most of the tasks he had routinely delegated to William or Thomas were now his sole responsibility too. He tried to handle the extra chores as best as he could but the additional work tired him out. Carson would never admit this to anyone but he could not completely hide his exhaustion from her. It was easy for Elsie to tell him to slow down when she still had all her maids to help her in her daily routine, whereas he had only William left and a few of the older, more responsible hall boys to help him with minor tasks. There was no possible way to look for a new footman when most of the young men were either fighting in France or received their training for active duty.

Elsie had repeatedly suggested asking Anna to help him out but he would never have a maid in the dining room. Not when there were still some boys he could at least train to a certain extent. They might not be tall enough, might lack the knowledge of how to serve at a large dinner, but they were better than a female servant.

And now they were having another one of their fights. Directly after luncheon when all he had wanted to do was to sit down and relax for a moment, a few minutes. But she had followed him into his pantry and he could tell that she was furious, could see it in her face, in the way she moved. He knew when the storm was hitting land, at the very moment the door closed behind her.

"You can't go on like this! Stop being so incredibly stubborn!" She stood there with her hands on her hips, face flushed with anger. If the situation had not been so serious, he would have kissed her, told her all would be fine and she had nothing to worry about. But this was not about a simple misunderstanding, they were not quarrelling about a footman who had misbehaved or a maid with bad manners. This was about his principles, the things that were most important to him.

"It's not how it's done!" His voice sounded harsh, strict, demanding. "And you know that! There are certain standards we have to keep up or otherwise we'll be ruined."

"Nonsense! We can't do things the way we've always done them. You know this as well as I do." Elsie hissed.

"I know that. But there is nothing I can do! And we won't discuss this any further." He would not allow her another say in this discussion, turned around and left his pantry, stomping up the stairs although he had no business upstairs. He fled, it was as simple as that, he ran away from her, from yet another discussion. Carson was tired of their constant fighting, even more exhausted by it than by his work. They had to come to an agreement. Soon.

In good times and in bad times. She thought about this one sentence over and over again, their vows, spoken one and a half year ago on a cold January day when they had promised to support the other until they both drew their last breath. This was how it should be between them, a relationship build on trust and the will to accept help in hard and trying times. Elsie wanted to be the person he could rely on, had always been there for him no matter how unapproachable he had been in the past. Small fights, arguments, misunderstandings had been solved by talking about them. Sometimes it took them a mere few hours to apologize, more often a couple of days. And even then, they always came to an understanding, always found a way out of the crisis. Since the beginning of this year however, their disputes had become painful. She worried about him, more than before they were married, could not bear to lose him because of this war. He was overworked, exhausted, tired and every day she feared he would simply collapse.

After he had left her behind, like a lowly servant who did not deserve any respect from the butler, she had retreated into her sitting room to work on her accounts. Angrily she added the recent expenses, crossed out items, made new entries. The fountain pen scratched over the delicate paper, inkblots ruined a fresh page, she misspelled a word, crossed it out, had to start again. She simply could not concentrate, was too angry at him, at the stupid war, her work, the house. Elsie tossed away her pen, slammed the book shut and took a few deep breaths in order to calm down. There was no use in letting her anger out this way. It would only result in a headache or, even worse, a migraine. And the last thing she needed was to fall ill.

For a while she simply sat at her desk, eyes closed, concentrating on the sounds and smells around her. The chatter from the kitchen, the maids running up and down the corridor, the backdoor opening and closing, the smells of cigarette smoke wafting into her room when O'Brien passed it.

"We can do this." She whispered to herself. "We will get through this."

2013

Viola turned another page, curios what had happened next, if Mr Carson spoke about a reunion, if there was another passage that spoke of their relationship. Somehow this had become the most interesting thing to her. Like a TV series she could not stop watching because she was so attracted to this one relationship between two characters that after every new episode she longed for more. The difference was that this was real. These people had actually lived here, had worked in this house. It was not fictional, something invented by a clever writer. Everything told in the letters and written down in his diary had actually happened.

It warmed Viola's heart to think about these two people. They had overcome so many obstacles, most importantly the ones they had created themselves. And then the war seemed to have pulled them apart somehow. She hoped and wished to find an entry where Mr Carson mentioned a kiss or a moment alone between the couple.

When she finally did, she almost spilled half her wine onto the sleeping bag because the first words were like a shock. Then she realized that Mr Carson had not written about his wife dying in his arms but merely recounted an evening of marital bliss after the hardships of a busy week. Viola felt silly that such a thought had even crossed her mind and indulged in the next few diary entries.

June 30th 1916

She fell asleep in my arms. So peacefully I dared not move in fear of waking her up. Now she is sleeping in my bed whilst I sat down to recall the day. It has been a long time since we last shared a bed or even an evening together. How grateful I am for her I cannot describe in words. Should anyone ever read these lines they will think me a fool for confiding my thoughts to a simple leather bound volume.

This night is a blessing though it will not make up for the happenings of the past day. Mr Bates has left us. Another tragedy we could not avoid. Elsie has told me some part of the story but I am still not sure what the real reason for Mr Bates' departure has been. There is more to the story than meets the eye. And we will probably find out about it soon enough although I do not wish to be involved in it more than necessary.

1916

Elsie had been looking for the head housemaid for half an hour, had searched for her everywhere downstairs, had sent maids upstairs to look into Anna's bedroom. The girl had vanished after dinner was over and Elsie had started to worry. It was not like Anna to forget about her duties or to disappear without a word and explanation. However, in a house as large as Downton Abbey, the housekeeper knew every possible hiding place and her last chance was the backyard. A place used for taking short breaks or for simply getting some fresh air in the middle of a busy day. It was not necessarily a refuge one would seek but it was better than being surrounded by your co-workers.

She found Anna outdoors, sitting on an empty crate, her small figure shaken by sobs. The darkness had not concealed her well enough and her muffled crying was clearly audible to the trained ear although an upcoming storm shook the trees surrounding the backyard violently, resulting in a very unpleasant noise. Carefully Elsie approached the young woman and softly spoke to her as soon as she was close enough.

"Anna. I've been looking for you." She knelt down in front of her, gently taking the hands away from Anna's face. Even in the darkness, Elsie could see the red rimmed eyes, swollen from crying. The housemaid turned her face away, stared at the brick wall next to her.

"Please Mrs Hughes, leave me alone." Her voice was quivering.

"No, I won't. There's a storm coming and you better get inside." With one hand, she stroked the woman's tearstained cheek. "I'll make us a cup of tea and then I'll send you up to bed."

"I have work to do." She did not sound convincing. It was merely an excuse to be left alone.

"You haven't. I already told Madge and Alice to take over your evening chores." Elsie turned Anna's face towards her. "Look at me Anna. We will find a way. But there is no use in crying over him now."

The head housemaid made eye contact for a split second before fresh tears welled up and ran down her cheeks. "I will never see him again."

"You will. We'll find a way", Elsie repeated then tried to pull Anna up back to her feet. "Now come inside. It will start raining soon and I don't want you to catch pneumonia."

"She's heartbroken. The poor girl." She was pacing his pantry, wringing her hands, and every now and then, playing with the keys that dangled from the chains attached to her belt. "This is the hardest thing for her." She passed by his chair for the umpteenth time, did not stop walking once since she had come in ten minutes ago. "I've send her upstairs to her room but I doubt she'll get some rest."

"Elsie." Saying her name had no effect. She continued her pacing, mumbled something incoherent to herself. "Mrs Carson." He tried again. That stopped her dead in her tracks, and she stared at his face, probably realizing that she had been miles away, before she sat down in the chair next to him.

"Oh I am sorry Charles." Her posture was tense, the back straight. Even though she had finally stopped her nervous pacing, Elsie had not come to rest. It was obvious that Anna's distress troubled her immensely.

"We should call it a night. Things might look better in the morning." He reached out to take hold of her hands. Elsie gave a jerk when his fingers touched her skin. "You need to calm down."

"How can I possibly calm down?" She stared at the opposite wall, her voice was small, so very quiet he could almost not hear her.

Carson could not remember when he had last seen her so fragile and lost. Every day a housemaid had her heart broken, every day she tended to the homesick young servants. She was a practical person not one who got emotionally involved in the lives of the people under her jurisdiction. That was one reason he loved her so much. He knew that Anna was one of her favourites, that the two women were close but he had never thought about their relationship much until tonight. Elsie was heartbroken too. There was no other way to describe it.

Slowly he stood up and went to stand before her, took her hands and pulled her out of the chair towards him, not knowing that she had done the exact same thing with Anna a few hours earlier. Elsie did not protest, nor look at him in the process. He cradled her head on his broad chest, embraced her and drew her close, his hands gently stroking her back.

"Spend the night with me." He whispered into her hair.

Outside the storm was raging. Heavy rain pelted against the small window in his bedroom, the sound not at all peaceful or relaxing but she was nevertheless sleeping soundly in his arms. The bed was too small, as usual, but as long as they were together, things like these did not really matter. She was in his arms, her body warm and soft, pressing against his chest. He had draped one arm around her waist, rested his hand on her belly, his fingers playing with the fabric of her simple cotton nightgown. His other arm was lying above her head. She often used it as an extra pillow, sleeping on his open palm. How often his hand deadened over night he could not remember. Every moment they could spend together like this was worth it.

He kissed her neck once more before he closed his eyes. Elsie stirred in her sleep, her cold feet touched his bare legs. Carson winced at the contact. The times they had the chance to share a bed were rare and so he learned new things about her every night she slept in his arms. With his feet, he tried to pull the duvet a bit tighter around them.

"What are you doing?" She mumbled sleepily.

"Shhh, sleep my love. I was just trying to warm your feet."

"Thank you." Her hand enclosed the one resting on her skin, squeezing it lightly before the grip loosened when she drifted back to sleep.

Once more Carson closed his eyes, ready to fall asleep next to his wife. But the rain and the thoughts about Mr Bates and Anna troubled him too much.

TBC