Chapter 9

"Good morning old friend," Robert greeted as he entered Charles' office. He stood in front of Charles' desk, where Charles, himself standing too, was sorting out letters.

"Oh good morning Robert," Charles replied looking up from his work.

"You look awfully jolly this morning," Robert remarked noting Charles' cheerful countenance which was highly unusual this early in the morning.

"And you look awfully sorry," Charles remarked in return noticing Robert's red rimmed eyes and the way he kept on rubbing his forehead.

"Well, I did put away more than a fair share of alcohol and I'm paying the price now," Robert smiled sheepishly.

Charles looked back down at his work. Robert eyed his friend suspiciously. He had known Charles since forever. It was indeed rather unusual to see him this cheerful. There was a time when he was somewhat cheerful, much more cheerful than in the recent past. But that was a very long time ago when they were merely boys. And he came back from London a changed man. Anyone else might perhaps have let the feeling go but Robert had known Charles for long enough to know that something has shifted, and a significant shift at that too.

He casually leafed through some of the open envelopes which were on a side of Charles' desk and cleared his throat in preparation for some subtle fishing for gossip, a skill of his mother's that he had never successfully mastered. His mother on the other hand was an artist in the field. If Leonardo Da Vinci is considered master in art, everyone, perhaps except Isobel, would agree that Violet Crawley, was a master at finding information otherwise hidden to the world, scandalous gossip and secrets being the chosen area.

"Are you avoiding my question then?" Robert qestioned and pulled out the chair next to him. Sitting down, he observed Charles who tried his best to maintain his composure.

"Well, I wasn't aware you asked one," Charles smirked victoriously at Robert. He mentally berated himself for not being able to control that stupid grin on his face that kept on bursting upon his lips at the most inopportune moments. But he had woken up to remember last night's wonderful adventure and the enchanting woman who was part of it and he couldn't help himself. He went through the contact list on his mobile phone again to make sure that Elsie Hughes was real and not fashioned in his imagination. The letters that made up her name written deeply in black against the shining neon blue screen confirmed that Elsie Hughes was very real.

From that moment on his mind was rather preoccupied at remembering the way her smile reached her blue eyes, the way she looked ever so smart in that sharp, white shirt, the way the streetlights danced upon her like in a dramatic, slow motion sequence in a film. And her clever use of words, her vibrant personality, all of which drew him into a trance woven all about her, all around her.

It took several attempts for Thomas to wake him from his reverie to let him know that the post had arrived. The young man had looked at his superior extremely suspiciously, his grey eyes scanning Charles for a clue. Cora too had given him funny looks that morning, perhaps his internal joyfulness was too overtly visible on the outside. What surprised him most was the meek and quiet Miss Baxter, Cora's PA, asking him if everything was alright. While Miss Baxter was quite a caring soul, she wasn't so quick to inquire after his wellbeing, mostly because his personality and position intimidated her. But today she had looked at him with a concerned look about her eyes, her lips pursed looking very serious. If Phyllis Baxter felt that she needed to be concerned, now that was a bright red flag and Charles realised he had to get a hold of himself. Which was what he was so desperately trying to do in the very moment.

"Oh come on now," Robert rolled his eyes. "It was as good as a question."

"You will find that several linguists would disagree with you," Charles smiled, pleased with himself for outwitting Robert (which wasn't all that hard actually), and proceeded to open a letter with a swift motion of the paper knife.

"Slowly," Robert screeched clutching his head in his hand, "Do keep in mind please that I'm still recovering from a hangover."

"Oh I'm so sorry," Charles replied sounding a bit sarcastic. "Only the new wine order was supposed to get here today."

"You're only saying that to tease me," Robert scowled, still clutching his head.

"In fact I'm not. It is supposed to get here today. The supplier called me yesterday."

"Oh well… A few more glasses of wine wouldn't hurt."

"Wouldn't help your hangover though. Best leave it for another day. The quality of such wine demands a good…"

"Alright old chap. Alright. I know it. Tomorrow then," Robert grinned childishly and Charles shook his head. "Such a shame though. You could've told me it's arriving today. I could have gone a little easy last night then."

"An aspirin perhaps?" Charles suggested now feeling concerned about Robert. Robert's alcohol intake has recently begun to make Cora very anxious and his adoration of fine wines and rich food hasn't been very helpful either.

"Hmm I took two first thing in the morning. G & Ts do bring out the worst in me," Robert sighed.

"Or to phrase it more correctly they make you feel worse than anything else?"

"Eh, hold your horses man. You're implying I can't hold my drink? I'll have you know -"

"That is not what I meant," Charles looked at Robert pointedly.

Robert sighed and leant back in the chair, "Yes, I know. Cora is always bothering me about all that, you don't have to start as well. You know how well you and I appreciate a good glass of wine."

"I do. Of course I do. It's only that I'm worried you appreciate them too well," Charles looked up at Robert just in time to notice the rather childish glare decorating Robert's face. "Look, Cora explained to me her worries about health and that left me quite worried too."

"Did it come in your job description? I didn't see it in the contract and Murray certainly never mentioned it."

"You and I both know I'm speaking as your friend and not in my official capacity as your employee."

"Cora is just overreacting. You know how women can get so overwrought about things."

"But she –,"

"I'm perfectly fine as you can see!"

Charles raised an eyebrow at that and Robert shook his head, "Alright not exactly perfect, it's just a very small hangover. It'll pass. It's not like I'm going to suddenly drop dead with a heart attack."

"But it wouldn't hurt to take things a little bit easy," Charles insisted.

"Fine. Fine. I'll slow down. Christ! Give me a break." Robert rolled his eyes. "And don't think I didn't notice how you side stepped my question. Oh and before you start again, my remark, not question."

"Well…" Charles paused and open his drawer, shuffled its contents and pretended to look for something in order to stall for time as he tried to find a reply that didn't give away anything much.

Robert turned slightly in his chair and placed his hand against his forehead to shield his eyes from the bright, morning sunlight that filtered through the wide window and used his position to observe Charles. Charles' attempt at stalling for time didn't fool him. Something was certainly amiss, or at least it seemed so. It has been a very long time since he'd last since seen Charles with this peculiar mix of emotions; cheerfulness and nervousness. It didn't end well last time and Charles retreated to a shell from which he never emerged. Robert has known Charles all his life and well enough to notice that there has been a clear shifting of sands. What he found to be more surprising was that this change had happened overnight.

"Well…" he prompted and Charles looked back at him with wide eyes, having finally retrieved a fountain pen from the drawer, and shrugged.

"Well… last night turned out to be better than I expected," Charles replied vaguely, hoping his answer would be sufficient to put Robert off the subject.

"Now that was unexpected!" Robert laughed. "Why was it?"

"Nothing!" Charles shot back quickly, but realising that it came out to sharply and not as subtly as he had intended it to, added swiftly, "nothing very special. Just the environment felt better."

"The environment!" Robert smirked. "Good Lord Charles! You and I both know, that is not exactly what either of us would call your natural habitat! There must have been something special to leave you this cheerful. More so because you always insist that there is something so foreign about high spirits at breakfast. It's not long after breakfast and yet here I find you contradicting yourself."

"Or was it someone, rather than something?" Robert added on second thought.

"No," Charles replied, frowning at Robert and hoping fervently that his reaction looked convincing enough, his heart beating rapidly knowing fully well that that was the exact reason. A certain someone with dark hair, blue eyes, a delightful smile and a lovely Scottish accent lacing her words.

"Hmm," Robert hummed in response, knowing well that pushing Charles any further wouldn't make him reveal anything or do any good. Charles would only build his walls higher and retreat. But Charles' denial wasn't all that convincing either.

"And that matter about the roof…" Charles began hoping to divert Robert's attention away from the topic at hand (and also because the matter needed an urgent solution – an urgency that Robert didn't seem to grasp) but Robert held up his hand to stop him.

"I really am not in the mood," he said, his face screwed up.

"Very well," Charles raised an eyebrow and replied in a low voice. Charles despite his admiration of Robert and his family was also concerned in his friend's marked irresponsibility in matters regarding the management of the house and the estate. But he felt it wasn't his place to directly interfere.

"What? I've a dreadful headache," Robert shrugged, making his excuse.

"Sure."

"And don't go behind my back and discuss it with Mama!"

"I won't," Charles sighed. He didn't fancy a discussion of that magnitude with the Dowager Countess either. As much as he respected and admired her, and even enjoyed watching her sharp retorts being directed at others, there's only so much of Violet Crawley's sarcasm that a single individual could brave.

"Best leave it for after the wine though," Robert added rising from his seat. His eyes squinted and his hand still firmly clutching his forehead.

Charles exhaled slowly in relief when Robert left his office. He hated it when others tried to pry on his emotions. Being vulnerable didn't come naturally to Charles and others seeing him as such often made him feel like it was a weakness on his part. He wasn't always like that. But this was the man he grew up to be.

He walked towards the window and stared out of it. A golden hue of sunlight had settled like a translucent silk sheet over the rolling fields and hedges that stretched far and wide. The wind was gentle, tip toeing through the grass and leaves. Young John Pegg, Mr Brock's new apprentice, was cropping a bush that had grown out of hand. In the distance Edith was walking aimlessly, stopping when something caught her attention and continuing without any specific sense direction or destination in mind. A few minutes later she stood still, staring into the distance with her back to Charles' window. It must hard for her, he thought as he watched her turn back towards the house with her head bowed and her hands in her pockets, constantly living beneath Mary's shadow.

He pulled out his mobile phone from his pocket and scrolled through his contact list, every little beep bringing him closer to the name that had become so endearing to him in less than a day. And when he reached his goal, the name on his phone made him smile. Even brighter than the one from earlier that morning, as bright as the sheen that spread over the landscape outside his window. He opened the messaging option purely on sudden impulse. The morning bursting with so much life gave him a sudden sense of boldness and energy.

Charles cleared his throat and flexed the fingers of his free hand. He proceeded to type, frowning when he made constant mistakes. He wasn't a man prone to texting. He was a more of a telephone call type of a man. To him they were much more straightforward and simple than a text message that took ages for him to complete. But this, "her" to be more precise, undeniably made him nervous. Much like when he was sixteen and smitten with the village school teacher's daughter. A blonde haired girl with green eyes and a timid smile who went on to become a school teacher herself and later married a doctor. They had three kids when he last heard of her.

He held his breath for a couple of seconds to steady himself and felt and as if his heart was pounding out of his chest.

Elsie,

I hhope you ar,e doing verzy well. and i just wondered

For a few seconds he stared down at his horrible typing with its glaring typing mistakes (which he knew was terrible and bordered unreadable). He looked out from the window. The brilliant light had dulled somewhat and the fields that appeared a shade of lemon green was now a darker, much unexceptional green. The exhilaration that the golden veil had brought with it had somehow vanished when it all returned to being so mundane and commonplace.

Sighing he returned to his text message. The idea of continuing made him feel very tense. He wasn't a man of words. Of course he was a well read one, fluent and appreciative of fine literature, but words and speaking them out loud never came easy to him. More so when he badly wanted to bring to words this feeling that filled his heart to its brim and made him giddy with an emotion that he could find no word for. The more he wanted to make something sound so perfect, convey what he really felt, the more he found himself at a loss for words.

And he did want this to sound perfect. So badly, with every beat of his heart, with every breath he took. But it was made harder by the fact that he couldn't really pinpoint the feelings that Elsie brought to life inside him.

Sighing, he deleted the message he was typing. Now was not the exact moment. He needed a bit more confidence. And probably a bit more clarity too. Perhaps a lot more confidence, he thought. Or was he just afraid of facing his own feelings and what they would entail?

Outside, the sun smiled shyly behind a cloud.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Thank you so much for your lovely reviews on the previous and chapter and a very, very big thank you to all of you for being patient with me. I will do my best to update the next chapter as soon as I am able to and I would be very grateful if you could let me know your thoughts about this chapter and this story. Hope you enjoyed! See you soon with the next chapter! Stay safe everyone!