AN/ Two chapters posted within a few hours hour of each other. Make sure you read Chapter 25th also. Hint: If Robert and Cora aren't married yet, you haven't read 25 yet.

"The doctor hasn't given us an update in ages," Mr. Robert worried. "Do you think everything is alright?"

"I'm sure everything is fine, son," Lord Grantham reassured in an exhausted voice. "It probably just means that he is very busy and the birth is imminent. Be patient. At least sit down. You're making me dizzy with your pacing."

"I suppose you weren't at all nervous for me when the children were born," Lady Grantham scolded her husband, but not unkindly.

"Of course I was nervous," Lord Grantham answered practically. "Our good country doctor still believed in leeches when Rosamund was born. Dr. Clarkson was educated in Edinburgh and medical science has changed significantly in the intervening years, thank the Lord."

"But I doubt birth has changed much in the fundamentals," Lady Grantham commented. She'd never understood why men made such a production of staying up during their child's birth. What did they expect to do? Their part was done. Though Lady Grantham was excited at the prospect of a grandchild, she'd have been content to be informed of the arrival when her maid brought her breakfast tray. She had only stayed up tonight to support her son and husband. "All will be well, Robert. Have a drink to calm your nerves and do, please, sit down."

Frowning, Lady Violet watched Lord Grantham try to get comfortable on the settee. She caught Charles watching him with similar concern etched on his face. They exchanged sympathetic nods before Charles moved in with an extra pillow for His Lordship. Though no one wished to say it, the fact was Lord Grantham's health was deteriorating at an alarming rate of late. Lady Grantham worried that the late night might affect Lord Grantham's increasingly fragile health.

After Charles had fluffed the pillows and seen that Lord Grantham was as comfortable as possible, he took up the tray and headed off to the kitchen to fetch more fresh coffee and sandwiches. By the time he'd returned Dr. Clarkson was speaking to the family.

"…both mother and baby are resting comfortably now. Nurse is with them at present, but you may go up whenever you wish."

"A daughter?" The dazed father smiled proudly to no one in particular. "I have a daughter."

Though he'd been as silent as possible, the others realized that Charles was in the room as he set his tray down. Mr. Robert's unfocused eyes focused on Charles and his impossibly large smile grew even larger.

"What do you think of that, Charles?"

"As the saying goes, 'A son is a son till he takes him a wife, but a daughter is a daughter all of her life.' I'm very happy for you, sir, and for Lady Cora."

"Thank you, Charles. I think I should go meet my daughter," the new papa said, nearly choking on his emotions. He hurried out of the room and the others could hear him taking the main stairs two at a time in his haste to see his wife and child.

"Shall I inform Mr. Brooks?" Charles offered.

"Yes," Lord Grantham agreed. "Tell him to inform the staff and remind him to put the champagne on ice for this evening's celebration. We will all toast the newest Crawley Lady together in the Grand Hall before dinner."

"Very good, sir," Charles bowed slightly and started to leave. Charles found the old butler napping in his pantry. Apparently, he'd woken early and come downstairs to await any news.

"I shall make the announcement at breakfast," Mr. Brooks gleefully declared. "You should get some rest, Charles. You've been on your feet all night."

"I feel fine, Mr. Brooks," Charles insisted. He felt too invigorated by the exciting event to sleep. "Is there anything more I can do?"

"You do look as fresh as a daisy," Mr. Brooks acknowledged with a small laugh, as if remembering the days when a long night would not have affected him one bit. "But you still need your rest. I'll have Ryan handle the champagne, but there is one small thing you can do on your way to bed."

Mr. Brooks picked up two items from his desk. "Since you offered, please take these up for Dr. Clarkson. They're courtesy of His Lordship."

Charles accepted the bottle of whisky and box of cigars from Mr. Brooks and nodded crisply. "Yes, Mr. Brooks."

When he reached the landing outside Lady Cora's bedroom, Charles was unsure of his next step. He would not dream of disturbing the family within, so he hovered in the hallway, hoping the doctor would soon emerge. As he waited, he could hear the voices of parents and grandparents fussing over the child.

The sound of a step behind him caused Charles to turn to see Dr. Clarkson approaching. "It's amazing," Charles said quietly.

"Every birth is its own, unique miracle," Dr. Clarkson mused philosophically in his distinctive brogue. The doctor had been in the village less than a year, brought in when the hospital endowment was finalized. Charles knew very little of the man. He was only slightly younger than Charles, had a young wife and was quickly winning over the residents of Downton with his straightforward nature and natural Northern charm.

"Do you ever become accustomed to it? To bringing a life into the world?" Charles asked before his usual sense of propriety could stop him from such a personal question.

"I'd say the mothers do the lion's share of the work," the doctor smiled. "But no; I never grow tired of hearing a baby's first cry. Comparatively, the rest of my job is much less satisfying."

Charles nodded his understanding. Neither man wanted to speak of illness or death in this happy hour, but it was the natural antithesis of birth. It was strange, Charles thought. Between the two of them, the servant and the doctor, they would look after the family at Downton for many years to come. The doctor would attend the Crawley family during births, illnesses and passings. Charles would attend them all the moments in between. Both were heady and thankless responsibilities.

"His Lordship wishes you to have these, Doctor, as a token of his gratitude and he hopes you will toast to his granddaughter's good health."

"Thank you, that's very generous of him," Dr. Clarkson replied. "I hope His Lordship may have many grandchildren." He accepted the offered gifts and slipped them into his case.

"I shall have to save these cigars for my own happy event," the doctor said with a wink.

"Is Mrs. Clarkson expecting?" This was the first Charles had heard of it. Mrs. Curtis was losing her touch if she'd missed this morsel of gossip.

"It's early days, but it looks like I'll have my own wee miracle to celebrate very soon."

"Congratulations, Doctor."

"Thank you, but please keep it to yourself. Mrs. Clarkson would be livid if she knew I'd told anyone."

"Your secret is safe with me," Charles assured the obviously excited Scotsman.

Just then, the bedroom door opened. Lord and Lady Grantham emerged, looking tired but proud. "She looks like Rosamund already," Lord Grantham said to his wife before he saw the two men in the hallway.

"She's a serious little thing," Lady Grantham added. "She's going to be a challenge to us all, Charles, mark my words. A woman can tell." The broad smile on the new grandmother's face told Charles that this was a compliment of the highest magnitude.

Behind them, the 'little thing' in question gave a small bark of displeasure. Lady Cora's laughter sparkled at the sound. "She doesn't want to go to sleep, Robert. See how she's fighting it?" Her voice sounded loving, indulgent, and weary.

"But you must get your sleep, my dear," Mr. Robert speaking in a sing song voice for the benefit of his daughter. Charles could see through the cracked door that the new father was walking about the room, rocking the wee bairn. The nurse stood nearby, watching nervously. "We'll take her away for a bit so you can rest."

"But I don't want to…" A long pause, no doubt caused by a yawn, interrupted her thought. "…sleep. I just want to hold her."

"Let me see if I can get her to sleep first. I'll take her for a quick walk and bring her right back," Mr. Robert suggested.

"Don't take her too far," Lady Cora begged, but her voice already sounded slurred with sleep.

Mr. Robert walked to the door and found the group gathered there. His eyes were overflowing with tears of joy, amazement, and love. "Isn't she beautiful, Charles?"

"She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, sir," Charles answered honestly. The red-faced, fussing child stopped her fussing almost at once.

"I think she knows your voice," Mr. Robert laughed, astonished at his daughter's obvious genius.

"Is that even possible?" Charles asked, flustered at the thought.

"It is," Dr. Clarkson chimed in. "We know children can hear in the womb. Some doctors recommend putting a ticking clock close to the crib to simulate the mother's heartbeat. It's very possible that she would have heard a deep voice like Charles'. "

"Say something else, Charles," Mr. Robert insisted, almost shoving the child at Charles. "We need her to sleep and she likes your voice."

Charles reluctantly took the tiny child into his arms. "Hello," he said quietly, drawing out the word as long as he could. The girl blinked up at him with dark and curious eyes. "Welcome to Downton, milady," he spoke softly and slowly.

Almost at once, the child's eyelids grew heavy, and yet still she fought to stay awake, as if worried she might miss something important or that she might wake up back in the darkness.

"You've had a very big day," Charles continued as Mr. Robert nodded his encouragement. "The first of many big days, I've no doubt. What's her name?" This last was directed at Mr. Robert.

"Oh, how rude of me," Viscount Downton said formally. "Charles Carson, may I present Lady Mary Crawley."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Mary," Charles smiled down at the newest member of the Family. He was mesmerized by her long, delicate lashes. "My name is Charles. I'm first footman here at Downton. If there is ever anything that you need, do not hesitate to ask."

The little Lady yawned bigger than anything that size had any right to yawn, blinked twice, closed her eyes, and slept. Charles immediately handed her back to her father who smiled gratefully and hurried back to Lady Cora.

"Fancy a job as a nanny, Charles?" Lady Grantham quipped as the door to the bedroom closed, but Charles had not heard her. "Charles?"

"Hmm? What's that, My Lady?" Charles shook himself out of the spell that had settled over him.

"Never mind," Lord Grantham chuckled. "I think we're all due a bit of sleep, don't you, Doctor?"

"I think that's well advised," Dr. Clarkson agreed. "I'll leave the nurse with you for now and call back this evening to check on mother and baby."

Lord and Lady Grantham moved away towards their rooms, Lord Grantham leaning heavily on his wife's arm. Charles walked Dr. Clarkson down the stairs and opened the front door. On the front drive, a groom waited with the doctor's horse and cart. Mr. Brooks must have sent for it after sending Charles upstairs. Charles marveled at the butler's powers of anticipation. Yes, he still had much to learn from the old man.

After seeing the doctor off, Charles all but stumbled behind the green baize door, up the back stairs, and into his room. Knowing he would be granted less than four hours sleep, Charles did not bother to undress, but only took a moment to remove his collar and kick off his shoes.

He fell asleep almost immediately. As he drifted off, he saw a pair of dark eyes behind soft lashes. They looked at him expectantly; imploringly. He couldn't explain it, but he felt as if the burdens of his job had grown simultaneously heavier and lighter in an instant. It would be many years before he could identify what he felt that day as love; paternal love.

-00-

"It's a wonder there was enough of your heart left to love me," Elsie pouted playfully.

"Familial love and romantic love are completely different things, my dear," Charles assured her with a kiss to the temple. "The two are not mutually exclusive."

"There was a time when I wasn't so sure of that," Elsie argued, not quite as jovially as before.

"I hope you're certain of it now," Charles said, gently lifting his wife's chin with a single finger. He kissed her softly but emphatically on the lips. "However dear to me Lady Mary will always be, you are the first woman in my heart. You have been for longer than you could know, my lovely Mrs. Carson."

"I may need occasional reminding, Mr. Carson," Elsie countered. She bumped his nose teasingly with her own, but then she grew serious and withdrew from him.

"What's wrong, love?"

"I was only wondering what happened to Mrs. Clarkson. I never met her, but I know Dr. Clarkson hasn't any children."

"It sometimes seems that God has a cruel sense of irony," Charles sighed. "It was a sad business. Mrs. Clarkson's child was stillborn. She died a few days later, of infection they said. Some said it was of a broken heart."

"He must have been devastated," Elsie said sympathetically.

"He took a leave of absence, but was back for Lady Edith's birth the next year."

"Poor man," Elsie shook her head sadly. They sat in silence until Elsie asked a question she'd always wanted to ask. "Why do you think you didn't feel about Lady Edith the way you did about Lady Mary?"

"Lady Edith was a colicky baby who would only let Lady Cora, Lady Violet or Mr. Robert hold her," Charles shrugged. He'd never given it much thought. He was embarrassed to admit that he rarely gave Lady Edith much thought. It was a short-coming he promised himself he would remedy. "Also, His Lordship's health was deteriorating. He suffered several small attacks over the course of several months before he died quietly in his sleep one night when Lady Mary was three and Lady Edith two.

"Mr. Brooks was almost as inconsolable as the Dowager Countess. He moved to the Dower house to serve as Lady Violet's butler, but his own health failed and he died less than four months after His Lord Grantham."

Elsie held Charles' hand firmly, letting him grieve again for both his mentor and his first master.

"When he handed off Downton's keys to me, Mr. Brooks also gave me The Book."

"The Book?"

"Every great house has a Butler's Book. Downton's Butler's Book dates back to the seventeenth century. Of course, the original is illegible now, but one butler took it upon himself to recopy it just over one hundred years ago." Charles' eyes glistened with emotion.

"It's a remarkable tome. That book holds all the secrets of Downton, from hidden drawers in the attics to how the second Earl preferred his tea. The origins of every dish, goblet and salt cellar that were ever part of the estate can be found in those pages. There's even an entire section dedicated to the dogs of the various Earls."

"How is it that I've never seen this book?" Elsie wondered.

"Each butler must swear an oath to protect the book and keep its contents secret. He must sign his name below the oath in the front of the book. Each entry is also signed by the butler who added it."

"But I've seen your Butler Book, the one you make notations in," Elsie pointed out, confused.

"I have my own book, it's true. I'm not sure I can entrust the entire book to Mr. Barrow, so I've started a new book that I can pass along to him, should the time come. Everything in my smaller book is also in the larger book."

"Where is this book? Is it hidden?"

"It is, but I cannot divulge its whereabouts to anyone but the next butler or Lord Grantham himself. I've already told Lord Grantham, in case something happens to me. It would never do to have all that knowledge lost to the world."

"Really, do you need to be so melodramatic about it?" Elsie scoffed, but she was burning to find this book.

"There are secrets in that book that could embarrass the Family, not to mention other families, including the Royal family," Charles informed her seriously.

"Keep your secrets," Elsie shrugged. "Leave it to men to write down things they don't want anyone to know."

"But half of the things in the book are things that every butler of Downton Abbey must know in order to do his job properly," Charles insisted.

"Such as?"

"It says when and how to ring the changing gong."

"It matters how you ring the gong?"

"There have been several different gongs over time and each one must be sounded in exactly the same way," Charles shared tentatively, as if afraid of betraying a confidence. "I can't tell you what a relief it was to have it all written out for me. I'd always tried to abide by society's rules and the rules of the hose, but some of the rules were unclear to me. Here was everything written out in black and white. My personal beliefs or interpretations didn't matter. The rules were defined and I could hold them in my hand.

"The day I became butler and Mr. Brooks hand me that book was the happiest day of my life to that point. I've had a few better ones since, but it was a long time coming," Charles admitted.

"As butler, I ran the house with a firm and precise hand. Mrs. Curtis and I saw that every day ran exactly to plan and was as identical to the day before as possible. There were allowances for the schedules of the family upstairs, of course, but downstairs, nothing varied."

Charles looked significantly at his wife. "Nothing, that is, until someone came along who challenged everything that I thought immutable. Someone who would disrupt the monotony I'd worked so hard to create."

"Does that mean we're coming to your favorite part of the story?" Elsie asked coyly.

"Mmhmm," Charles answered.

"Your throat must be so dry, my love," Elsie observed sympathetically. "Why don't you let me tell this part?"

Her offer surprised him, but when she looked at him with those storm-swept eyes, Charles knew he could not deny her. "If you wish. I would love to hear about your first days at Downton from your perspective."

TBC…

AN/ RE: Previous chapter...I can't remember if I've named Trevor before in another story, but if I have, I apologize. I must admit to being slightly obsessed with that fish. Jim mentioned it in an interview once. He said that Carson had caught it on the only holiday he'd ever taken, or something to that effect.

I know I've mentioned Edith as a colicky baby in other stories. It's my head canon. I have to believe there is some subconscious reason Mary loathes her sister so much beyond the proximity of their ages. In my mind Mary, Edith and Sybil Crawley were respectively serious, fussy and joyful babies/children.

Next chapter…CHELSIE MEETS for the first time!