The next morning, after a more controlled reprisal of last night's activities, a famished Charles and Elsie headed downstairs for breakfast. When they reached their table, Charles pulled Elsie's chair out for her and kissed her cheek as she sat. "Happy anniversary, love."

"So far." She smiled playfully.

They were planning to visit the hospital as soon as they had eaten. There was every hope that the Dowager would be well enough to return home today. Charles was on his third helping of black pudding when Mr. Lowell entered the pub. "I've come to bring you both to Downton, at your convenience." He said curtly.

Charles' did not like the sight of the grim chauffeur and the black armband he wore. It made sense that the more visible servants would still wear the signs of mourning for Mr. Crawley as long as the family maintained their mourning dress. Still, something about the sight of the man and his somber face worried Charles. Not that he had much reason to be happy, being sent to fetch a pair of servants at this hour of the morning.

Lowell would offer no answer when Elsie inquired after the Dowager during the ride to the house. He only said, "It is not my place to discuss the family's private business." He had a point. As far as he was concerned, Charles and Elsie were valued former employees, nothing more.

Upon arriving, Mr. Barrow led Elsie to join the ladies in the drawing room, while Charles was instructed to see himself to the library.

In the Downton library, Robert and Rosamund sat side by side on the great couch opposite Mr. Murray. It was indicated that Charles should join them. He did so wordlessly. Mr. Murray opened the great file on the table before him. The words, 'Last Will and Testament' glared at him in bold, cursive writing. Charles felt his stomach lurch. The Dowager had seemed to be improving when he left her yesterday. Had there been another attack? Why hadn't they told him?

With a nervous chuckle Mr. Murray set the large, sealed document aside, "Thankfully, we'll not be needing that today." Neither Robert nor Rosamund so much as blinked, but Charles' was finally able to breathe. "Here is what I need." He drew an aged brown envelope from the file and set the remaining documents aside.

"This envelope was left in the care of Lady Violet as part of the 4th Earl's Will. Its dissemination was left to her discretion. I have been instructed by Her Ladyship to give it to you today, Lord Grantham, in the presence of Lady Rosamund and Mr. Charles Carson." Mr. Mason pushed the envelope towards Robert. He gathered the rest of the papers and rose to leave. "I shall show myself out." He quickly added as Carson instinctively made to stand.

Robert's eyes had not left the envelope during Murray's exit. An irrational fear was rising in his chest. What could possibly be in that envelope? Had his father found a way to reach out from beyond the grave to further insult and injure him? He felt like a young boy again, intimidated by the memory of his father.

"Well?" Rosamund prodded. "If you are afraid to open it, I shall do the honors." She reached for the envelope.

"No." Robert stopped her hand. "I shall do it."

The envelope contained three letters and another, slightly smaller envelope which, judging by its dimensions, contained either documents or photos. This envelope was addressed to Charles E. Carson. The letters were simply addressed, 'Robert', 'Rosie' and 'Charles' and were each sealed with a wax stamp bearing the Grantham Coat of Arms. Robert handed the other two letters to his brother and sister.

Rosamund had nothing to fear from her letter and tore it open quickly. By unspoken consensus, Robert and Charles sat silently as Rosamund read her letter. She smiled sadly as she read. She had always been a daddy's girl. Their only disagreement had been over Marmaduke but her father had eventually come around on that.

Rosamund perused the letter a few times before she realized that she had an audience. Robert looked at her expectantly. She did not plan to share the entire letter with them, but summarized.

"It more or less confirms Mama's story. He says I shouldn't be a snob to Charles and he's sorry he was so horrid to Marmaduke when I first married him. That's all, really. Nothing earth shattering. We don't have a half-sister working in the kitchens."

Robert gave her a sardonic smile. "Thank you, Rosamund. I shall rest easy now."

Neither Robert nor Charles seemed keen to open their letter. Rosamund decided they needed a nudge. "Who shall go next? I propose reading the shortest one first."

It was clear by their comparative heft that Charles' letter was by far the longest. Robert reluctantly broke the seal on his own letter and unfolded the single page.

To Robert's relief, his father's words were not hurtful at all. They were humble and supportive, two words Robert had never in his life associated with his father. Robert did not feel the need to share his father's exact words. The letter had been obviously influenced by the Earl's fear of his impending decline, but still… Robert looked at the final paragraph again.

'I am relieved that I am passing the stewardship of Downton to a man who is more worthy than I proved to be and to a son who has made me prouder than I have any right to be. I have every confidence that you will continue to always do what is best for the family and that you will treat your brother with the respect and compassion that he deserves.'

Controlling his welling emotions, Robert reported, "Much the same as Rosamund's. He says that he doesn't have to worry about me doing the right thing where Charles is concerned."

Rosamund and Charles both suspected there was much more to the letter, but they respected Robert's choice not to share it all with them, for now.

Finally, it was Charles' turn. Charles used his pen knife to break the seal and open his letter. Leaving the final, unopened envelope on the table before him, he began to read.

'Charles Edward Carson,

I have no idea when, where or if this letter may find you. I do not know what you have been told or what you may suspect, but this letter is to confirm that I, Robert Edward Crawley, am your natural father.

I harbor no hope of redemption in your eyes, but I feel that I must defend your mother and I will attempt to explain my actions as they pertain to your birth and upbringing so far as I can.

Your mother was deceived, not in my regard for her, but in my intent. Growing up, Caroline Dickens was my dearest companion. From a young age, the family was aware of our devotion to one another. We saw no need to hide our affection in our youth. By the time we were aware of the differences in our station, we were already in love. My family was vehemently opposed to any match between us. When I left school, I was sent to the continent in hopes that a prolonged separation would bring an end to our attachment.

While in Paris, I fell in with a group of young expatriates, a gang of idle reprobates. Influenced by them, I devised a scheme which I felt would ensure my own happiness and satisfy the demands of my family. I returned to Downton to find Miss Dickens engaged to David Carson, which ran counter to my plans. Very shortly after returning, I rekindled Miss Dickens' affection for me and convinced her to break her engagement.

I took advantage of your mother's generous and trusting nature. I reminded her of the dreams of our youth. I made promises to her that I never intended to keep. I gave her my pledge of marriage. I even gave her a ring. Only after seducing her did I reveal my true plan. I intended to keep her as my mistress, establishing a home for her anywhere she chose, where we would present ourselves to the locals as man and wife.

I told her that I would eventually have to marry a woman from a family of means and influence to appease my own family and secure Downton's future, but that I would visit her and would devote myself to her as if we were truly married. I was naïve enough to believe I could maintain this lie without exposure and without neglecting either family.

Miss Dickens refused to be party to these plans. She had believed that I would make her Countess of Grantham. She rejected my further advances with revulsion. She was angry and distraught that my deception had driven her to reject the honorable love and intentions of Mr. Carson. She refused to see me, or to even leave her father's house.

I did not give up hope of convincing her to accept my scheme, but I removed to London temporarily rather than face her disgust. While I was away, she discovered that she was with child. Unbeknownst to me at the time, her father, after consulting with my own father, contacted David Carson. Mr. Carson convinced your mother to marry him and allow him to claim you as his own. I believe he was paid a sum of money, but I also believe that he only accepted it in order that he might provide for his new family.

I wish I could claim my ignorance of your mother's condition as the reason for my cowardly actions. While I was indeed ignorant, I cannot honestly say that I would have done differently had I known of her condition. I would like to say that I would have behaved honorably, but I cannot. I was entirely dependent upon my family for everything. I was distinctly unqualified to provide for a wife and child without the financial support of my family. I was accustomed to a certain lifestyle and I was weak. It is very unlikely that I would have married your mother against my family's wishes, even had I known the truth.

To my eternal shame, David Carson proved to be the man that I could not and raised the son who should have been my responsibility.

I was sent away again by my family, knowing nothing of your existence. I only knew that Caroline was married and beyond my sway. I never saw her again and my life was the poorer for the loss. Eventually, I did marry, and returned to Downton.

Many years later, just after my own father's death, Mr. Dickens requested that you be taken on at Downton. As Lady Grantham handled the minor household hiring, it was not until your mother died that I knew you were on the estate. I was told that Mr. Dickens and his grandson had traveled to Hull to attend Mrs. Carson's funeral. I had not seen you, at least not that I could recall. I still did not know that you were anything but the child of David and Caroline Carson.

I had not the courage to attend her funeral. Your father kept you in Hull but your grandfather returned to Downton. I did not dare ask after you for fear of raising suspicions of my past with your mother, so I sought out Mr. Dickens. When I ascertained your age, I pressed him further. He confirmed that you were my son. He asked me not to reveal the truth to you, saying you were a good lad and should not be burdened with the stigma of being illegitimate.

And so, I said nothing. In the years that followed, I had reason to believe that Lady Grantham knew about your origin, but she was sly and never tipped her hand. Had she done so, I would have sent you away immediately. When your grandfather died, I considered sending you away, but there was no plausible reason for me to involve myself in the comings and goings of a hall boy.

By that point, Lady Grantham had taken an interest in you and I did not dare interact with you for fear of discovery. When your good father died, his brother took you away. Lady Grantham revealed her suspicions to me and demanded that I provide for your future education if they were true.

Reluctantly, I confessed my connection to you and your mother and agreed to offer your uncle more money. Your uncle disdained our assistance and raised you beyond our influence. I admit that I was relieved to see you gone. I had Rosamund and Robert to consider.

When you returned to Downton as a fine young man of twenty-one, my first wish was to send you away. The idea of your being so close to the family was disconcerting to me, but Lady Grantham insisted. At first, I thought she was attempting to punish me, but I abandoned this belief. Very soon, you were a valued member of our staff. You exhibited a simple, selfless nature that reminded me of your mother.

I saw how both Robert and Rosamund respected you and how patient you were with them. There was something in me that rejoiced to see how they turned to you for guidance and support. I convinced myself that, subconsciously, the three of you were aware of your relationship. Many times, I almost told you the truth, but I could not bring myself to take any action which would result in your leaving Downton.

Perhaps I was only trying to justify my actions, but I told myself that allowing you to be a part of the family in even this small way was kinder than rejecting you altogether. When you went with Robert to London, Lady Grantham hoped that you would find a reason to stay in London, or perhaps a better position. I rejoiced when you did not. Though I was sensitive to the impropriety of allowing you to remain in our service, I knew that my family would suffer in your absence.

And, with that, we reach the present. Though I do not deserve it, you have returned to comfort me in my hour of distress. I do not know how much longer my body will endure, but I know my mind is failing. I pray the one will not long outlast the other, but the doctors know little and tell me less. My greatest consolation is the knowledge that whatever comes, I can rely upon you to safeguard my dignity and the dignity of my house.

I am leaving the timing of this disclosure to Lady Grantham. She and Timothy Carson are the last remaining keepers of my secret. I would call it a shameful secret, but I feel only pride when I think of the man you have become.

It is within Lady Grantham's power and rights to destroy this letter and the analogous letters that I have written to Robert and Rosamund. If you are reading this, she has not done so. I hope you will consider that and will not judge her too harshly for her role in this deception.

Beyond the cleft in your chin there is little that I can leave to you, my son. Everything else that I can offer is in the envelope which will accompany this letter. Whether it holds any value to you, I cannot say.

I do not know if this disclosure will be of any consolation to you, but I pray that it may be. Perhaps it is simply my final act of selfishness, to unburden my heart at your expense, but I hope you will find peace in knowing the truth.

The truth of your life is that you had a dear and loving mother who was adored by two men, only one of whom proved worthy of her. Rightfully, you bear his name and you have borne it proudly.

Though I have no right to ask it, I hope that you will sometimes think of me as your repentant and unworthy father,

R.E. Crawley'

Silently, Charles handed the letter to Robert. Even if he could speak, Charles felt he would be unable to summarize the Earl's letter sufficiently. When he had reached the end of the first page, Robert handed it to Rosamund. While they were reading, Charles opened the envelope that contained his inheritance. There were two old photographs, remarkably well preserved in the envelope. The smaller photograph was of two children on horseback. They could not have been older than eight. One child was a young girl with braided hair and an open smile featuring two missing teeth. She sat sidesaddle in front of a tall boy who wore a serious expression and a hacking jacket. The boy had a small dimple in the middle of his chin that was the exact match to Charles' own when he pursed his lips in serious contemplation. A tall, stately man held the horse's reins, scowling at the camera.

The second photograph was a wedding picture. Charles easily recognized his father, who wore a suit jacket that was at least two sizes too big for him. Looking at this, Charles wondered how anyone would have ever believed that this man was his father. David Carson was not as delicately built as his brother, but he was not a large man. His face was round and soft. Even an impressive pair of sideburns failed to imbue him with any sense of stern authority. This face would never be anything but kind.

Although neither of them were smiling, Charles thought the couple looked happy, with their hands joined together in front of them, holding a small bouquet of flowers. He searched his mother's face, trying to imagine how she had looked when animated and laughing. He thought he could remember. She was wearing a tightly corseted, high-necked dress. No one would have guessed that she was already three months pregnant.

"They are lovely, Charles." Rosamund, who was a much faster reader than Robert, looked at the photos as she awaited the next page of the letter. "Well, Charles, I can see you inherited your grandfather Dickens' nose. And his eyebrows."

Reluctantly, Charles set the photographs aside. The remaining contents of the envelope were several notarized pages. One was clearly a marriage certificate; another, a birth certificate. The remaining two pages were covered in the same handwriting that filled the pages of the three letters. The Earl's signature at the bottom of both confirmed it. One of the pages was witnessed and notarized. It was a sworn statement of the Earl's acknowledgement that he was the father of one Charles Edward Carson. The final page was a short note from the Earl. 'Should you ever need proof.'

"Why would he have done all of this?" Charles asked, looking at the legal documents.

Rosamund shrugged. "Probably something to do with inheritances. We should ask Murray."

"But not today." Robert told her. "This is quite a letter, Charles. Are you okay?"

"I am glad to know his perspective." Charles was very glad that this was not the only account of his parentage that they had received. It was detailed and near unassailable proof, but, compared to the accounts from his uncle and the Dowager, the letter left Charles feeling cold.

The Earl had never been a warm or demonstrative man. This letter hinted at depths unexplored, even a lifetime of gnawing regret, but Charles could not sympathize. Eventually, Charles might reconcile himself to the hypocrisy of this late in life attack of conscience, but not yet.

Charles was glad that Robert had finally been given the validation that he'd craved, but there was little here that comforted him. Of all the Earl had left, the photo of his parents was what he would treasure most.

"These letters were all clearly written after you returned to Downton and his health began to fail, but they seem to be from before he attacked you." Robert noted.

"You know about that?" Charles had not expected that.

"Mama told us this morning after we took her back to the Dowager House."

"Only the two of you know?"

"Yes."

"I should like to keep it that way. Your father was not himself and it is such a sensational story, it sounds so much worse than it was."

"If you wish, Charles." Robert reluctantly agreed. "Shall we join the rest of the family? They must be near mad with impatience by now. Murray was very mysterious when he arrived this morning. I think Edith and Rose may explode from anticipation if we do not relieve them soon."

"Yes, I should very much like to join the family."

CE—

After Elsie had ascertained that the Dowager Countess was safely installed back at the Dowager House and resting, the drawing room had lapsed into an awkward silence. Elsie did not want to discuss anything without Charles present. The rest of the family seemed to feel the same way about Robert and Rosamund. Mr. Murray had dropped in briefly to say his goodbye, but then the endless waiting had begun.

Elsie's eyes wandered around the familiar room, seeking out the corners that she knew would show the first signs of negligent dusting. For the most part, she was satisfied, but she did see a few things that she would be bringing to Anna's attention. But only if Anna asks, she promised herself.

Lady Cora had sent Mr. Barrow away, but eventually, she rang for him and ordered tea. Thomas blatantly eyed Mrs. Carson when he returned with the cart. Part of her welcomed his insolence; she was spoiling for a fight. Anything was better than this tense nothingness. Instead of confronting Thomas, she counted slowly to ten to calm herself. After he left, she realized that they were fooling themselves if they thought this secret could be kept for more than a few weeks if they insisted on interacting with the family. She smiled as Isobel handed her a cup and saucer.

Finally, mercifully, the door opened and the three siblings entered. Robert looked at Charles, indicating that the floor was his. Charles shrugged, "Same story, different perspective." He was ready to move on from the drama. The past had been run to ground and then dragged into the light, exposed for the feeble creature that it was. There was nothing more the past could do to him. The only thing that interested Charles now was the future.

"Letters from father." Rosamund clarified.

"And legal proof that Charles is his natural son." Robert added.

The unspoken question of 'What now?' hung in the room for several heartbeats. Then, everyone but Charles and Elsie began speaking at once. Tom and Robert were talking in low voices by the fire. The ladies clustered around Rose on the couches. Something very important seemed to hinge on Rose and Rosamund reaching a consensus. It was clear that they were picking up a heated discussion that had been previously suspended without resolution.

Elsie was glad to see that Charles looked resigned, but not melancholy. He smiled at her as she poured him a cup of tea. He had the easy air of one who had come through a long illness to find themselves stronger than when they had first fallen ill.

Charles accepted his cup of tea and stood next to Elsie, watching the family; his family. Mary caught his eye and they exchanged smiles. She looked at the family, all of whom were now either speaking animatedly, like Rose and Rosamund, or nodding emphatically, like Isobel and Edith. Mary saw how absurd they must appear and began to laugh at the bemused look on Mr. and Mrs. Carson's faces.

"And what is so funny, pray tell, Mary?" Rosamund broke off her debate with Rose to confront her niece.

"I only thought we should perhaps ask Uncle Charles' opinion on the matter."

"I am sure I can have no opinion that has not been expressed, Lady Mary."

"Very likely." She conceded. "Then perhaps you would offer your wisdom on the topic? As very little of that is in evidence."

Cora had to agree with that assessment. "Charles, most of the family believes that it will be impossible to keep this a secret for very long. You have said that you do not wish to be known as… a bastard, but it seems inevitable."

"And," Edith added, "We would like to spend time with you both without the lingering threat of exposure. It seems best just to have it out."

Robert and Tom joined them now. Tom nodded his agreement. "George and Sybbie will know you as their great aunt and uncle. We can't confuse them by asking them to participate in a lie."

Robert said, "We think we can keep this quiet long enough to allow Rose to begin her debut Season, but not much longer."

"And, I tell you, I do not give a fig about any of that." Rose interjected. "Times are different. Having this air of controversy about the family might make me more interesting. Every girl needs to have something to make them stand out from the crowd." She beamed at Charles and Elsie before turning with a challenging look to Rosamund.

"And I just want to have one more season at the top of the London society before I am cast off." Rosamund pouted. "I understand that sounds incredibly shallow to you all, but you do not live in London year round. For you, London is a lark, a vacation. For me, London is a jungle."

"And a tiger will always find a way to survive in a jungle." Robert assured her. "We will wait as long as we can, Rosamund, but we must control the discovery of this information. If the family does not react as though the news is scandalous, the world can hardly make it so."

"Then you do not know the world very well, Robert." Rosamund huffed. "Does the invitation to join you in Italy still stand, Charles? I may need to flee London suddenly."

Startled by the question, he turned to Elsie, who shrugged. "Why not?" Elsie said. "The more, the merrier."

"Then do what you will, Robert." Rosamund gave up the fight. "At least I shall discover who my true friends are." She hoped very much that she had some.

"Speaking of friends," Elsie transitioned, "Charles and I should like to visit briefly downstairs before we go."

"And then, I think we should return to Hull before we invite more gossip." Charles added.

Robert nodded. "Agreed. Mary and I are planning to tour and photograph some estates in East Riding next month. Would the two of you care to join us?"

"Charles may." Elsie was still not sure that was her idea of an enjoyable outing. "But before that, we hope to see at least some of you in Hull for Robert Burns Day."

"We wouldn't miss it for the world." Cora replied.

Charles was made distinctly uncomfortable by the near identical smirks that now appeared on every face in the room. He suspected Elsie had already turned them all against him. Before the topic of kilts could be raised, Charles set down his tea and picked up the envelope with his parents' photo.

"Then we shall say see in you a few short weeks. Farewell for now." He shook hands with Robert and Tom and accepted the hugs and kisses from the ladies. Elsie hugged everyone except Rosamund, who leaned in daintily to exchange a kiss on the cheek. "Shall we go downstairs, love?"

"Of course, Charles, do you remember the way?" Elsie teased.

"I think so, but I'll have you with me, should I get lost." Charles winked down at her. "Between us, I think we can find the way."

"Yes, love, I think we can."

THE END-


A/N Bloody hell, that was a long two months! I must commend all of you who started this journey with me in July. Your posts, follows and favorites helped me power through a few of the more questionable patches.

And sorry for the tease about the D.C. dying. It didn't last long. I think we are all agreed that the D.C. is like the Queen Mum; she will live to be 101 years old.

FYI…There will be a brief Epilogue (hopefully tomorrow) to close this story and a supplemental Christmas Special (posted as a stand alone story entitled 'Perche No'- which I hope to post in its entirety next week. As the title hints, it might have something to do with Italy…)

Thank you, again. Keep shipping the Chelsie!