Flame

The frame was tucked under a book near the top of the trunk. She hadn't been looking for it, but for an old greeting card she thought might have the address of an old friend. "There you are. I wondered where you had gotten to." The portrait had mysteriously disappeared from his desk just after they returned to Downton after Lady Rose's season in London and Charles hadn't mentioned Alice Neale in all the time that had passed.

Closing the lid of the large trunk, she leaned against the curved top. "You…twit," Elsie grimaced at the woman in the portrait. "You broke his heart you know?" Tilting her head with a sigh, she continued to look at the portrait. "Well, you're dead, anyway, so it isn't as if I can claw your eyes out. And your loss is my gain, I suppose." Elsie stared the portrait a few more moments before throwing back her head with a chuckle, "But I am the one sitting here talking to a photograph, so who is the twit now?" Lifting the lid of the trunk, she quickly tucked the frame back under the book and continued her search for the old greeting card.

It was nearly midnight when Elsie and Charles got to bed, their two lodgers in for the night. They were settling into their soft mattress when Charles suddenly put his hand on her arm, "Say, where did you get to this afternoon? You had a telephone call from Mrs. Patmore, but I couldn't find you. I am sorry I am just now remembering."

"Well, it can't have been too important or she would have called back. I will try her tomorrow."

"But where were you?" Charles turned off his bed lamp, twisting on to his side as he pulled up the sheet and counterpane.

Elsie settled into his arms, reaching for her lamp, but stopped shy of pushing the switch, "Oh, I was looking for an address on an old greeting card, so I went out to the shed to look in the steamer trunk."

"I would have looked for you. You didn't have to get out in the dirty shed."

Elsie turned over to face him, "Thank you, but it doesn't matter. I didn't find the card. You know, I didn't realize the trunk was so full." She wasn't sure why, but she suddenly had a compulsion for him to know she had found the portrait. "There were some books in the top rack. I picked them up to bring them in, but decided I would ask you first." Charles didn't respond but searched her face as she continued, "The books? Do you know which ones I mean? There was a Kipling and a volume of Whitman. I thought they were two of your favorites, I was surprised you didn't want them with the other books in the sitting room…" She waited for a response, but her husband remained quiet. "There were several things I had forgotten about in that trunk; postcards, souvenirs, frames and photos…"

"So you found her." The coldness of his tone surprised her.

"I saw the portrait of Alice, if that is the "her" to which you refer, but I also found several other things…"

"But you want me to know you found her."

"Well, I don't…well…well, yes. Yes. I don't know why, but yes, I suppose I do. I truly don't know why, but yes, I do want you to know."

Charles pulled his arms from around her and turned onto his back, "Are you disappointed I didn't get rid of her?"

"What?" Elsie was taken aback by his question. "No. No, not at all. I was the one who gave you the frame. Why would I expect you to get rid of it?"

"Because she was my, my…" he struggled to find the right reference. "My old flame."

Elsie was surprised to find the words he chose stung her. "Charles, that was a very long time ago and I would never begrudge you your memories. I suppose I just, oh, I don't know." She rolled away from him, curling up on her side.

He looked at the ceiling, berating himself for letting such a small matter escalate to their current situation. Rolling back onto his side, he gently placed his hand on her curved back, whispering, "You suppose what, Elsie? What do you want me to say?"

Her voice was thick with emotion, "I suppose I want you to say that you prefer me to her."

"What?" Charles slid his hand around her waist, tenderly pulling her to him.

Elsie tried to pull away, but he held her fast. "I'm a fool. Please forget I said anything. I am being a silly old fool. Just forget it."

Charles slipped his hand under her head, cradling it against his chest, "She is dead, Elsie. Why would such a thing even cross your mind? I love you. I prefer you to everyone."

Elsie looked up at him, "I know it is ridiculous, but I have been jealous of her ever since the day I walked into the pantry and found you digging in that box for her photograph. It was one of the first moments I realized I cared for you as more than just a friend."

"Why, Mrs. Hughes."

Smiling, Elsie wiped the corner of her eye, "You should have heard me in the shed earlier. I gave her quite a talking to."

Charles chuckled, "And what did you say?"

"Well, I called her a twit for breaking your heart but then said she was dead anyway so I couldn't claw her eyes out and then I think I told her that her loss was my gain."

Charles was quite touched by Elsie's confession, overwhelmed that she cared enough about him to lash out at the photograph of someone he hadn't seen in over forty years. He had never felt more loved. "You may owe her an apology."

Elsie pulled her head back sharply at his words, "What?"

"Well, seeing her photo reminded me of how it had felt to care about someone. "

"Go on."

"You see, I had denied myself any thought of caring or loving someone for so long, I wasn't sure if I still had the capacity. I remember a particularly sleepless night that I laid awake in my little bed wondering what a woman I could love would be like." He pulled Elsie tightly to him, "I knew she would have to be kind and clever. And definitely have the patience to cope with my…eccentricities."

Elsie grinned at him, "Yes? And?"

"And that I would want her to be feminine and lovely and warm and gentle," he lightly ran his fingers along her jaw. "I would also want to be able to talk to her about any and everything." Elsie listened intently as he continued, "And she would have to be the last person I wanted to see before I went to sleep each night because she would be the one I would carry into my dreams…and as I considered all of these qualities, I quickly realized I already knew her and, deep down, already loved her." He kissed her temple, "Now I am just sorry it took me so long to tell her."

Elsie pulled his face down to hers, kissing him deeply. "I love you," she whispered as she buried her face into her neck.

"She could never compete with you, Elsie. No one could." He kissed the top her head as his hand ran up and down her back. "Are you ready to turn out the light, love?"

Elsie reached over and extinguished the lamp, happy in the knowledge that hers' was the only flame that burned bright for Charles Carson.