Finally, she was following him. He had studiously evaded her ever since his Lordship had made that fatal announcement- cutting a dead halt to the garden party. It seemed he was determined not to face her for some reason. Well, she was determined to face him, whatever it was that he wanted to keep from her. She saw him slip out of the back door and followed, pushing past Miss O'Brien. Surprisingly, no biting remark was flung at her. However her consciousness was not fully occupied by the niceties distributed by lady's maids, not by a long shot. Slipping out of the back door herself she was glad to see that he had gone no further than a few paces.
She was silent a moment; unsure as to whether to make her presence known. There was no doubt that he was troubled, it was evident from his posture. She chewed her lip waiting either for some kind of acknowledgement from him or for some decisive action to present itself. When neither came she decided to speak.
"What is it, Mr Bates?"
Nothing in his manner betrayed any surprise at sound. Perhaps, Anna thought fleetingly, he had known she was there all along. He seemed to take in a deep sigh by way of response. She waited a few seconds to see if there was anything to follow. When nothing came she advanced cautiously from the doorway toward him.
"Mr Bates, will you talk to me about it?"
He gave half an anguished look but still said nothing.
"Is it the war?" she asked stupidly.
He smiled, if bitterly; at least he appreciated the effort.
"That, and..." he trailed off.
Anna frowned lightly.
"Will you go to fight, Mr Bates?" she asked, rather boldly.
This question seemed to strike a nerve. At first she thought he was angry at her and tried to backtrack, however he cut across her.
"How could I?" his tone was harsh, "How could a cripple ever fight?"
Anna was silent for a moment. She found that she didn't know what she could say.
"Mr Bates," she began eventually, "I have known you for two years now. I have never seen you allow any affliction that you might have prevent you from doing what you feel you must achieve. If you feel," she struggled a little to say it, "If you feel that you are duty bound to serve your country; I have no doubt that you'll find a way. Heavens," she added, "I'm starting to sound like Mrs Hughes, aren't I?"
He smiled, although only slightly, with a genuine quality this time. The atmosphere between them lightened considerably. They stood in a more companionable silence for a few minutes.
"Anyway," she added, a little shyly, "Even if you stayed here, even if you never catch a glimpse of a gun during the next few months, I couldn't care. You wouldn't be any less of a man to me; any less of an admirable man." It was like a conversation they'd had before, only in reverse. "And for entirely selfish reasons," she stirred her courage, "Entirely selfish reasons, I wouldn't even be sorry if you didn't leave the grounds of Downton for the next decade. So long as I didn't either." she added hastily.
He was looking at her...oddly. There wasn't a more precise description she could give it.
"But that's just my opinion," she added with even more haste: sensing a risk that she could start babbling but somehow unable to stop herself, "I understand. I understand that you feel you have to a fight, I'd never have expecte-..."
She was cut off this time by his lips pressed against hers. His lack of restraint somehow surprised her, she felt them take a few steps backwards before coming to a comfortable halt together. His hands were warm on her face in the rapidly cooling air.
"Anna! Mr Bates!"
A piercing shook around her ears, causing them to jump apart almost as violently as they had moved together. Mrs Hughes was standing a few feet away from them: seemingly possessed of some great fury. Anna felt herself bite her lip: there was about a chance in a million that Mrs Hughes had just happened not to spot them and had been calling them in for supper. It vaguely registered with her that the housekeeper was shouting something about disgraceful conduct. Words like "profligate" and "irresponsible". She willed herself not to catch Mr Bates eye: an uncharacteristic giggling fit was probably the single worst thing that could occur at the moment.
"Mrs Hughes?"
Mr Carson's voice managed to briefly subdue Mrs Hughes' wrath. Anna reflected to herself that a second ago she had been wrong: this was the single worst thing that could have happened. Under the stares of the butler and the housekeeper she felt like a naughty child again. She bowed her head a little as Mrs Hughes explained to Mr Carson what, exactly, she had walked outside to find.
"Disgraceful conduct." Mrs Hughes concluded.
"If you'll pardon me, Mr Carson, it wasn't like that-..." Mr Bates began but Mr Carson interrupted him.
"No one's in any trouble," he reassured them.
Anna could not quite believe her ears and judging by Mrs Hughes' expression neither could she. She was staring at Mr Carson as if it were some kind of madman. The butler's tone, although weary, was nevertheless serious and reassuring.
"Anna, Mr Bates," he addressed them calmly, "Go back inside, Mrs Patmore will provide you with some soup. We're not doing things formally, so to speak, tonight. The straight to bed."
They were not going to wait around to be told twice. As they crossed the threshold, Anna saw Mrs Hughes turn to face Mr Carson, the look of fury firmly set in. She exchanged a glance with Bates: it was fair to say that neither of them would swap places with him for all of the tea in China.
Elsie felt the fury resurface in her as she turned back to face Charles.
"How could you undermine me so seriously in front of the staff?" she accused.
"Elsie-" he began again in the same calm, weary tone he had used to address Anna and Bates.
She cut across him.
"How dare you? Anna is under my jurisdiction and if I see her behaving in such a manner I have a responsibility to Lord and Lady Grantham I have a duty to stop her. Isn't that what you're always telling me, Mr Carson, that we have a duty to maintain the dignity of this household? I hardly think that-..."
"Elsie." the authority in his voice was unmistakable.
She fell silent, suddenly nervous. Charles looked as if he was stirring himself to say something difficult to her. She felt a tinge of curiosity surface in spite of herself and immediately tried to suppress it. Finally, he began:
"Elsie, I am reluctant to punish Anna and Mr Bates because, I'm sure that you are aware, today we are all a bit over-wrought. Even on anothe-"
"What difference does that make?" she snapped back at him, "I have undergone just the same as them and you don't see-..."
"Heavens, Elsie!" he exclaimed, "You have all but strangled two of your colleagues just for sharing a kiss!"
"I am doing my job!" she returned drawing herself up to her full height, "I hardly see how-..."
"Damn it, Elsie, they're in love!"
The truth of his words echoed briefly off the walls of the house. Although they subdued her beyond measure she resolved not to back down.
"Even so," she began quietly, "I don't think-..."
"Can't you even understand that?"
It was like a smack in the face, the question physically hurt her. She felt her eyes sting with tears but pushed them down. Rather than repressing her, it had renewed her anger.
"Can I not understand that, Charles Carson?" she asked, eyes glinting furiously, "Better than you'd probably care to think!"
She gave him a shove in the ribs for good measure. She saw the alarm in his face but didn't pause: she could feel herself getting into full flow.
"Why should I? After all, I'm only the heartless spinster of a housekeeper! I have no feelings of my own. When I'm alone at night, I don't think of you at all. The fact that I'm so in love with you that I sometimes forget to breath has no bearing on the situation at all!"
He made no attempt to silence her, instead, upon her uttering those words that had festered within her for so long he took hold of her wrists to stop the rhythmic shoves his body was receiving. The forceful motion made her pause and realise what exactly she had said. No, shouted. She had shouted it for the whole world to hear. Tears had run down her cheeks during her outburst. The silence that followed saw them standing, an arms length apart, him holding on to her wrists just looking at each other. She tried to speak but all she could muster was helpless muttering. Finally, he closed his eyes in the show of resignation she was so used to seeing.
"That never happened," he told her firmly.
She simply stared as he released her and returned inside, leaving her there.
Of course, she followed him. As soon as she had regained her senses and wiped her eyes on her sleeves, she near on ran. Thankfully, most of the other servants had gone to bed once she found herself wrapping desperately on his pantry door. In was a mercy that he even chose to let her in. Once they were inside, she stared at him, not that she could help herself. He tried to avoid her gaze.
"How can you?" was all she could finally choke out, "How can you say that?"
She felt the tears resurfacing but not the anger. Not enough to resume hitting him, anyway. He suddenly looked exceptionally tired.
"Elsie," he told her gently, "You are over-wrought."
"And I suppose I have been perpetually over-wrought for the past few months, then?" she queried, raising an eyebrow dangerously.
He glanced at her expression and seemed even more daunted by it.
"Don't do this, Elsie," he half pleaded, "Else we both saw things we'll regret tomorrow."
Suddenly she felt bolder.
"I will never regret what I said because it was the truth." she told him, "I love you. Heaven only knows, I tried not to."
"That's not how it works." He shook his head sadly.
"No," she agreed.
Then she realised what he had said- might have said. It couldn't be... She looked at his face. It was helpless but somehow, almost smiling.
"Charles," she began in a warning voice, "If you're just pretending to spare my feelings...-"
"How could I pretend?" he asked, "I wouldn't know how."
It was. She almost sang but stopped herself. She wanted to hear it from him.
"Charles," she asked gently, "Is there something you need to tell me?"
He smiled sadly at her.
"I've never been very good at this," he confessed.
"Me neither," she countered swiftly.
She crossed the room to where he was standing. Timidly, she took him by the hand. He did not resist, if anything, he almost squeezed it.
"Do you love me, Charles?"
She felt the authority in her tone although she said it quietly. The look he gave her in response was almost imploring.
"How can I not?"
All of her Christmases had come at once. She felt an impulse to throw her arms around his neck and not let go but resisted. It did not surprise her that the tears began to trickle down her face again.
"Quite easily, I expect."
He shook his head.
"I gave up trying long ago."
"How long?" she wanted to know.
He seemed to think.
"Long ago enough that it was like a kick in the chest when you said you'd consider leaving."
It was useless, she thought, regretting what had or hadn't been considered in the past, although the hurt she had caused him pained her. All she could do was offer him an assurance that such a thing would never arise again.
Please review. Should I write an epilogue for it?