Old tales to tell, new feelings to live

Chapter 1 : the letter

"Charlie, I am leaving! I'll try to be back for your lunch later. But in case I can't make it, I'll send a hallboy with a small snack. Hope that's alright with you," Elsie said, standing at the bottom of the stairs, putting on her gloves.

Charles came out of their bedroom. Although it was an early morning he was already dressed. He looked a bit surprised seeing his wife already in her coat and hat, ready to leave for the Abbey, "Of course it's fine for me. You are a busy woman after all" He pulled his sleeves down. "But you are quite an early bird today. Something special happening at the house?" he asked walking down the stairs.

"Her ladyship is leaving for London early today and before that we need to plan the dinner party on Friday. A few people will stay, special requests for the food ... oh you know it, Charlie. It's getting worse every time. More and more things to be taken care of are coming up with every new party to plan," she said, waved her hand and turned around to walk to the door.

Charles didn't want to let her go without offering his help - a help he knew she would refuse. "Just let me know if I can be of any assistance. Maybe to check the wine cellar for a good drop?"

Elsie laughed while pulling her coat and belt tight, "I know it's your favorite. Your wine. But Mr Barrow is quite good at it now. You taught him well! Now let him go his own way." She took her bag and laid one hand on his lapel while she rose to kiss his cheek.

"I only try to be useful from time to time" he said quietly, almost defensively.

Knowing that she didn't have the time for a sentimental discussion now, Elsie tried to get out of the situation as politely as possible. "Be useful and get some vegetables from your garden to chop later on. I will make us a nice and healthy soup then.," Elsie answered playfully. For a brief moment Charles had a strange feeling that she didn't get his point. Or worse, she didn't want to get it.

"Sure. I will see to it," he answered before he watched her leaving.

By lunchtime he not only had he brought the best vegetables his garden could offer to the kitchen but he had also put on an apron and had started chopping the carrots and onions. When he heard the squeaking gate of the cottage, he cleaned his hands quickly and opened the door while reminding himself to take care of the gate later.

To his surprise and disappointment he saw Albert, the hallboy, instead of his wife.

"Good day, Mr Carson," Albert said with a friendly smile. "Mrs Hughes had to excuse herself, she's still busy at the Abbey and she sent me to bring you some lunch."

Charles took the small package - obviously Mrs Patmore's delicious sandwiches. He couldn't help but wonder why it disturbed him so much that Albert called his wife Mrs Hughes. Of course she was Mrs Hughes at the Abbey. It was his idea to keep things simple after their marriage. But here was their home - he was at home. And in here she was Mrs Carson. At least to him.

"I hope you'll enjoy, Mr Carson," Albert interrupted Charles' thoughts. "I need to be on my way to the village. Mrs Patmore asked me to drop her shopping list off at Mr Bakewell's. And you know how very precise she can be about her meaning of timing." Albert laughed.
Charles only nodded. He knew Mrs Patmore's habits well and had to admit that he missed working with this loud and chatty person. Something he never thought he would do one day.

"Then be on your way young man. And thank you for keeping an old man alive," Charles added, knowing that Albert was the wrong person he had adressed his sarcasm towards. Albert felt the sadness and loneliness in Charles words, but it wasn't for him to reply to it. Instead he turned around and left only to stop after a few steps and came back to him.

Pulling something out of his jacket, he said, "Almost forgot. Mrs Hughes asked me to give this to you. The letter had arrived at the Abbey this morning. It's for you."

Charles took the letter, wondering who could have sent it. He had left the Abbey quite some time ago and the regular people in his life would use his home adress now to contact him. Starring at the piece of paper in his hand, he didn't watch Albert leaving. He turned back into the house and pulled the apron off. Doing so, he realised that Albert had seen him this way and he shook his head. He had expected to see his wife at the door, so he hadn't bothered to take it off ... a bit awkward. But what was not awkward about being a man alone in the house, chopping vegetables while his wife was working full time?

He took the letter to his desk and opened it. Carrots and onions forgotten in the kitchen.
After only a few words his eyes opened wide and he gasped for air, "Oh no, not him again!"