The distance between them continued to grow for the next few days. Charles had every intention of broaching the dreaded topic with Elsie, but whenever he was faced with the moment of truth, he faltered. It did not help that a crisis at work had kept him in the office very late on Monday. A ship had gone missing and dangerous weather had complicated the search. The whole office had scrambled as the shipping manifests were consulted and they made preparations to contact the families of the crew in case the worst had happened. A search vessel had finally established radio contact with the disabled ship and the needed assistance was on its way. It was a positive outcome, but Charles didn't get home until almost midnight. Elsie was already asleep when he came home. She'd left him a note and a plate of sandwiches.

After an icy breakfast, Charles rushed home early on Tuesday hoping to clear the air, but he walked into an empty apartment. Elsie had made plans to spend the evening with Emily and the girls. Again, she left him a note and a plate of sandwiches. The bread tasted dry and bitter in his mouth as he choked down his dinner out of duty more than out of hunger.

He tried to remember a fight at Downton that had carried on this long and could not. Even after her rant about the 'blessed Lady Mary' or his insensitive interference with her charity towards Ethel they had been back on solid terms by the next day, two at the most. This was different than their fights before. Before they were married, neither of them had any rights or expectations of confidences. They were content with the little glimpses of their more intimate selves that were offered. They rarely delved much deeper for fear of crossing that line of propriety. But they were married now and, as his wife, Elsie deserved to know the full story. She deserved to hear it from him.

He was already in bed when she returned home Tuesday night. Elsie watched him sleep as she dressed for bed. Usually, she found his soft snoring endearing. Tonight, she found it infuriating. How dare he sleep so peacefully when their marriage was facing this crisis? Still, as she lay down, she instinctively reached out towards him. Her hand did not reach his warm body, but only found the vast, cold expanse of their mattress. "Goodnight, Charles," she whispered.

Wednesday morning Charles arose before five and dressed while Elsie slept. He paused before leaving the bedroom and considered his sleeping wife. Her face was tranquil and he was glad to think at least he had not disturbed her dreams. Charles was rooted to the spot, unwilling to leave her without a kiss or a kind word. Elsie stirred and sighed in her sleep. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw him standing, frozen in the doorway. She wasn't quite sure if she was dreaming or not.

"What time is it?"

"It's early."

"Why are you up?"

"I wanted to get to the office early so I could get home by two. Will you be here?"

"Yes."

"We'll talk then."

"Good."

She expected him to leave, but he still just stood in the doorway. "I love you, Elsie," he finally said and then he did turn and go. When she woke for real an hour later, she still wondered if it had been a dream.

-00-

She was sitting at the kitchen table when he came home. It was a quarter to two. She'd been waiting for him since one. Elsie had moved her chair so that it was opposite his rather than beside. Charles had hoped they could talk side by side on the couch rather than across a table, but he understood; she did not want to be distracted by anything physical. It gave him some hope to realize that he might still have that effect on her.

Charles sat down at the table and tried to look her in the eye. He could not, so he settled on staring at the corner of the table beside her left hand.

"We must stipulate something right off the bat," Elsie opened the negotiations. "Can we agree that you did not kill Alice Neale?"

"I wish I could agree to that, but I cannot," he answered.

"When you first heard of her fate, I understand that the shock might make you overestimate your role in her death, but you've had several days to consider it." She struggled to keep her voice reasonable. Elsie did not want to frighten him back into silence. "It is tragic, but Alice made her own decisions. If anyone beyond her is to blame, it's Grigg."

"That's what Nathan said."

"Then listen to him, even if you won't listen to me."

"I'll tell you what I told him; Grigg was the gun that killed her, but I pointed him at her. I am responsible."

His analogy upset her. Did he really see himself as having that level of culpability? This was so ridiculous, it bordered on martyrdom.

"Do you really think Grigg and Tamara have so little responsibility here?"

"Tamara has nothing to do with Alice. That is a completely separate issue, but it is apparently the issue that matters to you." Charles could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. "I can't believe you think it's more important that you didn't know every sordid detail about some floozy who never meant anything to me than about the fact that I am responsible for the death of two people!"

Elsie had not realized how much the strained relationship with Charles had affected her. Her nerves were frayed and her patience was worn thin. She felt as though she'd run the full gamut of emotions; fear, relief, distrust, love, anger. Above all, right now, she felt anger. She was angry at the people who had made her man feel the guilt that was theirs, but she was also angry with Charles for wearing this mantle of stolen responsibility so proudly. Underneath that, she was hurt and angry about his deception regarding the nature of his past relationship to Tamara. She tried to set that issue aside, but simply could not.

"It seems we are at an impasse." Elsie began to stand, but Charles grabbed her hand.

"Please, Elsie, it's taken me this long to have the courage to face you. I don't know how long it will take me if you leave now. I'll talk about Tamara if you like, but you need to understand that I don't place the same significance on her that you do."

Reluctantly, Elsie sat back down. "It isn't that you saw Tamara again, Charles. It's that you lied to me about her."

"I never meant to deceive you."

"You led me to believe that you didn't see her again after you left the theatre for Downton when you were younger," Elsie reminded him. "Why didn't you tell me you'd seen her again?"

"When you found out about Tamara the first time, you were so upset I was lucky you were even speaking to me. I told you about when I first met her and how I came to be in correspondence with her. It was cold out. I couldn't very well lay out the entire history, so I skipped over the middle."

"So you decided to lie to me?"

"I didn't lie, per se, I skipped a bit."

"You said you hadn't seen her until you went to see the performance in London before the war."

"I didn't say that. I said that was the last time I saw her. What does it matter?"

"It matters very much that she spent months trying to seduce you!" Elsie exploded. "Or had you forgotten that she used to slip naked into your bed?"

"Nathan shouldn't have told Suzanne that and she shouldn't have told you." Charles was growing angry now.

"She shouldn't have had to tell me!" Elsie screamed. "How could you even write to this woman? Or do you like her attentions?"

Charles was so angry he could not answer.

"I see it now," Elsie crowed. "You enjoy knowing that she desires you. You find it flattering and exciting."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Charles growled dangerously.

"You loved the attention she gave you. Admit it!"

Charles could not tell her how far from the truth she had strayed. He struck out at her defensively. "Just because you enjoyed stringing poor Mr. Burns along, does not mean I did the same."

"How dare you! Joe Burns is a respectable man. Your Tamara is a faithless hussy!"

"She isn't my Tamara and I've already admitted that she's little better than a whore."

"But you still want us to visit her in Milan?"

"No, I don't want us to, but someone drank all her champagne and someone answered her letters."

"So it's my fault?" Elsie's voice hit a pitch that he'd never heard before. Charles knew he should stop pushing, but he couldn't.

"Well, it didn't just happen on its own, did it?"

"Get out," Elsie commanded.

"What?" Charles' anger sputtered and died. Fear took its place.

"This conversation is no longer productive. Go take a walk and come back when you can be reasonable." She was trembling and near tears. Charles' heart was breaking for her.

"Elsie, we need to finish this conversation. What I'm saying may sound unreasonable to you…I shouldn't have mentioned Joe, I'm sorry, but you don't know…It's ridiculous for you to think I enjoyed one second of her attentions. You just don't know…" and he still couldn't tell her. "I love you, Elsie. This was all in the past. It doesn't change anything."

"It changes you from where I'm sitting," she said coldly. She regretted the words immediately, but she was not about to apologize to him for anything.

They sat in stubborn silence, both of them hurt and angry. Finally, Charles stood.

"You're right, Mrs. Carson, I believe I will take a walk."

Charles moved swiftly. He grabbed his coat and hat and was out the door before even bothering to put them on. Elsie burst into angry, bitter and frightened tears the instant the door slammed.

TBC…

AN/ I hope it's still hard to pick a side in this battle. They are both right and both wrong.