Author's Note: I had an idea all ready to go, and then… this version happened.
Timeline Note: I had a lovely revelation: if Lady Sybil is alive in this timeline (which she definitely is), there's no reason we can't have the Series 3 CS moved up a year! Aka, everything that takes place in this chapter happens directly after the cricket match / in September of 1920 (instead of September of 1921).
Also! Due to timing, Lady Mary is not pregnant just yet. Thus, there'll be no car trouble, not today. And Braithwaite never joined the staff at Downton. That's just my headcanon for this series.
Also also! As I almost forgot, O'Brien gets to go to Scotland with the rest of the family! Thus, we don't hear anything from her in regards to the fair (yes, this is a retrospective add-in for the author's note because my sleep-deprived brain completely forgot that detail).
Technical Spoilers for Series 3, Episode 9
Enjoy!
It should have been easy.
Frankly, they had gone through far too much for it to be anything but easy.
Yet Charles found all sorts of interruptions getting in the way of his latest plan. The house was swamped with preparations for Duneagle, given that the family was planning to leave soon enough. Indeed, no matter what the butler tried to do, it seemed fate was reluctant to give him an opportune moment.
Then again, perhaps this was divine intervention?
After all, who renewed their wedding vows, really? Even if he did manage to make the suggestion, what was to stop his Elsie from decreeing his idea foolish? Why wouldn't she deem him to be a daft man?
These were the questions that trailed after the butler, even when the family had finally left them. He could only pray he would find the answer….
_._
"So, will we have a bit of a break while they're away, Mr. Carson?"
Elsie did not snort or roll her eyes at Alfred's question. She didn't even bother to feel sympathy for the lad. Charles may have been a bit testy these days –– no doubt, the butler felt a great many pangs, what with the family's inevitable departure –– but Alfred should have known better.
Something her man was quick to illustrate –– with a singular word, no less: "What?"
Jimmy looked back and forth between the butler and the footman, quick to speak up on Alfred's behalf, "He meant, can we expect some time off? For an outing or something,"
This time, it proved difficult to keep from scoffing. Surely, the lads knew better than to ask such a question. Times may have changed, but nothing truly changed for them.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. She had changed a great deal, especially over the last few years or so. But that was neither here nor there.
"I don't understand," The butler spoke in a tone that had Elsie biting down on her cheek. It was silly on her part, but she couldn't deny the urge to chuckle. "Has someone forgotten to pay your wages?"
Very funny, Charlie. She knew as well as he that no one had forgotten to pay their wages, something that was proven almost immediately: "No."
"Exactly." Her husband wasted no time slicing up his meal, not to mention his subordinates' hopes, "Now, we will start with the ceremonial ware. And when that's done, I want the silver brought down for cleaning, one room at a time."
Elsie knew without looking that she would find smug grins if she cast her gaze down the table. Therefore, it was quite necessary to inform her own subordinates, "And don't you maids think you're out of it. We'll give every room a thorough cleaning while they're away."
It was a mite amusing to watch their faces fall. Personally, everyone at the table should be grateful. Despite the impression Charlie liked to give, things were far stricter back in the day. Mrs. Purcell, the former housekeeper, had ensured that Charles would be up to snuff by the time his predecessor, Mr. Vance, had retired.
My, my. She could only imagine what those two had been like, Mrs. Purcell and Mr. Vance. She got a distinct impression that Alfred and James wouldn't have lasted, not in those days.
Yet all amusement dissipated as another thought struck her.
Nearly thirty years into this job and they still toiled away. Charles had been here even longer than that, if such a thing were possible. That fact made her bones ache, her body weary. Nearly three decades of the same life, day in and day out.
Hadn't they had enough of strict standards and endless work?
Wasn't it time for a chance to rest?
Well, not that sort of rest. Retirement was impossible for them. But there may be something else. An outing of some kind, some sort of respite they could take.
Elsie looked back at her man, wondering if it were worth it to mention something. Then again, given how regimental Charles had been of late, perhaps it was a good idea to say something sooner rather than later. She wouldn't want him to sink back into his standards, not after everything.
The housekeeper leaned in, being sure to keep her voice soft enough that even Thomas would have to strain his ears, "You can let them have a bit of free time, can't you?"
Thankfully, "If they get the extra work done, then I'll think about it."
Well, that was something. And it was liable to be the best answer she could hope to get.
_._
He had been stewing over the dilemma of their vows. That was when he heard the back door open. The chatter of Thomas, James, and Alfred crept into the house, but it vanished into his wife's sitting room.
Charles tried to catch whatever was going on, but there was too much noise. And then Thomas was going so far as to speak at sotto voce, making it impossible for anything to be heard from his pantry.
Before the butler could think of getting up, the door to the sitting room had opened and the trio of footmen had departed. Yet she remained in her room. Whatever was going on, he would have to go to her if he wanted an answer.
Yes, well, whatever was going on, it could not be as distressing as––"It seems there's to be a fair in Thirsk, Mr. Carson. This Friday, no less."
Oh. He had been wrong. This was far more distressing than anything he could have imagined. "Don't tell me: James and the others were wondering if they had 'permission' to go?"
"If you must know," Elsie looked up from her papers, a frown muddling her face, "It was Thomas who made the suggestion. And, really, I don't see why not,"
"You don't?" Truly? He knew Elsie had grown fond of the staff. He knew she was willing to be generous from time to time. But, frankly, her words were amazing. As in, they amazed him in the worst of ways. "Well, I'm afraid I do."
"But why?" She rose to her feet, looking to be a bit incredulous, "It's not as though they haven't been attending to their 'extra work.' I don't see why they can't have a bit of time to themselves,"
Charles shook his head, turning on his heel and declaring, "I can't let them go gallivanting off to every fair at the drop of a hat. I mean, what are we paying them for?"
"But they've been working very hard. Don't they deserve a treat?"
Oh? And what, exactly, have they been working on? Has James kept from being incorrigible? Does Thomas deign to refrain from making mischief? What burdens has Alfred had to take on these days?
"Erm, excuse me!"
At the sound of Mrs. Patmore chasing them down, Charles came to a stop. He did not go so far as to pivot in the direction of the cook. Still, he knew Elsie wouldn't be pleased if he remained like this. Which was why he decided it was in the house's best interest to muster up some patience and turn back around.
"On Friday," The cook began to speak, prompting the man to stiffen. "Can I take the afternoon off? I'll make the servants' dinner, and Ivy and Daisy can serve it."
Really, Mrs. Patmore.
The cook's only saving grace was the fact that Elsie was there. His dear wife was all too happy to speak up on the woman's behalf, "Mrs. Patmore doesn't often take the time she's allowed."
And we do? When was the last time they were allowed to be themselves? Their anniversary? A fleeting opportunity that vanished just as quickly as it came? Yet Mrs. Patmore could go gallivanting alongside James and the others whenever she liked.
Even the family was allowed a respite from Downton, undoubtedly enjoying their time at Duneagle. As for them? The butler and housekeeper were always stuck here, whittling away at their duties while the rest of the world lived real lives.
The man sighed. His thoughts should have confused him. As it was, he knew better.
But that is not a topic for today.
In any case, the cook rarely took time off. That much was true. With that in mind, he tolerated the situation and gave a nod to Mrs. Patmore.
His wife gave a small, appreciative smile at his gesture. It only helped a little. Charles listened with great indifference as she asked, "Where are you going? Or shouldn't we ask?"
"There's a fair in Thirsk." His indifference morphed into irritation, something that his wife did not help to ease when she sent him a knowing glance. "A friend of mine has asked me to meet him there."
Charles scowled, scoffing under his breath before proclaiming, "I don't believe it."
It would have been one thing for Mrs. Patmore to have decreed some inane plan. But, no. The cook simply had to mention the fair. That blasted fair was going to be filled to the brim with their staff, wasn't it?
"Must I be undermined at every turn?"
He stalked off and busied himself with––Lord in heaven, who was he kidding? He didn't care what papers his hands straightened out. He simply needed something to do while he dealt with the circumstances life seemed content to toss in his direction.
"What's got into him?"
Really, Mrs. Patmore. If you're going to inquire, you might want to be a bit more subtle than that. His Elsie was quite adept at whispering when she didn't want to be heard. The cook, on the other hand, lacked finesse.
Speaking of his Elsie, she was informing Mrs. Patmore of the unfortunate facts: "Mr. Barrow and the boys have asked to go to the same fair, and he was trying to find a way to say no."
Now, those were words that he could barely snatch. That was what it truly meant to whisper.
"Why don't we all go?"
What? That would be impossible. Just because the family was gone did not mean the house could be abandoned. Then again, he knew Mrs. Patmore wasn't referring to him when she said we. She only meant Elsie and the rest of the staff. "C'mon, it'll be fun."
It wouldn't.
On second thought, it would –– for everyone else, that is.
_._
Elsie didn't understand it. She knew very well that Charles had relaxed over the years. After all, he had been the one to suggest they go to Auld Reekie. He'd waltzed her around the downstairs dining table, not to mention everything else. Paying for Ethel's food, promising not to have another collapse––there were many things Charles had proven capable of.
This, however? This seemed to be the one thing he refused to indulge.
"Oh, go on," She was practically chasing after him, bewildered by her man's reluctance. Yes, his joining them meant that there would be no one watching over the house. In any case, surely the house would survive for a few hours?
And even if he was afraid of the house crumbling to pieces, "You were young once,"
It was something that Elsie remembered rather fondly. He may have been the butler since before the dawn of time, but that didn't mean that they had never had fun. After all, they had indulged in their own fair, twice upon a time. Why couldn't they do the same now?
Charles took a clear affront to her words, "I'm young now."
Elsie tumbled into a stop, unsure of how to inform him of the facts.
Her Charlie met her gaze, somewhat frustrated as he stated, "Well, I'm not old."
If you say so. "All the more reason to say yes," At the sign of him possibly easing up, she felt pressed to add, "Oh, you'll enjoy yourself,"
That changed something, something she couldn't have anticipated.
"No. No, I won't be coming." With such firm words, Elsie couldn't help but wonder why not. Fortunately, given that her curmudgeon was shutting the door, it looked like she would be receiving an answer. Or so she hoped. "If I came, no one would be in charge of the house."
"Charles," She didn't care if they were downstairs. This was far more important. "As I already said, we'd make sure all the entrances were seen to. And Nanny will be here, keeping an eye on Miss Sybbie,"
"And if something were to happen? Lady Sybil's child is only a few months old." He looked much too resigned over something this simple. What on earth was really going on? "Could you honestly say it's acceptable to leave them on their own?"
She couldn't say it was acceptable, not exactly.
But was that the point?
Elsie didn't think so, "What's the real reason you won't come?"
"Elsie," But the housekeeper was shaking her head, in no mood to be trifled with. She arched an eyebrow and went so far as to place both hands on her waist, expectant. Her man gave a soft sigh, suddenly looking more depressed than resigned. She managed to keep the concern off her face, waiting for an explanation.
Eventually, "I know that, no matter what, I won't enjoy myself,"
Elsie blinked, doing her best to stay patient. Yet when silence lingered on for a quarter of a minute, "And why not?"
The butler gave another sigh, something that did little to reassure her. "We would be their chaperones, wouldn't we? It would only be about maintaining 'standards' and the likes, not enjoying ourselves. Not to mention, I know for a fact that they would spend the whole day looking over their shoulder if I were there."
"Charles," She reached out a hand, having never heard him talk like this. His reference of standards sounded more like mockery than true reverence. "Where on earth did this come from?"
"Hasn't it always been here?" Charles paused at his wife's frown, closing his eyes and accepting the hand. "I'm sorry. It's just," The butler felt it ridiculous to say he slumped at the thoughts bombarding his mind, but it was true. His stature had sunk a little at the weight of it all.
"Charles?"
He shook his head, "You know, I used to think it was enough. But now I can't help but wonder," He took in another sigh, "Well, there's no point in wondering now."
"Charles Carson, I'd say there's a point to it, only I don't know what you're wondering about."
Charles looked back at Elsie, his smile more grim than anything. He did have a love for this family and for this house, but was that enough? Did he want to spend the rest of his days stuck here? Unable to fully enjoy himself, always having to maintain tiresome standards?
He once thought the answer was obvious. Yet every year, there seemed to be more and more burdens. Even the idea of renewing their vows was beginning to feel overshadowed by their position.
But wasn't this enough? It wasn't as though they still had to be referred to as Carson and Mrs. Hughes. They didn't have to pretend to be colleagues and nothing more. Couldn't this life be enough to satisfy him? This world they were so well-versed in, shouldn't it prove enough?
"Charlie?" She wasn't teasing him. She was only trying to reach him.
Charles felt wearier by the moment, gesturing for his wife to sit at the table. "There's something I should have mentioned a long time ago,"
Elsie said nothing, taking her seat with an intrigued air. Charles nearly smiled at this, fidgeting for but a moment as he contemplated how to go about this. After a time, he decided that it was better to just get on with it, "Before we left 'Auld Reekie,' I'd overheard a conversation."
She straightened up, but kept quiet. He felt a little grateful for that, needing to look away. "It had been two women. They were discussing wedding vows. In particular, renewing wedding vows." He almost dared to share a look. But he couldn't quite gaze at her, "I found myself curious, but then something or other happened and I had to let it go."
Charles quietly cleared his throat, his hands threatening to play with the table's cloth. He managed to keep his focus, thank the Lord, "When I saw you at the match –– the cricket match, that is –– well," He briefly looked down at his hands, determined, "You see, Elsie, there were moments where I could almost convince myself you were wearing a white frock."
Judging from her slight gasp, she had connected the dots. Yes, well, there was more to this. A great deal more, "Ever since then, I've been meaning to mention it –– the frock, the conversation, all of it. But,"
This was the most difficult part. This was the moment where his chest tightened with regret and confusion and pain, and all he could do was stare at the floor, wondering.
"Go on," Her encouragement was gentle but strong.
It reminded him that, if nothing else, they would be all right.
"When I think of the fair in Thirsk," Charles knew this was a leap, he knew that going from talk of frocks to talk of fairs would probably confuse her. But he needed time to get to the point. "I don't see us enjoying ourselves. I see the butler and the housekeeper keeping watch over their staff. Or, worst still, the pair of us deciding it's in the best interest of the house to stay behind,"
The man closed his eyes, disappointed in himself. "And though I do love the idea of renewing our vows, I see the same scene. I see a ceremony based on the needs and wants of the family. It's not something I'm normally opposed to, only,"
"It wouldn't be us?"
Charles smiled, truly. He smiled and looked at his wonderful wife, wondering when she'd learnt how to read his mind. "It wouldn't be us," he repeated, surprised to feel his eyes welling up with grief.
Their hands reached one another at last.
But that wasn't the end of it. He still had one last thing to say:
"I thought I had come to accept the life we've had to live," In many ways, he had. "But I don't think I can, not anymore." Her hold on him deepened, her eyes meeting his. "Of course, I have no wish to abandon your sister or turn you into a pauper. But,"
"You want to go another way." This wasn't a question.
"I do." He weakly confessed, ashamed. The easiest path would be to maintain their life here for as long as they could manage. To do anything else would be to become entangled in the unknown.
"Right. As I said, there's no point in any of it. I can't ask you t––to blindly follow me. I refuse to bully you away from your career when I know how much it's meant to you," He knew that to do that would be absolutely unfair.
"And if I wanted to leave?"
His breath caught, his eyes cautiously lifting up. She tilted her head, holding onto quite the pointed stare, "We would have to figure something out, mind. But I don't suppose we both want to go another way?"
"Do we?" He questioned, so unsure of himself. She hadn't spoken of craving a break or a fresh start, not these days. Interestingly enough, she seemed much more satisfied with their life here.
"Well, if you must know," Elsie began, pleased to see hope stumbling back into his countenance. "I have found myself wondering what it might be like to rest. To live for ourselves, if only a little,"
"And that's why you wanted me to come to the fair."
She nodded, forming a wry grin, "Mind, I must confess: I like your idea more,"
"Of course, we couldn't abandon the family while they were away," Charles reminded her, out of habit more than anything. In this moment, he felt like a feather ready to be knocked into God knows where. Things weren't in his control, not now. But he still felt lighter than he had in years. "And we would need to find replacements before we could leave,"
"I would expect nothing less," Yet there was a mischievous gleam that trickled into her eyes. Perhaps she was, in fact, contemplating whether or not they could sneak away, without replacements, no less.
You're being ridiculous.
He most certainly was. He was also foolishly indulging this moment, wondering why they hadn't talked about this sooner. Then again, "Are you sure of this? You're not just saying it because you're in shock?"
"Charles Carson," The man tried not to sheepishly smile. "I've said it before and I will say it again," One of her hands kept on holding his; the other rose up toward his cheek. He leaned in, savouring the warmth of her touch. "I have never been so sure of anything."
Caresses proved to be much too little for such conviction. He wanted her to repeat the facts of the matter, and she was determined to make sure he understood every detail.
Today's Inspiration: Another Time, Another Place inspired this ending. Moreover, as I was typing the original draft, it struck me: how would these two feel after twenty years of keeping their love in the shadows? I don't know about you, but after that... it became hard to stick to the original script.
To Time and Time Again fans: Come back in about a week and we will have the final episode ready for you!
To Any Future Guest Reviewers: I hope you all enjoyed the story! If you do leave a review, I will do my best to respond to it here.
Author's Note: Okay. So maybe I'm tearing up a little. It's little disconcerting actually being seconds away from the "Complete" button. That's why there will be the occasional bonus snippet, when such a snippet comes to mind (or is requested)!
But, it felt right to officially conclude the story there.
Still, that doesn't mean we can't have one final (unorthodox) bonus scene:
(Unorthodox) Bonus Scene:
In the end, it wasn't entirely easy to walk away. At first, there had been confusion over the matter. Why on earth would the Carsons want to leave, after all this time?
Then, after a time, it became: Oh. Perhaps the Carsons would actually want to leave, given everything?
So, although there had been hints of an atmosphere breaking out –– both in the upstairs and the downstairs –– said atmosphere had been scotched soon enough.
Mind, that didn't stop a few members of the house from grumbling. Lady Mary was stunned by the declaration, the Dowager taken aback. As for members of the staff, both Thomas and Mr. Moseley were particularly astounded when it was announced that Charles wanted to look outside of the house for a replacement.
They weren't the only ones taken aback: Miss O'Brien decided it was for the best to go through with her plan for India. Fortunately, even when she did steal away in the night, it did little to throw off the proceedings. A Miss Baxter had been found to be a suitable replacement, proving far kinder than Miss O'Brien had ever been.
Luck remained by their side this time, given that the rest of the staff took the announcement well. Alfred and James resembled codfish for the better part of a week, which was to be expected. Anna and Mr. Bates were delighted for the pair, Ivy, Madge and the other maids in a similar state.
Only Mrs. Patmore had been crushed. Daisy had been surprised by it all –– a surprise that turned to frustration upon Ivy's delight –– but the cook was genuinely taken aback.
Mrs. Patmore did her best to hide her sentiment, given that she did want to be happy for them. Only, she had finally begun to grow closer to the Carsons. They were taking in nightcaps together from time to time, forming a bond she had been hoping to hold onto through the years.
The cook only regained a lighthearted air when she found out their plan for life after Downton, well aware such a plan would have them turning to her for advice. After that awareness, it became effortless to go back to teasing them and taking in the occasional drink.
As for their allies in the upstairs? Mrs. Crawley had given a rousing cheer at the declaration, mentioning that the Carsons had her support no matter where they worked. Lady Sybil chorused the woman's approval, Lady Grantham, Lady Edith, and Mr. Matthew holding similar beliefs. Dr. Clarkson said nothing, certainly not at the table, but he did carry a pleased look as though he'd been hoping for such news.
Yet there was one person in particular who was unsure as to how to cope with the news. Lord Grantham had been made dumbstruck. He truly had begun to believe the Carsons were to be a permanent fixture at Downton now that their secret was out. However, one look at Lady Grantham, and he was reminded of how horrified he'd felt when he first found out about the Carsons' secret.
Naturally, after he came to terms with his shock, the man was forthcoming with his approval.
From then on, it was only a matter of finding suitable replacements. Well, that wasn't the only matter to attend to. But the more Elsie and Charles planned this new life of theirs, the more they realised how important it was to do this other bit right...
_._
May 16th, 1921
My, my.
After twenty-one years, Elsie Carson was finally walking down an aisle she never expected to. Dressed in a stunning lavender frock –– a gift from Mrs. Patmore –– and grasping a beautiful bouquet, the former housekeeper gave up on keeping a beam off her face.
With each step she was reminded of the life they'd built for themselves, the future they were striding toward.
"Mr. Carson, if you could tear yourself away from the wine book, there's someone I want you to meet." Mrs. Purcell, the housekeeper of the time, had become exasperated, tersely continuing, "Mr. Carson, this is Elsie Hughes. She is to be our new head housemaid."
That had been an endearing meeting, all things considered. She'd been distracted by his dedication to the job, but it was the warmth in his manner that had stolen her focus.
Months later, she had caught the austere butler in a rather delicate situation. He'd been juggling for the youngest Crawley daughter, Lady Sybil. Flustered beyond belief, the man managed to cling to a bit of pride as he spoke, "But you see, I'd like to explain, Elsie. I've only recently learned to juggle, but my real talent is the piano."
Well, then! From nights at the piano to days at the same table, it was getting difficult to remember why Downton wasn't supposed to be home. Which was how she found herself sat in front of a blank page. Joe said she could take as much time as she wanted, being wonderfully patient about the matter. But the truth was, she now knew her answer...
Elsie drew her gaze back to reality, wading through the air to finally meet him at the altar. Truly, they should have done this years ago.
That was a thought Charles wholeheartedly echoed. As he breathed in the sight of his wife by his side, he couldn't help but shed a tear or two.
It had been one thing to quietly share in a moment together. It was quite another to take her to a fair. 1903 had felt like a fresh breath of air, 1908 a similar experience. Nevertheless, to win her an enchanting prize at the fair of 1913? Better yet, to watch her accept his gift?
Well, he'd been bursting with delight at the sight.
And then, to find a petal meticulously placed in his room. To know that this was her gift for missing the flower show, that this was her way of expressing her love for him. He'd held onto the petal for as long as he possibly could, pressing it into a book and wishing he could take it with him to London for the Season.
He hadn't been able to. But he had been able to revel in taking her into his arms upon returning to Downton. He'd been able to remember that, in spite of the impending war, they had to keep living. They could not let fear force them into isolation, not while they still had each other.
Still, that didn't mean he couldn't be terrified when war broke out, when Carlisle eventually revealed his hand. Nor could he stop fretting when she'd caught the Spanish Flu. He would always berate himself for deciding to stick to their tiring charade in those moments…
But those moments were long gone. After all their struggles, they had finally made it to this.
Charles could hardly listen to the ceremony before him, much too content with studying his beautiful wife. Elsie looked to be in a similar state, her hand aching to reach his long before there was permission. By the time the rings were being procured, he was fidgeting from impatience.
And to think: this whole thing had been his idea. He ought to be basking in every detail. All he wanted was the chance to finally share in a kiss with his wife.
Perhaps, in another time or another place, that part of the ceremony would have been chaste. Not today. For today, both Elsie and Charles unanimously agreed that –– if this were to truly be their ceremony –– it would be their ceremony in every sense of the word.
A cheer broke apart the couple, the two having forgotten all about their audience. But it didn't matter. Whether they were in the church or their new tea shop, all that mattered was that they were together every step of the way.