A/N: So … this hurts. Last chapter. I'M emotional, and I knew what was going to happen!
As always, I thank you from the bottom of my music-filled heart for the reviews (of which I never thought I'd see a dozen even though we're approaching 200), reblogs on tumblr, loving words of encouragement and virtual hugs.
Silhouettedswallow has been a wonderful beta to me – excellent with grammar, keeping me on track, everything I never knew I needed. Thank you.
Check out the new cover image, done by the magnificent brenna-louise, reviewer and painter extraordinaire. She's got a starring role in this chapter.
Spotify playlist: username - chelsiesouloftheabbey; playlist - Music of the Heart
xxoo,
CSotA
We were strangers, starting out on a journey,
Never dreaming what we'd have to go through.
Now here we are, I'm suddenly standing
At the beginning with you.
No one told me I was going to find you;
Unexpected, what you did to my heart.
When I lost hope, you were there to remind me
This is the start …
~"At the Beginning," Richard Marx and Donna Lewis
February
Exactly eight days after their wedding the Carsons returned to Downton. To say it was difficult was a gross understatement; they were happy to see everyone and had until the next morning before actually returning to work, but they just didn't want to be there at all. Now that they'd had a brief taste of what the rest of their lives would entail, it wasn't enough; they'd have retired immediately upon returning if not for their promises otherwise.
Lord and Lady Grantham had given them the use of two rooms in the guest quarters. At first Charles was reluctant to accept such generosity, but a week in London with his wife made him see the benefits. The rooms were far away from where anyone else lived in the house and that suited him just fine. Their plan for the day was to conference briefly with Mr. Barrow and Miss Baxter and to meet up in their new rooms afterwards, making a list of what they would still need for furnishings and linens before heading to their staff quarters to pack up their things.
Elsie was in a wonderful mood following her meeting with Miss Baxter. The ledgers were in impeccable shape, the maids seemed unaffected by her absence, and all of her rotas for the upcoming week had already been done. Well done indeed, Miss Baxter! At this rate, I COULD retire today. Elsie shook her head, knowing that wasn't really true but happy to learn she could be at ease about the upcoming transition.
Hearing Charles in his pantry with Mr. Barrow, Elsie knocked on the door to let him know that she was heading up to begin working in their new rooms. He nodded, barely sparing her a glance, distracted by having to walk the under butler through fixing what sounded to Elsie like a simple error of arithmetic. She was once more silently thankful that Mr. Barrow and Miss Baxter were old acquaintances – it seemed he'd be requiring her assistance on a regular basis if Charles couldn't make headway these next few weeks. It made Elsie realize, once again, how lucky she and Charles had been to work together all these years. They shared similar talents and skills and had always known without a doubt that they could count on one another as equals – even if she was a bit more easygoing and he a bit more traditional. She knew that the relationship between Mr. Barrow and Miss Baxter wasn't going to be as balanced; it seemed Miss Baxter would be doing her own job and watching over Mr. Barrow's shoulder … although that would not be such a bad thing, really.
Heading down the empty corridor, Elsie was reminded once again of just how far away their rooms were from the inhabited parts of the Abbey. Thank heaven for small favors, she thought as she walked, reflecting briefly on their time in London. No one within earshot whatsoever. Apprehensive though Elsie had been leading up to her wedding, having had only one not-so-wonderful experience upon which to draw, she was thrilled to have discovered that one night in her husband's arms had opened her eyes to infinite possibilities. Even at our age, she thought gleefully.
Unwilling to wait for Charles to arrive, Elsie found the correct key on her chatelaine and opened the door to what would serve as their sitting room for the next several months. Three steps into the doorway she stopped short, her jaw dropping nearly to the floor.
Elsie and Charles had last seen these rooms a week and a half ago. She had taken note on that day of a layer of dust that had built up in the unused rooms, and since seeing it Elsie had been dreading the beating the rugs would need. She remembered taking note during that visit of the mismatched furniture in the parlor and bedroom (which lacked a sturdy bed). She and Charles had discussed which pieces they could use and which should go into storage elsewhere, and she remembered their discomfort when discussing the bed itself. She remembered the curtains, the tables, the linens and the lack of personal decoration.
What she saw in front of her resembled nothing of what she remembered.
Just then, she heard Charles's footsteps coming down the corridor. When he made it to the doorway, she still hadn't quite regained the ability to speak.
"Elsie, why are you just stand- … ?" was all Charles could manage as he looked over Elsie's shoulder at the scene before them.
The parlour curtains were wide open and sunlight was coming in the windows. All odds and ends previously hanging about had been removed, and the room had clearly been given a severe cleaning and polishing. In place of random end tables and rugs they found an enormous sofa. Looking to the fireplace, they noticed two leather armchairs placed within arm's reach of one another, set so that their occupants would face the hearth. Next to the chairs were two side tables with a reading lamp on each. On the floor lay a soft blue rug, which matched wonderfully with the dark brown of the leather chairs, and the stunning brown and blue brocade of the sofa – a pattern that Elsie noted right away matched the drapes.
The bedroom was an even bigger shock. Instead of the shabby double bed that had once resided there, they found an enormous sleigh bed – a bed that even my husband will fit in comfortably, thought Elsie, sending a quick prayer of thanks to the heavens. The dark wood of the nightstands and bed frame gleamed in the sunlight. On the opposite wall there was a huge armoire, more than twice as large as the ones found in the staff quarters.
They knew, after having spent decades working in and examining every corner of the house and having seen furniture moved in and out over the years, that all of this was new. What they couldn't fathom was where it had come from … or when … from whom … or why. "Elsie?" Charles asked, his eyes wide. She looked at him and just shook her head. I've no idea.
Still in shock, Elsie ventured into the bath where she found plush towels nicer than any she'd ever had in her life, along with bottles of soap and oil similar to those she had enjoyed in London. Charles's voice was coming to her from the bedroom, commenting in amazement at the softness of the spread, the quality of the fabrics, and the extra pillows along the headboard. She made her way to his side, slipping her arm around his waist for a moment, trying to take it all in.
Fires had been laid in both rooms, and Charles reached over to open the wardrobe door, a suspicion growing in his mind. Sure enough, his clothes and Elsie's were hung side by side. Charles took his wife's hand as they walked back into the sitting room, noting with wonder that someone had thoughtfully brought up the rest of their personal belongings from their rooms in the staff quarters: his books were now arranged in similar fashion to how he'd had them in his room, except that now her collection was mixed in; arranged on other shelves were her pictures, some he knew were from Becky; candles that he figured also came from her room had been placed on the fireplace mantles and were now lit, twinkling in the silent space they now occupied.
Neither of them could wrap their heads around it all; the rooms resembled those of the upstairs family in appearance and the quality of the furnishings and yet they had soft, personal touches that were clearly 'Elsie and Charles.'
Suddenly Elsie spotted something amongst all the candles over the fireplace – a note, discreetly placed against the back of the mantle. Reaching for it, she saw that it was addressed to "Mr. and Mrs. Carson." The handwriting was familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place it. She looked at Charles with an expression of puzzlement on her face as handed the envelope to him. She watched him as he tore it open and removed the note, reading it aloud:
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Carson,
Please accept all you see before you as a heartfelt way to welcome you both home.
It is important that you start your new life together with some comforts that you can share, with a place where you can enjoy each other's presence as each day begins and ends. Upon moving into your cottage at the end of the Season, all of the furnishings of these rooms will be transported to it.
Please consider them a wedding gift …
"Charles?" Elsie felt there was more to the note, but he'd stopped reading and she knew he was having trouble reining in his emotions.
"It's from Lady Mary," he whispered, tears falling at last. "It's her wedding gift to us. All of it," he said, handing his wife the note.
Elsie just shook her head in wonder, not knowing what to say. She placed the note on a table and reached out to her husband, wrapping her arms around him as he bent his head towards hers; she felt a couple of his hot tears touch her forehead. They moved over to the sofa and sat for a long while, snuggled together and holding onto one another but not saying a word, each taking time to gather their thoughts and take in the magnificence of the gift itself.
April
"Elsie, I'm heading down to meet with the workmen before they get started next week. Would you be free to join us at all?"
Elsie looked up from her desk and smiled at her husband, who – bless him – kept trying to involve her in every minute decision about the addition to their cottage. She trusted him implicitly and, frankly, wished she did have the freedom to join him, but with Anna's bairn due in less than two weeks she wasn't willing to be out of earshot of the telephone for any reason … cottage included. He was enjoying his retirement immensely, she was happy to see, and she was happier than she'd thought she could be letting him make all the decisions for their future home. He needed to be occupied, and this was just the thing.
"You know I'd love to, but … "
Charles felt his heart sink just a little, but nodded his understanding. In the beginning of the process he'd discussed all the possibilities with Elsie and they'd spent hours pouring over plans and making decisions about windows, lighting, furniture and colors. As they moved forward with more specific plans he was proud that she entrusted the decisions to him while she was working at the house. He knew her well enough anyhow to pick the things she was certain to choose for herself … and she knows it. He shook his head and looked at his wife affectionately. He missed her when they weren't together, more so since he'd retired.
"I know, I know … Anna. Well, if you do change your mind you know where I'll be. But even if you don't I should have a more detailed schedule tonight of when everything will be happening."
He moved forward for a kiss, which Elsie provided enthusiastically. They were not quite as afraid of physical intimacies as they once had been, but they still needed to be professional.
Elsie broke away first. "Charles, the door … "
He shot a glance at the doorway, then peeked up and down the corridor to see if anyone was milling about. Rushing back, he kissed her again, rather passionately.
"What?" he grumbled after she pushed him away. "The coast was clear."
She just shook her head and chuckled. "Good-bye, love. I'll see you at dinner."
As her husband turned to walk away, she may have given him a little pinch.
Elsie heard the telephone ring as she was finishing up her afternoon's work, but she really didn't think much about it. In the past it would have been Charles who answered it, but he was now officially retired and was presently at their cottage. She assumed Mr. Barrow would have the wherewithal to take care of it but, no, it rang incessantly, finally driving her to distraction. Not a good impression, really, if the good servants of Downton Abbey cannot manage to answer the telephone. She weighed her options: Charles upset because someone other than the butler answered the phone versus no one answering the phone. Deciding, she made her way across to the pantry.
"Downton Abbey, this is the housek-" she managed.
"Mrs. Carson! You need to come quickly," came Isobel Crawley's voice over the line. "It's Anna … the baby …"
Elsie slammed the earpiece back down onto the phone, sparing a brief moment wondering if she'd broken the thing, then ran out into the hall.
"Miss Baxter, it's Anna. I'm going down to the Bates cottage. Find Mr. Bates now, please, and have him come as soon as possible."
"Of course, Mrs. Carson. Send Anna all our love. I'll let Her Ladyship and Lady Mary know right away."
"Thank you," Elsie said, grabbing her coat and hat and flying out the door. She knew from past experience that it took her approximately fifteen minutes to walk to the Bates' cottage; she made it in nine.
As Elsie approached the cottage she heard a bloodcurdling scream. Anna! Oh, dear God please let everything be okay … Taking a deep breath, she opened the front door, not even bothering to knock as she knew Anna, Mrs. Crawley, and hopefully by now Dr. Clarkson would all be upstairs. Elsie had only seen one birth in her life and that was Becky, so it had been over fifty years. She knew some advances had been made, but she was still wary of what kind of scene she'd find. Anna was a small girl, and the bairn seemed to be so big already … and it was a bit earlier than they'd expected him or her to arrive. Elsie was wondering if Anna's insistence to give birth at home had perhaps not been a wise one. I wish Charles were here!
Miss Baxter finally found Mr. Bates in His Lordship's dressing room where he was returning a pair of trousers that had needed mending. "Oh, thank goodness," she gasped, having practically run all over the Abbey looking for him.
"Miss Baxter?" His face fell suddenly as he realized why she was frantically searching him out. "Anna?"
"Yes, Mrs. Carson took the phone call and is headed there now. I've let Lady Mary know, and she'll tell the others. You're going to be a father tonight, I think," she beamed at him.
"Thank you, Miss Baxter. I've not yet dressed His Lordship though," he began.
"I'll take care of him," came Charles's voice from the doorway. "I just returned a few minutes ago and Lady Mary told me. I'll take care of His Lordship – you go." Charles clapped his friend's arm, squeezing it quickly before releasing it.
"Thank you, Mr. Carson." With that, Mr. Bates was off.
Charles was pensive as he prepared Lord Grantham's attire for the evening. The baby is early, isn't it? Is that healthy? Oh, Anna … He was very grateful that his wife would be there; she was amazingly good at maintaining a calm atmosphere when one was needed, and he knew that if anyone could soothe Anna until her husband arrived it would be Elsie. It made him wonder fleetingly how it would have been if they'd married long ago, if it had been Elsie who was preparing to bring their child into the world. While it saddened him that they'd never had that chance, the thought of being in John's position terrified him. No, it's better this way. Nodding firmly to himself, he finished brushing the jacket in his hands.
He had a feeling it was going to be a very, very long night.
"Mrs. Crawley?" Elsie called as she deposited her coat on the rack by the door. "Anna?"
A whimper and then a cry that told her Anna was in a great deal of pain made their way to Elsie's ears. She rushed up the stairs to Anna's room.
"Anna …" she gasped, and made her way to her dear girl's side in an instant, grasping her hand. She bit her lip and looked at Mrs. Crawley's face, knowing as soon as she did that things were not as they should be. She caught Mrs. Crawley's eyes. What's going on? Mrs. Crawley gave the tiniest shake of her head, sending back a clear message of her own: Not now … not here.
Elsie turned to Anna. "Oh, lass, how are you holding up? Childbirth is definitely not for the faint of heart, but you're the strongest woman I know." She squeezed her hand, and Anna looked up at her with utter fear showing all over her features.
"Mrs. Carson, something is wrong," she whispered. "It cannot possibly be like this for everyone. This is … gasp, breathing, gasp, breathing … awful."
Elsie smiled at her. "In my limited experience, which mind you was some fifty years ago almost … it is most definitely difficult. My Mam said it was the worst pain she'd ever felt (well, that's saying something now, isn't it Els, when you think about it?) and that it was also the best thing she ever did. You'll be fine, my girl. John is on his way now." Elsie never called him that, but she sensed the need to calm Anna as much as possible.
"How far apart?" Elsie asked Mrs. Crawley. Elsie had a vague recollection that things would progress more rapidly as the evening went on, of course, and thought she remembered something about five minutes between contractions being important.
"About fifteen minutes, and she's been dozing in between, thank goodness," came the reply. Then, to Anna, "I'm going to have Mrs. Carson help me bring a few things upstairs. I promise we'll be back before the next one, alright?"
Elsie marveled at the woman's ability to calm a patient; truly, Mrs. Crawley seemed a different person bedside than she was when surrounded by the family. With them, she seemed either overly familiar or, sometimes, the polar opposite: stiff and uncomfortable. But here, with Anna, she was in her element even though she'd not worked for years. She must have been an amazing mother and a very gifted nurse indeed.
"Okay," whispered Anna, drifting off. Elsie caught Mrs. Crawley's eye and followed her out of the room and down the stairs.
In the kitchen, Elsie put a huge kettle on the hob while Mrs. Crawley grabbed a few sandwiches from the icebox. "It's not good, Mrs. Carson," she began. "Anna called the office but Ri-… Dr. Clarkson is delivering Mrs. MacIntyre's baby, believe it or not. I left him a note on his desk and came myself."
Elsie noticed the slip of the name and the flush that crept up the other woman's face. Well, well … it's about time … and she was just hanging about his office, was she? "Thank goodness you were there. You've assisted with childbirth before, I presume?"
"I've been present for three, not including Matthew's," she answered. "Each went flawlessly … and Anna's does not resemble them." Suddenly, Elsie saw the fear in Mrs. Crawley's eyes.
"Oh, dear God …" she whispered.
"I cannot be certain, but Anna doesn't seem right, exactly. I am hesitant to say anything out of turn, mind you, but with the amount of back pain she's describing I fear the baby's head is not in the right place. Not fully breech, but not entirely correct. I think it's what's causing a great deal of her agony."
Elsie nodded, knowing that Mrs. Crawley wouldn't have spoken the words if she weren't sure of herself.
Mrs. Crawley closed the kitchen door, and then turned back to the housekeeper. "Mrs. Hughes, I know what happened to Anna," she said quietly. "I am certain that she's fine physically, but I imagine the terror she's feeling is in some way connected to that hideous experience. I'm not altogether sure she'll appreciate Dr. Clarkson's presence … "
Just then, the door flew open. "Anna!" came John's voice. He made his way up the stairs just as the kettle began to boil.
Elsie looked at Mrs. Crawley. "Go up. He'll need you to explain everything to him as he's sure to be terrified for her," said Elsie. "I'll be up in a moment." She started reciting things from a long-ago memory. "Hot water, clean towels, string, a sterile scissor … anything else?"
"That'll do for now, but the sandwiches are for us. Have some now while you're down here, I've already eaten two. I doubt we'll convince Mr. Bates to leave her side long enough to eat a thing, but it's going to be a long night for us all and I know you've not eaten … her contractions are closing in on one another, but not very quickly."
Elsie nodded. "Very well. And, Mrs. Crawley? Thank you so very much for telephoning."
"She wouldn't stop asking …" Mrs. Crawley said, a strange look on her face. "She kept mumbling … I thought she was hallucinating for a moment, and wondered how to contact …" she drifted off.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand … she was hallucinating?" Elsie was becoming more and more afraid.
"No, no, I realized she wasn't … after a moment she said your name and it clicked." She paused, then gave Elsie a smile full of kindness along with, Elsie was surprised to see, something like admiration in her eyes. "She said … she said she needed a mother's presence by her side." With that, she headed up, leaving a stunned, emotional Elsie behind in her wake.
Anna's pain level was extraordinary, and when Dr. Clarkson arrived he seemed concerned. Anna had adamantly refused any medication when the doctor told her there was a chance it could affect the baby, that too much morphine could enter the baby's bloodstream and make the first few minutes of life difficult. When he examined her to see how far dilated she was, he confirmed Mrs. Crawley's suspicion that the baby's head was not properly aligned with the birth canal. He had performed deliveries in the past where he'd had to utilize forceps, and he loathed it, but there was no other way to ensure that the baby's neck wouldn't be broken. He explained to Mr. Bates in the most clinical words possible what the process would entail, how the baby needed to be repositioned for delivery, and when Anna drifted off her husband convinced the doctor to administer a very small amount of pain medication when the time was ready. John knew Anna would want to kill him when she figured it out, but she was already in so much pain and he wasn't sure how much more she (or he) could take. Reluctant to go against his patient's wishes but understanding what the pain would be like without it, Dr. Clarkson prepared a small syringe and set it aside.
Elsie observed the entire scene with a mixture of interest and horror. The doctor (ever the professional, as she well knew … ) and the husband, at odds over the woman who was barely able to speak up for herself anymore because she was in so much pain, facing off in front of the woman who wanted to stand up for Anna's wishes but who, as a nurse, understood the value of a patient in less pain. It was a tense atmosphere, something which Elsie usually hated. She simply sat and held Anna's hand and, surprisingly, her own tongue as well. It's not your place, Els … you're here to hold her hand and calm her, that's it.
Elsie sat beside Anna, wiping her brow and holding her hand, speaking soothing words to her as the night wore on. Dr. Clarkson listened as Elsie spoke softly to Anna, sang to her even, and a couple of times the doctor heard Elsie slip into Gaelic. She seemed unaware that she'd done so and he wondered how tired she must be, but despite repeated suggestions that she get some rest Elsie refused to leave Anna's side. Dr. Clarkson knew that Anna had gone to Mrs. Carson the night of her attack, needing her support and help, and he knew that the older woman was trying to calm and protect Anna from her fears tonight. His years as a doctor had opened his eyes to a great deal about human interaction, and he understood that the support women provided to one another during times of struggle should never be underestimated. As long as Anna is calm, this woman can sing or say whatever the hell she wants. Thank God she's here.
The hours passed on, and Anna's contractions got closer together, coming harder and faster, until Mr. Bates had to leave the room to collect himself. Elsie followed him, worried at the look in his eyes. Dr. Clarkson asked them to stay outside for a bit as it was time for the forceps, but he asked Mrs. Crawley to stay and encourage Anna to push. He felt the forceps were so horribly invasive, so … violent, and given Anna's recent history with violence he definitely wanted Mrs. Crawley's presence to help steady Anna. Yes, man … and she'll steady you a bit as well.
"I can't bear it, Mrs. Carson," Mr. Bates admitted, tears on his face. "I can't bear seeing her in so much agony."
"Mr. Bates – John – you have no choice. If you love her, you need to button it all up until that wee bairn enters this world. Anna needs you. You've both hoped for this for so long, and the doctor is righting the baby's position now, after which he's assured us all that the delivery will be fairly straightforward." She put her best Scottish dragon housekeeper face on. "Get back in that room, Mr. Bates."
Just then, they heard Anna scream. "You'd better come in, quickly!" came Mrs. Crawley's voice.
Charles was confused. He was once again on the beach in Brighton, paddling in the water, but when he turned to take Elsie's hand she wasn't there. Where is she? I can't do this without her. He walked on, calling her name and looking in all directions, hoping he hadn't missed his opportunity to be alone with her and talk a bit away from the others. Maybe today will be the day you tell her how you feel. Or not. Suddenly the ocean became warmer, almost too warm, very warm indeed, on his legs. He looked down, but instead of water he saw a mass of red. Fire? No … Reaching down, he felt the strange, soft redness and, as he touched it he heard a shrill, screeching noise. What is that?
Trying desperately to figure out where the sound was coming from, Charles turned his head again. Elsie! Where are you? Then he felt a sharp pain in his neck, causing his eyes to fly open. Cursing the sunlight pouring in the window, he shut them again quickly as he heard the noise again. The telephone! Who on earth is calling at this hour? Wait … how am I hearing the telephone?
Opening his eyes again, Charles realized he'd fallen asleep in Elsie's sitting room while waiting for her to return from the Bates cottage. The phone was still ringing, and he tossed her red afghan on the floor as he ran to Mr. Barrow's office to answer it.
"Downton Abbey, this is Charles Carson speaking."
"Hello, Granddad," came his wife's sweet, sleepy voice.
"What?"
"Silly man," she replied. "What do you think? Anna's had the baby! Have I woken ye?"
"Yes, what time is it? Is she okay? Is the baby okay?"
"Six in the morning – I can't believe I woke ye. Ay, she's fine, the bairn is fine, and all three of them are sleeping peacefully."
Charles was clearing the cobwebs from his head as he listened to his wife's voice. "Your accent is thicker, love. Have you had any sleep at all?"
"No," she answered honestly. "It was a long, harrowing night, the details of which I'll spare you for the moment. But our Anna did just as she was supposed to – she was truly amazing. Charles, it was the most miraculous night."
"I'm so glad you were there, love. May I walk down? I understand if they don't want company, but you've not slept and I won't have you walking home unaccompanied."
Elsie laughed softly. "I'd like that, actually, and I am so tired I won't put up even the tiniest fight. I can't wait to see you."
"Oh … and Granny?" he said with a smile she could hear.
"Yes?"
"What sex is the 'wee bairn'?"
"Oh, my!" she said, remembering back to the time Master George was born and Charles had forgotten to ask about that. "A girl … a lovely, precious, dark-haired, wee lass."
Elsie waited for Charles downstairs, where she and Mrs. Crawley had just finished what seemed like their hundredth cuppa. Dr. Clarkson had gone home an hour ago but the women wanted to remain until both parents were awake, just in case there were any problems.
Thinking it was her fatigue that was loosening her tongue, and not really caring, Elsie asked, "Mrs. Crawley, may I ask you something?"
"Of course, Mrs. Carson."
"Dr. Clarkson?"
"What about him?" asked Mrs. Crawley, who was suddenly blushing ferociously and looking anywhere but at Elsie.
Oh Elsie, why on earth did you have to say anything?
She sighed. "I only wish to say this once, and you may ignore me if you like."
"Yes?"
"I presume he knows how you feel about him? I certainly do hope so. I can tell you firsthand that the longer you wait, the more time you spend wondering about how your life could be but not actually living it at all."
At that, Mrs. Crawley smiled widely. "You are absolutely correct, Mrs. Carson. He does know, we have, well … discussed it, hypothetically, but I think we've come to some sort of understanding. I was confused for such a long time, but when everything went south with Lord Merton and his atrocious son, Richard was there for me, to support and help me as I made my way along." She noticed too late the slip of dropping his given name, but found she didn't care much anymore. "I appreciate your thoughts, you know. In fact … if you would … I'd like you to call me Isobel. I've always admired you, Mrs. Carson, more than most in that house truth be told, and I think we could be great friends. Please."
Elsie thought about it, then reached over to take the woman's hand. "If you'll call me Elsie – only never at the big house, if you please – then I'd be honored to."
Isobel nodded, and Elsie rose from the table as she heard a knock at the door. Rushing over to open it, she missed her new friend's smile and shake of the head.
"Charles!" Elsie gasped. "Are you ever a sight for sore eyes!"
As her husband came through the doorway he wrapped his loving arms around her. "I'm here, love," he murmured quietly, kissing her head. "How are you, besides completely dead on your feet?"
"Wonderful," she replied.
Just then Charles spotted Mrs. Crawley, but he refused to relinquish his hold on his wife. "Mrs. Crawley, good morning. I gather you've all had quite a night."
"We have, but I'm thankful you're here Mr. Carson. I'm just going to tidy up in here; please, head on up and let Elsie introduce you to your new granddaughter."
Halfway up the stairs he realized that she'd not said 'Mrs. Carson.' "Elsie?" he asked quietly.
"Yes … it seems we are to be friends … with Isobel," she said as he husband winced, the familiarity not comfortable for him at all. "And, I think, with our resident doctor."
Charles raised a bushy eyebrow. "Honestly? Thank goodness he finally got around to it."
Elsie snorted a laugh – another sign that she's exhausted, Charles thought – and squeezed his hand. "Shhh … be very, very quiet."
Charles followed her into the room, diverting his eyes from the bed where Anna and her husband lay, her head on his arm, sound asleep. He headed over to the bassinet and peeked inside.
"She's so tiny," he whispered reverently. "I always forget how tiny they are."
Elsie looked at him with wonder: her tall, blustery, buttoned-up butler, a man who could hold his own in the presence of the most important figureheads in this country and beyond, practically brought to his knees at the sight of the wee lass who slept before them. She couldn't help but tease him just a bit.
"Is there a need to get this sentimental, Mr. Carson?"
He looked at her, leaning over and kissing her gently on the lips. "Yes, Mrs. Hughes," he teased back. "I'd say that the need for sentimentality today is very great."
Elsie reached into the basket and lifted the babe, looking at Charles with a question in her eyes.
"Maybe I shouldn't," he said, looking a bit afraid and waving his hands nervously.
"Nonsense," she said, holding the wee one out to him until he extended his hands. If he put those hands together he'd hold her entire body, just about. And then, just like he'd been doing it every day of his life, Charles tucked their granddaughter into the crook of his elbow, softly crooning to her in his beautiful voice, a gentle lilt to it that Elsie hadn't heard in many, many years.
"Well, hello little 'wee bairn,'" he said, his eyes twinkling at Elsie as he mastered her accent almost flawlessly. She just shook her head. "What's her name?"
"Brenna Elisabeth," she replied quietly. Charles raised his eyebrows, and she nodded. "Brenna for John's mother's middle name … and Elisabeth … for me," she whispered.
"Well, then, she shall be very blessed indeed." Elsie put her arms around his waist, holding him and leaning on him as they watched the tiny fingers reach out from the swaddling and latch onto his jacket. No more words were spoken – or needed – as they marveled at the amount of miraculous love in that one little room.
Anna woke shortly thereafter, not surprised at all to see Charles holding her baby. "Good morning, Granddad. Please take your wife home – she needs to rest."
"Anna, congratulations, my dear girl," he said, handing the babe to her. "I am honored that we will be able to be part of this one's life and to be able to call her our granddaughter. Thank you," he said, reaching over to place a kiss to Anna's head.
"It's we who are honored, Mr. Carson," replied Anna. "You're the only family we have, really."
Charles just nodded, unable to speak. Turning to his wife, he said, "Let's go home, dear. I think this little family needs some time to get to know each other."
Elsie nodded, sad to be leaving but relieved at the thought of getting into her bed within the hour. "Call us if you need anything, Anna. Between myself and Miss Baxter we'll be sure everyone knows. You just let us know when you're up for visitors, alright?"
Anna nodded. "Can you come back this evening, if you're free?"
"Absolutely." And with that, Charles led his wife downstairs, folded her into her coat, and half-carried her home. The servants' corridor was bustling, and they got a brief greeting from one of the maids, but anyone who took one look at Mr. Carson's face didn't even bother to try and engage his wife in conversation. He guided her upstairs to their rooms, and helped her undress. He practically lifted her into bed, tucking the blanket around her and realizing she'd already fallen asleep. Leaning over, he kissed her on the forehead and headed downstairs. With any luck Miss Baxter would let him help with Elsie's chores, and if he was very quick about things they'd be able to nip back down to the Bates cottage after dinner.
"So, I've got the final plans for the addition to the cottage, and the written estimate is here," Charles said, handing a slim folder to Elsie. "What do you think?"
She opened it as she sipped her tea. They were tucked away in her sitting room downstairs, a brief lull in the activities of the day finally providing them with time to say more than a few words to one another in passing. Elsie had slept until noon, but then she'd forced herself to get up and was glad she did as the day had proven to be a trying and busy one indeed.
"Oh, this does look lovely. It's different than what I'd imagined, larger I think, but I truly love it. And the figures are about what we thought. Well done, Charles!" She beamed at him with a look of utter adoration, unable to believe that in three months' time she'd be retired alongside this lovely man and, if all went according to schedule, fully enjoying their new home.
"The basic framing, roof and walls should be completed in about two months' time. I'll spend the days overseeing parts of the project, but I don't want to be a nuisance. I think I'll spend some time with the gardener at the Dower House, actually – he's got a few ideas for our little garden that he wishes to share with me. Anyhow, after the construction is finished everything will be painted, and by the end of the July we should be all set to move furniture in. We might even be able to move in a couple of weeks before the family returns."
"Excellent," sighed Elsie. "I'm tired, love, and I confess that I'll be glad when the family heads to London next week. From what I've been told only Lady Mary will be remaining. Madge will accompany Her Ladyship and either Miss Baxter or I will attend to Lady Mary."
"What about Lady Edith?" Charles asked. "Surely she'll be staying at Grantham House?"
Elsie looked guilty, biting furiously on her lip, and her husband was immediately suspicious. "Elsie … ?"
Elsie steeled herself for his reaction, closing her eyes. "Lady Edith is moving permanently to London, Charles." Then, after a brief pause, she added, "With Miss Marigold."
"What?!"
Elsie opened her eyes, plowing ahead. Best to get it all out now. "Charles, surely even you realize that the child … well, they're moving anyhow. Her job requires her to be at the office almost daily. She's purchased a home and is hiring a nanny who will double as lady's maid. It's a very simple, very modern, and very economical plan." In short, it's a very Lady Edith sort of plan.
"And how, may I ask, do you know all of this?" Charles was desperately trying to wrap his brain around the words spilling out of his wife's mouth. Pieces of things he'd only entertained as wild suspicions were rapidly falling into place.
Elsie looked at her lap. "She told me several weeks ago, just before you retired. She asked for my assistance in posting for the nanny position; I helped her to draft the advertisement."
Charles was stunned. "I cannot believe you said nothing about this!"
She looked up at him, eyes wide, a bit put off by his tone. "It was not my news to share, Charles, not at the time anyhow. I knew how you'd react and I didn't think it would serve us well for you to spend the last days of your career here in a mood." Her eyes now contained a flame of the Scottish fire he'd been so used to seeing over the years, and Charles knew he was going to lose this argument.
"You're right," he sighed.
"I'm sorry … I'm not sure I can be hearing this right?" Elsie said with a smirk.
He smiled. "You're right, love. Mind you, I do not exactly approve of the decision as it's not a situation that befits a member of this family, but I realize that it's not my place to give approval or not. And you are absolutely correct in saying that having this knowledge then would have affected my ability to perform my job."
"I agree that it's not the 'done thing,' Charles, but when has Lady Edith ever been an active member of this family? She's always lived her life in the shadow of her sisters, taking a less participatory role in things. Her time spent working with the soldiers during the war was the first time I ever remember thinking she was coming into her own person. She needs to do this, she needs to forge a life for herself that means something. That young woman is intelligent, Charles, and she needs to foster that keen mind. Surely you can understand that."
He pondered her words, rolling the ideas around in his mind. "Hm. Yes, I suppose you are right. She sounds much like someone else I know, when you put it like that."
Elsie smiled at him, nodding. "You know I usually am right, dear."
And then her husband continued speaking, his words astonishing her. "I suppose it's best that she leave then, head somewhere she can take a more participatory role in the life of her child. It's important that Miss Marigold grow up in a place where she can be loved and cared for by her mother, and London is big enough that, after a few years, people will forget."
Elsie reached over and wrapped her arms around Charles. "I knew you'd get there in the end," she said softly.
"You mean you didn't realize, Mrs. Carson? You've married a modern man!"
July
"Mrs. Carson?"
Miss Baxter's voice pulled Elsie from her reverie. "Yes, Miss Baxter. I'm sorry. What can I do for you?"
The maid entered the sitting room and shut the door. "I just wanted to see if you needed any help. I'm sure your last week is difficult for you. Is there anything I can do?"
Elsie appreciated the sentiment. She had been trying to pack her things but wasn't making much progress. She didn't want to leave an entirely empty space for Miss Baxter; Elsie had, in fact, inherited several of the items in the room from the former housekeeper, but that was so long ago that Elsie was attached to them now, finding it difficult to let them go. The silhouettes should remain, definitely, and the lamp. Perhaps the tea set … maybe not.
"I am having trouble making decisions, Miss Baxter, regarding what to bring. Indecision is unusual for me, so I'm chalking it up to age," she chuckled. "But I'll be fine, thank you. How is everything with the girls?"
"Just fine, Mrs. Carson. The cleaning is actually ahead of schedule, and we'll be more than ready for the family to return from London."
Elsie nodded. "Thank you, Miss Baxter. I'll see you at dinner?"
Miss Baxter understood the cue to leave. "Very well, Mrs. Carson. If you do need anything, please just let me know." The quiet woman exited the parlour, leaving the door open behind her.
Elsie sat at her desk and looked around, mentally putting things into boxes at last. Ledgers to stay … these books are coming, but perhaps she'd enjoy this one ... Ah, that lovely pen Charles gave you last Christmas – that's coming … Oh, to hell with it, the tea set is coming too. She'd never be able to imagine the cups in anyone else's hands – in anyone else's home – but hers and Charles's. I'll buy her a new one. Nodding firmly, she rose from her seat and continued packing. Three days … three more days.
She didn't expect to feel so broken-hearted.
"Lady Mary has fixed it all," said Anna. She and Elsie were seated in Anna's kitchen the next day, Elsie holding Brenna and marveling at the power of the wee bairn's grasp as she held Elsie's pinkie finger. "Brenna will be looked after in the nursery, alongside Master George, while I'm working. She reasoned that the salary for the nanny had not changed when Miss Sybbie left and so therefore an increase would not be needed. She didn't leave room for negotiation."
"I am sure she didn't! This is Lady Mary we're talking about."
Anna giggled. "I know. And I'll be able to continue nursing the baby because my duties are spaced out so well. So long as Lady Mary isn't traveling I don't foresee a problem, but she's already assured me that if she goes anywhere in the next few months she just won't bring a lady's maid. She's been ever so kind, I am truly grateful to her. If I'd had to leave my job we'd have managed, but it'll be so much easier for us with me staying on."
"Well, once this little one is weaned you are welcome to leave her with us whenever you need to."
"Thank you so very much. For everything, I mean. You and Mr. Carson have provided so much for us both. I know I keep saying it but I really can't tell you how important that has been. I truly don't think John and I would have survived without you, Mrs. Carson, not through any of it really."
"Please, Anna … it's Elsie now," she reminded gently.
"Yes, well … that may take me some time to get used to," Anna said, laughing.
Elsie hadn't seen Anna so happy since Mr. Bates was released from prison. Motherhood suits her, it suits her very well indeed. This is the best thing that could ever have happened to them. Elsie had kept her concerns secreted away in her mind over the course of Anna's pregnancy, worried about Anna's still fragile emotions that crept up at times and particularly concerned with the possibility of the 'baby blues' that Isobel had mentioned, but so far Anna seemed completely fine. Since Charles was retired, he and Elsie visited the Bates' for dinner every Tuesday and Friday and each time, as they walked home arm in arm, they discussed how much happier Anna seemed. John took his half-day on Fridays and was able to join them then. Elsie and Charles marveled at the change in the him, too; aspects of his true personality now came shining through, things that Elsie was sure had only been seen previously by Anna. His eyes lit up at the sight and sounds of his daughter. He was able to relax when he was home and, when they visited, Elsie and Charles saw barely a trace of the formal, reserved valet from the Abbey. The Carsons were thrilled, touched to be able to participate in the intimacy of this family life. Who'd have ever thought?
"Have you packed?" Anna's question pulled Elsie back to the present moment.
"Yes, I think I'm all set. It was so hard, Anna … all those years, and now the room looking so empty and, well … sad." All those memories …
Anna reached over and put her hand on Elsie's arm. "Soon you'll be in your new home full-time, making new memories. The ones from the big house can live in your heart forever, you know."
Elsie smiled lovingly at the woman before her – once her protégée, now her friend, almost a daughter – and nodded. "I know … but it's harder leaving than I thought it would be." She smiled at the memory. "This wonderful life with Charles truly began in that room. Nights over cups of tea or glasses of sherry, forging a partnership, a friendship, and then something more … I can't help but feel like I'm leaving that behind even though I know that makes no sense."
Anna got up and reached her arms around Elsie from behind, enveloping both her and the baby in a hug. "You know you'll bring all of that with you," she said quietly, placing a kiss on Elsie's cheek.
Elsie nodded. "I know. I just won't feel better about it until it's happened." She leaned over and kissed her granddaughter's head. "But it's time to move on, isn't it, little one?"
Brenna cooed her reply, the sound making Elsie's heart soar.
Charles knocked on Elsie's sitting room door. She looked up as he came in and immediately moved to wrap her arms around his middle.
"All set?" he asked quietly.
She just nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
"You've said good-bye to everyone then?"
Another nod. "Except Beryl – she refused," Elsie said with a chuckle. "She's got her half-day Tuesday and is coming for tea."
"Okay, then. And … Mrs. Baxter?"
"All set," Elsie repeated, remembering how her morning had gone ...
"Miss Baxter, could you spare a moment after breakfast?"
"Of course, Mrs. Carson."
They sat facing one another on the settee in the housekeeper's parlour and Elsie handed Miss Baxter (almost Mrs. Baxter, she'd thought) two gift boxes – one large, one much smaller. Miss Baxter looked at her, puzzled.
"Both requirements for a successful housekeeper," Elsie had said.
Miss Baxter laid the smaller box on the settee and opened the larger one first, removing from it a lovely teapot – white, covered in small, blue forget-me-nots – and two cups with saucers that matched.
"Use it frequently," Elsie said with a smile in her eyes. "Tea soothes the soul; it can calm an argument, and it can help you to solve a great many problems."
Miss Baxter nodded, remembering all the times Mrs. Carson – then Mrs. Hughes – would order one of the staff into her office and close the door, managing somehow while sequestered away inside to snuff out disagreements and difficulties of all sorts. "Thank you. It's lovely," she said. "And forget-me-nots …" she said, nodding her understanding.
"A reminder to remember who you are, that you are strong and capable and more than ready to do the job. Whenever you feel that you're not, sit down with a cuppa. Soothe YOURSELF when you need to."
Miss Baxter nodded, finding no words that would adequately express her appreciation for the kind words.
Elsie then picked up the smaller box and held it out. "And this is yours by right," she said quietly.
Miss Baxter opened the box, already having suspecting what she'd find inside. She gasped when she'd realized it was not the chatelaine she had become accustomed to seeing on Mrs. Carson's belt but rather a sparkling new one.
"Oh, Mrs. Carson … it's lovely, thank you." Her delicate fingers removed it from the box, and Elsie reached into her pocket and pulled out her own chatelaine, unclipping the keys from each ring, and handing them to the new housekeeper.
"Consider it my token of thanks for the support you've given to me. I'll never forget the love and time you put into making my wedding dress, and your quiet caring for both myself and everyone else downstairs has not gone unnoticed."
Miss Baxter nodded. "Please, Mrs. Carson, do stop in when you visit the house, for a cup of tea if nothing else."
Elsie nodded. "I will do, thank you."
… She took a deep breath, and raised her head to seek out her husband's loving gaze. "Well, Mr. Carson. I think that's it."
Charles looked deep into his wife's sparkling blue eyes, losing himself for a moment. "I could live an entire other lifetime, Elsie, and never convey how much I love you at this very moment." He reached around his back to grasp her hands and kiss them, then released them and lifted the last box of belongings that she would be taking to the cottage, tucking it under his arm.
Elsie grasped his hand as they walked out into the corridor. She was grateful that not a soul was in sight – she'd had enough of sad good-byes earlier.
How funny, she thought … Elsie had spent just over twenty years of her life in love with the man at her side. Twenty years of thinking he couldn't possibly return her feelings even though, deep down inside, she had realized long ago that he had the capacity for giving and, perhaps, receiving great love. She spent two decades not speaking up about what was living inside of her because she didn't think that he could love anything – anyone – more than this house in which they now stood …and because, even if he could, she never felt that she'd be worthy of it. And for much of that time, she would have been right: he hadn't been ready.
But somewhere along the way, she'd noticed a shift in his feelings and, if she were honest, in her own as well. She became more respectful of his devotion to the Granthams, more observant of the little ways in which he managed to show his true self to her, and, eventually, she realized that he'd been giving her the ammunition with which she could attack that wall that had been built around his own heart. She realized that once she accepted that, there had been no turning back. Losing Becky and returning to Argyll had pushed her into his arms even more and opened Elsie up to the possibility of a real life outside of 'the housekeeper,' a life with friends and a new family, a life far richer than anything she'd ever dared to dream.
"All set?" he asked again.
Nodding her head slowly, Elsie looked up at Charles and saw that he was giving her a look of such love and devotion that it brought tears to his own eyes as well as hers.
"Yes, love," she answered. "Let's go home."
The End ... for now