A/N UPDATE TIME! I wanted to include MUCH MORE in this chapter but decided to write about a few more things that were supposed to be in here in the next chapter ;). Enjoy reading!

Chapter 25

1918

August 28th, 1918

Today was the funeral. Whoever could spare the time was there to say goodbye to our boy. Even his Lordship and Lady Mary as well as Mr Crawley attended the service. The vicar spoke of the cruelties the men at the front have to endure and how good it is to at least die at home surrounded by their loved ones, but he forgot to mention how much pain and grief the families back at home experience with every day this war continues. I cannot blame him. The poor man has had more funerals to organise than ever before.

We invited Mr Mason to share lunch with us but he refused. Mrs Patmore promised to go by the farm and provide the man with some food for the next few days. Daisy should accompany her. The girl needs something to do.

How much longer do we have to fight this war?

She had taken his hand on their way back from the funeral to the estate. In moments like these no one would question this intimate gesture, everyone was lost in their own thoughts and memories. In front of them Mrs Patmore held Daisy's arm, supported the girl who could not stop her weeping. Poor soul, married so young and only a couple of hours later widowed. But she had given William some happy moments, made his suffering a bit easier in the end. Elsie wiped away a stray tear. The girl would get over it, learn to love again. She was young and her life was still full of opportunities. Daisy could marry again, leave service, become a cook, start a family. Elsie tried to keep her thoughts positive but although she tried hard, the sadness was too overwhelming. The life she just imagined for the young kitchen maid should have happened with William.

Elsie grabbed Charles' hand a bit tighter, wanted to feel him next to her, make sure he was still at her side, alive and healthy. "You won't leave me." She whispered more to herself than addressing him directly.

"I won't." He lifted her hand and put it in the crook of his arm, drawing her closer. "Not for a long time. I promise."

She allowed herself to rest her head at his shoulder for a short moment while they slowly walked on behind all the other servants. No one turned around, no one was behind them. It was easy to imagine that they were simply a couple enjoying a walk outdoors in the warm sun of late summer. She could ignore their attire, black dress, hat and coat, suit, and tie. A happy daydream this was, one of many she had had since they had gotten married. The other way, a life with a family somewhere in a village or a larger town. Something Daisy could have had with William.

The tears returned too fast to suppress them once more.

She remembered his first day as if it was yesterday. A shy young lad standing in the backdoor, afraid to step over the threshold and into the house. She had seen him standing there, his cap in hand, staring into the dimly lit hallway, unsure what to do.

"Don't you want to come in?" Elsie had asked, and the boy had carefully entered the house as if he was afraid to make a wrong move. She found out his name a moment later and after a few more questions she knew that she was talking to the new second footman.

William had been a timid lad in the beginning but it had not take him long to exceed at the tasks Carson handed to him. He learned fast and never questioned an order. Unlike Thomas who continuously picked on him and seldom took his work seriously much to the indignation of Carson. William endured the teasing and the laughter behind his back as best as he could. Elsie knew he was homesick and needed to adjust to this new life so she often took him aside in an effort to help him to settle in. The close bond between them had been unintentional, a housekeeper should never have pity with the ones working under her command nor should she befriend the younger servants. But it had happened and the loss now hit her even harder.

She sat at her desk, alone, in the darkness of her room, lost in her thoughts. Tonight she wanted to be alone with her grief, put it behind and move on. If only she had control over the images that filled her mind. William was everywhere and Elsie could not stop thinking about him. Another memory threatened to well up and she tried to ignore it but to no avail. One thing she would dearly miss was the music, William's way of playing the piano in the servant's hall. He could play a lively folk tune or some grand Beethoven piece with such intensity that Elsie often wondered where and when the boy had learned it. At least this memory made her smile.

"Mrs Hughes?" A knock at her door accompanied by Carson calling out her name, abruptly ended her quiet grieving. Before she could answer that she would rather be on her own tonight he had entered, followed by Mrs Patmore who carried a tray.

"I'm sorry to interrupt but…" She held up her hand and stopped him.

"You are already inside and any excuse would be pointless." Mrs Patmore stopped dead in her tracks in the doorway while Carson tried to smile, a last attempt to apologize for his intrusion. "Just tell me what you want."

"I've made some tea and hot cocoa along with fresh biscuits?" The tray looked heavily laden and Elsie noticed that the cook had problems balancing it. "We thought we could sit together and talk a bit?"

"We?" She eyed Carson. He knew that she had wanted to be alone, had accepted it earlier. They would need to talk about this later.

"Mr Carson and I." Mrs Patmore set down the tray on the small table by the door. The crockery clattered dangerously. "He said to me that you were in here all evening and I can't have that."

Elsie threw up her hands in surrender. It was impossible to stop them.

Together they sat around the table with him in the middle and Mrs Patmore across from her. The cocoa was sweet and brought back more memories but Elsie knew she could not share them. In front of him, maybe, but not with Mrs Patmore present. The cook did not know about their marriage and as much as Elsie liked to tell everyone in the house, tonight was not the right time. So she kept the images of a happy, laughing William to herself.

Mrs Patmore thought otherwise. "Do you remember when he accidentally smashed one of the plates and was too afraid to tell Mr Carson?"

"He did what?" Tea spluttered on the saucer.

"Calm down. We sorted everything out before you even found out." Elsie almost touched his arm so amused was she by his reaction. "William was afraid he would be reprimanded by you. It was one of his first dinner parties and Mrs Patmore quickly replaced the dish and nobody was any the wiser."

"But of course we talked to him later and explained that he had to be more careful." Mrs Patmore handed Carson a biscuit.

"You should have told me!"

"It would not have changed anything." Elsie rolled her eyes. "He made a mistake and we did not want to ruin the evening."

"I will miss his piano playing." Mrs Patmore said wistfully. "When he played I always wished I had someone I could dance with."

Carson risked looking at Elsie. In his eyes she saw more than he could ever put into words. They had danced to the music, in the privacy of her sitting room. Only once but it had been an evening they would never forget. Before she knew what was happening, Elsie felt his hand on her thigh, gently stroking it. She let it happen, moved her chair closer to the table so that hand and leg were hidden underneath. It felt good to know that she was not alone with her grief. In the following days they would all most likely share little anecdotes, stories they remembered about William and it would take a long time until the world would be back to normal.

"There are so many memories. And I am sure we will never forget him." She spoke for all of them.

2013

"Can you give it back to me now?" After Viola had read out the one entry Claire had showed her, her sister had taken the book from her hands and turned the page. She started reading, albeit with difficulties, what came next. The entry was short and almost moved Viola to tears. She could not allow her sister to read more.

"Wait! You had it for so many days. Can't I have a proper look?" She turned another page and began reading. Viola saw her eyes moving over the handwritten lines.

"Please Claire. You don't understand what you are reading! Give it back!" She grabbed the book and tore it out of her sister's hands with as much force as she dared to use on the fragile volume. Before Claire could steal it back, Viola shoved it underneath her sweater. "If it is broken now it's your fault." She hissed.

"You weren't very gently. I was only reading. Don't be silly Viola." Claire held out her hand, as if she was expecting to get the book back. She never would.

"No. I told you what I am doing at the moment and that's all you wanted to know. Now please leave me alone." She turned around and headed back to the ladder but Claire stopped her, grabbed her arm and held it tight, so much that it hurt.

"Silly girl. It is only a stupid diary of some bloke who probably died like 100 years ago. What's so special about it?"

"Let. Me. Go!" Viola did not move, still had one foot on the first spoke. She held the book tightly clutched to her chest. "I don't want to repeat it, Claire."

"Then tell me what this is all about! Sure, the diary. I got that but there's more." Her grip loosened a bit. "You behave like a teenager."

Viola turned around again. "I've found this, and I've found their letters and I'm trying to find out who they were and the role they played in the running of this house." This was more than she had planned to tell her sister. Now someone else knew about the letters.

"Letters too? From the butler to whom?" Claire had that look on her face. The one Viola knew all to well. She always made that face when she knew she could catch a piece of the newest gossip.

"That's what I'm trying to find out." It was a lie but Viola would not give her last secret away.

"I see." Her sister crossed her arms. "I could help you."

This was enough. Viola had no intention of revealing one more thing about Charles Carson and Elsie Hughes. Their secret was hers too now and she would fight tooth and nail to keep it that way. When she answered her sister's request, her voice was bittersweet, accepting no backtalk. For once, Viola was in charge. The younger sister didn't exist anymore. She was old enough to defend herself.

"Oh I know you want to but you can't. Not everything in this house is about you." Arm outstretched, she pushed her sister backwards towards the door. Claire stumbled and almost fell. "This", her other hand tightly clutched the book underneath her sweater, "is my story. Because it is about people who deserve to be treated with respect." Another push and Claire started to say something.

"I don't want to talk to you anymore. Not today or the next day. Just leave me alone." One more push and her sister was almost outside.

"Viola you're being ridiculous, really." Claire held up her hands in surrender. "I'll leave you to it but you're not getting away with this!" One last step and her sister stepped over the threshold, out of the attic. Viola pulled the key out of the lock, slammed the door shut and locked it from inside.

"Go tell mom and behave like your ten year old self." She shouted before she ran back to the ladder, away from her sister into the safety of the past. It was a place where she could forget all her troubles, worries and fears, indulge in daydreams and imagine the most wonderful things. History was her shelter; the Carson's like a new family that took care of her.

Quickly she climbed the ladder and threw herself onto her sleeping bag, buried her head in one of the cushions and cried silent tears. How did her sister always manage to destroy her day? Viola wiped at her eyes but remained lying on her stomach. As a child, Claire had taken so many things from her, stories Viola had invented (Claire told them to her friends and made them her own), pillow forts she had constructed and which her sister destroyed, paintings Viola had spent hours on and Claire then copied. But this, the letters, the diary, the pictures, this was something her sister would not steal from her.

The diary pressed against her belly and Viola realized only now the uncomfortable position she was lying in. She turned on her back and propped a few cushions behind her head. The book looked fine, no torn pages, the spine still intact. Viola opened it a few pages after the last entry Claire had read and continued with the story.

November 11th, 1918

The war is over.

A very simple entry, only a few words but the emotional value was immense. Tears had stained the otherwise empty page, the ink was smudged at the word over. Carson had cried when he wrote it.

1918

November 12th, 1918

War is over. The fights, the dying, the horrors the men and women at the front endured for 4 long years are over. Yesterday we remembered them and I must admit that I shed a few tears like to many of us. There is not a single family who had been spared. Lord Grantham offered us a free evening which most of the staff spent in servant's hall. One could see how relieved they all were. Young Peter played the piano and although I would not call this gathering a joyful celebration, too fresh are our memories of the ones we've lost, I enjoyed seeing the staff so at ease. Today we all returned to our duties. We must try to return to our normal routine and show the world that the British will never be defeated. And we must work hard to bring the house back to its old glory.

The clock chimed eleven and they all held their breath for a second. Soldiers stood to attention, the entire staff had gathered in the great hall along with Lord and Lady Grantham, their daughters, Mrs Crawley and Mr Matthew. Even the Dowager Countess had made her way from the Dower House over to Downton Abbey to celebrate the end of the war. No one spoke or moved. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts although Carson knew what the woman next to him might be thinking at the very moment the last bell sounded. William, Mr Crawley bound to a wheelchair, so many lives, so many unnecessary deaths. They would never forget the men and women who had risked their lives for king and country.

A short speech by Lord Grantham broke the silence. Slowly the soldiers stood at ease, walked back to their rooms, with the assistance of the young nurses. The staff was dismissed and they would all continue with their work. Elsie looked up at him for a split second, tried to lock his gaze but all he could offer her was a fleeting glance and a small smile to let her know that he had noticed her. He could not talk to her now or take her hand, embrace her, cry while holding her in his arms. For a few more hours he had to keep his emotions at bay.

Downstairs in the servant's hall people stood around a bit forlorn. He saw happy faces, a few of the younger maid were crying. Mrs Patmore gathered her kitchen staff around her and talked to them in a usually calm and hushed tone. Daisy stood in a corner staring at the piano, fumbling with the wedding ring. The young hallboys joked around and were generally in a good mood. Carson knew they were relieved that no one could force them to enlist anymore. Thomas sat at the table next to O'Brien, smoking but there was an absent look on his face and from time to time he stared at his gloved, injured hand. They all had their cross to bear, each and every one of them.

"May I have your attention?" His voice was not loud but strong and deep enough to fill the room. The hushed conversations, laughter and all other talk stopped immediately. He waited a moment, scanned the room, ensured that all eyes were on him before he continued. "To celebrate the day, Lord Grantham has given us all the evening off. The family will be away for dinner so you are all free to enjoy an evening of leisure after all has been taken care of."

As soon as Carson stopped talking, conversations started again. Some faces looked even happier now with the prospect of some much needed free time ahead.

"Such a blessing." Elsie whispered.

"Indeed." Now he finally had time to look at her properly, enjoy the warm and contagious smile that blessed her face. He had not seen her so happy in weeks. William's death had weighed upon them for such a long time. Hardly a day had passed when they did not think of him. The end of the war meant that they could laugh again, be happy, not worry about their loved ones every minute of every day.

"You know that they will all take advantage of their free evening." She moved closer to his side, their arms and hands almost touched. "There won't be much time for leisure for us."

"I will see to that." He whispered and got lost in her eyes for a second time until one of the bells rang and brought him back to the here and now.

The piano had not been touched for a few years. Now a happy tune filled the halls and made it difficult for him to concentrate on the last accounts he had to finish for the day. The music alone was not the problem, it was a sound of the piano, one he had always associated with William. Before him no one had dared touched the instrument in years. Carson closed his eyes for a moment, tried to block out the music but the opposite happened. His left foot started to tap in time with the music and he hummed the melody a second later. A bad habit he had picked up during his years on the stage and one he had often tried to get rid of. To no avail. Now that the music had already intruded his subconscious there was no use in staying in his pantry for much longer. The unfinished work in front of him had to wait until morning or later that night. Someone had to keep an eye on the younger staff tonight to make sure they did not take advantage of Lord Grantham's generosity. Carson closed the account book and wiped his fountain pen clean on a piece of cloth he always kept in the drawer of his desk. He was about to get up from his chair when he heard something other than the distant chatter and the music from the servant's hall.

"Will you join them?" Her voice startled him. How long had she been standing in the open doorway, observing him? "Peter plays rather wonderful."

"I was about to." He stood up, ready to leave the room. "It is difficult to concentrate when there is so much noise."

"This is not noise." She closed the door behind her and walked towards his desk. "It's the most beautiful sound we've heard in years." Her left hand was suddenly on his hip. "Besides, it's been a while since we last had the chance to dance together."

Carson looked down at where she had positioned her hand, then into her smiling face. She was right. They had had few opportunities in the last four years for pleasurable things such as dancing. He took her hand and together they stepped in front of his desk. Slowly their feet took up the rhythm of the song currently played in the servant's hall. Elsie rested her head on his shoulder and they moved in slow circles around the room. He started humming again, this time deliberately.

"If you were the only boy in the world and I were the only girl…" She started to sing quietly.

"That's not how the song goes, my dear." Carson whispered into her ear, then spun her in another circle across the room.

"Oh I know that but I'm not a boy…" Elsie lifted her head and placed a quick kiss on his cheek.

"No, you're my girl." He kissed the top of her head.

Carson held her close and their dancing almost came to a stop. Their bodies slowly swayed to the music but their feet did not move anymore. This was the embrace he had wanted to feel earlier, this was how he wanted to celebrate the end of this war and the beginning of a new era. Not amongst the other members of staff were he had to hide their relationship and could never express how he truly felt on this day. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, wanted to sing along with the others, be their friend instead of their superior for one night. But he could not be this person in front of them.

"We need to go." Elsie mumbled into his jacket. "They're probably waiting for us."

"I wish we could let them celebrate on their own." He sighed.

"You know that's impossible." She pressed her body closer against his.

"Yes." They shared a moment of silence before Carson broke their embrace and kissed her forehead. "We should go."

TBC

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