Half the Story Hidden— Chapter 2, Part c: Fair Nature's Confounded Base
A/N: The half of the story that has been hidden for all of these years by the Dowager Countess will take a little while to reveal. As such, this conversation between Charles and Elsie is a necessarily wide-ranging and see-sawing emotional affair. They will get there in the end, as will I.
Continued: August 1927, 6 days later - After the morning funeral and early luncheon in the great hall for the wake of the late Dowager Countess of Grantham.
Chapter 2, Part c: Fair Nature's Confounded Base
Afternoon: The Stable-hand's Stream
oOOo
"Oooh! That Woman!" Elsie breathes out a heavy sigh when she has finally heard all Her Ladyship's last words to Charles. Elsie reaches for her husband's waistcoat pocket to pull out a handkerchief and dab her eyes dry. "I swore to myself I would not shed one single tear for the Old Bat, even before all of this… mess!" Elsie lightly blows her nose and then folds the kerchief neatly to dab the tears away from Charles' face too. "And after that letter, I thought I would never feel an ounce of sympathy towards her ever again. Huughh, but …she did speak her truth then, didn't she, Charles?"
"So it would seem."
"Indeed, for who could not learn to love you for all of the fine reasons she stated, hmm? It is not even past the capacities of the redoubtable Dowager Countess—given all of the time that she had to learn it."
"Ha! Oh! but you do flatter this ancient fool, dearest!" He replies with a high note of sarcasm. "But then what of all the letter, Els?"
"Yes… the letter..."
"Huph…yes... 'Poor Carson's a fool, good Sirah!'"—Charles chirrups out in a ridiculously high voice, much like a puppet Punch upon the stage. "The man who might have been king but is nothing but a fool—a lowly serf—!" Elsie's brow furrows deeply to hear Charles speak so of himself and she prays that he can let all of that go, in time. "Oh, dear God! Elsie, what on Earth am I going to do?! Lord Grantham..he ..he.. Huph..he is my half-brother! I AM HIS BROTHER!" The harsh truth is finally spoken aloud giving ominous life to it all. There can be no going back. "Elsie! He asked me to give the eulogy in church today. I presented the whole thing based on a complete illusion that I have followed unwittingly for my entire life! I read that today in absolute earnest, but now I find it has been grown out of the most horrible of falsehoods and a raft of outright lies! It was a complete MOCKERY on EVERY possible front and at every level!"
"Charles! It was not a mockery. You performed a beautiful eulogy today—imbued with all of the grace and dignity with which you have always carried yourself over all of these years. It even reflected the dignity with which the Dowager Countess has borne herself until this day."
"Yes, but then, what have all of these years meant, Elsie? A performance, indeed!" he growls low." 'All the world's a BL-RUDDY stage!'* Grr-Hmmph! A Performance is just the right word for it! I have always performed my lowly bit part, and I have been nought but a fool and an ill-bred slave to them all!"
"Oh! Piffle, Charles!"
"Piffle?!"
"Yes! Piffle! COM-PLETE-pif-fle-and-UT-TER-stuff-and-non-sense,-Charles-Car-son!" she states pointedly as she pokes her finger repeatedly into his chest at every syllable.
"HA!" he barks out high and incredulously as he looks down at the persistent and offending finger.
"Now, for a start—Just put all of this mess to one side for a moment, if you can."
"Somewhat difficult, Els— even you, with all of your optimism, must at least concede that."
"Well, that is granted, but will you at least try to, for argument's sake?"
"I've told you before, I am tired of arguing, …but for you, I shall try, nonetheless."
She reaches up to stroke his cheek with the palm of her soft hand again.
"You are a good man, Charles Ernest Carson," she tells him softly, "and you wanted to give that eulogy today, did you not?"
"I don't know!…I…I guess…I did…I accepted the charge, at the time- however unorthodox it all seemed, out of deep respect for The Dowager Countess. It was an honour — at the time!— to…to even have been considered…but...I guess, I also knew that it would comfort Lord Grantham to have me do it. I know that he could not possibly have managed it without blubbing."
"Indeed. And Lord and Lady Grantham, and Lady Rosamund too, they would not have asked you to if they did not believe you to be the exact man for the job. They wanted someone honest and respectful, and someone who had lived and worked closely enough with Her Ladyship to give her whatever credit may still be her due, even if it was highly unusual for it to be coming from a servant to the house…"
"Grmmph."
"Hmmm… And I think, too, that it was for Lady Edith and Lady Mary's comfort if nothing else."
"Hmmph," he grunts out again with a mixture of disdain and disbelief. "Maybe…Huugh.." he sighs out, "but he is struggling so, Elsie— His Lordship, and I hate to see it. I do worry for him. I worry for all of them."
"I know that you do," she replies softly.
"They were very, very close, Lord Grantham and his mother. Huph…our Mother.. Oh, Good God! He obviously does not know any of this, does he, Elsie?! Or he surely would never have asked it of me… he would not have even spoken to me …surely?!"
"Oh, tosh!...He has not disowned Miss Marigold by virtue of her parentage, and neither will he do that to you!...But…at this stage, yes, it would appear that he does not actually know. But who is to say if the Dowager may not have left similar letters for Lady Rosamund and His Lordship to be opened after the funeral?"
"Hmm…possibly,…and … and…I do somehow know that there is no blame to be laid at His Lordship's or Lady Rosamund's feet in any of this. I cannot deny that His Lordship has always been the very best man he could be towards me, Els. He was my best man at our wedding, for goodness' sake! I cannot even fathom that it was actually my brother who stood with me on that day!— and that the Dowager knew it all! All of it! It absolutely beggars belief!
"Well, when these things are covered up, they are covered up, most especially, before the eyes of the original innocents involved, at least from my experience."
"You have experience of such things, Elsie!"
"Well, nothing quite of this magnitude, I will grant you that, but you know the sorts of secrets I have had to carry at times—for others. And in a situation such as this…well… for instance, do you really think, that very much of the truth was actually ever said to little Charlie Parkes when I was trying to help Ethel out of the fix she ended up in? Or, would anything of such a nature have been explained to little Miss Marigold with all of Lady Edith's machinations back and forth across the continent and half of the estate?... hmm?"
"GhhrrHmm" he shudders bodily as he tries to clear his throat of these harsh realities.
"You see? So, I would wager that this secret does seem to have been carried by The Dowager, the sixth Earl, and your parents alone."
"…My parents. Urrgh…So it would seem…Lord! How can this even be, Elsie?!"
"Well … I must say it is impressive that it has all remained so very well hidden for all of these years… But, I suppose that the people who might have known of this or maybe even suspected it, they can slip away and move on with time, and any small slips of the tongue can end up forgotten or no longer seen as important. The Dowager certainly held counsel on her feelings for you far better than Lady Edith ever manages with Miss Marigold. I suppose these aristocratic coverups must happen far more than we realise."
"Good God"
"But I will say this, Charles, I know that I was a once a little humbled, and taken aback, many years ago, when you said that the Crawley's were the only family that you had."
"What makes you think on that now?...And I only hurt you back then in the saying of it. I saw that it hurt you then."
"That is no matter, Charles. We have been through all of that. But now, I figure, …well… now we know that they really are your family…in a way."
"Good God." He feels like a scratched '78 recording repeating the same half bar of off-key music—time and again.
"And so…well, I have to see it in such a way that, when you read that eulogy today, you did it not only as a dutiful servant and as a friend would, but also as an older brother would. It is just as Lord Grantham stood witness for you at our wedding, when you think on it—as a friend, of sorts, but now, also as your brother—just as Becky stood witness for me that day. And Charles, from the moment that Lord Grantham asked it if you, you saw that request to offer the eulogy as an honour bestowed upon you by the house, but now,…well…it can be more. He IS your brother, Charles. Is that not a good thing? You have a brother now."
"Far too little and too late, one might say."
"Well, I do hope that you will not say that! For does it not cast some shadows upon what we have latterly found together, Charles! Time is not the issue if the connection is sufficiently strong and deep…and true," Elsie tentatively adds. "And, surely you know that it has not been at all too late for you to enjoy being a part of my own family. You have been welcomed and woven into the fabric of us, even at this late stage of our lives."
"Of course, I would not say that about us! And at least your family are good and honest people who seem to have avoided sordid affairs of the heart and children being born outside of wedlock! You were never so right as when you said the peerage cannot seem to live simple and honest lives, Elsie!— I…I just never thought that it would cut so very close to home. Nor did I ever think that I would be so implicated in it all! I mean—Good God! My life resembles the hushed-up lineage of Baron Trevor's more closely than I could ever have imagined!"
"What the dried fish or the man, Charles?" ** Elsie deadpans. She just cannot help herself!
"You…you…Elsie Mae Carson…" he cannot help but chuckle at his wife's impish smile right now. "Grrrmph…" he rumbles good-naturedly as he hugs her to his side. "My little Plotter and my little joker now, aren't you?"
"Well,…life is an inherently ridiculous notion to be a part of from the very outset, would you not you agree, Charles?"
"Huuugh…Never more so than right now it appears, Elsie."
"Well then, perhaps it is just best to see the lighter side of it all, and at least try to see the fact that the Crawley's being your actual family as a blessing too. You have always had a good connection with His Lordship, at the very least, have you not? "
"Hmmmph."
"Oh, come now, Charles, we have spoken of as much. Your work with His Lordship always went a little beyond that of master and servant. You both seem to look forward to your regular walks back from the village committee.*** And your connection especially shows with the way that you have protected and cared for his girls as best you could—as when His Lordship was away fighting the Boers. And you have loved all of his girls too, greatly so— do not try to tell me that you have not."
Charles cannot help but quirk a small smile for the pleasure of seeing such lovely young women growing up in the big house. He will always feel the skipping lightness of the weight of them barrelling down the stairs and into his legs before Nanny and convention trained them out of it. He has the fondest recollections of little Lady Sybil insisting upon dancing upon the tops of his shoes during the early part of Servant's Ball each year, and for requesting the same from him for many, many weeks afterwards, whenever she could wrangle it. And Charles cannot forget the way that Lady Edith would tend to peek out shyly from behind those same legs as he escorted the young ladies through to visit their Granny in the drawing-room, back when they were all so very young. Miss Marigold is so like her, Charles realises quite belatedly, just as Miss Sybbie sparkles like Lady Sybil once did and Master George reflects little Miss Mary back at him. The boy is, by turns, incredibly serious and bright, but sometimes prone to the most delightful fits of laughter, and yet he can still be so very insecure—precious and precocious all at once.
"Well?" Elsie nudges him in the ribs lightly when she sees the sweetness of Charles' most cherished memories rising in his eyes and she finally sees a small smile tickle at the edges of his lips.
"Mmmph." He knows he has been caught out and that Elsie knows all of his deepest thoughts.
"So…now we know part of the reason why they felt like your only family, don't you think? At least, do try to start seeing it that way, Love. Please…For it is likely the only way through this mess, in the end. It may just be the path away from any lasting regrets."
"Huuhhh…" Charles sighs out and pauses at length to ponder the merits of this approach. "…I suppose I will have to try, won't I, Els? Now that this has all been thrown out onto the mat before me—foisted upon me so unwillingly. Uuurgh…Oh… Elsie!..Why?! Why must I be shouldered with all of this scandal now, Elsie?! Why at my age? She could have so easily taken this to the grave with her. I would have been none the wiser and my life would just be so much easier. Lord Grantham need never know of it either, nor Lady Rosamund. This just serves…no one, Elsie. It makes no sense! Nobody needs to know everything, and I most certainly DID NOT need to know all of this sordid mess! Mother and Dad are so long gone, and all of their own siblings too. And then we have no children of our own that this can possibly make a shred of difference to, either!"
"Oh, Charles. Of course, it might have been easier, and certainly much less painful than what it is at the moment, but…well what have we really lost?" Charles just lifts a disbelieving eyebrow at her. "I mean, for a start, I do not think that after all of these years of secrecy that Her Ladyship really would have arranged to have this piece of Crawley family history hung out openly on the line— flapping about in the wind for all and sundry to see!"
"Dirty laundry, indeed," Charles heavily breathes out his disgust.
"But Charles, surely this will be something that has been kept either for you and me alone, or at most she has told her son… although I would wager she would almost tell Lady Grantham of it first, to help soften the blow for him, for there are many illusions about the Dowager Countess that Lord Grantham still holds dear that she will be shattering if she has revealed this kind of news to him as well, that much is sure."
"Well, I know exactly what THAT feels like! Honestly! So…is she leaving it all to "LOYAL old 'Carson' to do the dirty work for her—AGAIN? PAH! But then, she would not know how to do it any other way, I would wager…Huuph…But, again, why would she do it at all in the first place anyway, Elsie? WHY?!" Charles still cannot hide the pained cry within his voice.
"Well, maybe she …maybe …well I think… may-b… Oh, Gosh! Charles, I am really none too sure about any of that yet, either! Perhaps more will make sense as we start to work our way through it all. But do you not see? We really have no other choice than to start thinking of your relations with His Lordship as becoming something more—to find some peace with all of this. Surely that is a good thing, don't you think? Like you have found it by becoming part of my family, Hmmm? And besides which, Charles. You just are not his Lordship's butler anymore."
"I do know that, Elsie, but I fear that on some level, I will always be that to him. How could he ever see me differently? I am not his friend, as such, not even on our walks. I do not speak as freely with him as I might a friend— I am not sure that I ever can learn that with him, even if he would allow it. It is just not like it is for me with David… or even Phillip, nowadays, and even with Bill Mason sometimes because of your closeness to Beryl."
"It will grow, Charles," she states with a soft surety.
"But I have waited on him, hand and foot, in any number of ways over the years, Els! —Dressed him, scrubbed his boots, cleaned up after his dogs, discreetly seen to every one of his mornings after some overindulgence or another! Is that what real brothers DO?!"
"I think, perhaps a lot more than you actually know," she says quietly.
"Bah! It has been far from reciprocal and well you know it, Els! I have merely been his servant— saying 'Yes, M'Lord' to his every whim and fancy all of this time! And what is more, what would be so much worse than even being his poor cull-cobbled and duped servant all of these years—is having Lord Grantham now see me merely as his Mother's youthful MISTAKE— an illegitimate and horrible mistake that he will look down upon as unworthy of his gaze!"
"Stop that, Charles! There has never been ANY mistake about you! You must not speak so! And besides which, has he not accepted dear little Marigold into his heart? And you need not always be just a butler and a servant to him, nor some youthful mistake, if you told him the truth of the matter— if you showed him the letter and opened him up to becoming a true brother to you. And besides, we still do not know that The Dowager has not left a similar letter revealing all of this to her own children. It may well be best now for all of you to let the truth finally see the light of day."
"But the village, Elsie! Everyone will know that I am the Ba–_"
"Charles!"
"S-Sorry, sorry Els… the...the 'ill-i-git-i-mate offspring of the young, errant, and now late, Dowager Countess of Grantham. Little 'Carson' who was raised in a barn on the estate under everybody's noses –smelling to high heaven of imminent scandal and disgrace !" He states firmly and in a scathing and pompous tone… "and…and BRED purely to be trained to up to be their DOGS-BODY, Els!— their SERVILE DOG!"
"Do NOT speak that way, Charles! You are no dog! That is not who you are! Never! Our lives in service have been noble in and of themselves. We have both always believed it at some level. And you are the very finest Butler in all of Yorkshire and even beyond. You have worked hard and advanced on the basis of your OWN merits. And much more important than all of that, you are the much-loved son of Frank and Elizabeth Carson— THAT is what all of Downton actually knows of Charles Ernest Carson!"
"But I am not that, Elsie! It is NOT who I am— whether I might have known it or not! "This!" he flicks at the letter still in her hand, "THIS is who I really am! And it will bring scandal upon you because of it, Elsie— and that matters far more to me than even the scandal it would bring down upon my own head, or on the late and the current Earl's heads! And neither of them deserves any of this either. They were…and are both very good men. And what of you, Els? Hmm? How can you even know who you are married to? Is my real name and birth even registered with the parish?"
"Oh, please, Charles, do try to think clearly! Some provision must have been made. Reverend Travis could not have performed our wedding if he knew of any impediment. You must be properly registered as Frank and Elizabeth Carson's son with the Parish. The records would have been checked before we married. We know how all of these things work since we went to Somerset to track down the name of Baron Trevor's first true love."
"But how could it have been managed with no one knowing of it?"
"Well, I'm none too sure yet. But, no one knew of Lady Edith and Miss Marigold and the Drewes for a good long while, and it is possible no one ever would have known if Lady Rosamund's first plan had been adhered to...Although, I will always maintain that they should have stayed away on the continent for longer than 10 months. It is a far too obvious span of time for covering such a circumstance." Charles is somewhat agog, hearing of all this feminine plotting that he barely even considered when Lady Edith decided to 'take on a ward'.
Elsie continues her musings, somewhat unaware of how her diversion is rattling Charles.
"And many in the village probably still haven't pieced it all together with any sort of accuracy… But, Charles, it seems the 6th Earl and the Dowager Lady Grantham somehow managed to get you back to the estate from their honeymoon grand tour of the continent— and they managed it in secrecy. At the moment, I would wager it was explained much as Mr Drewe tried to cover the story of Miss Marigold—that you were the son of sister to one of your parents, one who had died in childbirth, or some such. Or there again, maybe your mother had been with child and lost it but somehow managed to keep that fact hidden until the Crawleys returned and installed you with them instead. A more unlikely scenario, and it is all just speculation, but...whoever preceded Reverend Travis at St Michael's was still at the behest 6th Earl of Grantham for his incumbency.
"Old Beecham—the Reverend," Charles offers the name of the vicar he grew up knowing in the church. A memorable man who would often fall into a strange and impulsive singing chant-type version of the extended Eucharist mass until after the recessional hymns were sung. A true showman of the cloth, Charles thinks wryly, even though it did all border a little too much upon the Catholic, Charles can now concede. However, Charles remembers liking that old codger. The man was imperious, but he had joy in his eyes…and he had style.
"Well, Charles? You do not really think the nobility is above the use of threats, or that the church is above taking bribes in such circumstances, do you? Silence and security can generally be bought with a pretty penny or two, and well you know it!"
"Well I am certainly not some doe-eyed innocent, Elsie!—As much I do not want my youthful admiration of Reverend Beecham shattered today as well. One does try always travel in hope regarding the morals of one's fellow man— especially men of the cloth or of noble rank."
"But we all of us have feet of clay at the end of the day. Do we not?"
"Hmm… Yes—but do we really need to be tracking all of that mud inside all of the time!"
"It is a mess to be cleaned up, and that's no lie. But certainly, I still believe that good common sense people do strive to abide by higher standards and so they avoid such troubles in their own lives. And no matter the circumstances, I do believe that Frank and Elizabeth Carson were good and honest people—you have told me that even the Dowager Countess believed that—and I would swear to all of it myself, given the very make-up of their one and only son."
"For there is none so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in his eyes," Charles murmurs out with a hint of disdain, but also with a small and rueful smile beginning to form as he leans forward from the rock they are seated upon.
"What? Wh-What on earth are you doing now, Charles?"
"Just checking my reflection in the waters, Els, for when you speak like that about me, it makes me want to check that my hair is all tidy."
"Ooh!" She breathes out "Where are you from, indeed! You are a still right wee devil, Charles Carson, and no mistake! Cheeky Rascal!" she laughs out, shaking her head in some dismay.
"Well, that's something to hold onto, isn't it?"
"HA! …hmm…Well, I suppose it is. And I am glad I have not lost all my 'Cheeky Charles' to this mess today—that much is the truth," she chuckles out as she pats his thigh. "Hmm…But all of that aside, if Lord and Lady Grantham have received similar information from the late Dowager Countess, are they not accustomed enough to their fair share of scandal visiting their family?... And accustomed to keeping those secrets hidden as best they can? Lord above!" Elsie suddenly realises, "At least now we know that the young Crawley girls' proclivities for skirting and overstepping the bounds of propriety are likely born out of the nature of their own paternal grandmother! —For, surely the current Countess has never been one to stray."
Charles still baulks a little at having to consider such things of the family he actually has mostly admired and diligently served over all of these years.
"No. Lady Grantham never has done that, at least, not as far as I know of. And I do believe that her fidelity is still more intact than even his Lordship can claim! He skirted with disaster with that Jane Morcombe didn't he, Els? And only you and the dreaded Spanish Flu stopped that going any further. You handled that one well enough for him, Love, when I was so ill and just couldn't."
Elsie seems to wilt a little against Charles as her memories of the sheer exhaustion she felt at that time, just after the horribly draining years of the war and when the Abbey was still running as a hospice. All of it coupled horribly with the shallow grave of her fears for Charles' own health at that time. That same dearth of energy hits Elsie once more. She certainly feels like she is about to trudge heavily through yet another mucky battlefield that she is ill-equipped to navigate safely.
Charles continues musing as he feels Elsie melt a little more against him, "Hmm… sadly, it does seem, given this little History lesson today, that Lady Grantham truly had an uphill battle on her hands in order to prevent this sort of thing occurring with her own girls."
"So it seems," Elsie replies wearily. "As we have said, it seems none of the peerage are able to lead simple and honest lives, are they?"
"They are certainly nothing like your lot, Els."
"The Barton-Hughes clan are 'your lot' too now, Charles, and don't you ever forget that."
"How could I? I am now an 'Uncle Carson' to your Hugh and Lizzie!"
"OUR Hugh and Lizzie," Elsie corrects him again. "And you are now technically a great, great uncle to the brand new David Charles Ernest Barton—our new and precious wee Charlie, Hmm?" and she nudges lovingly into his side with her elbow, then turns to cuddle across his belly with her head resting at his shoulder for a while before she places a contented little kiss onto the smoothness of his neck.
Charles cannot help but smile a little for this tiny pleasure in life. The signs of his great good fortune do seem to resolutely peek out from above the mire of this day. He sips at his wine again in a silent salute to Elsie and her sister's family—all of the good things he still has in his life. If they will all still keep me...
"I love you," he murmurs as quietly as the breeze, for it really is as simple as that. He just cannot stop himself from saying this truth aloud as he tries to cut through all of the confusion and lies with one simple fact. He steadies himself with the surety of his statement and his arm around his wife as they both quietly swirl the ever-moving waters around them with their toes.
oOOo
*As You Like It. Act 2, Scene 7, Line 143
**This will only make sense if you have read "The Acquisition of Memories: Chapter 30- Delicate Negotiations Pt 1., including the chapter notes.
***DAFF author Edward Carson can be credited for the lovely idea of Lord Grantham and Carson maintaining their connection after Charles' retirement through regular Monday morning walks. I now cannot imagine my own version of Charles without him doing something like this, but I am not willing to lift the idea completely from another author. So, I will make the shared walks a less regular fortnightly or monthly affair after the village council meeting. I had intended that Charles would give up his role on the council/memorial committee upon retirement (see The Acquisitions of Memories, Chapter 27). However, it can make sense that Lord Grantham would ask Carson to stay on as his trusted eyes and ears for things not said in His Lordship's presence at the Village council meetings. I think this idea could potentially work into this later story on. In addition, semi-regular walks back to the Abbey grounds are also feasible in my story world because I set up, in both 'Acquisition…' and 'Ephemera' the idea that Charles and Elsie will actually give over the house on Brounker Rd, on the outskirts of Downton Village, to Elsie's great-nephew and his young wife. Instead, Charles and Elsie decide to take up a retirement cottage that Lord Grantham initially offered them when the Carson's announced their retirement and mentioned that they no longer planned to run Brounker road as a guest house, but aimed to collect rental income from it instead. Four bedrooms, plus a room off the kitchen for a maid is too large a space for just the two of them in that scenario anyway. To my way of thinking, if Charles would 'Rather eat broken glass' than consider his retirement years in a tea shop (a conversation he had with Lord Grantham at some point in the series), then why on earth would he want to run a guest house after running the Abbey for most of his life, anyway? It would not be much of a retirement, in my book!
~ David Barton is Becky's Husband (see Ephemera); and Phillip Grout is the Head Groom at the stables, mentioned in Ephemera and also 'Conversations with the Man Upstairs' Chapter 7.
~~Henry V Act 3 Scene 1 Lines 1120-1
~~~See 'Ephemera'- another story that likely only needs a few chapters for me to complete...one day!
Kind Regards,
BTF