Hello dear readers,
here is the continuation of "coming to you". This chapter is a bit more serious than the others, but I hope you'll enjoy it.
Thanks to Pixie.
Thank you to everyone who reads and leaves a review, thank you to the anonymous reviewers to whom I can't reply privately.
Missing you
1904
Thursday
How do you cope when the person you love is hundreds of miles away?
Charles asked himself this question hundreds of times a day. It went round and round in his head, all the time. So much so that his work was affected. Not necessarily in a way that was noticeable to the family, but to Mrs. Bute it was obvious. She could see the butler looking defeated, he who was usually so greedy at meals was barely eating and he was more irascible than ever.
Only when the mail arrived did he show any spirit, he had always received it, but never until this season had Mrs. Bute seen him so impatient to see the postman. She was not fooled, she understood perfectly well that it was Mrs. Hughes' departure that had put him in this state and she hoped for everyone's sake that she would return soon.
Charles had only been in love once before Elsie. He had loved Alice sincerely, so much so that he had given her a ring, that he had even imagined the name of their future children. However, what he felt for Elsie was quite different. He had loved Alice as one does when one is 17. He had thought, at that time, when he had found Alice and Grigg embracing each other in a London park, that he would never again be able to love as he loved the young woman who was breaking his heart. And he was right, he did not love Elsie as he had loved Alice.
He loved her better, he loved her more.
How many butlers fell in love with the housekeeper? How many men were lucky enough to fall in love with their best friend?
How long had it taken him to realise that he was madly in love with Elsie? And did she feel the same love? They had shared a kiss, but wasn't that just a sign of goodbye? She had told him she didn't want to leave him, she had cried, she had put her lips on his. Yes, but it was he who had deepened the kiss. But she hadn't pulled away. She had even responded enthusiastically.
He was lost. Elsie wrote to him regularly, she seemed cheerful in her letters, but she had become so formal again. She who on the eve of his departure had called him Charles, who had moaned against his mouth... He had become Mr. Carson again, and she signed as always, "Your friend, Elsie Hughes."
And then she often mentioned this Samuel in her letters. This childhood friend who apparently made her laugh so much, who danced the Reel so well, who could hunt with a slingshot and imitate the stag's bellow like no other.
She had even confessed to him in one of her letters that she had been in love with this Samuel when she was a child. He didn't know this Scotsman but he was already very unsympathetic to him. He imagined him to be overweight, with a dirty face and hair, rotten teeth, illiterate, and certainly a drunkard. In short, someone sufficiently disgusting that Elsie would not fall for him.
But what if he was the opposite of what he imagined? What if this Samuel was funny and witty like Elsie seemed to think? What if he asked her to marry him? Would she say yes? She'd promised to bring his watch back to him, so if she did he'd at least see her one last time and he could lay his heart at her feet.
You idiot, she's coming back to Downton Abbey in a few days, she can just drop your watch on your desk and leave to join that idiot Samuel without a word to you.
When he went off into this kind of thinking, anguish took hold of him and he was no longer capable of anything.
He had written her hundreds of drafts in which he wrote all his love, all his desire and his jealousy too. He had even written to Samuel to challenge him to a duel before throwing the letter into the fire.
He may have loved differently as he grew older, but he still felt as if he had the impulse of his seventeen years.
He knew he had no right to be jealous. He was far from perfect himself, and he had sinned many times by going to brothels. But it had been a good two years since he'd been there. Ever since Elsie had made it clear that she knew what he was doing to ease his loneliness and had finally admitted to him that she might find him attractive. He had felt as if he were drowning in his own shame. His shame had even overtaken Elsie's confession.
So he'd rather fantasize about Elsie since that evening by the lake than pay someone who bore a vague resemblance to her and who would bring him nothing but self-loathing, guilt and shame. The tiny relief the visits gave him was not worth it.
He was lost.
"Mr. Carson, the mail has arrived."
Charles got up so fast he nearly knocked over his chair and rushed to the valet who was carrying a pile of envelopes, snatched them out of his hands, gave him a grim look and began to deliver them.
Like every Thursday, there was a letter from Elsie.
As usual he put it in the inside pocket of his jacket, he would wait until he was alone at the end of his working day to open it.
Mrs. Bute had watched the butler's face relax as he took the letter and held it to his heart. She didn't know if there was any real romance between Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes, it was none of her business, but she liked and respected the butler enough to silently ask him to be careful, not to jeopardize his job.
oOo
Finally alone in his room! He had dressed for the night, got rid of the pomade from his hair and felt ready for an epistolary discussion with Elsie. He opened the envelope and began to read it.
She would be at Downton Abbey on Saturday, and this Samuel would walk her home because he was kind and thoughtful and blah blah blah. He felt that she was telling him about this man just to emphasise everything that he was not.
No, he, Charles Carson was stuck in London like a fool, unable to pick up the woman he loved from the station. He had a job that he couldn't just walk away from. Did this Samuel not work at all to have so much free time? This man must have shamelessly seduced Elsie with lies and manipulations and, like all women, she had fallen for it. Just as Alice had done with Grigg. God, were all women the same?
Should he answer her? Should he tell her that he was glad she was coming home, that he regretted not being able to welcome her in the same way they had said goodbye?
His decision was quickly made. He put Elsie's letter away with the others in his bedside table and went to bed. Sleep was long in coming and very restless. He woke up more tired than the day before, with only one sentence in mind: Tomorrow she will be home.
oOo
Saturday
Elsie was waiting in the small living room, she was not at ease, she was a downstairs employee and a mere shadow when she had to go up to check the rooms.
Samuel was waiting for her in the hall. Elsie had explained to him that it was best for her to speak to His Lordship alone.
Robert entered the room and greeted the housekeeper in a cheerful and affable tone, telling her that he was glad to see her back and that he hoped her journey had not been too trying.
Elsie could feel the red in her cheeks, she didn't particularly like making requests of her employers. But this was important, to her and to Samuel, so she cleared her throat and began to tell the story of why she had requested this interview.
oOo
Charles was in an unprecedented state of nervousness. He wondered if Elsie had arrived, if the man who had accompanied her had left immediately afterwards, or if Elsie had invited him to stay the night in her great kindness. At this thought he clenched his fists and jaws, he just wanted to punch something, or someone called Samuel.
He arrived in the servants' hall to preside over the meal. It was relatively late. All meals were late this season, after all it was THE season for Lady Mary to officially enter the court.
Half of the servants were missing and this made Charles, who liked punctuality and order, even more angry. He began to berate the cook and then Mrs. Bute. The women told him that the maids and servants were busy upstairs, but that they would soon be at the table with them.
"Well," said Charles, "if they can't get their work done in time, they'll eat another time. Everyone sit down now and let the meal be served." His gaze fell on something unusual.
"Laura? Can't you count?" He asked the very young kitchen maid who looked terrified of the butler.
"Well, my girl! What are you waiting for to remove this extra cutlery? DO I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING MYSELF IN THIS HOUSE?!" He had shouted, he had even come close to sweeping the table and sending the plates and cutlery against the opposite wall or onto the servants present.
"MR. CARSON!" Mrs. Bute came to stand in front of him and glowered at him.
Charles pulled himself together, looked down in shame at his behaviour and in a weak voice apologised flatly.
"Forgive me, I just like things done right." And so as not to lose face entirely in front of his subordinates, he sat in his chair at the end of the table.
How he would have preferred to lock himself in his pantry and brood over his shame and anger.
They heard footsteps on the stairs. The others were coming, the meal would go on as usual, and Charles had shouted for nothing.
He just looked at his plate, young Laura served him his stew and he ate mechanically thinking that he would rather be at Downton, that Mrs. Patmore cooked much better, and Elsie would be next to him.
"Ah Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Perkins, take your places. We started without you, I didn't know how long His Lordship would keep you."
Charles raised his head sharply when Elsie's surname was spoken.
There she was, almost in front of him. Looking awkward and tired but more radiant than ever.
The butler stood up, the servants followed his example.
"Mrs Hughes? I didn't know that... What are you doing here?" The look he gave her pierced her heart.
Elsie felt like she could breathe again, she was close to him and she could hear his voice.
"I had a request to make to Lord Grantham about my friend. Let me introduce you to Mr. Samuel Perkins. "
The servants greeted him in a friendly manner as Carson invited them to sit at the table with them. He did not even nod towards Mrs. Hughes' companion.
As Elsie had the same rank as Mrs. Bute she had been placed on Charles' left. Samuel was at the back, between the young servants and the housekeepers.
Elsie kept her eyes down on her plate throughout the meal. Every time she looked up she was greeted by Charles' questioning gaze. At dessert she heard the butler clear his throat to demand her attention.
"Mrs. Hughes, since you are here, could you spare me a moment this evening? I had a couple of things I wanted to discuss with you before Lord and Lady Grantham returned to Downton. This will be quicker than a letter."
"Of course, Mr. Carson." And she smiled at him for the first time all evening, a shy, beautiful smile. Then she turned to her friend.
"Samuel, you will follow Mrs. Bute after dinner and she will show you to your room for the night. You will certainly find it very comfortable."
"Very good, Elsie. Thank you."
Charles tried to control himself from yelling at him to get out and punch him in the face.
Elsie? Who does he think he is, calling her by her first name in front of everyone? That man, that lout, that nobody, that son of a... Calm down Charlie. You still don't know anything about him or his relationship with Elsie.
Seeing Charles move around the London mansion was new to Elsie. Mrs. Bute was in charge of the house, she was just a guest.
It had been a whole month since she had seen Charles, and she had done her best not to throw out mad words of love and, she thought, childishness in her letters. If she hadn't listened to reason she would have blackened the pages with "I love you" "I miss you" "Come to me" "I want you, I want you so much."
It was Samuel's mother who had called her to her bedside, she was an old friend of her mother's and she had helped her with Becky when Mr. Hughes had died.
She had found in Samuel the confidant he had been when they were children, before she went into service. And she had told him everything, her love for the butler, the shared kiss, she had explained to him that she didn't know what to do, that she was afraid he would walk away from her after that, that she was afraid he would love her and that they would have to leave their work.
She knew that Samuel would be as silent as a grave, he himself had secrets that he did not want to be revealed.
Her plans were to leave Scotland and go straight to Downton Abbey to resume her role as housekeeper. But Samuel's secret had caused a stir at home, he could not stay in Scotland. Elsie promised his mother to look after him, and the old woman died two weeks later.
Now she was back in England, her heart racing. She had sat beside Charles to eat and her knee had brushed his.
And now she was waiting outside his pantry after leaving Samuel in Mrs Bute's care.
Charles came in briskly, did not look at her, opened the door and stepped aside to let her in first.
She had never been to London before, so she took the time to look at how his pantry was furnished, how everything was in order here too. It was less personal perhaps but still. The photos and postcards on the walls showed that he had made the place his own and that he was as much at home here as he was at Downton.
Charles let her observe his office, he noticed the slight smile on her face, she approved of his organisation and he was proud of that. He cleared his throat to bring her back to reality and motioned for her to sit down.
When they were comfortably seated, he offered her a glass of red wine that had not been drunk during the meal.
"So you're back?" he asked at last.
"Yes, as promised, and as planned."
"Did you have a good trip?"
"Yes, we had a good trip. I was glad to set foot in England, and tomorrow morning we take the train back to the Abbey." She had mentioned this again with a smile.
"We? Your... friend, is going back with you?"
"Oh well yes, that's why we came through London. I came to ask Lord Grantham to rent a farm to Mr. Perkins, the Wilson farm is free now and Mr. Perkins is a good worker."
He said nothing and let the silence fall between them. He didn't know what to say to her, he was filled with jealousy and he was afraid of hurting her with his fears and anger.
Elsie could feel that he was tense and she didn't quite understand what was going on.
She wanted to take his hand, the one that was on his desk in front of her, but she didn't dare. Instead she said whatever came into her head so that the interview would not end. She was so happy to see him again.
"I'm really happy to be back here. " She had wanted to say "to come back to you", but the coldness he was displaying had prevented her from doing so.
"Well, I'm sure everyone at Downton is delighted to have you back Mrs. Hughes."
"I hope so." Then seeing that he was making no effort she decided to take her leave.
"Well, I'll leave you. I'm going up to bed. I don't know if I'll see you again tomorrow before I leave, so I hope you have a good end of the season. Goodbye Mr. Carson."
She had gotten up and was already at the door.
"Not Charles anymore then?"
She turned so sharply that she almost lost her balance.
"Before you left you called me by my first name, and now..." he gestured wearily.
She gave a little laugh of relief. He was handing her an olive branch and she was about to grab it.
"And before I left you called me Elsie..."
"That's right."
"Maybe the formality of your pantry intimidate me, maybe the fact that your office between us makes me feel like I'm having a formal interview."
He stared at her with a sigh before standing up and coming to stand in front of her, he raised his arm, for a second she thought he was going to touch her but he simply grabbed his hat that was hanging behind her, and in a peremptory tone said:
"Let's get out of here."
TBC...
So, do you validate the lunatic Charles? I think he has to go through this, the better to find her...
Chapter 8 will heat up the atmosphere between them, that's a promise I make.