Half the Story Hidden. Chapter 1: Farewells
Synopsis- The Dowager Countess is ailing and must finally and fully relinquish the reins of the past to the remaining Old Guard. Chelsie-centric, but this does not start nor end where you might expect. Familiarity with other BorneToFlow stories recommended. Consistent with my previously outlined timelines and head-canon post S4. Rating will increase to M from the next chapter- for adult themes and actions.
Author Note: I have been holding off on publishing the beginnings of this 'epic' until I finish my other fictions: "Ephemera" (a series of letters, mainly between Elsie and Becky in the lead up to Charles and Elsie's early winter 1926 retirement and Mrs Patmore's marriage to Mr Mason); and, "Conversations with the Man Upstairs" (focussed on the property buying scheme and the lead up to the Charles and Elsie Proposal scene, set in winter 1925 for my headcanon). However, I am just not getting the final chapters of either of these stories completed and edited in a timely enough fashion to be able to publish this new fiction prior to the fast-approaching DA movie 2022 release date.
Still, I want to get the core of my plot for "Half the Story Hidden" out there before I am influenced by whatever JF has planned for the latest movie. As it is, I have never even gotten around to watching the last film, and I doubt I will watch DA-2 movie or read much of the audience's response to it either! Frankly, I gave up on JF entirely after the debacle that was season 6. In fact, S6 was the main reason I got into Fanfiction writing at all.
I have a fair amount of this new story drafted, and more of it roughly plotted, but I cannot make any promises about when will all be finished.
Suffice it to say, the germ of the core plot idea for this Charles and Elsie-centric story came from the wonderful DAFF writer, Edward Carson, and various plot scenarios I was trying to pre-guess as I read '"Downton Abbey 1926'". I highly recommend anyone to go and read Edward Carson's work- it is the best there is in DAFF. Thank you, EC, for always getting my mind working.
I hope you enjoy the premise of this story.
And may some kindly reviews inspire me to complete all of my incomplete DAFF work! : )
Kind regards,
BTF
oOOo
Chapter 1—Farewells
A day in late July, 1927 1:15pm. The Dower House
"Rest now, mama", Robert's voice catches in the whispers from his heavy throat, his whole being is but a deep well filled with years of unshed tears. He leans in to kiss his mother's clammy brow and she shakily lifts her chilled and bony fingers to stroke at his cheek. "Mama" he squeaks out and still somehow manages to convey all he needs to in his tiny childlike sound.
I know, her eyes tell him.
"My boy," she rasps out before falling into a hacking coughing fit.
Tears drizzle like hot acid down his cheeks as he pulls back so that Cora can tend to his mother, elevating her gently to help her to cough what little congested spittle she can into a cloth. Cora has dismissed the nurse for now since her stranger's presence seems only to distress the Dowager Countess further. Cora glances to the doorway where, just behind Rosamund's brittle elegance, she glimpses Carson's dark and sure frame consulting quietly with Dr Clarkson. Dear Mrs Carson stands quietly by her husband's side and hands a fresh kerchief to Cousin Isobel. Then she hooks a hand through that lady's arm to rub and squeeze sympathetically just below her elbow. Isobel's chest appears to be abnormally concave and her usually vibrant flame is guttering quite horribly right now. Cora catches Rosamund's crystal glass eyes, filled with tears, as Robert turns towards the wall to snuffle quietly into his handkerchief. Please, Cora implores her, take him now.
Rosamund nods and reaches for Robert's arm.
"Come, Robert-dear. Cora can manage for the moment." Porcelain smooth, Rosamund closes the door after them and somehow holds her slowly cracking veneer together long enough to lead her equally shattered brother through the gallery hall and down into the sitting room for a small snifter of brandy and some privacy.
oOOo
"He will need you now, more than ever," the Dowager exhaustedly rasps out, having returned her head to the pillow. Her once-formidable presence is still clinging desperately to a frame that is now so slight that she barely makes an indent in the feather down.
"You know that he has always loved you? So very much, Mama"
"Yes," she speaks in a whisper as Cora helps her to sip a little water from a brandy pipe-snifter."Aah-hughm…Well, it will remain to be seen if he will love me so well after I am gone."
"Mama you must not speak that way."
"Come now, my dear, you and I are both well-worn and world-weary enough to know that I am not going to leave this bed unless it is to be shifted into a coffin."
"Mama!" Cora breathes out, she is still a little astonished by her mother-in-law's proclivity towards extreme bluntness, even after all of these years. But with another breath, she can admit that now there really is no need to rail against this most cutting trait of hers anymore.
"No, Mama, I do know that," she whispers out with resignation lacing her customary sympathetic tone.
"I told Robert … I told…please …please tell him for me again —always ….always remind him… that …that I… cannot have asked for more than what he has given. He… is…is a good, good man."
"Yes, …he is indeed that, Mama."
"I…I know that you and I have not seen eye to eye on …many things over the years, have we, my dear?"
"Hardly anything at all, Mama, if the truth be told," she says with a small smile tinged with the old pain of hollow bitterness.
"Never complain, never explain I once said, Cora-dear. But…but…Edith…she was right…I have… I have complained though, haven't I?"
Cora just shakes her head and looks at her with glassy eyes and a sad smile. "There is no need now, Mama."
"But I...I am afraid there is a need. There is no other time, I find, my dear. And there…there is every need. I…I know I have been harsh on you, Cora. Far, far too many times. But …but I cannot… deny… the great happiness that you have always brought to my son's life…— as his dearest friend… as his wife, and especially with the gift of your lovely girls." She grips her daughter-in-law's hand with unexpected vigour. "Look after them… look out for them always… Promise me, Cora. Promise."
Cora's eyes widen with some surprise, "Of…of course I will, Mama. They will always be my little girls."
"And Rosamund, too…My Rosamund. P-Promise me… look out for her for me…she has no one else…My dearest Rosamund…"
"Of course, Mama. Of course, we will…We both promise."
"Stay. Stay for… a while…please Cora...I need…need to tell …tell…you…"
And she slips into a stupor for several minutes as Cora dabs lightly at her brow with a lukewarm cloth.
oOOo
"Cora!? Cora?" she calls out in lost distress.
"I am here Mama."
Violet sighs as she is able to focus on Cora's voice again, but her eyes are cloudy and she cannot discern any shapes at the moment. The Dowager Countess seems to draw herself upright, even in her fully prone position, up to her full height with a shuddering breath as she tries to process the shock she feels, even now, that she is about to admit such truths to her daughter-in-law.
There is no more time. She knows it. She must begin.
"Cora-dear, Thank you…Thank you…for always…for always being so devoted to…to my dear, dear Robert. I …I had that from his Papa…dear Patrick, but…but I… did not always see it …..did ….did not always respect him… as he deserved. He was a good man too. I know… I know you barely knew him," she heaves in as large a rattling breath as she continues, "…but… but he was a far …far …better man than anyone ever knew. He …he did… what he could…"
Cora squeezes lightly at her transparent grey hand and whispers soothingly. "I knew him just long enough to know that he loved you very much, Mama. I always hoped to see even some of that look in Robert's eyes and heart for me."
"Hmmm…And he got there in the end …did he not?"
"Yes, Mama. He did. And more."
"I learnt to see it…far…far too late in my marriage, but ..it is …a blessing, my dear…It is. Thank you for… for always giving that love and devotion to my boy." Cora strokes some of the loosed grey hairs behind the Dowager's ear as she continues to hold her mother-in-law's slight hand. "You have …. run a fine home for him…" she wheezes out, "and I am not one who should ask for anything more than that." Violet's head lashes against the pillow with a strange and weak listlessness in all of her confusion. But, she suddenly clears again and is finally able to focus fully on Cora's face, just briefly. "He..he will need you now more than ever, I am afraid. …You …You are a most worthy Countess, Cora. Much more so than I ever was ...it pains me to say."
"Then do not say it, Mama. Don't…"
"But… I have now said it…and so…it…remains. Know…please…know, Cora… that I am sorry— for everything, my dear. All of it. Desperately so," as another rasping coughing fit takes hold of her for a moment.
Then, Violet grips frantically at Cora's hand, her nails clawing into her daughter's palm with surprising strength as she continues to wheeze noisily. "Cora! …Cora-dear… Keep…keep your best staff close. You will need…You will need your truest staff always around you. Keep Mrs Hughes close. She is a good one," and she slides back into a stupor and Cora thinks that her Mama is very confused and has forgotten that Mrs Hughes is married and retired and that Mrs Baxter is their housekeeper now.
oOOo
4:30pm- Still in the Dower House
"She is asking for you, Mr Carson," Doctor Clarkson speaks quietly in the upstairs gallery where Charles and Elsie sit alone on small upholstered chairs with their backs to the leaded windowpanes. "She is comfortable and the coughing seems to have subsided for the moment."
Elsie squeezes Charles' fingertips as he moves away from her side, just to tell him, I will be right here if you need me, Love.
Charles gives her a grim but appreciative nod.
Love you, Els.
oOOo
The half-lit room smells foetid with waiting decay, and on the mantle, a resolute clock quietly sounds out its ticks and tocks.
"Carson?"
"It is I, Milady."
"Dearest Carson…" she feebly raises her hand to beckon him to come closer and sit, but her eyes are quite bright for the moment…and she is lucid.
If that is in fact a merciful thing… Charles does not yet know.
"I … knew that you would come, Carson."
"Of course, Milady."
"You know…I… I have known you since you first came into...into this world Charles Carson."
Charles raises an eyebrow at this, surprised that he should consume Her Ladyship's thoughts at all in this strange hour. "It is a funny thing to realise…that…hah-grhhm…that you are one of the last ones from my first days at Downton…from my…my earliest time on the estate. I…I saw you then. I remember seeing you, Charles Carson… I saw how Frank and Elizabeth Carson held you and loved you from the very first moment." Charles smiles wistfully, thankful for some insight into a past he cannot possibly remember back to himself— like he is acquiring some new memories that he cannot ever fully know but wants to hold onto nonetheless. "It…it..was quite the revelation for me…you see, Carson… I never had that from my own parents,… now… now that I think on it." She looks inwardly perplexed at the thought. "I did not even have it for my own children – as it turned out— when they were young… Not until much, much later…I…I had to learn it."
"I am sure that they know you love them, Milady."
"Do they? …Perhaps…but…it is … a strange thing… It is... To have to learn to love your children." Her brow furrows.
"Life is a series of lessons to be learnt, is it not Milady?"
"Indeed, Carson. Only...in this late hour…one does get the sense that one never really knows what it is that we are meant to learn… or…at least…sometimes not until it is all too late."
"From my observations, Milady, you have not been too late with that most important of lessons, surely. Your family cannot be unaware of your deepest regard for them."
"I am not normally much of one to pin my chances on hope, Carson…but in that one thing, I sincerely do hope that it is the case. Still,…" she furrows her brow again, "your own mother and father, Carson, they just seemed to have that all for you from the very start—without even trying." She looks at him with some consternation again, trying to fathom how that could be so for some parents, and yet it was not so for her. "I do still wonder why that is, Carson."
Her head shakes against her pillow in mild distress, and Charles just looks at her sadly and wordlessly implores his first employer— There is no need Milady. Please do not distress yourself further.
"No..no …You know…I would not admit this to many people Carson…but there is much I do not know or understand— even now… after all of this time…But…but, I always knew…I knew …They were good people, Carson— your people —they were good people."
"They were, Milady. And they truly loved living at Downton, I have always thought."
Lady violet smiles lightly at this.
"I… I know that you have done them both very proud indeed, Carson. So very proud… I think …I know …that they would want you to know that, Carson. That their boy became a fine and good man….I…I don't know if you remember them very well, dear boy."
Carson is somewhat perplexed by the Dowager Countess's concern for his long lost family, but he allows this conversation to meander wherever the Dowager would will it to go. It is her time. "I remember them well enough, Milady. My mother more and more of late, now that I have Mrs Carson's family around me more. She reminds me of her, as does her sister I think. Strong ... resolute." He huffs a loving smile-filled breath out, "and, perhaps, just a little too fiery at times."
"Indeed!. Heh! E-ha!" the Dowager huffs out one of her customary high and incredulous laughs that promptly sees her into another exhausting coughing fit. Carson tends to her brow and offers her the brandy pipe-snifter to sip water from. "Dear Carson, oh, you know that is most true!… And Mrs Carson's is a fire I do not envy anyone being on the wrong side of—that one…" she wheezes again heavily, "that much is certain. I…I do selfishly hope I never live to see the wrong side of it myself!"
"Personally, I have found there is always much warmth that continues to glow after the initial spark has petered out somewhat, Milady. It has always been worth the risk of standing too close, in my quite biased opinion."
She smiles for him again. Heart on his sleeve… always so soft-hearted. She thinks of the man she has seen grow up to guard and support her family so well —with almost flawless loyalty— over so very many decades.
"Hmm yes,…well, all power to you with it, dearest Carson. She is indeed a very fine and good woman. And you deserve her… You deserve more happiness than I could ever possibly wish for, or give to you."
"You do not owe me anything, Milady. I find myself blessed with more than enough happiness to be getting on with these days…And if you care to remember back correctly, you have wished both Mrs Carson and me such happiness already— on our wedding day."
"I do. I do…remember that." She smiles slightly at her memories of that wedding day and her hand flutters nervously as she tries to find Carson's arm and hand once more. Charles gently lifts her chilled and crepe paper-skinned skeletal hand and nestles it into his giant warm palm. He sees her visibly settle at the contact. "Carson– please…always…always remember that for me. I did mean it— I do mean it —for both of you— most truly."
Carson remains silent. His eyes are glassy but he feels ready for what is to come…in a way. And somehow, this unusually candid and rambling conversation with the once formidable Dowager Countess feels right to him at this moment. They have not ever spoken on such personal terms before, but he figures that it is the nature of such times—when in extremis, all the old notions of social propriety seem to not matter anymore; and therefore, none of this now requires any words to justify it being just so. He is just grateful for the chance to say his goodbye to the Dowager Countess—grateful that she would even want him here to see her so vulnerable. It is a strange honour.
"I...I …remember you as a lad at the stables too, Carson," she almost chuckles in that high stilted way of hers again but manages to curb it, knowing that it will send her into another ruinous coughing fit. "Carson," she breathes wistfully "…I …I remember you from when Patrick would walk me down to see his latest acquisitions or a new foal.
"His Lordship always loved the animals, Milady. As do His Lordship and Lady Mary, now."
The Dowager smiles for all of her loved ones and their shared interests.
"They do at that. But I do remember you then…so long ago…So long…You were a fine big lad…even back then. Ha!...so that much has not changed."
"No, Milady," Charles smiles bemusedly. He thinks of his Elsie-love and the look that would be on her face if she could hear the Dowager Countess now.
"I...I remember when Patrick told me you were hurt…you were hurt, weren't you? He brought you up to the house…to be treated…"
"A run-in with a pitchfork, it was, Milady."
"That's right!…I remember now…I think…I think …sometimes I think that was…the incident that finally drove Patrick to get the hospital built."
"I never knew that, Milady."
"Oh, he had been thinking about it, of course…planning for it…but funding it took so long — organising it with the other gentlemen of the county—trying to convince them it was needed… but...the… school…the school came first…"
"And I was one of the first beneficiaries of that, Milady," Carson notes, still with an element of affection for his earliest days in the newly built Downton Village School.
"Heh! The first name on the Honour roll to this day, dear Carson."
Carson cannot help but ripple proudly for the memory of that unexpected moment and childhood honour.
"Is that why His Lordship saw fit to send me to Ripon Grammar, Milady? To finish?"
"Yes…Yes, it was Carson, he saw great promise in you…even back then…I…I believe it galvanised his plans for the provision of the Crawley Scholarship for our little school. We could not always convince all the tenants to give up their older sons for more schooling when they were wanted and needed out on the farms…but…I…I do remember…Carson…and…even… You…you seemed happy ..there at the stables… even after your mother passed."
"I was Milady. I have always been happy at Downton."
"Have you?"
"It has not been my place to show it within my work Milady, as you well know, but, all of my happiest times in life have been spent here on the estate."
"I am glad to hear it, Carson. Very glad…But… I do suppose I have paid little mind to how any of the staff at Downton are faring. "
"I would not say that, Milady. You have always kept a keen eye on the welfare of the staff, like young William Mason, and even Joseph Molesley."
"You flatter me far too much, dear Carson. But…But I…I …can only be pleased with the way my dear husband took you in after your father died as well. He did a fine thing then in educating you…training you...to…to support his…son…in whatever way. I perhaps…I did not see it at the time as a wise move, but I believe that my husband made the very best choice he could, and one that was in everyone's best interests in the long run. He meant the best for so many people, my Patrick," she looks inward as she remembers him fondly. So many years gone. Dearest Patrick. "He meant well…He…he really did."
"I have always been grateful for his Lordship's support, both the 6th and the 7th Earl. I would not be the man I am today without them. And the 6th Earl was always the very best of men in my eyes, Milady."
"I…I…do… I do…sincerely hope you will always see it that way, Carson— that what he did for you was…was the best that he could from that bad situation ."
"I know it already, Milady."
"Good…good…" She wheezes uncomfortably for a while. Talking is exhausting for her now, but there is just so very much she still feels she has to say. "…My Dear Carson…you…you.. know that apart from my dear late husband…, I want you to know… that…that there is no single man I have admired more in this life for his diligence and absolute dedication to what is right,…than you, dear boy. I am glad you are here…here…with me now."
Charles is utterly speechless for her uncommon praise, and, quite reflexively, he squeezes her hand, still quite unsure of taking such a personal liberty now, when it was only ever a routine duty in his former work across so many years merely to assist the Dowager from so many carriages and cars and into the Great Hall of the Abbey. So very many years. It overwhelms him. But then he rests his free hand atop them both, ever so softly, and cocoons her frailty within. She noticeably settles into the contact.
"I would not be anywhere else right now, if this is what you would choose, Milady," he intones softly, feeling himself choking up.
Violet's efforts have been too great for her to continue. She seems to collapse quite suddenly in upon herself and her head is shining with fever again. She shakes it from side to side against her damp pillow and her hair clings loose and wet and thin to the sides of her head.
Will this be what it will be like for me? Charles cannot help but think. But then he finds that he must quickly push away all such thoughts as quickening dark visions of his Elsie-Love suffering in this way assail him. He just cannot bear to think about it. Charles shifts silently to gently brushes some damp strands of hair from the Dowager Countess' gaunt cheeks. He places them behind her ears. He has never once touched her face before. Soft.
The stale breath of death seeps from her lips.
"Be…Be with your wife, dear Carson," she whispers to him. "You should be with her. She loves you…I see…she loves you…"
"Later, Milady, later". He soothes her in that low and calming rumble of his. "I will be with her—later. She will understand."
"I…I..hope…she does…"
"You just rest now, Milady. Rest now," he soothes in a choked whisper.
"I …I think I will...Dear Carson… my dear…Ca- C- ….m-my… C…Ch…" she stutters out quietly on a breath that stills as the veil of life falls and the spark in her eyes fades.
And away on the mantle, the resolute clock sounds out its hollow ticks and tocks.
oOOo
Charles eventually emerges from the Dowager Countess' bed chamber.
"She's gone, Elsie-love," he murmurs quietly in a corner of the hallway of the bedroom gallery at the Dower house.
"I know she is, Love," Elsie whispers back and her hand squeezes onto his forearm through the weight of his grey suit as her other hand pulls his handkerchief from his breast pocket and gently dabs it across his wet cheek. He leans into her hand for some brief respite.
"Elsie, I need to tell Lord and Lady Grantham, and Lady Mary. Can you…can you break the news to Ladies Edith and Rosamund, and Mrs Crawley back up at the house."
"Of course I can. I will leave you to it. I must go to see Beryl and everyone else at the Abbey, anyway. I will pass on the news so that they can be organised for the days to come."
"Tell… please tell Mr Barrow that I will see him when I come to collect you. Downton will not have seen a mourning like this one since the 6th Earl died—…before he would even have been born, that was..." He trails fof a little wistfully. "Still, it will stretch Barrow…and Mrs Baxter. …huuugh…my Dear Lord…" he breathes out low, shaking his head sightly. He seems to look down into himself.
Is it?...Consternation? Charles-love?... Perhaps… Elsie ponders as she looks up to his face sympathetically. A chagair, you can tell me…are you…are you…just…clearing your mind?… for the next grim task at hand?
Charles composes himself a little as he looks up and reads his Elsie-loves eyes. Finally, her man swallows a thick breath and speaks.
"It's just…all of that time she spent without her husband by her side, Els. It does not even bear thinking about…" His voice cracks a little and he swallows hard again and squeezes his wife's fingertips, as is always their habit before they move to part for the moment.
"Will you be all right, Charles-Love?"
Shudderingly, he breathes deeply once more to gird himself.
"I will be, Love. It is sad, of course, but she was getting on. We all knew it would be soon." He whispers out thickly. "She had a long and good life. … Hmmmh…I will miss her though. I'll not deny it," he says as his eyes cloud over again. "Her sharp wit…That whip smart mind of hers…"
"I know that you will, sweet man," Elsie whispers soothingly as she strokes the side of his face with her open palm.
'It…it s-seems that I am drawn to these things,… in the ladies that I know…aren't I, Els?" He quirks a heavy, sad smile at his wife.
"Indeed," she says quietly as she swallows the lump in her throat. "I love you, Charles," she tells him surely in a thick and low whisper as she reaches on tiptoes to kiss his dear cheek.
"I Love you too, my pretty Elspeth," he murmurs as he manages to glance a soft kiss onto her cheek just before she squeezes his fingertips one last time.
Then, Elsie gently pulls away to pay her last respects and to say a prayer in the death chamber before she tends to Her Ladyship's visage so that the family may return one last time to their mother's side.
Charles turns to make his own way down to the front parlour, pocketing two sealed letters into his waistcoat along the way. He will read them later, as directed— one just before, and the other one just after the Dowager Countess' funeral—and not before. Ever the loyal servant, Charles Carson will abide. But, all of that aside, Charles Ernest Carson would never in his life consider denying a dying lady her final wish.
oOOo
Author Request: Please Vote in the reviews. The next chapter is a lengthy one About 26,000 words- so it is like a small story in itself!). I can see where chapter breaks might be put in. Would you prefer one long chapter, or several shorter chapters published over a few days?
I will also aim to add some historical notes as we go forward, for those who like them.
Kind regards,
BTF