Welcome back to my story. We are getting closer to the finish line and today the first person has to make up his mind.

I hope you still enjoy and please don't forget : a review - good or bad - is more than welcome. Thank you for it in advance.

Chapter 16

TALK - Part One

Charles Carson was sitting his pantry holding a glass of sherry in his hand. Next to him was the tray with the bottle and a second glass, untouched. And he knew that it wouldn't be used tonight - Mrs Hughes had excused herself a while before and gone upstairs. She had looked exhausted, and Charles' fear was that the exhaustion was more than just physical. After overhearing parts of the chat she had had with Mrs Patmore, he was sure there must still be a lot on her mind, but not himself being directly in on the conversation - once again - he wasn't in a position to interfere. He wanted so badly to be able to help her, but didn't know how.

So here he was: alone with his thoughts and feelings. Beryl Patmore had told him again that he should talk to Elsie and tell her that he had locked the door long ago. Locked it, against all the traditions and unwritten rules of the house and its secret passageway. She had told him to tell her that he was the reason that she had become trapped in there and almost died - an almost unbearably heavy weight on his heart. How could he possibly tell her that? She saw him as her saviour, and he liked the feeling that gave him. He liked the idea of being the man at her side, taking care of her. Being there for her when she needed him. It warmed his heart and soul to see the way she looked at him now, since the incident, and it made him realise that he was in love with her. Charles Carson, butler of Downton Abbey, in love with Elsie Hughes, the housekeeper! He smiled and shook his head, then took a sip of sherry, put the glass down and leaned back in his chair.

It was still, however, a deeply frustrating situation. He had tried his best to be there for her, to offer her support, but had seemingly failed at every attempt. Yes, he had kept from her the fact about the locked door that prevented her escape. But then again, what for heaven's sake what was she doing in there in the first place, he wondered. Not a single word about it from her. After all, he couldn't possibly have known she would ever need to use that door. To him therein lay the problem: there was still so much unspoken between them. Most importantly, he hadn't had the chance to tell her why he cared for her so much - that he was in love with her. And that was the impossible part - how could he be honest about that? The butler was not supposed to be in love at all, let alone with the housekeeper. He was convinced that were he to tell her, she would be offended and he would lose her in an instant, leaving him with a broken heart. On the other hand, if he didn't talk to her about it at all and she were to find out from another source, heaven forbid from Mr Barrow, then her disappointment in him might be so immense that she wouldn't want anything more to do with him, or worse still, might leave the Abbey altogether.

Whatever he chose to do, the risk of loving and yet losing her would always be a great burden on his mind. One shaking of the ground and it could all fall apart, leaving only broken hearts for both of them. Charles pushed himself up out of the chair. He had to make a final decision."I shall explain everything to her tomorrow", he thought to himself. "Well, perhaps not everything, but definitely about the door, and then she can decide herself what to do", he told himself quietly, "and then we'll see how we go from there."

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in!"

It was opened and Thomas Barrow stood in the doorway.

"Mr Carson, if there's nothing else I'll make my way up to my room."

"Indeed, there is one more thing, Mr Barrow. Please come in and close the door", Charles said, a stern expression on his face. Thomas did as he was told and stood in front of Charles' desk. Thomas stood there with his hands behind his back, and they looked at one another, Thomas waiting for Charles to speak first. Finally, Charles Carson spoke.

"I want you to take over at breakfast service tomorrow morning, offering my apologies to the family. Furthermore, make sure that everyone is busy until the servants' lunch."

Thomas eyed him suspiciously. "You mean, you won't be in the house tomorrow morning, Mr Carson?"

Charles slowly stepped from around his desk and placed himself directly in front of the under butler.

"No, Mr Barrow, Mrs Hughes and I will be out running some imports errands in the morning, and - although this shouldn't really be any of your business - I would like to point out that it will give me the opportunity to talk to her about, erm...", Charles trailed off.

"About something specific, Mr Carson?", Thomas asked, with a sly smile.

"Definitely not any of your business, Mr Barrow. Charles' tone of voice quickly wiped the smile right off Thomas' face. He continued loudly and harshly, "Your help in saving Mrs Hughes that night was exceptional and indeed greatly appreciated by all of us."

The set of his jaw showed the determination Charles had to finish this here and now.

"But this is where your part in these events ends."

Thomas was unwilling to give up easily, however. He knew he had Charles Carson in his palm for once, and all he wanted was to crush him so hard.

"Perhaps she might like to know a bit more about what happened that night. After all, it almost cost her her life. There are things she's not aware of. Yet."

"It ends here, Mr Barrow." Charles stepped even closer, his massive body towering next to Thomas. "Anything Mrs Hughes might need to know she will hear from me. All of it."

"I see, Mr Carson. But 'all of it' would definitely cause a stir in your current... situation." He chose his words carefully and stated them plainly.

Although Charles itched to get back to behind his desk in order to bring some distance between them, he stood his ground and did not back away.

"I can only repeat, Mr Barrow, that it is, and indeed never was any of your business. Your sole purpose here is to serve the family, not to meddle in any situations, as you call them, that your superiors might find themselves in."

Charles' eyes were cold and his voice steady. After a few seconds he turned and went back behind his desk, reaching for a pen.

"I shall provide you with a list of things that will require attention before breakfast. It will be ready for your collection first thing in the morning."

To his satisfaction, he saw that Thomas was pouting. He used the moment to sit down again.

"That will be all, Mr Barrow, goodnight."

When Thomas opened his mouth to speak, Charles turned his attention to the paper in front of him and began to write.

"Goodnight, Mr Barrow", he repeated sternly.

And added a quiet "sweet dreams" once Thomas had closed the door behind him.