A/N: Okay, this one is weird. Hugs to brenna-louise for beta proofing on the fly, and for reassuring me I'd not lost my mind here.

The song is a live version of Neil Diamond's "Yes I Will/Lady Madgalene" and is on my Spotify "Chelsie Potpourri" list but it's a live version. The music starts at 1:30. I've chosen portions that I think are rather applicable to Charles and Elsie and this entire situation. I love Neil ... using him again later on in another chapter, too. :)

Thank you all for the amazing reviews! They really have driven the direction of the story.

CSotA

Once upon a passing night dream

He beheld a mystic image

Bathed in blue reflection

There he stood and made his song…

Love was in this strange house

And he knew he did belong,

Yes he did belong …

"Elsie," Charles murmured. The power of his voice reverberated through her body as he held her tightly, well aware that she'd simply collapse into a sobbing heap if he released her at all.

"I can't," came her choked voice. "I can't bear it, Charlie." She was struggling to speak, struggling to breathe, hiccups coming in the midst of the sobs and the words. "Not anymore."

"Shhh …" Charles wasn't quite sure what to do. He'd never seen Elsie this distraught, not even the day when they'd parted, unable to find a sensible way to make it together and raise the child.

'The child.' For heaven's sake, man, use her name. Our Margaret. Our DAISY. He shook his head in frustration and confusion, bits and pieces of it all still a bit fuzzy but becoming clearer every day.

He'd always had difficulty seeing the girl as their own. Well, except for in those small, sacred moments when Daisy would smile, proud of something she'd accomplished, or in the times when she'd show kindness to one who was perhaps undeserving of it. In those instances it would hit him full-on that she was, indeed, Elsie's daughter through and through.

And oh, but the girl could be quick to temper! Charles had seen and heard that more than most, his pantry door often open and his afternoons frequently spent at his desk or at the silver cabinet. He'd hear her complaining about trivial things, muttering under her breath, being stubborn when she felt she was right about something and unwilling to accept that she was wrong until someone calmly and patiently explained it to her. Oh, yes, those were times when he'd be forced to see that she was his daughter, too.

But then Daisy would utter something that Mrs. Patmore would say, or she'd chide the new kitchen maid for doing something foolish when the girl should have known better, and the thought would slip away, pushed aside by the appearance of the motherly presence of cook, the side of herself that she would show only to Daisy.

And who was he to decide what formed the personality of a child, anyhow? The young ladies upstairs all shared the same parentage and yet were as different in personality and temperament as the day was long.

What a mess this has become, he concluded. He wished for the millionth time that he hadn't been involved in that train wreck at all - not because of the injury to his person, but because of what it had opened up in his mind. In his heart. He felt simultaneously freer and more trapped: freer to admit the love he felt for Elsie, that he had felt it deep down all these years; freer to admit that they'd had an opportunity for a family and a life together, and that he'd squandered it; but more trapped by the lives they had built, by the choices he had been responsible for, and by the lie they'd buried in the kitchens of the Abbey from the moment Elsie had managed to get Daisy through the doors, this daughter who'd once been theirs, now reclaimed … only not quite.

'She was abandoned, and abused, and needs an opportunity' ... that's what Elsie had said. Well, he allowed with a painful lurch of his heart, at least she didn't lie to me.

Despite all his pondering, Charles knew that in this moment, with this woman he loved more than life itself shedding tears that were soaking his chest, it didn't matter what he could or could not see in Daisy, what her past had been, or how far she'd come as she'd grown into the strong, determined, kind woman that she was now. The only thing that mattered was finding a way to move on, to make peace … and to right the wrong he'd committed all those years ago.

You made a horrible choice then, old man. Don't make the same mistake AGAIN.

Cold it was within the marrow

Waiting like a wounded sparrow

Helpless and forgotten…

Sing your song you fool, you dreamer

Cross the space that lies between us

Cast the stones of fortune

For the journey has begun,

Yes, it has begun ...

"Mrs. Hughes has returned from the village, Milady. Shall I tell her you wish to speak with her?" Carson asked.

"Yes," replied the Dowager. "And Carson?"

"Yes, Milady?"

"Once the tea has been brought, do see that we are not disturbed."

"Of course, Milady."

Violet remained seated at the table in the garden, contemplating the conversation she wished to have with Mrs. Hughes. No, not wished to have … needed to have. She pulled her coat more tightly around her as though she could ward off the chill, even though she knew that it wasn't coming from the outside air but from the discomfort of the thoughts that currently resided in her mind. She had brought with her news that would be both shocking and sickening, she would end up being a messenger of fear and anger, and there would be no way to soften the blow she had to deliver.

Violet knew how others saw her. She was well aware that most of the servants (and half her family) saw her as too outspoken, as quick-witted but also rude at times, and as generally uncaring about the lives of those who worked away in her home. The first two were unfailingly true and she used them as a shield, a way of protecting herself and her true feelings, unwilling to share them with most of the world. But Violet cared a great deal about the wellbeing of her staff and, by extension, the current staff of the Abbey; Carson knew this, she realized, and she knew he valued her care. He always saw right through her, as had her granddaughters and, more recently, Cousin Isobel, and he understood her need for rules and tradition in a way that perhaps no one else did. She only hoped that Carson's perception of her - the bits he'd surely communicated to Mrs. Hughes over the years through the friendship that Violet knew they shared - was positive enough that both women would make it through this meeting relatively unscathed.

No matter, thought Violet. Here she comes now.

Elsie's feet crunched on the gravel as she made her way to the table and chairs in the garden. Two clandestine garden meetings in just as many weeks, she thought. As difficult as the conversation with Dr. Clarkson had been, Elsie wished fervently that it could be him sitting at the table and watching her approach. Anyone would have been an improvement to the woman who was actually there.

Elsie didn't know many of the family very well at all, but the Dowager was the darkest horse of them all. The woman had not been living in the Abbey when Elsie had begun working as head housemaid all those years ago, and she rarely ever had time to interact with her. The most Elsie knew of the Dowager Countess was from the bits and bobs she heard from Charles, Mr. Branson, Lady Sybil and, occasionally, Lady Edith. They painted a rather complex picture, one that wasn't particularly favorable despite the fact that those four people seemed to like the woman, and that thought left Elsie rather nervous about why she'd been summoned.

"Good afternoon, Milady. Mr. Carson informed me that you requested my presence." She gave a little curtsey, then stood stock-straight as she waited for a reply.

"I did, Mrs. Hughes," came the reply. "Please," Violet continued, waving a gloved hand toward the empty chair at the table, "join me, won't you? I've asked Carson to have tea sent. Pardon my choice of venue, but what I have to discuss with you needs to remain as private as possible."

"As you wish, Milady," Elsie replied deferentially. She was rather uncomfortable with being in an unknown situation, seated at a table with a woman she barely knew. The 'Old Bat,' she thought with an inward smirk. She was anxious to know what the old woman had to say, and had a vague suspicion that the conversation would have to do with Charles. It was no secret that Elsie knew him better than anyone else below stairs; perhaps he was ill again? But no, she couldn't even think of anything that the Dowager would want to discuss about him, nothing that the old woman would know of about which Elsie might be in the dark; after all, Elsie knew that she was now considered the fount of knowledge regarding the butler, ever since he'd requested her presence at the hospital. Perhaps that's it, she thought. Perhaps she's hoping that I will give HER information. Fat chance.

Just then, her thoughts were interrupted the sound of what she knew were Charles's footsteps. She turned abruptly, her eyes confirming what her ears had told her, and she wondered why he was bringing the tea himself instead of having sent Mr. Barr- Ohhh, she thought. Of course. He's just as nervous about this meeting as I am. The garden, the secrecy, the demand to take tea with the housekeeper. Yes, perhaps it is a wise decision to serve the tea himself as opposed to delegating it to anyone else.

"Tea, Milady." Charles set the tray on the table, giving a minute raise of his eyebrow in Elsie's direction, and understanding the reply her eyes sent.

I have no earthly idea why I am here. Do you?

He closed his eyes briefly in answer: No.

Charles reached for the teapot, aware that both women were watching his every move. He poured Lady Violet's tea as he'd always done - black, no sugar - and was halfway through preparing Elsie's when he realized that he was being watched. One sideways glance at the Dowager's raised eyebrow and half-smirk told him he'd been caught out. But we work together - of course I know how she takes her tea, he thought madly. There's nothing strange there ...

As Charles handed her the cup, Elsie tried valiantly to not touch his fingers in any way, for it wouldn't do to have the Dowager suspecting anything out of the ordinary. Goodness, the man had just poured her tea as if he did it every day. Well, he does, just about, she thought. Elsie often took care of the tea at the servants' table, but Charles always brought her tea in her sitting room when she was having a particularly difficult day, and he never let her prepare it herself then.

As she looked up at the Dowager's face, however, Elsie realized it was already a lost cause. The woman pursed her lips, suspicion encroaching upon her otherwise stern gaze. She sipped her tea and dismissed Charles immediately.

"You may go, Carson, thank you."

"As you wish, Milady," he replied. On his way by, he shot Elsie one last, desperate look: Good luck.

Elsie sipped her tea carefully, letting the warmth calm and soothe her.

"Mrs. Hughes, I am sure you're wondering why I've invited you to meet with me today," Violet began cautiously. "I wish it were a happy circumstance that led up to it but, alas, that is not the case."

"No, I wouldn't have suspected as much, Milady."

Violet breathed a deep sigh, then began. "Mrs. Hughes, I am aware that your service to my son and his family have been beyond reproach since your arrival at Downton. You've built a reputation for being stern but fair, and kind when needed."

Oh, my God … surely I'm not being let go? No, that makes no sense. It's not HER house now. Then what …?

"Thank you, Milady," Elsie replied warily. "Mr. Carson and I make a rather good team, I will say. It is kind of you to acknowledge my work."

"Yes, well, it was important for you to hear that before I got to the real reason for my visit."

"Milady?"

Violet reached into her reticule and removed a dog-eared envelope. From it she withdrew two sheets of paper that looked as though they'd been unfolded and refolded hundreds of times, as if the woman hadn't been able to keep from reading their contents over and over. Silently, she passed the papers to Elsie.

"I received this in the post last week," Violet said softly, "and I thought you should know."

Elsie placed her teacup on its saucer, the gentle rattling sound making her realize that she was trembling in trepidation and fear. She pried open the paper, scanned the contents, and somehow managed to keep the contents of her stomach contained.

… housekeeper … illegitimate child … surely you knew … could be quite a scandal … payment within one week … no police …

"Oh." Elsie swallowed, tried to speak, but absolutely no words would form in her mind. She felt the heat of embarrassment and shame flood her face, felt the Dowager's eyes boring a hole into her, and concentrated on breathing properly.

Oh, my God. Why now? Why is this all coming back now?The coincidence of the timing was unfathomable.

"Mrs. Hughes? I know this must come as quite a shock. I presume it is true?"

Elsie closed her eyes and nodded, a tear escaping her right eye. "Yes, Milady. It is." She chewed on her lip, contemplating her next statement. "I shall hand in my notice immediately if you wish, of course."

"Mrs. Hughes, perhaps you did not understand me earlier. I have no wish for you to leave my son's employ. You are the best housekeeper this place has had in sixty years - having hired all three of your predecessors myself, I can attest to that most strongly. The matter has been dealt with, and this is the only proof remaining of the … transaction."

Elsie's head shot up, her eyes widening as she comprehended the woman's full meaning. "But … you've paid her? Milady … why?"

"Three reasons, Mrs. Hughes. The first, the obvious, is that I wished to avoid yet another scandal for this family. The second, perhaps also obvious, is that I did - and I don't apologize for this - assume the story to be true before I even asked."

Elsie closed her eyes and nodded.

"And the last reason was so that I could verify the identity of the person from whom the letter had come. You saw that a meeting place was mentioned?"

Elsie nodded again, willing herself to remain silent lest she lose all control.

"Well, I went to it … with the payment, and accompanied by an undercover sergeant from Scotland Yard. As soon as the money was handed over, the vile woman was arrested. I daresay she won't bother you again."

"And her husband?" Elsie managed.

"Dead, according to her, a story which has been verified," Violet answered.

"Alright, then," Elsie whispered. "Milady ... I'm not sure that I can properly thank -"

"There is no need, Mrs. Hughes," Violet interrupted. "Only, tell me, if you would … why? Why leave her behind with them? Surely you must have known … You must have had family, a neighbor?"

"Do you mean that I must have known what type of people they were? No, I had no idea," she whispered. Elsie felt more tears escape even though she was managing to keep herself from sobbing outright in this regal woman's presence. "I'd left the bairn with a neighbor's family. I visited some years later - when my mother had died, and I was back in Scotland for the funeral - I learned that she was gone, that the family had sent her elsewhere and then moved away. I'd no idea where, until this … woman," she said, waving the letter in the air, "contacted me."

Violet, for once, had no words. She simply reached across the table, took the housekeeper's empty hand in her own, and squeezed it firmly.

"I had no idea where they were at first," Elsie repeated, "but then the letters started coming. They wanted money, of course, and I was happy to pay for her care. I had no idea what kind of life she was living, no idea of the hell she'd been succumbed to every day, not until many years later when the husband died. That's why I asked after him, to be sure it was the right family; I recall that it was a sudden death, with his job being the only source of income. The woman wrote to me and said she could no longer keep the child … and so I found a way to bring her here." She paused to take a breath, emotionally exhausted from having to tell the tale. "I foolishly thought that would be the end of it."

"Of course," Violet replied, doing a bit of calculation in her head and coming up with the only plausible solution. "And she has no idea?"

"No, none whatsoever, but I'm not sure how long that will remain the truth."

"Well, I certainly will not be telling anyone!" Violet huffed. "Does the father know? Does he have any involvement in this situation at all?"

Elsie blushed furiously and nodded, refusing to speak lest the rest of the truth slip out.

I can hear your distant trumpet

Calling from the morning mountain

Singing to the passing river

Take me home,

Show me peaceful days

Before my youth has gone …

Violet looked up quickly and Elsie realized that Charles had returned. He let the Dowager know her car had arrived and, presumably, he would be collecting the tray.

But rather than approach the table to gather everything up, he approached Elsie's side, handed her a handkerchief, and laid his hand upon her shoulder. He'd heard enough to piece together what was happening or, at least, most of it.

"Elsie ... ," he whispered, seemingly unaware that he'd done so. She looked up at him with watery eyes, her lip clenched between her teeth once again as she simply handed over the letter so that he could read it.

Violet remained silent as the tender scene unfolded before her eyes, and watched as the butler's face as he read the contents of the pages. A look of seething fury came across his features, only to be replaced by deep sadness as he finished reading, folded the letter, and handed it back to the housekeeper.

"Of course," she muttered, shaking her head in amazement. "You brought Mrs. Hughes to Downton, it was you who convinced Mrs. Connor to hire her."

Charles raised his eyebrows and started to speak, but Violet shook her head in annoyance, effectively cutting him off as her sharp mind continued to piece the story together. "It must also have been you to whom Mrs. Hughes went with this request to bring the child to work in the house."

"It was, Milady." He paused, but then saw no point in not telling her the entire truth. "The young woman is my daughter," he said quietly. He squeezed Elsie's shoulder. "And I'd done precious little to care for her or her mother up to that day. When Mrs. Hughes came to me and told me of the situation, I had no choice but to do as she asked."

"My, my," Violet whispered. "There are few things that go on in my family's home that I remain in the dark about, Carson, but I admit that this one takes the cake."

"No one else needs to know, Milady," he replied quietly. "Mrs. Hughes and I have an understanding."

Violet looked at the housekeeper's face then, and saw all the anguish she expected, and more.

"It seems to me, Carson," she replied, using her cane to rise from her seat, "that you and Mrs. Hughes need to come to a new agreement. And quickly. She does not seem as … complacent as you appear to be about the entire situation."

Charles said nothing. He moved from Elsie's side and offered his elbow to Violet, who grasped it tightly.

"Milady," Elsie said, standing along with her as custom dictated, "I cannot thank you enough for protecting our secret."

Violet reached for Elsie's hand once again as she walked past, stopping to look directly into her eyes.

"I cannot imagine this pain that you've borne. While the situation is far from ideal, I think we both know enough about the world to know that it is not unique, either. I may be many things, Mrs. Hughes, but above them all I am a mother who knows the strain of worrying about her children's well-being. I cannot judge you too harshly for doing what I surely would have done in your place."

Elsie simply nodded her thanks, then moved to gather the tea tray as Charles helped the Dowager back to the house and out to her car. She was eternally grateful that the kitchen was empty at that moment save for Mrs. Patmore, who was too busy grumbling over the evening's meal to even notice her arrival. Elsie simply deposited the tray, turned, and left the room without a word, the lack of conversation being the only thing that was keeping her sanity intact.

Please drop me a note and let me know what you thought! I still plan to wrap the rest of the downstairs cast into this story, but Violet is pushy, folks. :)