The Acquisition of Memories

by BorneToFlow

Embarking on their honeymoon, Charles and Elsie begin to process the events of their wedding day and those leading up to it. A series of internal reflections; lengthy, fun & sometimes in-depth conversations; &, interspersed with requisite amounts of playful holiday fun & honeymoon adult times. From Ch19 rating is a tasteful but strong M. Some S5/6 JF canon is blissfully ignored.

4. Chapter 4- Foundlings

The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 4- Foundlings

Author Notes:

* In my mind, Carson and Hughes have been orphaned at different stages of their childhoods. Maybe I will explore this in greater depth at a later date.

* Lady Grantham has gifted a brand new dress and coat for the wedding- of a much better colour and design than the one used in the show. Beryl and Anna supply other…unmentionables for the ensemble.

* Disclaimer: They are not mine, and I do not profit from them, but they do make me imagine...

CECECECECE

More moments rush past Elsie as their hands intertwine and the train clips steadily towards London. The insights slide into sharp relief. They do not blur as the view outside the train window does when she glances sidelong at it. Nor do they recede and get smaller, as the Yorkshire scenery does when she peers outside towards the back of the train. Strangely, the past seems to rush headlong towards her- asking her to make sense of it all. Moments of their past and feelings she has pushed aside grow larger and clearer in an instant. In the silent click of his nails on that fine metal circle, in the slide of her finger over the tracks of his veins.

His hand now cradles hers, just as it did in the church today- as he promised her all that he has to give in this world. Within his large warm hands, hers had pulsed and felt light and ethereal as a fluttering dove that had finally found its way back to the dovecote. He laid claim and stoppered his promises with a gilded ring. Held the pledge in place with the weight of his other hand on top of hers as she accepted him and brought him home to her and bound them both together.

Bound. Not as a singular whole, though. No. Never that. Never as her other half. Never in Elsie's mind. She refuses to be his other half- part of some mythical hybrid person! She was not empty or only 'half' there before! Lonely, yes. Partially hidden, maybe, but never incomplete. Nor was Charles. How can there ever be half a person? She thinks. And why must the person you marry be your 'other half'? She is as much her own whole person now as she was before, and she is not here to fill some gaping hole in another person. They stand side by side. They are both whole people who have just… grown together- offering a support structure for the other to climb higher, to seek change- to reach the better parts of themselves that were, really, always there all along. They shine the best of themselves back upon the other. They quietly, and sometimes glaringly, show each other where the flaws are in need of some buffing. Like endless reflections in a hall of mirrors- they just make each other something… more. Greater. We are brighter now, Elsie thinks. We can shine. We are not a single whole cobbled together from the broken shards two lives. No. Not that. We are something more. We are so much more than the sum of us, Elsie firmly believes.

Elsie feels a strange irritation at the notion that she will now be seen as merely a part of Charles in the eyes of the world- that she will somehow be subsumed by him. And then she feels guilty that she should be feeling so annoyed about all of this today- of all days. Still- there it was. It seemed to be the want of society to place women in this way and she was annoyed that all her personal ambitions and individuality and years of dedicated service and hard work to build an identity and a life for herself may be discounted and all its worth reduced, along with her own. Reduced to her just being Charles Carson's 'other half'- his little wife. That is what she fears. That is what she will not have!

As the memories of the morning hurtle towards her, Elsie cannot avoid the feelings of discomfort she still felt about being the centre of attention, and perhaps now viewed as the lesser part of this partnership she has with Charles. Elsie knows that this tension is part of the reason she feels so utterly fagged out, even though the morning wedding and breakfast reception at the school house were so brief. Thank God she did not have to go through all this in the Great Hall! No, she was right- that would not have been for her. This was their best option. Elsie's strength and stamina have been bred deep underground, below stairs and unnoticed - that is where she has always resided and fortified herself- gliding into the background, silently overseeing- straightening and correcting. Growing a world of her own. That is her identity- that is who she has always been in the village- the keeper of the keys, the bastion of secret inner spaces. But today she had felt completely exposed- having to perform a new musical number to a crowd intently staring her way. She had no sheet music to read and no time to practice for this wedding. It seemed that it was all upon her and then over before she could even breathe or think. Frankly, it had left her quite unsettled and a little fractious about it all.

CECECECECE

It did not help that there had been an extravagance of gifts foisted upon her for that day- more than she had ever received before in her whole life, truth be told. It all fell outside of the simple but careful way she normally planned things when working beside Charles day by day. Who would have thought that three short hours could throw her so completely through a loop?

Firstly, Beryl and Anna had shocked her with their gift of new undergarments this morning. She blushed like a beet when they came to dress her for the early morning wedding. But she had to refuse them. She had to!- She could not possibly wear them! It felt scandalous, even though she knew that all the women of the house had foregone their rigid corsets- including Mrs Crawley and the Dowager Countess- years ago. Even Beryl had made the transition with typically vocal relief. But Elsie wasn't ready. Not yet. Her corset felt like all that she had to hold her up today. It fortified her. It was familiar and strangely comforting to have the busk firmly tightened against her chest on this day when everything else around her was fluid and shifting. Besides which, she certainly could not make her first time she might wear these new, most intimate of items, in a church- before God - and all and sundry from the village, besides! And especially not now, coming as it did, so closely on the heels of all her insecurities about being intimate with Charles at all. Beryl should have known better! Elsie needed to stay as she had always been- for both of their sakes. Lord! If she did not faint at the thought of it, Charles surely would have keeled over at the altar at the sight of her being so exposed! Still, her lips twitched wickedly as this thought struck her. Elsie had finally managed to stave off Beryl and Anna's insistent requests, but this was not before she had to put up with many smirks and giggles and wisecracks thrown her way from her 'ladies-in-waiting'. She convinced them that she would try them on during her time away instead. Only then she would make her final decision about whether to move forward again with the times, and not before then.

And then there was Lady Grantham's gift of the wedding dress and coat- truly extravagant garments. Beautiful beyond anything she had ever dreamt of wearing, let alone owning. The dress was of a modern cut, but elegant and not as completely up to the minute as the young Ladies of the house were wearing- more in line with Lady Grantham's and Mrs Crawley's own styles- understated and elegant, and thankfully of a cut that could still suit her wearing the corset beneath it. She loved the mauve that the light just seems to bounce off, and it seemed to float like fresh petals over her skin- so fine was the fabric. And then the coat- a deep, rich and velvet crush of imperial purple that made her feel sufficiently covered to be her usual strong self in the face of others on this oddest of days, and all despite the obvious transformation that clothing of this nature represented to her as a person.

And now this honeymoon! And lord only knew how that was all going to play out! It was all such an extravagant gesture from the family and she had never expected it. Elsie realised that, like Charles, she was actually feeling quite giddy about it all. Like a child on Christmas Eve, wanting to wriggle about in her seat. Elsie was itching to receive the letter from the cabin porter to find out the rest of the news, but the wheels clicked on and her thoughts were drawn to deeper messages.

All of these fine gifts went far beyond what an orphan girl like herself could ever have hoped for- no matter how hard she had worked over the years since her Mam and Da got sick and she had to go out so young to earn money for the farm. Elsie could only think in wonderment, once more, at the nature of the Crawley family. They had surprised her time and again over the years with their understanding and respect for the people who serve them downstairs. The family always seemed to wish the best for all the people that the Estate needed to support, and they were unusually benevolent and generous towards the servants closest to them. They had proved it with their support for Bates and Anna, William Mason and his father, Mrs Patmore and Charles, and even herself, when they have faced trouble or illness and incapacity. The Crawley's had even seen fit to support Thomas. Poor Thomas, who had courted dismissal on more than one occasion, all because the lost and hurt little boy inside would lash out, with particularly malicious and devious behaviour, at the world that shunned him. Poor Thomas, the most troubled of her and Charles' sons -for that is how Elsie sees their charges, their children- and she believes Charles does now too, ever since their brave and sweet William was taken from them. Charles and Elsie, always side by side with their own brood of foundlings to look out for. All of their precious little foundlings- the only other family that they really both have.

Indeed, the Crawley's are a rare family to have as masters, Elsie thinks, for she had not sensed the same level of respect from other families she had served before arriving at Downton. Perhaps that is another reason why she stayed at Downton, apart from the deep and abiding need (or is it just desire?) that she has always felt to stay near Charles- within reach of his friendship and bulk and protection. She knew now that the Grantham's generosity to their fellow man was a big part of Charles's respect and faithful service to them across all these years. Who could begrudge him staying in harness all these long years, when that generosity was so forthcoming? All orphans require some generosity from another family to survive, as Elsie well knew. And so they had stayed.

It is strange, how her discomfort at the Crawley's generosity for their wedding day has made her view some of her old gripes in a much kinder light. However, there are still underlying issues about the Crawley's influence on their lives that she feels she needs to address with Charles at some point, not today, but certainly at some point in the future.

Things like her being more than a little rankled by the fact that Charles did not stand up for her wishes more promptly and succinctly in the face of Lady Mary insisting upon the reception being held in the Great Hall at the Abbey. Before she could get what she had wanted for her one and only wedding day, it took for her to be called in to give a detailed account of her wishes in front of all and sundry, which as a very private person, she felt extremely uncomfortable with. All of which Charles should have been well aware of- he has known her long enough! It was as if he saw their wedding as just another event he had to coordinate for the Grantham's benefit- instead of the most important day of their own lives. She was annoyed that she was left to stand her ground alone. So, despite the benevolence of the request from Lady Grantham, who only desired to let the bride be at the centre of the day's proceedings, which is as it should be, Charles had just stood there and not openly supported her in the face of the family's interrogation. Elsie had not had to justify her actions to them in such a public manner since she was a housemaid! Charles did not seem to see this and did nothing to alleviate her discomfiture, and really, she felt quite petulant about it all now!

And besides, why hadn't she and Charles been in agreement about it all from the start anyway? She had wanted them to find that mutually comforting position with their wedding arrangements that they always managed to get to before presenting their work decisions to the family. They have always been a united front, in the end, when it came down to matters of running the household for them. Always. Why couldn't they do it in the lead up to their own big day? Charles knew her wishes- she had spoken openly of them with Charles, and on more than one occasion. Deep down she knew she would have to confront him at some point about all of this. which, now that she is honest about it, at its heart, it all came down to Charles putting a certain young lady's interests before his own- before her own- before theirs. Again! There was just no hiding from that fact- this is what had hurt Elsie the most.

Try as she might, she could not avoid feeling jealous of Charles's easy and complete allegiance to Lady Mary, whom she has often thought still needs a much firmer hand to wrest the haughtiness and sometimes outright mean cattiness from her demeanour, even though she is now a woman in well into her thirties. Yes, she had mellowed somewhat through Mister Crawley's influence, and even, sadly, through his untimely death. Lady Mary is not completely bitter, Elsie concedes, and lord knows the losses of both a beloved sister and husband in such short order could have inspired that in many a good person. Still, there is an underlying insecurity in that young woman that can manifest in an open disdain for those she deems as below her station in life.

She is actually a bit like Blanche Ingram from Jane Eyre, Elsie realises in a flash- the aristocratic, cool-as-glass beauty from one of her favourite books. Truth be told, Elsie had never fully fathomed why this book deserved repeated reading above all the others she could freely access from Lord Grantham's library. Perhaps it was the descriptions of her beloved Yorkshire landscape and the way Jane seems to grow forcefully from that land herself. Elsie has owned a copy of this book for herself for many years. The pages are worn soft, the gilt edges are tarnished, and the corners rounded from repeated thumbings. It is strange that only now the similarity between Blanche Ingram and Lady Mary has come into such clear focus for Elsie. Here- on this curious train ride through her thoughts on her wedding day.

Like Blanche, Mary is the first born and much-feted beauty of a good family. A noble woman of means with prodigious skills in all the arts befits a daughter of the peerage- singing, playing and an excellent horsewoman too. But Elsie feels that similarity between the two women shows up especially in the unaccountable cruelty the Lady Mary has unleashed upon others at times, especially upon Lady Edith. Elsie had seen or heard the aftermath of this malice on more than a few occasions. And always, it seemed, Lady Mary chose her moments carefully. Always, it seemed to be when Lady Edith was on the cusp of securing her own, hard-fought happiness. It is behaviour that speaks of a meanness of spirit in Lady Mary that Elsie finds repulsive– a selfishness that seems to override Mary's better intentions and the regard for other people's feelings that is part of being a good Christian and polite member of society. Sadly, Elsie is not sure can that it is a trait that can ever really be changed. Then again, Thomas has been proving her wrong on that front more and more lately, he seemed to be finding his own goodness inside him and acting on his better instincts, looking out for his fellow workers a lot more, and lavishing kind uncle-like attention on young Master George. So maybe there is still hope for the Blessed Lady Mary!

Well then, if Lady Mary is Blanche Ingram, Elsie muses, then, surely Lady Edith is reminiscent of Jane Eyre herself. Elsie has always felt an affinity for the second Crawley daughter- the plain-Jane sister who has been overlooked by the world as everyone focuses on the Lady Mary holding forth and shining from atop her white marble pedestal. Dear Edith seemed to have similar dreams to Elsie's – to be useful and active and independent and to somehow make her own way in the world. The war had truly brought Lady Edith into her own. She really does remind Elsie of Jane Eyre,... and of herself really. All three of women are at their strongest in a crisis, but most often, their mettle truly shines as they continue to slog through the mire of everyday life- diligently, if not spectacularly, forging ahead with a kindness towards others. Yes, Lady Edith has much to be proud of in Elsie's mind. Edith is a strong woman, who has rarely stooped so low as to tear apart Lady Mary's world in retaliation for the wrongs inflicted upon her from that quarter. And that is the test of a truly good person, thinks Elsie- and it can still be learnt, really, if Thomas is any indication (he is much improved).

But then, Jane Eyre started off passionate and wanting to retaliate against injustice with an eye for an eye- until she met Helen Burns, who showed Jane another way to be Christian. Elsie had seen Lady Edith mature in similar ways- no longer getting so openly riled by Mary as she got older, learning to maintain her decorum. To Elsie, Helen Burns's death always seemed like the touchstone in Jane Eyre's life. And when Helen died, it changed Jane. She became a better person. Still not as passive as Helen Burns was in her brand of Christianity- Jane's passionate nature would never allow that- but certainly more understanding and more forgiving. Maybe Lady Sybil's death, the deaths of all those young men across all those horrid years of the war, and now, Mr Gregson - maybe they were the touchstones for Lady Edith- the moments of her life that reforged her in some way- shaped her underlying strength and goodness and lent her a patina of true beauty that can only come from hard-won experience. Yes, Elsie feels she can often understand Lady Edith. But, in the end, really, who knows what can be nurtured within a child, Elsie thinks, and what may just be inherent in their nature. It all defies easy explanation. Elsie thinks that the two sisters are actually like two different sides to the same shiny coin, spinning on edge through life together. And, surely, thinks Elsie, Life itself is a strange paradox: always growing and striving towards a certain death.

Well, there seems to be no accounting for good breeding, Elsie sighs to herself.

But still, the cut smarts within her. Still, Charles just accepts anything from Lady Mary. He appears blinkered to her flaws and never seems to reprimand her in any way, which perhaps is because of his relative station in service to her, and it is true that Elsie cannot know all of the details of Charles interactions with Lady Mary. So, who can say? Maybe he has tried, in his own way, over time. Elsie well knows that there are subtle ways and means to make a point with your superiors without risking censure, or your job, and Charles is adept at it, he even expresses his opinions quite freely, albeit extremely politely, with Lord Grantham at times. So, has he ever done so with Lady Mary? Elsie wonders. Charles appears able to forgive Mary for any transgression, and quite rapidly it seems. Elsie never could fully understand Charles's devotion to her. Normally she tries to justify it as his fatherly instincts, and, really, who can deny him these? Still, as hurt as she is that Charles did not stand by her wedding wishes more strongly, Elsie is, at heart, a forgiving creature, much like Lady Edith, like Jane Eyre, and she finds that she cannot stay angry with her Charles for very long.

Deep down, Elsie knows that she cannot very well ask him to stop loving one of his children, no more than she could stop loving her own, their own, like poor dear William and Anna and Daisy, and even Thomas, who is enigmatic and complex and completely confounds her at times. All of their little orphans of life in one way or another. And in the end, Elsie realises, that despite his reticence to embrace change and deviate from the propriety that tradition dictates, all people do gain Charles's acceptance,... eventually- Ethel, Lady Edith, dear Lady Sybil and even Tom Branson. It is his great strength. Elsie realises that beneath the rigid starched waistcoat, is actually a man of quite some flexibility and generosity towards his fellow man and that this is truly admirable. With Thomas, of course, it will take much longer for Charles to accept him fully- that one may never happen- but at least he is civil towards him. He is a true gentleman. A truly gentle, gentle man. Always. Charles is a man of honour and integrity, she had said as much to him herself- and she had meant every word. Her Charles treats all people with kindness and dignity that befits their inherent humanity.

In the click and the rush towards her final years, Elsie sees that she can stand to be more forgiving of Lady Mary and try to accept her as Charles accepts others. There are certainly some admirable qualities to the younger woman that could sway Elsie to at least like her at times. To begin with, Mary regards Charles's counsel very highly, so that counts for a lot in Elsie's book. And, although at times it seems that Lady Mary tries to make up for her rudeness and mean acts through an extravagant and forceful form of generosity- the wedding reception offer and even the provision of this first class carriage being prime examples, Elsie sees in these gestures that there is really a small and fumbling child trying to give the biggest present she can find to someone she loves, when all that she has to her name is the six-pence she borrowed from that same person. Elsie smiles and finds that she cannot really begrudge Charles's love for the girl. Lady Mary is lost and hurting too really- like Thomas- unsure of their places in this world and carefully hiding the deep fear that they carry inside them- the fear that they will never be able to measure up to society's expectations and that it is all because they believe that something is inherently wrong with who they are. Elsie has been very lucky, she feels- lucky in that, through forging her own path in life, she has been able to avoid these deep feelings of inadequacy. Well, at least for the most part.

In the rhythmic click and flow of the train, Elsie hears the lines from one of her favourite songs in Jane Eyre roll crisply through her mind- a song she has sung as soothing lullaby over the heads of her own lost children at Downton- her ever-changing family of charges. And although by rights, they have all be too old to be sung to, she has done it just the same, not often, and not openly. Just when they have been sleeping restlessly in illness and she has checked on them in the night. She has sung it to soothe them- to soothe herself really- and she has held the words meaning within her for many years, and she can access this meaning easily in this single breath of a moment- in the click and the roll and the sigh- where life's reflection is clear and instant.

oOOo

*My feet are sore, and my limbs are weary;

Long is the way, and the mountains are wild;

Soon will the twilight close moonless and dreary

Over the path of the poor orphan child.

oOOo

Why did they send me so far and so lonely,

Up where the moors spread and gray rocks are piled?

Men are hard-hearted, and kind angels only

Watch o'er the steps of a poor orphan child.

oOOo

Yet distant and soft the night breeze is blowing,

Clouds there are none, and clear stars beam mild;

God, in His mercy, protection is showing,

Comfort and hope to the poor orphan child.

oOOo

Ev'n should I fall ov'r the broken bridge passing,

Or stray in the marshes, by false lights beguiled,

Still will my Father, with promise and blessing,

Take to His bosom the poor orphan child.

oOOo

There is a thought that for strength should avail me;

Though both of shelter and kindred despoiled;

Heaven is home, and a rest will not fail me;

God is a friend to the poor orphan child.'

oOOo

In the moments that Elsie's lullaby runs through her mind, she can see that, in a way, despite being surrounded by family- Mary has somehow grown up alone and orphaned too. Raised by nannies in her early years, and then governesses. And although Lady Grantham and His Lordship have great love for their children, they raised their children in that arm's length manner that was expected of the aristocracy in the late Victorian and early Edwardian periods. But all this love sometimes appears too late for young children, Elsie thinks. Young children only understand that Mama and Papa don't spend much time with them and so there must be something wrong with them. Elsie knows that a child always equates the sheer quantity of time spent in a person's presence with the amount that they are loved. And as it was, Poor Mary was coolly groomed as a showpiece to be sold to the highest bidder: a commodity for the estate. No wonder she feels at once feel entitled to everything on a polished platter, and right now, yet at the same time woefully inadequate. So much so that she lashes out at the world like her Thomas does.

But Charles has been a constant for the young girl, Elsie sees that now. Charles, although an orphan himself, has always been a father figure to their young charges. The gruff disciplinarian hiding the kind angel- the protector of the poor orphan child, and Mary was the first of his little foundlings. His was the presence in the house that she could count on- someone she could always go running to. Charles was always there, the silent sentinel- all the time. And the time spent is what matters to a child. It is what they will remember. Charles spent his time attending to her. And so it was from Charles; Elsie only now finally knew this to be true, that Mary actually learnt what bits of grace and good bearing she possessed, and that remained evident on her best days. She learnt from Charles about selfless giving and fatherly care and guidance, in the form of six-pence and a walk hand in hand to the village, thirty years ago.

And so, Elsie realises in the solid clicking of the wheels, that she can accept that Charles's first foundling will always hold a special place in his heart. She knows she cannot ask him to stop loving his little one. She knows now that Charles must be Lady Mary's own Helen Burns: Mary's touchstone along the long and cold and winding road back to herself.

The wheels click. Carson. Carson. Mr Carson. Charles Carson, Charles Carson. Charles. Her wonderful husband, who is filled to the brim with kindness and love for others, even though he hides it under a blanket gruffness. Although, really, not very well! She smiles to herself- that cuddly bear gruffness that doesn't really hide his great big faithful heart at all. Like a small child who thinks that they are hidden under a blanket in the middle of a room for a game of hide-and-go-seek. Hidden guilelessly with an 'I can't see you, so you can't see me' logic! Well, Elsie decides, at least his soft heart is very much sort after by others. That is a good sign she figures. And more importantly, his heart is still most easily spied by her- the daft old Booby!

She smiles to herself. His heart is big enough for all of them, that much is sure. Only now, it is time for Charles to put his own needs first and to put Elsie before all others in his life, just as she puts Charles first in her life. They will need to talk- but not right now. Not right now. For now, Elsie thinks, it is enough for her just to be able to love him- all of him. The craggy and the grumpy. The great and the good. Charles- her man. Charles by her side. the day sighs. He is by her side now, and it is enough. It is enough.

CECECECECE

A/N:*Betsy's song to the young and upset Jane Eyre at Gateshead. From Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, 1847.