Hi there, lovelies! This time I am here with a very depressing and sad piece of fanfiction. It has been a rainy and grey day here, and that might have affected my ability to write anything happy…I am going to warn you that there is a MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH warning for this story, and I do not wish to upset anyone by this. It is just how I am feeling right now (simple facts). I hope you enjoy reading, nonetheless. Please excuse any possible typos, and leave me a review to let me know exactly how many tears you shed reading this…Stay safe darlings. I'll see you soon!
She had always hated funerals.
The sky was grey, the clouds heavy with rain. Wind cold as ice. In the morning, it had seemed that the sun would show itself, but it never did. The day had come dark and grey. Fitting for a funeral, she thought.
Oh, how unfair life is. There she stood watching around the graveyard. The Crawley family at one side, the Downton staff at another. How funny it was. There they were, all dressed in black, their heads down in sorrow. Lord and Lady Grantham stood side by side. The years have taken its toll over them, but they still stood tall. Both dressed in all black. On their left was Lady Mary and Mr. Talbot. She was a bit sad they hadn't taken Master George and young Miss Caroline with them, but supposed it was better that way. Her eyes landed on Lady Edith next- The Marchioness of Hexham she was, she corrected herself. The middle daughter had always been in the shadows of her older sister, but through the years she had found her own ways to happiness. She was glad. The Marquess by the lady's side was holding his wife's hand. She had never truly known the man, but he was good to Lady Edith and Miss Marigold, who now stood next to her parents, which was all that mattered in the end. They all wore black.
Moving her gaze in the crowd, she spotted Mr. Branson and Miss Sybbie. The man had been put through a great loss, learned to love again after a long time of being alone and was now happily married to Miss Smith, Mrs. Branson these days. The woman stood next to them. She was a kind person, loving him good and being the mother to Sybbie she never had before.
She was glad.
But she couldn't miss the tears on Tom's, as she had started to address him, cheeks. She had seen him cry before, but this time the tears were not for the late Lady Sybil.
She still hated funerals.
Behind them stood Lady Merton, Isobel Crawley. It wasn't long when she last stood at a funeral. Lord Merton had, indeed, had the pernicious anemia and died just four months ago, in the loving arms of his wife. It was a sad story. There was no point in denying that. Now the older woman stood alone, dressed in black she was too, looking down.
Life was unfair, she admitted.
The muffled cry from behind her made her turn around. Little Johny Bates, in the arms of his father was starting to get upset. No wonder, the day was cold. Dark. How she wished she could go and calm the little boy. She couldn't. Next to Mr. Bates, stood his wife, Anna. Now 8 months pregnant, dressed in black too. The young woman was crying. She wasn't even trying to hide it. It hurt her. She was covering her baby bump with her hands, trying to protect the little one from the cruel world.
The world was a horrible place.
She turned her head to look at Downton's butler. Mr. Barrow, standing tall next to the other servants, looking at the grave with his eyes empty. He had truly changed. She wouldn't have thought he would become such a lovely gentleman.
Life changed you, that was no lie.
After his attempted suicide- oh how it hurt her to think he had been in such a dark place, he had tried to change. Now he had succeeded in it. She was glad to see that. He was wearing black too, just like everyone else.
Maybe change wasn't always for the worse.
Tearing her eyes off the man, she looked at the Molesleys. They had waited for the two of them realise they had feelings for each other. It took three and half years. Now the couple stood arm in arm, side by side. They had gotten married last spring, a beautiful little wedding it had been, and they were now expecting their first child. She was glad for them. They were meant for each other. Ms. Baxter as she had known her for the better part of her time at Downton, the housekeeper of Downton Abbey these days, was dressed in black like housekeepers always were. So were Mr. Molesley too, in all black.
It was almost funny. Black was such a weird colour.
On their right stood Mrs. Patmore, Daisy and Andrew. Two years ago, the young couple had gotten married. They had twins not a year after that. Little Elsie and Rose. She was their godmother. They had moved to the farm with Mr. Mason. She was glad, Mr. Mason was a lovely man. Not long later, he had died too.
She absolutely hated funerals.
She casted a look at Mrs. Patmore, the retired cook of Downton Abbey. She looked sad. The usually so lively cook had been down for the past year, mourning for the loss of a good friend. Well, she supposed they had been only friends. She had moved to live at her bed and breakfast house, closing it for good. She had seen her almost every day.
The whole staff was there. What was left of a staff there once was more like. The family was there. What was left of them too, after tragedies, weddings…Funerals, one after another. She had said, the world was a terrible place.
Funerals were terrible reminders of how short your time here was. And she still hated funerals.
Looking back at the grave before her, she felt the cold wind creep up at her neck. She watched him lay a bouquet of red roses on the ground. She watched him let out a shuddering breath. She watched him brush away a stray tear from his cheek. Just like she always used to do. She took a step to stand next to him, like she always did. Reached for his hand. He didn't take it. For the first time ever, he didn't take her hand. He just stood there, looking lost, as another tear appeared at the corner of his eye. She couldn't kiss it off. She couldn't do nothing, but watch.
They lowered the casket and the rain started. He didn't seem to notice. She told him to get out of the rain so he wouldn't get a cold. He didn't hear her. She looked at his face, feeling her heart break at the pain she saw there.
Everyone started to walk away. He didn't. He stood there, in the rain, looking lost. Like she always did, she stayed. Stood by his side. They always stood together. No matter the occasion, this time was no different.
She watched him take a last glance at the stone before him, at the casket which now was laid in the ground…
Elsie May Carson
1862–1941
Trusted friend, sister, daughter and a loving wife.
They had had almost 17 years together. It wasn't even nearly enough, but it had to do. Oh, how she wished things hadn't gone like this. They could have had at least ten more years together, but then she found the lump. It was back, this time cancerous. She had made it past their sixteenth anniversary with not much trouble, but after that started weakening and spend the last few months in bed, being cared by her husband. He hadn't left her side for even a minute. He was there holding her hand the whole time. Her husband…The word still sent shivers down her spine. Never had she thought she'd marry the man she loved more than anything else, yet there she was. If only things hadn't gone like they did.
She looked at his face once again, seeing tears all over his cheeks. Well, to be honest she wasn't sure if they were tears or the raindrops…But it didn't matter. She leaned against his broad form, listening to his heart beating. His rich baritone voice rang through the air next. He hadn't said a word since…She wasn't entirely sure, but she already missed his voice.
"So, this is it then? Who would have thought we'd end up here, at least I didn't."
She felt her lips curl into a small smile.
"I would have liked a few more years with you, love. It wasn't meant to happen so soon…"
Oh, how she would have liked that too.
He didn't say anything in a long moment. The rain had stopped at this point, but the wind was still cold. She wouldn't want him to catch a cold, not on her account…Cuddling closer to him, in attempt to keep him warm, she put her arms around him.
"I don't know what I am going to without you, Elsie. I can't live without you."
And he cried.
"I'm here Charlie…Please don't cry, darling. I'm right here…"
She kept repeating that until realising he was long gone. She watched after him as he walked away, shoulders slumped down. For one last time she hurried after him. Just like she had always done…Followed him, until she knew he would be alright without her…
She hated funerals. Even when she wasn't the one mourning. It was just as painful to watch your person mourn for you.