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A Charlie That Came To Dinner


Carson walked along the dirt path, Downton Abbey looking at him in the distance. But he was not going there—he could not go there. When the pathway split, he chose to go left, and Downton Abbey disappeared behind the ominous grey clouds in the sky. He walked quietly along the path, humming an old tune he had openly sung on stage once with Grigg—but those days were long behind him. Carson continued humming until he reached the cottage; it was small and old, but it was home to him and his family. He felt the soft rumble of the storm in the distance, but the rain had yet to reach him. He entered the cottage, a sigh of relief escaping his mouth as he removed his hat and placed it on the small table.

"Dada's home," he announced to an empty room. A cry caught his ear and he quickly did away with his coat, rushing into the next room towards a shaking bassinet. "What's all this, then?" he cooed, lifting up the babe to cradle in his arms. He continued to fuss, so Carson began to bounce him slightly. A mirror on the wall showed him dressed in his evening livery—it was, after all, nearly dinner time. "Where's your mother gone off to now?" he wondered aloud, looking around the empty servant's hall. Perhaps she was making her rounds. He heard Mrs. Patmore yelling in the kitchen. The dressing gong sounded and he realized the time—he was late. Very, very late. He exited the room quickly with the baby securely in his arms.

"Ah, there you are, Carson," said Lord Grantham, who was at the table. The family all sat around him: the Dowager sitting at his side; Lady Grantham across from him; Lady Edith and Lady Sybil beside her; and Lady Mary at the end of the table, a happy smile on her face. Thomas and William were already serving them.

"I... apologize for my tardiness, milord," he said, hurrying to fetch the pitcher to fill their wine glasses. The baby stirred in his arms. "I don't know what happened. I must have been distracted..." He could hear the rain fall hard outside.

"Never mind, Carson. These things happen," said Lord Grantham, his attention on Lady Grantham. Thunder roared outside, shaking the house; what terrible weather they were having as of late. The poor babe began to cry. Carson soothed him, trying to shush him so he wouldn't disturb the dinner. But Lord Grantham and the others seemed unbothered. Carson filled their glasses.

"What do you think, Carson?" asked Lady Mary suddenly—but he had not heard their conversation.

"The Honorable Evelyn Napier's visit is most welcome—though, I must admit, I'm a bit hesitant about the Turkish gentleman that he's insistent on bringing," he answered her anyway, and she nodded in agreement at his comment.

"I have to agree with Carson here," said the Dowager. Lightning struck somewhere near them outside, but everyone was too distracted with their dinner to care; the lights Lord Grantham installed flickered slightly. "Foreigners never quite understand our customs." She looked to Lady Grantham, who blushed slightly at her abrupt comment, and Carson thought of Mrs. Levinson—the dreadful woman.

The thunder continued to rumble outside and the room shook again. Carson's eyes opened. He awoke to the sound of heavy rain banging on the window and soft breathing beside him. It was a dream; he had only been dreaming, and he was not at Downton or a cottage, but in a room with Elsie... and Charlie—it was coming back to him now: he had walked Charlie to the house earlier, before the sun had gone down. Lady Mary was there when they arrived.

He licked his lips. His mouth was terribly dry, and he was desperate for a glass of water—and perhaps after that a shot of whiskey or some wine to ease his anxieties. Lady Mary was long gone now, safely returned to Downton. A taxi had taken her to the station, after Simon had gone out to fetch it for her, the generous lad. Carson would have done so himself, but Lady Mary wanted some time to talk alone... and Elsie told him not to.

"Can you sleep?" whispered Charlie in the distance. Carson felt Elsie shift beside him. She was closer to him than she had been their first few nights together as man and wife; their closeness the night before must have made her feel more at ease at the idea of sharing a bed with him now.

"No," Elsie said, equally as quiet.

"I feel awful," continued Charlie after a moment. His heart sank at her despair; he hoped she wasn't falling ill or anything—they had enough troubles already. "It feels like sharp needles are poking at my stomach..."

"That's expected. It shouldn't last your entire cycle—mine never do." Oh, that... again. Perhaps he should clear his throat to let them know he was awake too.

"Can I come lie with you for a bit?" she asked softly, almost hesitantly, and he heard Elsie hum as she moved closer towards him—her soft legs brushing against his pajama bottoms, and her own bottom resting on his thigh. She lifted the sheet covering her and Carson both. The mattress moved slightly and the old wooden bed frame creaked at the new weight as Charlie climbed into bed with them. But he did not see her figure move in the darkness; his eyes had yet to adjust. Thunder continued its rumbling outside.

Charlie and Elsie adjusted into their new positions and the bed creaked with them. They settled after a moment—Elsie's bottom no longer rested on his thigh, but her rough calloused feet rubbed against his own. Lightning illuminated the room for a moment, and he caught a brief glimpse at the two beside him. Charlie rested her head on Elsie's arm; Elsie had her other arm around Charlie.

"This reminds me of when you were first born," started Elsie. "We lived upstairs over a public wash-house. The owner took pity on me and let us stay for half the pay—on the condition I work extra hours during the day. There was only one bed, no cradle, so at night I'd lie awake watching you sleep in my arms." Carson felt guilt overflow him; she hadn't told him any of that. The image of his wife and infant child alone in an old run down room would now reside permanently in his mind.

He waited for Charlie's response, but she said nothing. "Charlie... I have loved you," continued Elsie, keeping her voice low but steady. "I know I haven't showed it well, but—"

"No, you have," said Charlie softly. "You were the first to come running when I fell out of that tree and hurt my arm." She didn't tell Carson that either. She knew so much more than he did, than he might ever know.

Elsie chuckled softly, and her feet pulled away from him slightly. "I'm surprised you remember that," she said. "You were so little. Too little to be climbing trees..."

"That was... Lady Mary, wasn't it? Who showed up tonight?" said Charlie after a moment.

Elsie hesitated before replying, "Yes."

Carson thought back to his conversation with Lady Mary earlier that night. She asked—just to make sure—if everyone at Downton knew Charlie as the scullery maid. He told her yes. But they all knew her as Charlotte. She had a sort of glimmer in her eye for a moment, and then she touched his arm.

"Come with me to Downton, Carson," she told him. And his heart fluttered and his face lit up. He knew it would never be possible, but before he could interject, she continued, "Lord Grantham ought to hear the truth from you. You owe him that much." He opened his mouth to speak again, but she still refused to let him. "Besides, I doubt he'll believe any of it if it comes from me..."

He pulled away reluctantly from her touch, and his heart broke into two seeing her face fall. "The matter's already been settled, milady. I'm sorry." She turned away, too sad or perhaps too angry to face him fully.

A soaking wet and breathless Simon entered the house quickly, interrupting their moment, with an old black umbrella in his hands. "The car's just coming up the road now, milady," Simon told her.

Lady Mary smiled at him, but it was not one of her genuine smiles. "Thank you," she said. "At least I can count on one person here today." And Carson's heart shattered.

Before he could apologize again, Simon opened the door and led Lady Mary out into the rain and wind, holding the umbrella above her head. But she turned to Carson one last time. "Goodbye Carson."

The door closed before he could utter a reply, and thunder roared outside—but was it real or from his memory? "Goodbye," he said softly, only to himself. He looked at the door for a long moment, before turning his heel. Charlie sat on the steps in front of him. She blinked at him; he wondered if she had heard their entire conversation—but he did not feel like questioning her, or lecturing her about eavesdropping. "Erm, let's go find... your mother, shall we? It must be about dinner time."

They did not speak during dinner—or rather, Charlie did not speak to him. And he did not speak to Elsie about Lady Mary either; he tried to, but he did not wish to send Charlie away again. Perhaps they could find some time tomorrow, before he had to leave again.

"She wanted... him to go back to Downton with her," Charlie told Elsie, bringing Carson out of his memories. He turned slightly towards her voice; so she had been eavesdropping.

Elsie sighed. "She—"

"He should have gone," continued Charlie in a whisper. "He likes it better than here."

"Try to get some sleep, Charlie," said Elsie quietly. "I know the storm's a bit loud..." But she did not finish her thought.

Carson turned and sighed, hoping it might let them know he was also awake. Elsie's feet rubbed against him once again, but she did not speak. He listened to the rain outside, attempting to fall back asleep.


I had some trouble figuring out how I wanted to continue this. I hope you all like it. Thanks so much for reading :) If it was confusing, the first part of this chapter was a stress dream Carson had.

Update: I have been having issues posting this chapter. I don't know if it's my fault or the websites, but I keep receiving error messages for it or it's not showing up for me at all. Sorry if this is happening to you as well. I am doing my best to fix it.