Hello dear readers!

Here I am with a new story.

It's an AU, which means that it takes place well before 1912 and that Charles and Elsie won't necessarily wait until 1925 to kiss and talk about their sex life ^^

I really want to send a huge thank you to my dear Pixie, who managed to correct this first chapter without falling into depression despite my bad French reflexes.

I hope you enjoy this story.

Reassure you

1896

Going into service meant being married to your job. Dedicating yourself solely to the welfare of the family you worked for. Making their lives as perfect as possible. It meant putting aside your humanity and all the needs that came with it.

Downstairs was like an anthill. All the servants were busy from half past four in the morning. The youngest girls were in charge of lighting the fires in all the rooms used by the Count and his family, not forgetting the bedrooms, taking care not to wake anyone. The cook would be busy at the stove a few hours later, while the butler checked the wine, the schedules for the coming meals and directed all the employees alongside the housekeeper. They always spoke to each other in a moderate and professional manner. Touching, without being forbidden, was far from being encouraged.

If an employee needed comfort, a colleague would go and talk to him or her, and if absolutely necessary, a soothing hand would be placed on the shoulder of the unfortunate person, without dwelling on it too much.

They were not paid to feel, to have pain or joy. They lived only for the family they served, they quickly learned to fashion a shell for themselves, forgetting their hearts under their livery and the stern robes of servitude.

And yet...

Snuggled up against him, she clung, she clung to the lapels of his jacket, to his smell, to his strong arms that surrounded her without squeezing her, to the feeling of security she felt when pressed against him. Her face buried in his shirt, she cried on him, staining his livery with her tears. Mr. Carson's hand caressed her back, trying as he might to soothe her. He was not comfortable with outpourings or displays of emotion and the only people he consoled on rare occasions were Lady Mary, Lady Edith and the very young Lady Sybil, three little girls who came to him for refuge when Nanny was too demanding.

And yet he tried as best he could to comfort Elsie who had been clinging to him for some minutes crying without stopping. He knew that she had lost her mother a few weeks before, that she had not been able to attend the funeral, Downton Abbey being too far from the Argyll farm where her mother lived. And since then she had been depressed.

A few days before, Mrs. Wilford, the housekeeper, had told him that she was worried about her, that her mother's death seemed to upset her more than she dared say. He had been concerned about this of course, the welfare of his staff was important to the running of the house, but also because Elsie was different. He didn't know how to explain it to himself, but that was the way it was. He did not have the same relationship with her as with the other servants. That was why he had asked her to join him in his study that evening.

Elsie and Mr. Carson got on well, she had arrived a year earlier, and in a year they had become the nearest thing to friends they had. Sometimes, when Elsie had time, when she wasn't too exhausted from her hard day's work, she would meet him in the evening, after everyone had gone to bed, over tea or hot chocolate, around the servants' table, and they would discuss their respective days and manage to make each other laugh.

She was the only one whose teasing he tolerated, the only one who could afford to laugh at him. He didn't really know why he allowed her that freedom. Perhaps because he knew that she was absolutely right every time she remarked on his very pompous ways, his snobbery, his reverence for the family, and the tenderness he had for Lord and Lady Grantham's daughters, especially Lady Mary, who was his favourite.

Elsie saw him as the king of the house. He was the one who ran everything with a master's hand. Sometimes she imagined him strutting upstairs with a huge crown on his head, the gong mallet as a sceptre, his right ring finger adorned with a huge episcopal ring and holding out his hand to anyone who crossed his path so that they would kneel before him and kiss his ring.

Mr. Carson had been shocked when she had confessed to him the way she saw him, but on reflection he had come to recognise that this was most certainly the image he had to project to others, and he didn't mind it so much. She was also the only one with whom he allowed himself to laugh and joke.

But that evening she was just collapsed in his arms, and he didn't know what to say or do to ease her pain. It was the first time they had touched, and he was uncomfortable with her grief. He stroked her back in a fatherly way, whispering "Here, it's okay..." But she didn't stop. He wondered if he should call Mrs. Wilford, she was a woman and would certainly find appropriate words to console her. Still, he tried an approach:

"Elsie? What you've been through is a very sad ordeal, losing your mother is always terrible. But you'll get over it, you're strong, bright and a good worker. In a year or two you'll be the housekeeper here, and you'll do a wonderful job then. Don't let yourself go, Elsie, take time to cry tonight, and tomorrow you'll get your head up and go back to your work as you used to do. "

She sobbed more and more at the butler's words, and he thought that he should have kept his mouth shut.

He did not know, did not understand. How could he? She had not told him, would not tell him, she refused to let him feel sorry for her.

She felt completely crushed. By the responsibilities that were falling on her, by the money that it was going to take. She was going to have to give everything, everything, everything she had saved, there would be nothing left. She would definitely have to say goodbye to her youthful dreams, her desire to travel, to discover the world.

She had to give everything to the institute that would now take care of her sister Becky, who was three years younger than Elsie, and who had the mind of a five-year-old. She needed constant attention and special care to deal with her tantrums and anxieties. She couldn't wash or dress herself. Elsie could not take care of her, could not bring her here with her.

No, she had to keep working so that Becky could get the care she needed, if she stopped, they would end up poor, unable to feed themselves and end up in a workhouse. So she would carry on, become a Downton Abbey housekeeper and provide for her sister. But in the meantime the load was getting heavy, she was crumbling under the grief and fear she did not allow herself to show.

"What do you need, Elsie? How can I help you?" He needed her to guide him, he wanted to get it right, he didn't like seeing her so sad, so tired, so worried, almost scared. He wanted her to explain how he could comfort her, how he could make her feel better, make her smile.

"Just, Mr. Carson, just this, please, keep me here a little longer, please, just let me stay in your arms, just a little longer." she sobbed.

"All right Elsie, I'm here."

He allowed himself to hold her a little tighter, hoping to give her some of his strength. Then he began to rock her, without realizing it. He moved gently from left to right. Instinctively, without thinking about it, he whispered words of comfort to her, telling her that he was there, that she could share her burden with him, that he was on her side, as he continued to cradle her close to him. Then slowly he felt her calm down, her shaking subsided, and she sat up, moved away from him a little but not too much, keeping the physical contact, and looked into his eyes.

"Thank you Mr. Carson, I'm sorry I let myself go like that. I promise you it won't happen again. You've been a great comfort. I needed to feel safe for a moment. Thank you," she tried as best she could to wipe away the tears that continued to fall.

He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out an immaculate white handkerchief and held it out to her. She took it, smiling sadly. Gentleman to the end, she thought.

"You'll always be safe here, Elsie, I promise you, I can vouch for that. "

She didn't know why, but those words made her feel so good. She suddenly felt much lighter. Life would not be easy, she would have to work until she died, she would have almost nothing of her own. But the little she would have, she would take care of, and the friendship and comfort that Mr. Carson offered her was one of her meagre possessions that she would keep jealously to herself.

"With you I know I am safe. "

"I'm glad of that."

He approached the pedestal table on which sat his sherry decanter and two shot glasses, poured the drink into the glasses and handed one to Elsie.

They drank in silence, she was grateful to have this moment with him. He was putting on airs, but his benevolence was real, she actually felt safe when he was around.

"Well, thanks again Mr. Carson, good night." She handed him her handkerchief, he refused it with a wave of his hand.

"Keep it Elsie, and don't thank me, I'm glad I could be of service. Don't hesitate, if you feel the need, I'll be here. Good night" He watched her walk out of his office with a heavy heart.

He didn't know why he had told her that she could go back to crying in his arms, he didn't like that as a rule. So he was making yet another exception for her, again. He sighed and his nose filled with the faint smell of lavender and something that belonged only to her. Then he realised that he was carrying Elsie's scent with him and he didn't feel much like putting on his livery to wash.

"Are you all right, Charles?"

Mrs. Wilford had never managed to call him by his title of butler. Mr. Carson sounded wrong to her, of course she didn't allow herself to call him that in front of the staff, but in private he was the young Charles she had known when he had joined the service as a second footman at the age of nineteen and she had already been a housekeeper for twenty-five years.

He gasped, he hadn't heard Mrs. Wilford knock before she opened the door.

"Um, I'm very well, perhaps a little tired, it's been a long day. "

"How is Elsie? "

"She'll be fine, she was already fine when she left here. "

" Very well..." She sighed sadly lost in thought before continuing:

"It's a great sorrow to lose your mother, we only have one and time goes by very quickly. The poor girl couldn't even attend the funeral... I'm glad she found in you a listening ear and the comfort she needed. Is there anything I should know about Elsie? "

He, too, was lost in the memory of his mother's death, many years ago now, from pneumonia. He had been deeply saddened by it, but for Elsie there was something more than just the grief of bereavement. She was afraid, and he didn't know why. Perhaps one day she would tell him.

"No, I don't think there's anything else. She needs time to grieve and get rid of the guilt of not being there to say goodbye. She will get better soon, Elsie is a strong woman. "

" She is, not for nothing did I recommend her to Her Ladyship to replace me when I retire. "

"Have you set a date for your departure yet, Mrs. Wilford?"

He wished he could withdraw his words as soon as he heard them come out of his mouth. He didn't want to give the impression that he wanted her to leave, to be replaced by Elsie. Even though...

She smiled at him.

"I don't know yet, I have to train Elsie in accounting and administration, even though she already has a solid foundation. But I'll be gone soon, my old bones are crying out for a rest now. I think she'll be perfect as Mrs. Hughes, don't you Charles? "

"Yes, perfect. Well, I must check a few more things about the wine, if you will excuse me Mrs. Wilford?"

He waited for her to leave the room, he didn't want to see the suspicious look on the housekeeper's face and the smirk she gave him. He left his office, went through the kitchen to get a glass of water. He looked at the bunch of daisies the florist had left to embellish the kitchen. Mr. Carson suspected that he had a soft spot for Mrs. Patmore and that made him smile. Anyone wishing to court this woman would have to show courage and a good dose of humour, he thought. The servants were gathered around the table, chatting to each other, relaxing before going to bed.

oOo

Lying in bed in the fetal position, she continued to cry into Mr. Carson's handkerchief. When she had gone up to her room, she felt better. The butler's hug and words had soothed her, but then she'd started taking inventory of what she could sell to get a head start on Becky's care. The only items of any value were her mother's engagement ring and wedding band, a brooch she'd given her when she'd left to go into service, a silver comb Joe had given her a few days before he'd asked her to marry him and which she'd wanted to return when she'd broken up with him but he'd refused. She had realised very quickly that she would not get much out of it and she had felt the despair invade her a little more. So she had started to cry again, curled up on her bed. She had cried so much between that moment in Mr. Carson's pantry and now in her room that she could feel her eyes closing with exhaustion and grief. She drifted off to sleep. But then she heard something, a noise... a voice perhaps? She forced her eyes open to focus on what she was hearing.

"Elsie? Elsie, come and open the door please. " Then lower, "Gee, I hope she's not asleep... Elsie?" and there was a knock at the door that separated the men's and women's rooms.

Elsie got up quickly, put on her dressing gown, glanced at the mirror to see her eyes flushed and puffy. Never mind, after all she had cried on him, he shouldn't be shocked to see her in this state.

As carefully as she could she opened the door to her room and headed for the partition door.

"Mr. Carson? What are you doing here? If Mrs. Wilford sees you... "

"Mrs Wilford won't hurt me, I'm the butler. Can you open the door, please? "

"I don't know, Mr. Carson, Mrs. Wilford's very strict about that. She's the only one who can take that key, and I can't afford to lose my job. "

"You won't lose your job - I've just come to bring you some food. Now if you'll just open up before we get everyone riled up?"

She took the key hanging on the nail and opened the door. He looked at her and the image of her clutched his heart, judging by her red and swollen eyes she had been crying again and he wanted to comfort her against him. He didn't allow himself to do so though, he simply handed her the tray which contained two sandwiches, a jug of water and a glass with a daisy in it.

"Thank you Mr. Carson, you needn't have bothered, although I really appreciate it," and she took the tray from him with one hand and smiled.

"Good night Elsie. Now close that door."

Elsie complied, turned the key in the lock and put it back on its nail. They both stood there for a few more seconds watching each other's shadow through the opaque glass of the door. Then she saw him turn his back and walk away, so she went back to her room, sat down on her bed and ate the sandwiches Charles had made for her.

TBC…

So what do you think of this first chapter?