In Response to Guest Reviewers: To the guest who requested more, you've certainly got more coming your way! Hope you enjoy :)

To the guest who appreciated the song as well as the chapter as a whole, I cannot describe how wonderful it is to hear that! I'm so glad you felt it mirrored that, and that you appreciate the change. Moreover, I love the fact that you used the word bombastic –– I've been unable to stop smiling at it because it's so true!

Author's Note: Greetings and salutations everyone! Thank you once again for being a part of this journey –– hope you enjoy this next installment of this little story!

_._

Twenty-One Days Before The Fall

It'd been one of their rare half-days, a simple occasion she seldom took for herself. But he had convinced her they could afford it. And she hadn't really needed any persuasion, having been delighted to partake in his company away from the world of the Abbey once the suggestion came tumbling out of his mouth.

Elsie had been busy in her sitting room, tidying up her station so as to be able to effortlessly return to any necessary tasks, when a mindless thought ambled into her mind. It hadn't been anything special. Just an inkling that, oh yes, she'd happily take half-days with him at any point in life. That she wouldn't mind spending a fair portion of her time with him for the rest of her time on this earth, and that it didn't have to be entirely in a platonic fashion.

Fortunately, his sudden knock on the door distracted her before any other inklings came stumbling along.

Seventeen Days Before The Fall

Charles had found the picture entirely by accident, having been meticulously scouring through all of his personal belongings. It'd initially taken him a few weeks to fully readjust to the duties that came with being a butler. After that distressing period of time, he spent another couple of weeks fine-tuning said duties –– reaching out to each of the footmen, including Thomas, to see if they were interested in learning more about the craft. This was partially to see if the footmen had anything to offer in way of refinement, however, refinement had not been the only cause of this.

The man had learned that, whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was not guaranteed to stay on this earth forever. And as much as he may have once been expected to remain tied to this job for as long as possible, he could no longer say as such. Consequently, whether it was due to a fatal collapse or personal choice to retire, Charles did not want his expertise and knowledge to be hidden away from those who would eventually need it. Hence, it'd become important to teach the intricacies of the tasks and gradually delegate said tasks accordingly. The butler would still be in charge of every decision and he would ensure everything was running as smoothly as it could –– he would just also be ensuring that there was a contingency plan in case anything were to go wrong.

Once those teachings had begun, it'd taken another month or so to maintain a firm grasp on the situation, to find comfort in these new routines. Then and only then would he begin to scour what little personal belongings he had, searching for more clues of his past. This scouring was more so for Elsie's sake than his, the man feeling content to let his past go by this point. If he couldn't remember it, was it truly worth remembering?

Still, whether she said it or not, he knew Elsie wanted him to keep trying.

So, for her sake, he would.

Which is how Charles came to be grasping this old picture once again, staring it down with more than a hint of remorse. He'd stumbled upon it entirely by accident, having been sifting through various old papers with faint curiosity. But, once it had revealed himself to him, the image burned in his mind more strongly than any fire ever could.

Alice.

She was someone he'd known for quite some time. And he hadn't forgotten her because of any amnesia. No, he'd forgotten Alice, had let her drift out of his life, because he had moved on. Had moved on from her ill treatment of him and toward better things.

Or, at least, he had pretended to move on.

And then, of course, he actually did.

The man now recognized that, at the time it'd happened, her choice to choose Charlie over him had been too painful to contemplate. That her poor treatment of him had unintentionally pushed him to devote himself toward his work. She was partially why he'd been thorough in enforcing his standards as the butler of Downton, why he maintained the strictest of decorum from the beginning. Alice Neal's decision had caused enough pain for him, had caused enough regret and turmoil, that he would never let such a similar moment impact his time at Downton.

But then Elsie came along. And then the pain began to ebb. And though the joy her presence brought him would never erase everything Alice bequeathed him, the current housekeeper had made a difference. The woman hadn't pressed him in any fashion for anything other than honesty and standards, something he inordinately appreciated. She'd never made any advances over the years, never pushed him beyond his capabilities even when she challenged him to change with the times.

And as the years went on, the more he realized he'd been grateful for Alice's rejection.

Because if it hadn't been for that, he would never have gotten to know Elsie.

Fifteen Days Before The Fall

Elsie scoffed at the sight of that straw doll from the fair, unwilling to believe she hadn't given it away by this point. It was true that there was once a time when that token meant another life. When it symbolized a life she might've experienced if she'd only turned left instead of right, if she'd accepted Joe instead of maintaining her job at Downton.

And, yes, she might very well have spent many hours pondering such a life, contemplating what might've happened to Elsie Burns in all this time. But if she'd learned anything from these months of late, it was that she truly had changed. The idea of going to the fair with Joe now seemed distasteful, almost dishonest considering how her feelings had changed. She may have once looked at this token with fondness, but all she felt now was a sense of detachment.

But, what if someone else had given it to her?

What if a dear friend had accompanied her that evening, played all those fair games by her side, publicly walked along the crowds arm-in-arm? What if he had been the one who'd won her that doll, who gifted it to her before spending a pleasant evening in the pub?

Really, the more she thought about it, the more Elsie realized it would've been indescribably lovely to have gone to the fair with Charles. Strolling about together, letting go of their positions for one night to live more than they had in years, she could easily see it now. She could their arms linked, the air tinged with a certain intimacy, chattering with one another with a quiet resolve to thoroughly enjoy one another's company as much as they could. There might've even been more than conversation. There easily could've been a kiss in moonlight, a––

Don't go there.

Do not go there.

Feeling her grasp on the doll inexplicably tighten, frustration rolled to the surface of the woman's mind. She thought the silly inkling had been dealt with on their latest half-day, that the issue had been managed. They were only friends and that's all they were going to be. That's all they could be with their positions, and–– and if she were being entirely honest, friendship was only a small part of what she wanted them to be.

Elsie sighed to herself, frustrated by it all. These months, for all the pain and uncertainty they'd dragged in, had been wonderful. She wouldn't trade any of it for all the treasures in the world, the nightly readings, the half-days spent together, the cellar visits, the brief moments where hands were shared and intimacy was held, none of it.

So, with that in mind, why would she risk all of that wonder for something that went against propriety and standards? Why would she risk their newfound trust for something he would surely regret? No, her feelings about them may have changed, but she was content with where they were. She would not mention this anytime soon. She would take what she already had and treasure their relationship as it stood: a wonderful testament to friendship and love.

And, in order to do that, she needed to get rid of that doll. If it stayed around here, it would taunt her resolve, remind her of what could've been if she'd managed to trek down another path. She'd no doubt get stuck in the suffering it brought, trapped in the painful reminders it carried.

So, no, that doll had to go.

It was with a sense of building vexation that she curled a hand around that old token, glared at it for everything it caused, and hurled it into the nearest bin in her room. Nodding to herself at the action, huffing out a sense of relief that the wretched thing was taken care of, she indulged in one final stare at the doll before resolving to leave that manner well alone. She'd properly take it out to trash later. Might even consider donating it, if she were feeling generous.

But, for now, that action alone was enough to satisfy the woman.

Because, surely, that doll's little tumble into the trash meant that all of this was over?

Eleven Days Before The Fall

Alice's picture had been tucked away, buried underneath a tidy stack of papers, for days now. Yet the truth was that, no matter where it was hidden, her image would stay with him. Those memories would stalk his mind, those recollections taunting him whenever they could.

Except, that wasn't really the truth, now was it?

Oh, that's not to say he was unaware of the picture's presence. Nor was that to say that he was no longer taunted by his past. Only that its presence ceased to be as painful a reminder as it once had been.

Picking up the picture once again, Charles noticed that a sense of detachment had come over him every time he looked at it lately. Alice, much as he had loved her, was much like that abyss that still hung over him to this day –– a part of his life he couldn't hold onto and a part of his life he was coming to terms with.

Sighing to himself, the man briefly contemplated asking Elsie if she would be so inclined as to give him a picture to keep. But that was dismissed in seconds. He knew that something as intimate as a picture would be too much to ask. No doubt she'd be scandalized by the very idea, finding it to be too much to ask of a friend.

But, did she really see them as friends? After everything they'd gone through, was it only friendship she saw for them?

He could still hear her words from that night, the sentiment having reverberated around his thoughts ever since she'd spoken them.

"To be honest, as foolish as it may be for me to say, I did enjoy this little secret, this little dream…"

If she'd been disgusted with him, if she'd felt inveigled, manipulated, surely she would have said as such? She wouldn't have quietly admitted those vulnerable statements to him, wouldn't have hesitated to be blunt about the matter.

And then the part that haunted his memories on a nightly basis –– "There's no legitimate explanation for why I've done what I've done, why I've felt…. But, none of that matters now." –– pervaded his senses, reminding him that there were still some unanswered questions. That he might not ever get those answers, that he might not ever have the chance to tell Elsie what she really meant to him.

So, in lieu of his confession, Charles settled for the next best thing:

He let the image drop out of his hands and into his trash bin. The man knew he'd have to properly dispose of the item later, that he couldn't chance Thomas or O'Brien crossing paths with it in his pantry.

But, for now, the act of letting it go was enough.

Because, surely, letting it go meant that all of this old pain was over?

Two Days Before The Fall

"'"Doesn't she know?" I heard the woman whisper.'" Elsie closed her eyes at the sound of his enchanting timbre bringing those words to life, having never heard Jane Eyre sound so captivating. She'd read it enough times to recite many of the words by heart, but she'd never heard this sort of emphasis, this sort of life given to the book. And that he was the one reading it… well, let's just say a tornado could be destroying the house right now and she would be perfectly oblivious. "'Leah shook her head, and the conversation was of course dropped. All I had gathered from it amounted to this –– that there was a mystery at Thornfield; and that from participation in that mystery, I was purposefully excluded.'"

Her eyes remained happily shut even as the bookmark was delicately placed inside the novel, the man gently closing the book with a soft smile. That was as far as they were getting tonight, trudging through the novel at quite the speed all things considered.

Honestly, the more they did this, tucked away from the rest of the world, the more she realized she could get used to this. Could get used to unveiling mysteries with him, both the literary kind and the others. She had no right to, but that didn't stop her from recognizing the truth that she would very much like to. If anything, it only spurred the woman into realizing she couldn't toss these inklings of hers away. She needed to speak up about this, needed to be honest with him about the truth for a second time in almost as many months.

"What do you suppose Thornfield's mystery is, Elsie?"

"Charles," Well, she didn't have to tell him everything this very instant, now did she? Not if he just willingly dove into the story! "I can't share my thoughts if I already know the answer!"

"Can't you?"

Absolutely incorrigible, this one is.

Completely aware of the mirth in his twinkling eyes, equally aware that she was choosing to be a coward tonight, "Well, if you must know,"

I certainly do.

Nine Minutes Before The Fall

Elsie Hughes had been whittling away at any details she could, trying her best to clear this week's responsibilities, when a gentle knock brushed up against her door. She may have been distracted by the work for the last hour or so, but that particular knock brought an end to that immediately: the manner of knocking, considerate and almost sweet in nature, indicating not only who the person was but the good mood they were experiencing.

Which only served to put her in a far better mood than she'd been in all morning.

Smiling to both herself and the friend who had just shut the door behind him, "Good morning, Charles –– if it still is morning."

Elsie had long since stopped blushing at the sound of their Christian names by mid-October, having begun to find it to be a delightful habit among their other budding traditions. In the depths of November, however, she wondered about the wisdom behind it.

"It is still morning," The man reassured her, causing her smile to widen. So, we're right on time. Oh, yes, Elsie wasn't ignorant to the reasons behind his current presence. Why should she be, when this was a weekly tradition of theirs? "And I was wondering, when we finish with the cellar, if you might join me on a walk into the village? There's some errands I'd like to run before it gets too cold."

She nodded, craving fresh crisp autumn air after being cooped up all week, "Luckily for you, I've a few errands I need to run as well."

Charles chuckled at this, having hoped she'd be agreeable. It pleased him that she also looked to be in good spirits despite her work. And that she'd not rolled her eyes, having every right to dismiss what was a pitiful excuse to spend more time in her company, only increased his own peace of mind. So, turning to the door, "Shall we then?"

"We shall." At the sound of those four words, the sentiment having never changed after all this time, the butler couldn't help but feel his fondness for the situation grow, watching her gracefully stand up and start organizing the desk. He himself could only remain in his place, continuing to commit this image to mind as he did with all the others. Hundreds of scenes just like this, scenes that ranged from the tender to the silly, floated to the forefront of his mind as he quietly continued to observe.

"Charles?" She'd approached him after a moment, having tidied her desk as best she could. And staring up at him in curiosity, "Where've you wandered to?"

"Nowhere." The man beamed right back at her, candidly speaking from the heart, "I've not wandered anywhere because there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

She blushed at response, muttering something about his being a daft man among other things. Luckily, Charles had learned that such a response was a code for expressing her fondness. That it meant she was flattered by the praise and, quite possibly, beginning to believe his sentiment after all this time.

He certainly hoped so.

Though, whether she understood or not, the man looked forward to continuing to show what he meant. That, memory or no, she could trust his affection for her would never diminish.

More importantly, he hoped that she came to realize that he carried far more than affection for her.

Better still, he hoped that she felt the same.

"Well, let's not keep the cellar waiting." Elsie suggested after a moment, feeling as though she could remain in close proximity with her friend for far too long if they continued.

He nodded in agreement but made no movement to change the situation.

Inwardly sighing to herself, knowing that it was on her this time to get them going, Elsie glanced in the direction of the door. There were dismaying revelations from before coming to mind: in particular, that she had to tell the truth if she couldn't stop her feelings, that she was clearly unable to repress a thing, and that it was a terrible idea to be this close before she revealed everything.

Still, she didn't particularly want to leave behind this close proximity, this simple intimacy between them.

Yet staying like this would not bode well for their future together.

So, the woman managed to step away from him and closer to the door, beckoning him to follow.

Just how had this weekly venture even started? She'd briefly wondered that to herself, beginning to step out into the hallway and face their latest task.

Oh, that's right: it'd been entirely due to her and her incessant fear about that blasted cellar.

Weeks ago, more than two months by this point, Charles had approached her in order to inform the housekeeper he was taking a foray back into the cellar. He'd briefly –– as brief as her friend could be, at any rate –– explained how he'd been putting off the task for no apparent reason and only wished to let her know that's where he was heading.

No apparent reason, indeed! Well, she couldn't leave it at that. Before he'd made his way back down those steps, she found herself offering to accompany him. She hadn't offered an explanation at the time, being rather unsure as to if there was a good excuse to make, but he didn't question it. Instead, the man accepted the offer on the spot.

And then, that next week, he'd mentioned journeying into the cellar again.

And, once more, she offered to accompany him.

After a time, her friend stopped asking and merely showed up at her door –– the question still lingering in his eyes. Elsie had only arched an eyebrow in view of this hesitation, immediately abandoning her work and joining his side with a quip meant to assure that this was an acceptable habit to make.

Yes, well, by now she could trust him to boldly venture into her least favourite part of the house without falling prey to a terrible fate.

That didn't stop her from accompanying him almost every time he asked.

Approaching the entrance to the cellar with a wary air, Elsie glanced in the direction of Charles for comfort. It was foolish, really, but she found that a glance at him reminded her there was nothing to fear. She would occasionally do as such when his memory loss proved to be painfully apparent and she always did as such at this particular juncture, discreetly eyeing him to remember that he was alive and well despite the horrid odds. Moreover, she always made sure to keep her gaze a secret, not needing him to think any of it.

This time, however, Charles was aware of her subtle glancing. Maybe he'd always known about it. Either way, today he met her eyes with a knowing look and held her gaze, slowing down in his approach toward the cellar. In turn, she came to a stop and continued to gaze up at him, transfixed long before she knew it.

They were tucked away from the rest of the house here, out of sight from any incessant eavesdroppers and irritating busybodies. Indeed, in the haze of daylight, she could almost pretend as though they were the only two in the house –– the placid atmosphere settling over them easily, blanketing any thoughts or concerns with nary an effort.

"Well then," If Elsie wasn't careful, this inadvertent staring contest of theirs would end up causing them to miss an entire day's worth of work. Worse still, she might find herself acting in a fashion entirely unbecoming and beyond inappropriate. Really, she just needed to tell him everything. "We won't get anything done by standing here."

"Indeed."

For a second time that day, he didn't move.

Once again, neither did she.

But, hang on a moment, was he closer than he'd been a minute ago?

"Right." Well, they'd certainly be losing two days' worth of work by now! They'd certainly have to part ways if they wanted to ensure any of their duties for the day were fulfilled, let alone those errands of theirs.

Unwittingly biting her lip, Elsie couldn't help but begin to feel as though it hardly mattered. She remained where she was, her gaze ducking away for a moment as she fought to push down the risqué thoughts coming to mind. Even though she'd made a resolution to tell him of her feelings, to put all of her cards on the table and let whatever happen next occur, this was not the time nor place to do so.

Besides, she was sure to ruin their friendship if she did more than merely tell the man the truth.

And yet when she looked back up at Charles, wondering what on earth she ought to do, all thoughts vanished. In seconds she realized his gaze was being drawn to her lips –– the realization sparking another idea she did not want to protest.

Blushing at what felt like a highly indecorous moment, the woman was distracted by the sense of pain coming from biting her lip more so than normal. With that pain came further contemplations, more ideas that kept her stuck in the land of overthinking. Telling him now might be their best option, except it wasn't in private and he might not be prepared to hear it. On the other hand, would saying nothing truly be the best course of action? It didn't feel like it. And, of course, doing something more audacious than a verbal admission to inform the man, an idea her traitorous mind was all for, was certainly out of the question.

So, what did that leave her with for options?

"I really don't like it when you do that, Elsie." His confession garnered her full attention, the words loaded with something that pulled all of her prior contemplation away, "I really don't like it when you worry at all."

She gave a faint chuckle at this, needing to tease the man so as to lighten the mood, stall the conversation, and figure out what to do next, "And do you have any suggestions for it?"

No doubt he would splutter about the matter, being insulted by the cheeky tease in her tone that toyed with flirtation. And once he recovered, he would set about giving her some sort of well-meaning advice she'd undoubtedly ignore. Better still, the butler would shake his head in disbelief and tell her it was a pointless endeavour to advise her on the matter, gruffly stating that they ought to get back to work –– something that she could and would force herself to readily agree to.

Truly, he would never in a million years continue to intently stare at her like he had those first few nights after the fall. He also would not have dared to take a step closer as an inexplicable tenderness descended upon them. She herself would not have ever let her jaw lower in shock at this, watching as his hand soon rose to gently cup her cheek –– a shiver of delight running down her spine at the blissful sensation.

"I do have a suggestion or two." With your permission, that is.

That shiver was soon joined by another, the unspoken consent given as she herself found herself leaning into him, absorbing the delightful contact that came with finally touching him. There were no fears of position or concerns over decorum to be found here, not now. Only a sense of authenticity, an atmosphere that crackled with instinctive, honest reassurance.

"Go on." Yes.

It was only supposed to be a gentle kiss, a soothing caress meant to assuage her and quietly affirm a sense of trust in this.

It had been interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the distance, stopped within seconds.

Elsie flinched at the interruption, backing away from him as though burned. She wouldn't risk either his nor her position by being caught by someone shamelessly lurking about. And she couldn't stand being the cause of a scandal that revolved around him, not after everything he'd gone through.

"I––" But Charles' voice trailed off unexpectedly. And by the time she had recovered her senses, recognizing that there were better ways to handle this than backing away in fear, the man had firmly withdrawn into himself. Already, the butler had opened the door to the cellar, any previous emotion masked.

"Mr. Carson?" He ignored her call, her plea to talk about what just happened, "Mr. Carson, I do apologize––"

"No, Mrs. Hughes." The murmur was firm and aloof to say the least, the butler refusing to turn around and properly face her, "I am the one who should be apologizing. It was deeply inappropriate to ensnare you in such a fashion –– please, forgive my actions."

Without another word, without another hint to the motivation behind his actions, he firmly shut the door behind him and left her alone. Left her to realize whoever had been nearby was long gone and that she had just made a rather large mistake.

It'd taken Elsie only three seconds to recover from the shock. Another two to become infuriated with herself for causing the man to shut himself away, and only one more to know what she needed to do:

Open the door, march down the stairs, and finally explain herself.

And, yes, that explanation could be given through words or something more tangible, if it meant Charles truly understood.

Because, there'd been no 'ensnaring', you daft man.

Her hand firmly gripped the door as she proceeded to take to those stairs once again, having long since opened it.

Nothing of the sort.

He looked devoted to ignoring her as much as he could, stiffening at the sound of the sound of her approach. Already, he'd made it off the steps and into the cellar itself. Well, she'd certainly show him just what she thought of the situation, that he had nothing to apologize for. She'd also certainly make sure she was understood, that he realized why she'd flinched. She'd been confused about all of this before, hadn't known what to say or how to address it. But none of that mattered anymore: she knew the truth––

"Charles!"

How Elsie had managed to be the one stumble after all this time, she would never know.

That she had stumbled, that he was now whirling around in horror too far away for her to reach, that was all she had for knowledge.

_._

Author's Note: Okay, I did have to deliver one proper cliff-hanger before wrapping this beautiful story up! We're only a chapter or two away, I promise.

In any case, 'till the next update. And, as always, have a lovely day!