AN/ A little blurb about Carson's thoughts around the events of the ill fated dinner party featured in S6Ep05. If you haven't seen the episode, I don't think you'll want to read this. You've been warned...

Lord Chamberlain's car pulled away. Lord Merton had already left with Lady Violet and Mrs. Crawley. The family car and ambulance were hopefully well on their way to York. Only Mr. Branson and Molesley remained with him. Mr. Carson could not maintain the pretense of normalcy for their sakes. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly before he gestured the former chauffeur and the valet turned butler turned footman back into the house. It was ironic really, Carson thought as he closed the door. Molesley and Tom had both been deeply affected by the death of Downton's heir. Now, they all faced the possibility of losing the Lord of the manor.

Carson remembered the relatively peaceful passing of the sixth Earl. Carson was first footman at the time. The doctor had simply come down and declared the fight over. The young, newly minted Earl had comforted his Dowager mother and slipped easily into his father's title. What a stark contrast to the scene they had all witnessed. Was George, not yet four years of age, to be the eight Earl of Grantham already?

Carson pushed aside these thoughts when he saw Thomas standing in the Grand Hall, awaiting direction.

"Mr. Barrow, I am afraid the initial cleaning of the dining room must fall to you, Mr. Molesley and Andrew. Even if we had any maids still on duty, I would not wish them to see such gore," Mr. Carson instructed. "The maids will give the room another going over first thing tomorrow. I shall send Andrew up with basins and rags. Set aside any affected silver and I will deal with it tomorrow."

To Carson's grateful astonishment, Barrow accepted his assignment silently and moved quickly to carry out his orders.

-00-

Charles Carson sat at his desk, watching the silent phone. He wasn't sure how long it would take to hear from York. It had been an hour already. Surely they had reached the hospital and His Lordship was being seen to. Carson didn't know if this delay was a good sign or a bad sign.

Carson's hands rested on his desk as if he were holding it down or maybe he was clinging to it. The door to his office was open but no one dared approach him, not even his wife. She sat with the staff, sipping tea, comforting them with her calm demeanor. He would have welcomed Elsie's presence, but she was needed to reassure the staff, something he was not presently equipped to do.

When he'd left them all in the servant's hall, they were all bunched at one end of the table. Elsie wasn't even in her traditional chair by his side. It was as though they'd all wanted to distance themselves from him. It only reinforced what Carson already knew. During times of crisis, Mrs. Hughes was always a woman of the people while Carson was always a man apart.

With no new information to consider, Carson let his mind wander. He found himself wondering if he'd done something to upset his bride. She'd been preoccupied the past few days he'd noticed, but could not think why she'd been acting so. It had all started with their first dinner together in their home, he realized. Maybe she was just overwhelmed with the prospect of cooking after so many years out of practice. The meal had certainly been lack luster, but he'd been careful not to say so. He'd had to offer some comment, but he'd kept his observations to things that were indisputable. She'd have caught him in a lie. The plate was cold and the knife a bit dull. It was for Mrs. Patmore to have known that bubble and squeak was more suited to left over meat than raw lamb. No, nothing he'd said had been directly aimed at her cooking. Still, they'd solved that small problem. Elsie was to have a refresher course in cooking from her best friend. She might actually be looking forward to it. She'd not mentioned cooking in Scarborough, but they'd been busy with other marital adjustments. No, that couldn't be what was bothering her, he concluded.

Carson's thoughts rose above the servant's hall to the nursery. There lay an innocent child who might well already be Lord Grantham. Master George would be four in a few months. Robert had been just about that age when Charles had arrived at Downton as a junior footman. Carson's instinct to protect Robert was even more deeply ingrained in him than his need to protect any of the young ladies, but in the moment, Carson had been unable to anything more than call for help.

If, God forbid, the worst happened, and the title was to pass this evening, the bulk of the responsibility would fall to George's mother. Lady Mary would need Carson more than ever, but he was a husband now and his first loyalty was to Elsie. Could he spend late hours at the Abbey in case Lady Mary should need his support? Could he rush home to his wife to squeeze every drop of happiness out of the scant time they had been given? At the moment, he felt uncharacteristically ill-prepared to be of much use to either woman. After all, Charles was just a man and an old man at that. What could he do when Death raises his scaly head, demanding to be remembered and respected?

"Life is short. Death is sure. That's all we know," he'd told Elsie and Mrs. Patmore while the shock was still fresh. It wasn't very eloquent, but it was undeniable. He recalled something from the Bible, 'For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.'*

Powerless, rudderless and frightened, Charles Carson did the only thing he could do. He stared at the phone and he prayed.

FIN

AN/ *James 4:14 KJV.

I just want to add here that it looks like they are trying to give Carson an ulcer in the next episode...