A/N: I've lost count of the commas the wonderful silhouettedswallow has removed from my stories. She earns my eternal gratitude for that (and for effortlessly finding JUST the word that I spent days trying to come up with).
This chapter's song choice comes from the Dawson's Creek soundtrack - "Feels Like Home," sung by Chantal Kreviazuk. It's AMAZING – and it's on the Spotify playlist. Go to Spotify's website, Username: ChelsieSouloftheAbbey, Playlist: Music of the Heart
Thanks for the many reviews, which keep encouraging me.
CSotA
If you knew how lonely my life has been
And how long I've been so alone
And if you knew how I wanted someone to come along
And change my life the way you've done...
It feels like home to me.
~"Feels Like Home," by Chantal Kreviazuk
The house was a flurry of activity on Saturday morning. Lord and Lady Grantham were to return that afternoon – three days earlier than planned – due to a plumbing issue at Lady Rosamund's house, and no one had yet heard from Mrs. Hughes. Charles and Anna were furiously rearranging rotas, but it was trying at best. They'd been at loose ends all week without their formidable housekeeper and, now that she would be returning sometime soon as well, Anna in particular was feeling like she needed to get a great deal done to have it all up to snuff.
For what seemed like the hundredth time that week, Anna was reminded why she preferred the role of lady's maid. Being housekeeper meant there were invoices to tally, staff to oversee and dinners to arrange. Anna was relishing the times spent dressing Lady Mary this week; they were much less involved than the supervisory jobs she had to do filling in for Mrs. Hughes. Not that she begrudged the extra work – she'd do anything for the woman – but truly, she was exhausted mentally and physically. She couldn't believe how desperately she missed her husband. As if I'd have two moments to even speak to him, she mused sadly. I can't wait for you to return, Mrs. Hughes!
Then there was Charles. He admired Anna's ability and her knowledge of the housemaids' capabilities but realized once again that it was just easier working with Mrs. Hughes. There was something wonderful about working alongside a woman who could invariably read his mind and anticipate his concerns. He'd had a lingering ache in his heart these last couple of days. I miss you, he thought. So much I can taste it.
Suddenly, as if by divine intervention, the phone on Charles's desk rang. Oh, please let it be her …
"You've reached Downton Abbey. This is Mr. Carson, the –" he managed to get out.
"Hello, Mr. Carson," came the tired voice over the line.
Thank God it's her! Ahhh, her voice … the brogue is so much thicker, deeper somehow. Probably because she's home … But yet, she sounds … hoarse? "Mrs. Hughes, how are you? You sound … unwell?" Oh, VERY nicely done, Charles … such a "welcoming" thing to say, you old fool … But then he heard a brief chuckle and his fears were allayed. Well, alright then?
"Yes, well, it has been an … eventful … couple of days," Elsie said. "How are things at the house?" she asked quickly. How are YOU? Please, please natter on about meaningless details about the house, so that I can return to a sense of normalcy.
Charles heard a desperate need in her words, as if she craved any conversation that would veer off the path of the days she'd just spent. "Well, it's been a whirlwind around here. His Lordship and Her Ladyship are returning early – this afternoon, in fact – and Anna and I are trying to get everything sorted. When will you be returning?" he said.
Elsie laughed at that. "Surely working with Anna isn't THAT bad?" she joked softly.
"What? No! No, but … well … it's not the same," he said meekly.
"Yes, I know," Elsie replied softly. "And have no fear, Mr. Carson – I am anxious to return. I'll be on the three o'clock, actually. But with Lord and Lady Grantham returning as well, I'll plan to get transportation for myself in Ripon." Elsie had no desire whatsoever to return to the Abbey with her employers, and she had no difficulty believing Lady Mary would arrange just that if she were given the opportunity. Hopefully Charles would understand that without being told. Of course he will.
"Splendid," he answered. "That will give you time to unpack, and Anna will see you tomorrow to turn everything over. Shall I let everyone know to expect you at breakfast?"
"Yes, thank you." said Elsie. Good … that gives you time to get it together, Els. Better to start a fresh day tomorrow, maybe take a tray in your room this evening … or in your sitting room, with a little sherry? Elsie was tired once again, and the trip back from Argyll would be lengthy. And hopefully you'll SOUND normal tomorrow, too.
Charles paused a minute, lowering his voice. "Safe travels, Mrs. Hughes. We'll see you soon."
"Good-bye for now, Mr. Carson. I look forward to it," came her reply.
He replaced the receiver and looked up to see Anna standing in the doorway, smiling at him, understanding and kindness in her eyes. He could feel the blush crawling from his chest on upward and knew she saw it, too.
"It's alright, Mr. Carson," she said softly, giving him a gentle nod. "You can rest assured … your secret is safe with me."
As the rest of the morning flew by, Charles was eternally grateful that it would fall to Anna to let Mrs. Patmore know of the family's change in plans. But oddly, increasing the amount of people for dinner didn't faze the cook. Evidently the news that Mrs. Hughes would return that afternoon had also been communicated, lessening the blow considerably, and everything seemed well taken care of. Well done, Anna.
Finding himself with a few hours free, Charles made his way to his pantry. Once again, Mr. Barrow had volunteered to oversee the family's meal, and Charles was taking every advantage. He'd given up trying to figure out if the under-butler had an ulterior motive for his kindness and chose to attribute it to the man's fondness for Mrs. Hughes. She always did understand him better than the rest of us, and goodness knows she's always gone out of her way to be kind to him. Perhaps he's turning over a new leaf … or perhaps you're just lucky. No matter.
Just then, the phone rang, startling him. This cannot possibly be her again. Answering it, Charles was surprised to hear the voice of Lord Grantham.
"Carson," he began, "Her Ladyship and I plan to dine with Lady Rosamund at a restaurant in London. Her kitchen is out of service until tomorrow, and she didn't want to dine alone. Please inform everyone that we'll return on the nine o'clock instead, won't you?"
"Of course, Milord. I'll have the driver at the station to meet you."
Hanging up the phone, Charles headed to the kitchen to inform Mrs. Patmore of this newest change. She seemed a bit more annoyed this time around, but one look at his face told her that it would not be wise to add to his troubles. She simply assured him that the staff would enjoy something extra for dinner. Feeling doubly blessed that Mrs. Patmore was (mostly) calm about the ever-changing plans, Charles headed back to his pantry once more. He was tempted to close and lock the door behind himself but chose at the last minute to leave it ajar.
Sitting at his desk, Charles opened a drawer and removed the book he'd been hiding inside. Turning for what seemed like the hundredth time to that lovely, bracketed passage, he read it, once again enjoying the warm feeling that pervaded his heart each time he did so. Now … you really should RETURN this, but …
A smile appearing on his face, Charles formulated a plan. It was tricky, it had too many variables, and it would be decidedly impossible to carry off without help. Taking a leap of faith, he removed a crisp, cream-colored sheet of stationary from its box and took his pen in hand. With precious little time to waste, he laid pen to paper and set everything in motion. Halfway through his message, he noticed that he was humming a tune that had, over the past days, become increasingly dear in his heart.
Elsie climbed onto the train and took her seat. What a very spacious, comfortable and LOVELY seat, she thought happily, looking forward to a restful journey back. Ordering some tea and honey, she sat back and looked out the window as the train started, leaving Argyll further behind with every spin of the wheels. Thank God. Truly, Elsie loved Scotland and in many ways always would, but she hoped to never see her childhood town again. Her tea arrived and she drank it slowly, relishing as the heat and honey soothed her still scratchy throat. She then put her head back and promptly fell asleep.
Waking hours later, Elsie stretched her aching muscles and tried to massage the crick in her neck. As she looked around, she noticed that she'd be arriving very soon and was a bit annoyed with herself for missing luncheon. However, she was excited – and not a little apprehensive – to be returning to Downton. What are you going to tell him? Best to get to the heart of it sooner, is it not? But with the family returning today as well, there will likely be no time. Better to think on it and approach the conversation tomorrow, at the end of the day, over your wine. Or maybe whiskey … yes, that worked well last time … Elsie smiled at that and, feeling decided, started to straighten her coat and hat.
As the train pulled in to the station, Elsie disembarked and thanked the porter for his assistance with her bag, but she continued to clutch the box of Becky's things to her heart as if she were afraid someone would take them away. The porter gave her a curious look but wisely said nothing. Just then, Elsie heard a familiar voice.
"Mrs. Hughes! There you are, right on time," said Mr. Branson.
"Oh, Mr. Branson! Are you here to meet the rest of the family?" Elsie wondered, brow crinkling in confusion.
"No, they aren't returning for a few more hours – change in plan," he explained. "No, I thought I might come and fetch you, actually. It was no trouble, and I'm sure it will be more comfortable than a hired car back to the house."
Elsie was taken aback by his kindness, but managed a weak, "Well, if you're sure it's no trouble … then, thank you."
Tom reached down and picked up her suitcase. Before she could object, he looked at her with a twinkle in his eye and said, "Not one word about impropriety, Mrs. Hughes, or I'll have to pull rank as a family member and carry it anyhow." He winked at her, and she smiled.
"Well, we can't have you doing that, Mr. Branson. Thank you."
The two of them made their way to the car and Tom loaded Elsie's suitcase. As he reached for the box, Elsie just shook her head.
"No, thank you … I think I'd rather hold onto this myself, for just a while longer," she said, her eyes filling up a bit. Not now, Els … enough with the tears for now.
Tom looked at her with such love and kindness that her heart almost broke right then and there. "Absolutely, Mrs. Hughes. I understand," he said.
Neither of them spoke another word until they reached the house, and Tom pretended not to notice the few tears that she brushed from her lashes along the way.
Charles had just finished up his note when a knock sounded at his door.
He looked up and notice Mr. Barrow in the doorway. Inviting him in, Charles looked at him expectantly. "Yes, Mr. Barrow? How may I help you?"
The under-butler looked decidedly uncomfortable. "I just wanted to say that I'm happy Mrs. Hughes is returning today, sir, and that I've appreciated the trust you've put in me to help you manage things in her absence."
Charles bristled at that but saw none of the characteristic, smarmy look on the man's face. "Manage" things, indeed … But he truly does seem to be grateful. How interesting.
The under-butler continued, "Over the years, Mr. Carson, not many here have shown me much kindness. I admit I've not often deserved it, but Mrs. Hughes has been most … helpful to me, sir … during dark times that I've had. I am sorry that she's going through a difficult time, and I've been grateful to return the favor in some small way. Thank you for allowing me the chance."
Charles swallowed, feeling simultaneously uncomfortable at the idea of actually praising the man before him and astonished at the clear emotion behind the words. He took a deep, contemplative breath. "It is I who should be thanking you, Mr. Barrow. You've done an impeccable job overseeing most of the family's meals over these past few days, and I'm certain that His Lordship will be impressed when I tell him of your service."
Mr. Barrow simply replied, "Thank you, Mr. Carson." With that, he turned and left the room.
Hmmm … maybe she was right about him after all.
Shaking his head as he exited his pantry, Charles headed off to see Mrs. Patmore. Listening to his plan, the cook smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Mr. Carson, I can certainly take care of that for you. Come back around two?"
"Perfect," he replied. "Not a word, Mrs. Patmore … Not. One. Word."
"Swear on my mother's grave," came her reply. She then reached over and squeezed him arm. "I'd do nothing to ruin this … it's brilliant, Mr. Carson."
Smiling and thanking her, he turned and headed off to check in with Anna and obtain her assistance for the last, but most crucial, bit of his plan.
As the car pulled up the long drive to Downton, Elsie gazed at it in wonder. The splendor of the estate would never cease to amaze her. Sprawling lawns, gentle hills topped by seemingly endless skies, and – most of all - the beloved, secluded lake which she knew lay just over the horizon. THIS is where you come from now, Elsie Hughes. THIS is where you belong.
There was a cool autumn breeze today, but none of the chilly rains or strong winds she'd recently endured on her journey. It appeared to Elsie as if the panorama before her was singing to her, calling her home. She was almost breathless with anticipation. Home … truly home at last.
Tom pulled the car up to the front of the house and parked. He opened Elsie's door before she could manage it herself, and helped her out of the car. Stretching a bit, Elsie looked at him and simply said, "Thank you, Mr. Branson."
He smiled and nodded, reaching for her suitcase. "Please allow me to help you with this," he said. "I'll walk around with you." He extended his arm, indicating for Elsie to proceed first, and they headed to the servants' entrance. She knew better than to admonish him for using it, knew that it had been a hard habit for him to break, and not many people would be around at this time of day to even notice anyway.
Entering the dimly lit hallway, Elsie stood for a moment and took a deep breath. Smells of cooking, shoe polish, old wood … all scents of home. It was fairly quiet, except for some noises coming from the kitchen. Elsie imagined hearing a rumbling baritone echo down the hall, but she knew it was only in her mind. There didn't seem to be any sign of Mr. Carson at all. That's odd.
Suddenly, Elsie noticed something – someone – tearing around the corner, almost careening right into her.
"Anna! Whatever are you flying about for?" came Elsie's stern question before she could even think to tame it.
"Oh, Mrs. Hughes! I'm so very happy to see you," Anna uttered. "I heard the car arrive and ran down to greet you, to welcome you back."
Elsie smiled brightly at her. "Thank you, Anna. I've missed you as well. I understand you have had things quite under control?"
"Well, I've had quite a bit of help," Anna said with a smirk. A knowing glance passed between the two women, and Elsie smiled.
"Yes, well, I imagine you have, but that's no reason to diminish the role you yourself have played. You've no idea how much I appreciate it," Elsie told her.
"You are more than welcome," replied Anna. "I understand we shall meet after breakfast tomorrow morning, and I can turn everything back over to you?"
"That is perfect, Anna, thank you," said Elsie. She paused, and then put the box on the floor and gave Anna a warm hug.
Tom watched the scene before him with amusement and not a little tenderness. This woman is so well-loved, he thought. Perhaps now she has some understanding of just how much. Everyone under this roof must owe her a debt of gratitude for one thing or another.
Charles heard the car approaching, and his heart almost leaped out of his chest. She's here!
He rushed to the wine cellar, the one place he knew she wouldn't venture, holding a large parcel in his arms. Now to wait her out. Charles knew she'd have to unpack and was sure she would head directly upstairs. Always taking care of the job that needs doing. The one thing that would surely ruin his plan now would be if she found him …
Heading down the hallway, Elsie's heart was racing with anticipation of finally laying eyes on a certain, stoic butler. She'd sent Mr. Branson away gently, having thanked him for helping with her bag, and she'd spotted Andy and asked him to bring her suitcase up to the door outside the women's corridor. He'd responded happily, seeming grateful to be of assistance. Elsie passed the boot room – empty – and then noticed Mr. Barrow heading into the kitchen. Why is HE serving? Where is Mr. Carson?
Entering the kitchen, Elsie watched as Mr. Barrow picked up the tea tray. "Good afternoon," she said in her most housekeeper-like voice.
"Mrs. Hughes!" squealed Daisy. "Oh, I'm ever so glad to see you!"
"Thank you, Daisy. I can assure you, I'm ever so glad to be back."
Mr. Barrow gave her a genuine smile, saying quietly, "I'm glad to see you as well, Mrs. Hughes. Things … well … they haven't been the same since you've been gone." With that, he took the tray and headed upstairs.
Elsie was stunned, assuming she knew very well to what "things" Mr. Barrow was referring. She was rarely speechless in front of her staff, but the remark shook her to her very core. He's missed me … well … let's hope he doesn't change his mind after we've spoken … after he learns the truth.
"Elsie?" The question came almost in a whisper, highly uncharacteristic of Beryl Patmore. "Are you alright, love? You look as though you've just seen a ghost."
Elsie shook her head sadly. "No, not today. No more of those for a good while, I hope."
The cook looked with tenderness at the woman who'd become such a dear friend to her. "It hasn't been the same, really, but with assistance from Anna and Mr. Barrow he's managed rather well. Mr. Barrow has been a true surprise, extraordinary really, helping Mr. Carson out with this and that. None of us would have quite believed it, but it's true."
"Yes," answered Elsie. "Mr. Barrow does have his moments. I'm glad if they're no longer few and far between."
"Shall I have Daisy bring you something up to eat?" asked Beryl. "I presume you're heading up to unpack?"
"That would be lovely," Elsie said. She smiled at Beryl, squeezing her hand in thanks – for friendship, love, and support, her eyes said – and headed up to her room.
Charles exited the wine cellar after waiting five more minutes, making absolutely sure he did not hear a certain Scottish housekeeper's voice any longer. Better safe than sorry, he thought. Putting his bundle down under his desk, he picked up the item resting on his chair and headed off to find Anna. The easiest bit of all … SHE'LL be tickled to hear of this.
Elsie entered her room, and sat heavily on the bed. She looked around for a bit, taking in each item in the room. Bookshelves, windowsill, her desk, the bedside table. She was already imagining various items contained within the "Becky box," as she was referring to it in her mind, and where they'd end up. Seashells by the bedside, a small photo on the desk, illustration books fitted in with novels. She knew it would warm her heart to feel surrounded by her sister's memory. With a sigh, Elsie rose and began to unpack.
A knock, and then Daisy's meek voice. "Mrs. Hughes? I've brought you a little something to get you through until dinner. Mrs. Patmore wasn't sure if you'd eaten on the train …" she trailed off.
"My, my, Daisy. We must not make a habit of you waiting on me in my room," Elsie said with a twinkle in her eye.
"Oh, I'm happy to!" replied the young woman. "I really am so happy to see you." With that, she gave a little bob and scooted back downstairs to help with the small dinner preparations.
Elsie noted her favorite biscuits, some fruit and some scones and cream on the tray. A "little something" before dinner? Elsie chuckled, and then poured herself some tea and helped herself to one of the lovely scones. Just a bit of a rest, then unpack, stop by the laundry … and verify that my sitting room is still spotless.
As Elsie entered her parlour a little while later, she was pleased to see that it looked as though she'd never left. Moving toward her desk, she sat in her chair. She was looking for her ledger, realizing after a moment that Anna must have brought it home. No time for doing that here if she's been attending to Lady Mary, Elsie thought with some guilt. I hope it's not been too much for her.
Looking around the room, Elsie had the distinct feeling that something wasn't quite right. Her desk seemed in order, and nothing else seemed to be out of place. She perused the walls, the small end tables, the chairs where she and Charles had their sherry, the bookshelves … hold on, those don't look quite right ... Approaching, she bent down to see what was missing. Wait … where IS it? Hearing a knock at the door, Elsie turned and saw Anna enter.
"Mrs. Hughes, I'm sorry to disturb you, but Mr. Carson left this for you." She held out what looked like a small box, wrapped neatly in brown paper, with a simple tie of twine around it. A gift?
"Mr. Carson?" Elsie replied, hoping she sounded normal but knowing, now more than ever, that almost nothing slipped by Anna unnoticed. "Thank you," she said, taking the small package from the maid's hand.
"My pleasure," said Anna, a smile on her lips as she left.
Elsie slowly loosened the neat bow and lifted the edges of the wrapping. Realizing her hands were shaking, she finally managed to remove the paper from the … book. MY book. Elsie fell onto her settee in astonishment. Well, well … NOW we know where you disappeared to, don't we? Gazing at the book, and wondering exactly what her butler had been doing with it when she knew perfectly well he had his own copy, she noted a small envelope peeking out from the cover. It bore four words in a lovely, carefully learned script – four words that made her heart sing: My Dearest Mrs. Hughes.
Elsie tore open the envelope with her still-shaking hands. She removed one single sheet of crisp, folded paper, somewhat confused. What did you expect, lass, a missive declaring his love? He's already done that! Unfolding it, she read the following words:
I contemplated the lake … the waters were placid, all around was calm … the calm and heavenly scene restored me, and I continued my journey …
Please forgive me the incomplete quote, but I trust you know I've not ended up in Geneva. I await your return with open arms.
C.C.*
Elsie smiled broadly, biting her bottom lip in child-like excitement. She knew immediately the origin of the quote – decidedly NOTDickens – and where to find Mr. Carson. She didn't even wonder how he knew that it was her favorite place, or whether it was presumptuous of him to assume she'd go. After spending her voyage back to Downton afraid of losing this man's love – the love that she had only very recently discovered – her fears were suddenly brushed aside. Elsie knew now that she had nothing to be afraid of. She could trust this man with her life and her heart. You always could, really … and, deep down, haven't you always known?
Practically flying down the hallway, Elsie didn't realize at first that she was still clutching the letter. She saw it in her hand as she reached for her coat and tucked it lovingly into her pocket. Trying very, very hard not to run full-tilt, Elsie made her way carefully down to the lake, where she hoped the rest of her life was waiting.
*The quote is from Mary Shelley's Frankenstein … sewn-up bits indeed.