Chapter Seven
A Chance Meeting
Downton Village, Rose Cottage
The flat that Elsie rents in Downton is not much bigger than the room that she shared with Alice Martin one of the housemaids back at her former post back at Parkside Hall. But it is clean and serviceable and there's a garden out back with a few rose bushes she can tend. The flat is big enough for two single beds, a wardrobe, a wash basin, a serviceable kitchen table, cupboard, and an open-hearth fire. There is a common outdoor privy, shared with the family who lives upstairs, and Mrs. Thomas who owns Rose Cottage at 5 Doubleleg Walk made sure that a fresh coat of paint was applied to the walls before the Hughes sisters arrived. She's told Elsie that she can decorate the little flat the way that she sees fit. Not that the Hughes sisters have much in the way of decorations or extra money to spare for the purchase of any, but Elsie's put out some family pictures and the things of their parents that they brought down from Scotland. Mrs. Thomas reduces Elsie's rent by a few shillings each month since Elsie washes and irons the linens and cleans rooms mornings and on Saturdays at the hotel she owns over on the better side of town. The side of town that those who wear fine clothes, eat at the best restaurants, and have money to burn pile into.
Upstairs, lives Jane Moorsum, a kind soul, with bright eyes and a matching smile. Elsie isn't sure what her story is, but beneath Jane's smile is a sadness that she's not spoken of. Jane has a young child, a dark-haired, blue-eyed, chubby-cheeked little boy. He's a stout little chap, with rosy cheeks, and he's happy most of the time. And then there's the visitor who comes once a fortnight or so; the little boy looks like this man in miniature and Elsie wonders if this man isn't where Jane's sadness lies.
Jane also works for Mrs. Thomas, cleaning rooms, on the afternoon shifts. But she does no wash, no ironing, and Elsie wonders how she makes ends meet. How she stays out of the workhouse like so many other mothers whose boys have no father then she remembers the well-dressed man who pays Jane and Robbie semi-regular visits.
Not that Elsie hasn't heard rumors, because of course she has; wherever she's been, Elsie has always been one for a secret, always one who knows what is going on around her. She's heard the whispers that Jane's boy, called Robbie, a nickname for Robert, is the bastard son of the Lord Grantham over at the Abbey.
When she's blending into the the fabric at the hotel, being neither seen nor heard while she navigates the endless maze of hallways, Elsie's heard the society women talking behind Cora Crawley's back. And of course, there are the other maids, the hotel staff who love nothing more than a good gossip about one of their own. She's heard talk that Jane once worked as a housemaid at Downton and that the young Earl had taken a particular interest in the pretty young woman.
But Elsie likes Jane. She's a kind soul when the world lacks kindness.
The Stables, Downton Abbey Estate, Sunday, Early Morning
"Young Timothy should be doing that."
John Carson, His Lordship's head groom, stands framed in the doorway of the stall Charles mucks out. He's tall and lean with a shock of silver hair covered by a dark hat and his face framed by a clipped beard and mustache. Arms folded across a broad chest and his right shoulder leaned heavily against the stall's thick brass finial, the elder Carson cuts an imposing figure and though the voice is gruff, there is kindness and empathy in his eyes. The same traits that others recognize in Charles; the traits that are now missing, pushed down and buried since he buried his wife and child.
"I doubt he'll mind," Charles replies, eyebrow raised, as he continues his work with vigour.
"I doubt he will," John laughs wryly. "My father always said that a bit of hard labor was good for a man. Especially when he had something on his mind."
"Granddad was a clever man." Charles continues scraping and shoveling, a silence developing between father and son before Charles suddenly stops, wipes his sweaty brow with his forearm and then leans heavily against the shovel, his eyes unfocused staring out over his father's shoulder at the early morning's murky sky.
"Charlie, it's been three months now …"
"… I'm doing better."
"You aren't. Your mum says that you aren't going to church, that you hardly leave the workhouse, and that you thunder around the place frightening the staff … "
"How does she know those things?" Charles unfolds himself from the shovel that has been his crutch and stands it in a corner. "Beryl Patmore!" he explodes in realization, his voice carrying throughout the stable. "That woman is always meddling in someone's business!"
"Beryl has known you since you were a boy. She loves you as a brother," John explains, "Don't fault her for her concern."
"I don't fault her for her concern. I fault her for her … for her …" Charles pauses, blinks his eyes hard several times trying to reign in his emotions.
"She only means to help," his father intercedes. Charles leans heavily against the wall of the stall, his arms draped over the short wall, and his head hung low. "Charles," John calls quietly as he places a hand to his son's shoulder, "there is a time to grieve, God knows there is, and no man has a right to tell another how long, but you must begin to live again." Charles shoulders begin to shake and John gives his son a reassuring pat. "When you're ready, Mum has breakfast waiting and we'll be off to church later. Perhaps it will do you some good to get out and see people."
Saint Michael's and All Angel's Church, Downton
Elsie enjoys the respite of church. Enjoys the time to think and reflect. The time to pray; to commune with God. And, she hates to admit it, she enjoys the time to herself. Jane is good to watch after Becky on Sunday mornings long enough for Elsie to attend morning services and Elsie returns the favour when Jane needs someone to watch after young Robbie. Becky's not been the same since they left Scotland, she's quiet and withdrawn with the occasional fits of temper when she's frustrated and Elsie's nerves are a bit on edge. But when they visit with Jane and Robbie, Becky and Robbie get on, playing with his blocks or the tossing the ball to the stray dog that made itself to home a while back. So, Sunday mornings and church fellowship are a welcome respite from the norm. But this morning Reverend Travis is droning on and she's not particularly interested. She's only been in Downton a few months but he's already repeating sermons. Elsie wonders if he's losing his touch, if he's grown old and ready to retire. Instead she's focusing on the congregation and who she knows and doesn't know.
She sees the older couple who always sit on the second row from the front on the right side. He's a distinguished man with graying hair, a white mustache, and spectacles. She, a well-kept woman in tailored clothes and tasteful jewelry. Elsie thinks that he's a banker perhaps, or the owner of the newspaper. And then there is another couple who sits further back. She's known from the moment that she first saw the husband that she didn't like him. His mouth is always curved into a frown beneath a mustache and he always holds his chin a little higher than necessary. Elsie's has heard that his name is Bryant, that he is new money, and has bought his way into respectable society. She's heard some of the men, when they've retired to the hotel's men's lounge to smoke their cigars and discuss business, deride the man for his tactics of running roughshod over those whom he employs. His wife, Elsie has heard, is a nice woman, kind and sympathetic. Long-suffering some say. They have one child a son, Charlie, who is spoiled and entitled. A bit of a lad who tom-cats around town visiting the Dog and Duck's upstairs rooms and word has it that he treats the girls there badly.
And then Elsie's attentions are drawn to the man who sits next to her. He's hard not to notice. He is tall with broad shoulders, wavy black hair, beetle browed, and carrying a sad expression. She's not noticed him in church before, but she knows who he is and she's spoken with the woman and man who sit just to his right. Elsie and the Carsons sit next to one another most Sundays yet they've not said much to one another past "Good Morning. How are you?" "Good to see you, Miss Hughes." "Likewise Mr. Carson, Mrs. Carson." Elsie knows that Mr. Carson is His Lordship's Head Groom and beyond that not much more except that the couple is pleasant and cordial, that they both are quite well respected, and that the man with them is their only living son son, Charles.
From the occasional brief conversation with his mother and the things she hears around the village, Elsie knows that the younger Mr. Carson is the Master of the Workhouse and that he has lost his wife and that his mother worries about him. Elsie almost never sees him out, not like the other men in town who visit the pubs and have dinner in the restaurants or at the hotel. She's never seen him about town with a lady companion and most certainly never heard of him visiting those fallen women that occupy the houses that respectable women whisper about.
There is gossip about town that he's a catch and that widows and women who've never married have tried to catch his attention, but that he stays holed up in his office at the workhouse, married to his job.
Elsie feels sorry for him. She remembers the stabbing pains of grief. She remembers how when Joe Burns died while they were walking out, her heart had dissolved into a thousand pieces.
And then, just as she is lost in thought, Mr. Carson catches her out. He nods his head and offers a pleasant smile and Elsie's cheeks tinge pink. He's very handsome she thinks; then she feels guilty, the poor man's a widower after all and still in love with his wife. She returns the smile and then looks down to her prayer book that's been open to the same page for half an hour.
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