VIII:
"Mum, I need to bring her home," Charles said softly, pacing his mother's sitting room like a caged beast. "I don't know how – but she's utterly miserable and it's my fault for not having a spine and standing up for her. Us. Our family." The words tumbled from his lips and he glanced over at her, brow furrowed.
"Surely things aren't that bad," Margaret said, stirring her sugary sweet tea.
"She's with child."
Margaret's hand stilled, then she tried to cover up her reaction. "Is she now?"
"It's mine."
"Obviously, you being her husband – god knows, she looks at you like you walk on water, Charles." Margaret's tone was neutral.
"I would've thought you'd be over the moon," he said.
"It's complicated and messy – I don't like complications," she pointed out.
"How is it complicated?" he asked, aghast at his mother's coldness. "Elsie is my wife. This is our child. There is nothing complicated about that."
"Have you given any thought to your reputation? You are considered an honorable, moral man – this will tear all of that to shreds. A secret wife and child… just dumped into the middle of Downton. Charles, it is far more complicated than you know – you might lose your position and then what? How will you provide for them? Where will they stay? Do you even think things through before you propose them?"
"She could stay here," he said simply.
"Were you going to ask me before you moved her into my home?" Margaret countered.
"Mum, Elsie is family –"
"It's a tad convenient that she's expecting so soon –"
Charles stopped pacing abruptly. "She suspected she was pregnant when we married," he said in a deathly cold tone devoid of emotion. "And she feels as though she used the baby to snare me – and it was nothing of the sort. Nothing at all of the sort." He ran his hands through his hair and resumed pacing. "We carried on a physical love affair for months before we were legally bound. Is it any wonder she is with child now?"
Margaret's eyes were wide. "You married her to keep your secret –"
"No, mother," he said, the words sarcastic and scathing, "I married her because I love her and I cannot imagine another day in my life without her in it. I married Elsie to protect her from the world that has been so damnably unkind toward her, and I married her because… because I've never needed anyone as I need her." His voice was soft and a bit wary by the end. "I love her, mum. And I love our child."
Margaret exhaled deeply, then murmured, "Thank god you're doing this for the right reasons and not out of duty like your da." A small smile cracked her lips and she said, "Charlie, of course Elsie must come live here. She and the baby are very welcome – any time. She is family, after all."
He stared at her. "Mum…"
"I just needed to be certain you weren't being like every other damn man on the planet and being noble and 'I must take responsibility for this woman's mistakes'," Margaret said gently.
"Elsie doesn't make mistakes," he said softly.
"Oh, everyone makes mistakes, Charles," Margaret sighed. "Believe me, everyone makes mistakes. But she will be happier here, I think, from what you're saying."
"I don't know how I'm going to keep my position," he admitted. "Valets cannot be married – and Lady Grantham is especially strict."
"But you are Lord Robert's man, and he is entitled to fight to keep you," she pointed out. "And I have no doubt he will."
"Lady Grantham won't allow it," Charles muttered.
"Oh, you leave that woman to me," Margaret scoffed. "I know one or two of her dirty little secrets, and if it means my son is happy, I will gladly give them up." She sipped her tea. "Now pick a day and I will go to Scotland and fetch your bride."
"Tomorrow," he said very quietly, earnestly, feeling need and desire and petty want wash over him like a wave. He hadn't joked about not wanting to live another day without her: he practically itched and ached with the want to have her even within arm's length.
"I don't think tomorrow is possible," she said gently, "but I will endeavor to have her home within the month."
He nodded, understanding only a little of what she wasn't telling him. But it burned brightly in his heart: his Elsie, his sweet, lovely Elsie, was coming home.
"She's not here," Elsie said through the crack in the door. "She's out with the lambs."
"I'm not here to see your mother," Bruce Hughes, Lord Allenby, said gruffly.
"You should be – as much time as she's wasted on you…"
A tiny smile quirked up his lip. "You're a right sassy one, just like my mother," he commented dryly. "The apple is close to the tree."
Elsie muttered, "I wouldn't know. Come in, I'll make tea."
"The last time we spoke, you were about to leave for England to care for my granddaughter," he said carefully.
"Yes," she said, putting the kettle onto the stove. "Years and years ago," Elsie added pointedly.
He exhaled and said, "I see you've taken up in your mother's footsteps –"
Elsie's hand protectively splayed over her belly. "My husband and I are very anxious for our little one to enter the world safely," she said in a decisive, pointed fashion.
"They say you're calling yourself Mrs. Carson in the village –"
"I am Mrs. Charles Carson," she snapped.
"And where is your husband now?" he countered.
"I would assume him to be at Downton Abbey," she growled, "where he is valet to Lord Robert Crawley, heir to Lord Grantham."
He shook his head. "You could have done so much better than that – than a valet," he said. "What about Joe Burns? He owned land and –"
"I didn't love him," she said simply.
"What does love have to do with anything?" he countered. "Love only serves to make you miserable –"
"What do you want?" she asked, cutting him off. "Since you don't want me mam."
"Is that what she told you?" he scoffed. "That I didn't want her?"
Elsie shrugged and wrapped her arms protectively around herself. "Mebbe."
"Well, that's a lie – I proposed to the woman and she had the gall to turn me down!"
She stopped, deeply shocked and rocked to her very core. "What?"
"I proposed marriage to your mother – the only woman in my life I have ever actually loved – and she turned me down flat."
"She wouldnae lie about that," Elsie said sharply. "Did you do it in jest or –"
"No, I said that it made no sense for her to invest so much time in being the housekeeper when she should be mistress of the house."
"Of all the stupid things to say!" Elsie cried. "Of course she turned you down! You ungrateful beggar – she gave you three children and the best years of her life and you didn't even say that you loved her when you proposed a nightmare to her!"
"A nightmare? A life as my wife is a nightmare now, is it?"
"You gave her no hope of love or of any kind of affection at all, that she would just be… no better than she had been as your housekeeper. But now she would be your wife – yes, to mam, that is a nightmare," Elsie countered furiously. "How could you? After everything –"
"I didn't mean… Christ, can't I talk to you in peace without –"
"This is my home," Elsie said firmly, "and you may speak to me as you wish, but I will reserve the right to turn you out."
He nodded stiffly. "You are with child," he said needlessly. "If that child is a lad, I will name him my heir."
"It's a girl," she murmured.
"You can't possibly know that."
"And you cannae take my bairn from me because you couldn't father a son who could live," she hissed. "This is my child. Mine."
"He is my grandson and he would want for nothing – he would have a fine education, an expansive estate, a fortune –"
"He would want for me and my Charles," Elsie said, holding herself tighter still. "He would want for his parents – you cannae have him. You can't."
"Elsie, I am offering everything to the child of my bastard –"
"How dare you?" she whispered, stricken. "As if I needed your censure, too – you know the entire county looks down their noses at me? Even the ones definitely worse off than me – the… ladies of the night. They all pity me because I am your beget and no mistake." She straightened her spine. "All I ever wanted was a father who cared about me – and I will never have that from you. Take your offer and leave."
"You'll not get another penny –"
"I didn't want your money," she whispered. "I just wanted a father who loved me."
"I do love you, Elsie –"
"No," she said very quietly. "You don't. It was always about mam. I'm just… collateral damage." She smiled sadly and murmured, "I'll tell her you called. And that… you miss her and want to see her."
He hesitated. "Will you?"
She nodded. "I will."
She waited until he was gone to sit down on the settee, her hands running over her belly soothingly. Mary came in and said, "Was that –"
"Lord Allenby?" Elsie said quietly. "Yes." She looked up at her mother. "He loves you and misses you and wants to see you." She looked back down at herself and sighed. "But not here. Not ever here again, mam."
Elsie was planting herbs when the hire cart pulled up the drive. She stood up and went to greet her visitor, surprised to see Margaret alight from the carriage. "Mrs. Carson," she greeted softly, wiping her hands on her apron, trying to get all the dirt off of them.
Margaret, for her part, ignored the mess altogether and threw her arms around Elsie. "Oh, Charles said you look so well, and he's not lied in the slightest – look at you, darling…"
"What are you doing here?" Elsie asked anxiously.
"I've come to fetch you home, love," Margaret said gently.
"I… I cannae go now," Elsie murmured. "It's too close to time."
"I would've thought you'd be chomping at the bit to get back to Charles –"
"I am. But the baby dropped today and mam's worried it's only going to be a few more days instead of weeks," Elsie admitted very softly. "She's sent for Dr. Harvey from Edinburgh and a proper nurse. I'm a bit scared now, but what do I know?"
"Do I need to summon Charles?"
Elsie shook her head. "I sent Jimmy with a letter earlier this morning for the express post," she murmured. "I only hope he can get away."
"Where is your mother now?"
Elsie shrugged. "She's gone to the Castle to take tea," she said softly. "I don't know when she'll be back. Or even if it will be tonight."
"What kind of a mother leaves her very pregnant daughter all alone to go off and have tea?" Margaret scoffed.
"The kind who made a terrible mistake and now has to eat humble pie," Elsie commented dryly. "Come in and have a cuppa?"
"And what will your mother say when she comes home and finds you have company?" Margaret countered.
"It's not her place to tell me who and when I may see someone," Elsie said. "It's my house, not hers." She waved the driver down from the hire cab and asked him to bring Margaret's bags inside. "You can take my bed," she volunteered. "I cannae manage the stairs and still go out to the loo now I'm so big, so I sleep on the settee."
"I couldn't possibly take your bed, darling –"
"No, I insist," Elsie murmured, sitting down gingerly on the settee and closing her eyes, breathing deeply. "The bairn's stuck an elbow in me kidney."
"Charles used to roll around like a lad possessed, then he'd kick up into my ribs and make me ill," Margaret laughed. "I'm afraid I was quite pleased that he was my first – he was a very easy birth. Four hours and change for a ten pound bounder."
"Ten pounds?" Elsie echoed weakly. "Oh dear."
"Don't worry – you'll be fine," Margaret assured her. "Can I put the kettle on?"
Elsie smiled gratefully. "Would you mind? I need to lie down a bit. My back is aching something fierce after working on the herbs."
"Is it any wonder?" Margaret asked.
"I pitched hay for the horses this morning," Elsie said off-handedly. "There's no shirking in farming."
"You need to be resting," Margaret scolded. "You're going to hurt yourself or the baby."
"I'm fine," Elsie dismissed softly.
She drifted off to sleep, startling awake when the door slammed open. "Well, lass, that's gone and dusted," Mary called loudly. "Yer father's bein' less of a twat now."
Elsie groaned, shifting and trying to alleviate some of the intense pain radiating down her back. "Mam, I need an aspirin," she whimpered. "Mrs. Carson, did I sleep through the tea?"
"I didn't want to wake you, darling," Margaret said gently.
Mary blew into the room, taking off her boots as she went, then paused and said, "Elsie May Hughes, who on earth is that?"
"Charlie's mam," Elsie countered. "I need an aspirin – where are you keeping them?" she asked weakly. The pain suddenly got worse and she bit back a whimpering cry that could easily have become a scream if she'd let it.
"She was planting herbs when I arrived," Margaret said. "And she says she was pitching hay this morning – she might have strained her back."
"Where does it hurt?" Mary asked, helping Elsie to sit up.
"Me back, me hips… me legs feel not at all right," Elsie exhaled weakly. "It's gettin' worse."
Mary gently rubbed her daughter's back, then said, "Have your waters broken yet?"
"Mam, no, it's too early –"
"Elsie May, you're in labor, make no mistake," Mary said firmly. "Now you'd better just breathe because no amount of aspirin is going to help."
"It's too soon," Elsie said, voice rising in panic. "It's too soon –"
"A baby is never too soon," Mary countered. "It's always right on time when it's meant to arrive. Have your waters broken, lass?"
"In the herb patch, I wet meself," Elsie admitted very quietly.
Mary blinked, then looked up at Margaret. "There are towels in the linen closet upstairs," she said firmly. "I need water on the boil and we're going to need as many pillows as you can find."
"But the doctor's not even here yet," Elsie protested.
"Your little lass isnae about to wait for a doctor," Mary said. "You put your feet right here and here," she instructed, moving Elsie's feet into position, "and I'm goin' ta have a look under yer skirts, Elsie May." A couple minutes later and a little bit of prodding and poking later, Mary said, "It won't be long now – you'll feel a need to push, but dinnae do it yet, love."
Margaret came down the stairs, her arms full of towels and pillows. She and Mary worked to make Elsie as comfortable as they could as Elsie moaned and writhed with each intense pain that gripped her. The pains were coming closer and closer together, beginning to overlap into a constant agony that kicked her heartbeat into a panic state of overdrive.
"Keep breathing, love," Mary insisted.
She felt something shift and an intense urge – stronger than any urge she'd ever known – to bear down and push flooded her system. She fought it hard, panting and gasping. "Mam – "
"When you feel the next pain, you can push," Mary said from her place between her daughter's legs.
Elsie pushed and pushed, never cursing, never sparing breath for anything but fuel to push again. Then the pain and pressure alleviated, and she went limp with exhaustion. A tiny, feeble cry escaped the baby and she closed her eyes, knowing that her mam had everything under control. "It's a girl," Mary said softly. "Elsie, love, you were right –"
"I'm very rarely wrong," Elsie rasped wearily.
Mary passed the bundle of towels and baby over to Margaret, who cooed, "Oh, there's a pretty girl – let's clean you up, lovey. You've got to be nice and clean to meet your mummy."
"Just a wee bit longer, lass," Mary said gently. "The afterbirth is coming now – and then we'll clean you up and make it all better."
"I'm so tired," Elsie whispered.
"Almost done," her mother praised. "You're doing so well, lass –"
Elsie floated through the next bit like she wasn't even in her body. She listened to the baby's soft noises, not really cries, but whimpers and grunts and soft sounds, and she cried silent tears for Ida and her wee'un yet again for the thousandth time.
And suddenly, a squirming bundle was laid on her chest and Elsie breathed in the smell of her brand new daughter. "She's a strong little girl," Margaret said softly.
"Ida," Elsie whispered. "Her name is Ida Margaret Mary Carson." She reached up and stroked the baby's fine dark hair. "Hello, little lass," she murmured. "I'm your mam."
The tiny baby cooed and snuggled up against her mother.
"There's my wee lass," Elsie whispered. "Oh, your da is goin' to love you so much. Yes, he is. But not nearly as much as your mam." She kissed the top of her daughter's head. "You're my wee lass – and you are very much wanted and loved."
A footman interrupted dinner to deliver a telegram to Robert. "Well, what is so important it cannot wait until we go our separate ways?" Lady Grantham nearly shouted.
Robert grinned and replied, "Mama, I am terribly sorry, but the message is for Carson and as such, I would be a dreadful employer if I shared his confidential message with you. Please excuse me." He got up and headed downstairs to find his valet. "Oh, Carson, there you are," he said cheerfully, finding him in the servants' hall, working on some mending that needed to be finished before he left for Scotland in the morning.
"M'lord –"
"Telegram from your dearest mum," Robert said. "Must admit she's smart enough to know my dear Mama reads all telegrams for downstairs and addressed it to me instead." He passed over the envelope with a smile.
Carson took the message and read it, tears in his eyes, a smile on his lips.
Baby girl. Elsie and Ida doing well. Come when you can manage. XOXO. Mum.
Robert's smile grew into a proud grin. "Many congratulations, my dear chap – now, please, go bring your wife and daughter home before you go mad."
Carson nodded and said, "M'lord, if you could… break the news gently while I'm away –"
"I will," Robert promised. He clapped his hand on Carson's shoulder a couple of times, then headed back to the dining room.
His mother's glare followed him. He held his hands up in surrender. "It is not my news to tell," Robert said firmly.
"I want to see that telegram," she hissed. "Call Carson up."
"Mama, you are a bully and a tyrant," Robert snapped. "Carson is leaving tomorrow."
"You still have no explanation on that part," she accused.
"I'm going with him," Robert added. "So please calm yourself."
"To Scotland. Again. Why?"
Robert gritted his teeth. Better an explosion now, when he could get someone to drive them into the village still if needbe than wait until morning when she would be even crankier. "To collect Carson's wife and daughter," he said bitterly. "Are you pleased with yourself now?"
She scoffed. "Carson isn't married."
His father rolled his eyes and said, "Violet, you might as well know the worst of it – Carson married that Hughes girl of Ida's. As county magistrate, I had to sign the papers."
Her jaw dropped, she spluttered. "Get that man up here NOW," she finally roared.
Rosamund flinched; Robert threw his hands up in the air. "Mama, you are overreacting –"
"I am doing nothing of the kind! Carson has entered into an illicit marriage with the woman who killed your wife –"
"She did nothing of the kind!" Robert yelped.
"- despite knowing that he would lose his position if it were ever to be found out. And now there is a child involved, and I would like to see an end to this business at once. You are not going to Scotland and Carson is being dismissed without reference."
Robert slammed his fist onto the table. "I am going to Scotland. And Carson is my valet. I say bully for him, having a wife who cares so much for him that she was willing to live so far away from him to preserve the peace if nothing else. I will not begrudge the man his happiness, and neither will you. Carson is not dismissed; Carson is my valet and will remain so."
"This isn't over," his mother spat.
"Yes, it is," Robert said firmly. "And if I hear one word of gossip from your mouth about this in the village or in town or, to be frank, anywhere, or if you demean or degrade Mrs. Charles Carson again, I will not be pleased. And I will find a way to gag you, Mama."
Rosamund giggled from her seat. "Oh, Robert finally found his big boy braces and pulled his long trousers up," she commented.
"Rosamund, do shut up," his father sighed. "You are not helping."
"This isn't over," his mother repeated furiously. "Mrs. Carson will not be employed in any household of good standing in the county if I have anything at all to say about it – and how can you defend her when she stood there, covered in your wife's blood, and did nothing at all to save her?"
Robert snarled. "Mother," he said very pointedly, viciously, "Ida was going to die whether or not Mrs. Carson was there. She lost… she lost – she lost just as much as I did."
"Your wife; her lady: not entirely the same," she scoffed.
"Ida was her niece," Robert snapped. "And I invite you to kindly restrain yourself from commenting on my late wife's family." He got up and stormed out of the room, too angry to take back the secret he had just thrown out so casually in an argument. Mrs. Carson would kill him and use his guts for garters.
He wasn't scared of his mother anymore; but the cold, flinty steel in Mrs. Carson's eyes when she was displeased? He never wanted to be on the receiving end again.
Robert knew that none of this was going to blow over. In fact, his mother might go even further to undermine Mrs. Carson than to just bar her from the good houses of the county. So it was time to bargain with what little bit of soul he had left.
He would go to America and find a bride with money. And damn his mother to Hell, anyway.
Elsie was so tired; the baby was fussy unless she was being held by her mother, so she spent hours upon hours holding her precious bundle of joy. Every few hours, she nursed the little girl with huge blue eyes and dark, downy hair, and she longed for a break longer than a few minutes to use the chamber pot or to eat.
She stroked her daughter's hair as she nursed and murmured, "I wish your da could see you, my sweetest darling. You're going to love him very much – your mam does awfully much. And since you're so much like me, m'love, you will love your da something fierce. Aye, you will," she promised as the baby's eyes focused on her. "He's going to be so happy to see you. And we'll both be so happy to see him." She stifled a yawn and leaned back into her pillows, closing her eyes – just for a moment, she promised herself.
She stirred back to wakefulness when someone lifted Meggie off her chest, but she didn't get all the way to opening her eyes. She felt grateful for whomever had reprieved her… until the baby began to fuss. Elsie groaned and held out her hands again. "Give her here," she mumbled sleepily.
"No, I think we'll be just fine over here," Charles rumbled softly.
Her eyes snapped open and she inhaled sharply. "You're – you're here."
"I am," he agreed, gently resting Meggie on his shoulder and patting her back to soothe her. "I'm here, Elsie, love…"
"I'm sorry you weren't here," Elsie whispered, watching the two of them. "It happened so quickly – I couldn't – I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Charlie."
"What did I tell you about apologizing to me?" he asked softly. "There was nothing you could do to stall our girl from coming early. It's all right. We'll just have to make friends now, won't we, little miss?" He gently bounced Meggie, who burped loudly and then cooed. "Well, goodness – we'll have to work on your table manners, as well."
"Maybe table manners should wait until she can at least sit at table on her own," Elsie pointed out with a mischievous smile. She shifted slightly under the covers, wincing as the pain came back again – her mother assured her it was natural and it was only slightly worse than her normal monthly courses, but damn her body anyway. "Her name is Ida Margaret Mary," she said softly, "like we agreed."
He stroked Meggie's hair and smiled. "Our mothers must be so proud," he commented lightly.
"As peahens," Elsie agreed.
"She's beautiful, Elsie," he murmured. "Just like her mum."
"I don't feel beautiful right now," Elsie sighed. "I've not slept really since she was born, and all I do is nurse and try to use the chamberpot once in a while. I must look a right mess."
He came over and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. "You are beautiful," he whispered.
"I missed you," she whimpered, unable to stop herself for crying – yet again. It felt like all she did was cry now. "I missed you so much, Charlie. I don't know how I'm going to be able to go back to normal when you go back to Yorkshire."
He paused. "Didn't mum tell you?"
"Tell me… what?"
"That she came to fetch you – to bring you home," he said softly.
Elsie bit her lip and mumbled, "Thought she was takin' the piss."
"No," Charles said softly. "You and our girl are coming home with me soon as you're ready."
"Oh, Charlie," she sighed, tears welling up again. "You don't know how happy that makes me – you've no idea."
"I might have some idea," he murmured. "I've a feeling it's going to be very difficult, indeed, to give up my girls again."
Elsie sniffled and reached over to gently stroke the baby's back. "See, Meggie, love? I told you that you'd love your da as much as I do," she whispered, leaning against her husband and closing her eyes. "He's such a darling man."
