Author's Note: That moment when you rewatch a Series 1 scene (01x06) and realize it could take on an entirely different, Chelsie-centered perspective….
(And, to Life Found an Abbey fans, that will be up by the end of today! This plot bunny merely demanded I post this first so I could fully focus on refining today's update.)
_._
Charles Carson really wished he hadn't been a witness to that atrocity from before. That he hadn't been privy to ghastly news today, that those repellant words were not committed to his memory.
Unfortunately, locking the door wouldn't keep the world out.
It wouldn't stop the discomfort, the disquiet that had settled over him.
It would only remind him that he was still bothered by it all.
"I wish you'd tell me what's troubling you." She shouldn't have snuck up on him, not now. He couldn't shield himself when she did that, couldn't keep her from seeing everything running through his thoughts. He could only stiffen in defense, hoping that nothing was given away. "If it's this business with Mr. Bates..."
She was kind to think him concerned about the valet.
"No, it's not that." Charles needed to retreat, he couldn't stand here with her so close, so able to see everything. "I'll get to the bottom of that."
Truly, Bates had been one of the last things on his mind.
"Well, I hope you'll do it soon. If there's one thing I hate, it's an 'atmosphere'," The butler detachedly nodded at the statement, relieved he made it to his chair. His chair would provide stability, it would allow him to manage this conversation as long as he needed. They would be interrupted soon enough, it was inevitable in this house. "And we've got a real atmosphere going now. It's an unfair rumour which needs to be scotched!"
Charles had somewhat caught the sound housekeeper's sentiment over his dismal thoughts, the man well accustomed to that tone of hers. However, he had long since dismissed the enigma that was John Bates' situation of late. Rather, he found himself lost to the words of today's gossip, the machinations that had bred incessant, unfounded rumours.
Those were the rumours that needed to be scotched.
"It's very hard to hear the names of people you love dragged in the mud." He couldn't help these words, a sense of incapability drawing his gaze to anything but her. Why today existed, why it had played out the way it did, he would never find out. There was only one thing he did understand from it all: "You feel so powerless."
"Well," Mrs. Hughes inwardly churned over his statement, a naïve confusion peppering her tone. In other words, she hadn't a clue what he was on about, "I respect Mr. Bates, but I'm not sure I love him."
"I wasn't thinking of Mr. Bates." I was thinking of you.
She gave him another look, her initial tease fading the longer their eyes held each other. He wasn't backing down from her inquiring stare this time, his frustration at the day's events traversing through the air, plain enough for any and all to see.
Yet the longer this staring contest continued, the longer it became obvious she really hadn't a clue what was on his mind.
And why should she?
Mrs. Hughes hadn't been there to witness the scathing remarks he caught wind of. The housekeeper had no idea of what he'd heard in the Village today, of what people were whispering about her. How, practically a year ago, that ruddy farmer of her –– Joe Burns, a name he wished he'd never heard, not having learned it 'till today –– had apparently spent his last night at Downton in the pub, drunkenly spinning outrageous tales about the woman, lapping up malice alongside his drink.
But the worst part wasn't the fact these gossips today clutched at tales spoken a year ago. The worst part was that these stories were believed. That, as he had caught a glimpse of today, these tales were held as fact and brought forth to judge the woman at any given moment. That some were even going so far as to compare her supposed stories to theirs, using it to justify their disdain.
The butler knew any story had to be false, seeing as how Mrs. Hughes was far more respectable than all of that. However, he couldn't help but feel a sense of disillusionment with every passing second. Couldn't help but wonder why these bullies had the urge to lash out toward others, why they felt they needed to shroud themselves in cruel lies about decent people, and for such a long period of time.
"Mr. Carson?"
But, most of all, he didn't understand why it had to be about her.
Charles looked up at the woman, deeply bemused. If her curiosity remained unanswered for much longer, he knew he would be in for quite the interrogation. However, despite being fully aware of that fact, the man didn't know how to broach the subject. Nor had he been able to come up with a reasonable excuse as to why he was so incensed.
Scandal of any sort toward any member of the staff or family did tend to cause upset for him, there was no doubt about that. However, he hadn't felt "upset". Only an immense outrage over the insinuations he'd heard today.
Outrage and a bursting sense of ire that demanded he correct each and every rumour.
But he couldn't tell her that, not now.
Certainly not when he wasn't sure of her reaction.
While it was incredibly probable she would dismiss any vexation on his part as his being "unnecessarily gallant" or some such nonsense, there was another possibility. That was the possibility of any unusual irritation on his part would result in further inquiries. That it would turn into a conversation questioning why exactly he felt the need to defend her, why he was so provoked by these vicious comments.
That was the real problem, the most disquieting part of the whole business.
He didn't know why he felt the way he did.
Only that these were his feelings.
A sharp, repetitive knock interrupted either possibility, garnering their attention instantaneously. Whatever Daisy had said upon opening the door was lost to the man, even as he belatedly heard Mrs. Hughes try to shoo the girl away.
"What is it, Daisy? Mr. Carson's a very busy man."
That the kitchen maid stayed was both a blessing and a curse. Clearly, it was a blessing for having interrupted what was certainly becoming an awkward moment he wouldn't have been able to escape. However, Daisy's unwitting interruption did reek of a curse, if only because it thoroughly confused the man.
"I know he is, but I think he'll want to hear this."
Here he was, quite possibly being given some sort of answer to a mystery that had disturbed the inner workings of the house. The butler was being handed a chance to solve another issue, an opportunity to quell the budding atmosphere that no one wanted about.
And, still, his thoughts remained fixed on Elsie.
Elsie? The man bewilderedly repeated the name, having never called her that before. This really was becoming quite the mystery.
But, if he wanted to solve that mystery he really needed to concentrate on the matter at hand.
Luckily, the kitchen maid had more to say, finally explaining herself: "I told you something that wasn't true."
Well, you certainly haven't been the only one to speak of untruths. Though I suppose, in the case of today, I wasn't directly told about those––
Hold on a minute. "Why would you do that?"
"I did it as a favour for a friend," Daisy nervously mustered up the words, struggling enough he couldn't hold her responsible, no matter how foolish the lie was. She wasn't a part of the world he wanted to lock out of his life; she was only a young woman still finding her place in it all. "But I know now he was wrong to ask it of me."
Charles took in the words as impartially as he could, turning to the housekeeper when it became clear he needed to react. That he felt indifferent to the fact that Daisy had lied, that he was even sympathetic to the kitchen maid's plight, it all spoke of something being changed for him. It told him that torment was not the only thing today had brought.
If only he knew exactly what that meant.
_._
Author's Note: I really need to go to bed earlier, because these sorts of stories are the results when I don't. I'm leaving it completed for now. But, strangely enough, I think I've got an idea for at least one more chapter. We'll see.
Either way, yes, I totally just put aside Mary's Series 1 diplomatic scandal aside in favor of a different sort of scandal. And I'll tell you why:
Rewatching that little scene yesterday, there was something about the way he was looking at her. I know, in canon, Charles is thinking about Mary's strife. But the way he was acting had me think, "My goodness, this conversation could totally be about something else, something involving Elsie."
And, thus, the brief plot bunny that kept me up past my bedtime.
In any case, as always, I hope you enjoyed this and have a lovely day!