A/N: Welcome back, all! Thanks for continuing with me on this journey. If you're a newbie, remember to start at Chapter One, where all is explained. This would NOT be a good chapter to begin with.

Song choice for this chapter is one of my favorites, "Come With Me," by a little-known band called Brother Sun. Spotify playlist "Music of the Heart" listed under my username, ChelsieSouloftheAbbey. Give it a listen, then enjoy the chapter.

Once again, my undying gratitude to silhouettedswallow, who continues to make my seemingly never-ending drabbles more concise.

I feel the current raging around me,

Try to summon up my strength once more ...

But there you are, in the water with me,

You take my hand and guild me graciously.

Will you come with me on this journey,

With every breath we take keep reaching for the dawn?

I know alone that I will falter,

But with a good friend near me I will carry on.

~"Come With Me," by Brother Sun

Lord and Lady Grantham departed in the morning, followed shortly by Lady Edith. The maids and footmen were all healthy once again, and extra cleaning and polishing duties had been assigned. Once again, Elsie and Charles had time to breathe. It was a welcome change.

Each noticed the other's distraction throughout the morning, but they had no time to address it. Finally, at lunchtime, Charles couldn't take it anymore. He stole a glance at Elsie and caught her attention. Raising an eyebrow in question, he shot her a pleading look, and she responded with a smile and a brief nod. Charles smiled in reply, marveling at how they could have meaningful, wordless conversations. Yes, we will meet tonight.

It's time … but for what, exactly? Charles still didn't know how to approach this conversation. He'd done the deed – he'd purchased an "investment property," which his mind kept referring to as our retirement home, and now he had to break it to his housekeeper. When he'd broached the topic with her, she'd been excited … then they'd visited different cottages that were for sale, and he had become more excited. He regretted having proposed the idea in such an innocent way. But then, it was distinctly possible that she'd seen his true plans before even he had realized them fully in his own mind … and heart.

Charles was so afraid of offending Elsie, knowing that above all else she loathed being pitied. She was the strong one, always shouldering the burdens of others, even some of the family. You need to approach this conversation with care, old man… Charles didn't buy the cottage because he wanted to rescue Elsie from her life. No … you need HER to rescue you from YOUR life … and you know she can.

It was decided … You'll have to just tell her the truth: you love her. At the end of the day, it's that simple.

Charles felt like he was drowning. He didn't notice the bead of sweat trail down his brow.

Elsie kept glancing at the man she loved as he pondered his lunch. He appeared lost in thought, not actually eating but just picking at the food on the plate. How unusual. Noticing a bead of sweat slip down his forehead, and withholding herself mightily from wiping at it with her fingertips, she worried that he might be ill, that he might have worked himself too hard over these last few days. She thought of his stress attack during the war and wished fervently that they could both just retire … together. She scoffed at the thought – really, the man has made it clear before that he will die in the butler's livery, haunting the house forever more. He could never leave "his family," not even for you. After all, Elsie had no real indication that he'd even consider retiring with her. The cottage had been proposed as a simple investment, but was there truly an understanding that they'd actually live in it together one day? Not really … not yet.

Elsie touched his arm, feeling it tremble beneath her hand. She stole a glance around the table. The others were all thankfully lost in their own conversations, paying no attention to the heads of staff. She asked quietly, "Mr. Carson, is everything alright? You seem ill. I hope you've not caught that nasty flu."

Charles couldn't keep up with his emotions … in the span of not even a minute, he'd been happy to see her smile, nervous as he contemplated what to say tonight, then shocked and … something else … by her hand on his arm, and now touched by her concern. It was quite the whirlwind.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Hughes, thank you. Just not very hungry, I suppose."

Elsie raised a skeptical eyebrow, letting him know she didn't believe that excuse for a second. But she let the subject drop. You'll just have to keep an eye on the man today, Els. Turn him away this evening if he looks no better. That last thought hurt, but she knew she could do it if needed.

However, the rest of the day passed without incident. Charles appeared more or less returned to his normal self, and Elsie looked forward to their evening chat with mixed feelings of trepidation and joy. She needed to get to the bottom of the strange situation with that song, and yet she was so afraid of where her words would lead. She'd always been able to read the man's feelings so well, and was concerned that he, too, seemed preoccupied as of late. She felt as if she needed a steadying hand herself today, but it didn't look as though he'd be able to provide one. Elsie sighed, rehearsing her planned conversation starter one more time.

She ought to have known that conversations never happen the way one intends.

Elsie didn't even turn as she heard the soft knock and the opening of her door. "Have you made your last rounds then?" she asked, not looking up from her ledger.

Charles smiled at her back, thankful that they'd come to a point where she could recognize his footsteps, his knock, and that he didn't have to wait to be asked before entering her sitting room at this hour. See, there's trust there … you can trust her with yourself. "Yes, all locked up tight. Just about everyone has headed up to bed," Charles replied.

"Good. I just need another minute here and then I'll be finished, if you'd like to pour."

Charles smiled, knowing she had yet to turn around. It's not often you surprise her, but this should be a pleasant one. Charles placed the tray he was carrying on the side table and softly closed the door. They rarely closed it, but there was no way it would remain open tonight. He poured the liquid, replaced the decanter on the tray, and moved their chairs closer to the fire.

Elsie heard him moving the chairs, wondering if he'd read her thoughts. She was feeling a bit chilly and smiled when she heard him toss extra coal on the fire.

"You're working too hard, Mrs. Hughes, and letting your fire die down," he chided gently.

Elsie's heart warmed at the softness in his voice. This is fine, lass … you'll do just fine talking to him tonight. This is the familiar man, the one who cares about you. She thanked him, and gently enquired about his health one last time.

"As I said earlier, I feel completely fine," Charles answered. "But I thank you for always watching out for me," She DOES always watches out for you, doesn't she? Almost like … a wife. For the first time that week, Charles felt utterly calm, as if held supported by something invisible – held together at last – by her caring and concern. He knew he had nothing to fear anymore.

Finally, Elsie scratched in her last sums, closed her book and put it on the shelf. Turning, she noticed the glasses. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Is that whiskey?"

Charles chuckled. "Yes, I thought that after the week we've both had, it would be a welcome change."

Elsie let out a short, beautiful laugh. "That's the truth."

She took a tumbler from his hand, very careful to not touch his fingers, and raised her glass toward his in a silent toast. They simultaneously emptied their glasses in one sip. It truly HAD been a trying week!

Elsie noticed that he'd placed their chairs closer to one another than usual and she tried not to stare at the man as he rose from his chair to refill their glasses. The atmosphere of calm was dissipating quickly in their silence; however, both were glad of the warming, calming drink, and sipped more slowly this time as they watched the fire.

"Mrs. Hughes, there's something I need to explain to you … " Charles finally uttered.

"Mr. Carson, I've something I've been meaning to ask … " Elsie started at the same time.

They both laughed. "You first," Elsie said. It's not like you to put things off, Els … but the man seems so distracted. Better to have him in a good frame of mind before you go throwing your questions at him.

Charles stared into his drink for a moment, unsure of how to begin. He was about to pour out the contents of his heart to this woman, the one alongside of whom he had worked for all these years, the one without whom he could no longer imagine spending his future. The man felt a strong pull in his chest, and he knew that once he let it all out there would be no turning back, no regaining this precarious balance they'd been living for years. He'd be tipping the scales completely, which might just scatter the infinite joys of their friendship to the wind in the process. But then he looked up from the amber liquid and found himself swimming in the blue of her wide eyes, saw her right beside him as she always seemed to be, and he felt steady enough to begin. Looking into those eyes was like finally, at long last, coming home.

"I've purchased a property."

Elsie stared at him, trying to stifle the sadness creeping into her heart. He bought a property. He knows you cannot be a part of this, and he went ahead and did it. Well … I guess he didn't actually need your contribution at all … But then, why ask? Why would he ask if he could do it on his own? Oh … ohhhh … Hope dawned ever so slowly, mixing with the familiar tune that had been playing in the back of Elsie's mind for days now. She looked into his eyes, waiting for him to continue, nodding a bit in encouragement. Those big, warm, lovely eyes, into the depths of which I could get lost forever … steady, girl … this is HIS plan, HISretirement … but at least he's actually planning for it now, has done something real towards that … steady … have patience.

"Yes … well … you know how I like to stick to a plan. So I've gone ahead and done it," Charles said haltingly. "There is one thing you should know, though."

"Oh?" came her soft reply.

"Ahem … ," Charles stalled. He took a sip of his drink, draining the glass once again, and placing it on the floor beside him before turning back to look directly into her eyes. Trying to convey all of his feelings in that one look, he continued, "Yes … and … I've added your name to the deed."

Elsie was ever so glad for the chair underneath her at that moment, because she would have fallen over for sure if she'd been standing. You will not accept this! He feels SORRY for you. Suddenly everything Elsie had hoped for, any plan for the future she'd envisioned, was slipping away from her, washed away by some current of pity for her situation with Becky.

Charles recognized the look in her eyes before she even finished that thought, raising his hand, palm facing outward to her, as if trying to make some feeble attempt to stop her thoughts. "Now, please … you must let me explain. This isn't pity. Nor is it some misguided sense of responsibility after learning about Becky. I know that's what you must think, and you have to hear me out. Please?"

She nodded, unsuccessfully willing the tears filling her eyes to STOP.

He plodded ahead, feeling now that he'd finally started he'd never be able to stop the deluge until it all came out.

"I know you didn't mean anything dishonest by not telling me about Becky, and I cannot express to you how much the facts of your life have touched me. I have every confidence in your ability to see to your own life, to your own plans for the future. But upon contemplating my own future and this investment for it I realized that, whenever I thought about my retirement, one precious component was always present ... you. You were in my imaginings, by my side as you always have been. I don't know how else to say this, Mrs. Hughes." He paused, gently taking her trembling hand. "I could not imagine the rest of my life without you by my side, steadying me, Mrs. Hughes, as you have always done, because … the truth is, I am hopelessly in love with you."

Elsie gasped, her tears spilling over at last. She took in the blurred vision of this wonderful man before her and felt his huge, warm hand, the one she'd craved to hold again since the day in Brighton, holding her trembling one ever so softly. A small sob escaped as she saw the man (YOUR man, apparently) burst forth from the shell of the butler at last, the enormous wall she'd envisioned for so long finally crumbling to the ground … and, in the dust it left behind, she imagined seeing all her fears being swept away with the pieces. She turned her hand over, squeezing his firmly. The look that passed between them was charged with emotion, and neither noticed the glass she still held in the other hand tipping over, spilling the remnants of her drink onto her lap.

"I thought you'd never – " Elsie was startled by a knock at her door, unable to finish her statement. You've got to be kidding me! Who in hell can be up at this hour, at this moment? Of all the times! She looked at Charles and saw the agony in his own eyes at the knock. Knowing she couldn't simply ignore it, Elsie ripped her hand away from Charles. She was annoyed to see that she'd spilled the remainder of her drink, but she'd get to that after. Standing quickly, Elsie placed the glass on the table, wiped her tears, and called "Come in." She was shocked to hear that her voice betrayed none of the current of emotions flowing through her at that moment.

Charles quickly stood as Tom Branson entered the room. What in the world is HE doing here?

Tom quickly scanned the scene before him, his mind taking in the housekeeper's tear-stained face, the faint scent of whiskey, and the chairs by the fire. With the horrible awareness that he'd intruded on an intimate moment, he hastily explained.

"I'm so sorry to barge in, but there's been a telegram for you Mrs. Hughes. I happened to be down getting some milk for Sybbie and heard the pounding on the door." He handed her a small envelope.

"For me?" Elsie managed to say. "Who would be writing to me?"

She took her letter opener, and ripped the seal. Extracting the message with curiosity and not a little trepidation, Elsie read its contents.

The next few seconds seemed to pass in slow motion. Elsie read the message twice before digesting its brief contents. She felt the room start swimming around her, wondering if it could be some bizarre, cruel joke. But it's not. No one would do such a thing … no one KNEW. She felt as if her heart fell into the pit of her stomach.

Charles watched as Elsie ripped open and read the message. He watched her begin to sway, all the color draining from her face. Rushing over to her, he managed to catch her in his arms just before she hit the floor.

Tom watched in horror and fascination as the butler scooped up the housekeeper and softly placed her on the settee. He was astounded at the gentleness in this big, often blustering man and was touched to find that he was not the only one in the household with a soft spot for their dear Mrs. Hughes. He retrieved the telegram, scanned it quickly, and wordlessly handed it to Charles.

"She has to go," was all Tom said. He noticed the heartbroken look in the butler's eyes as he read the message, and added, "Please, allow me to take care of everything. She means a great deal to me, you know."

Charles could only nod and whisper his thanks. If he knew anything at that moment, it was that there he couldn't leave the side of this woman who lay before him on the sofa. He sat in a chair beside her, held her hand, and softly called her name in an attempt to bring her around.

It was only then that he remembered she'd been meaning to ask him something. Clearly that would have to wait now …