Old Friends

A/N: This is a brief chapter for today; I just wanted to get something out. Charles goes job hunting and a little back story is revealed. Another chapter will follow, possibly today or tomorrow with Elsie in New York. Please excuse typos, etc. Illness has a funny way with things and I will fix them later.

Charles tugs down at his suit coat and adjusts the knot in his tie. He has not searched for new employment in eight years and hates the thought of having to call upon those who occupy the executive offices at 1 Downton Plaza, hates what some might see as calling in a favor. Charles has known the Crawley family for longer than he cares to remember; one of his fondest childhood recollections is visiting his grandfather, who worked as head groom on the family's country estate. A young Charlie Carson tucked in beside his grandfather in the stables, where he learned to brush, feed, and care for some of the finest horses in the county.

Yet today, he is here at Downton Plaza, the Crawley estate that is not made from millions of bricks and mortar, gutters and pipes, founded on hundreds of years of tradition and titles, and filled with priceless artefacts collected over time and space. No, this estate is all steel, concrete, and glass, modern in all of its accoutrements. Offices that have glass panels and computers with flickering screens, modern pictures on the wall, and modern furnishings scattered about. Quite the contrast Charles thinks between the two Crawley estates.

"Charlie Carson, do come in. That will be all, Jane," Robert Crawley booms as he stands from behind his desk. He dismisses his secretary and greets his old friend warmly with an outstretched hand. "How've you been?"

"I've been well. How are Lady Grantham and the girls?" Charles asks as he takes the chair Robert offers.

"Cora is very well. She keeps busy with her charity work and the girls, well," Robert pauses, a laugh, and Charles notices a look of pride sweep across his friend's face, and his eyes light from within. "The girls are growing like weeds. Mary is 14, Edith 12, and Sybil is nine. They keep us on our toes."

Charles laughs easily. He imagines himself with a brood such as Robert's and is pleased for his old friend. He and Robert chitchat about a variety of things, Charles inquires about Robert's mother, Violet, the Dowager Countess who still lives in a house on the country estate. Robert mentions that she splits her time between London and Downton Abbey. That she has a close circle of friends in both places and leaves for the country when she needs to escape her city friends and takes to the city when she needs to escape her country friends. After all the pleasantries are exchanged and family stories told and re-told, Robert and Charles turn toward the door when a familiar voice calls.

"Well Charles Carson, I thought I saw you when I passed by Robert's door," a well-heeled, attractive ginger calls as she strides confidently forward.

"Lady Rosamund, how are you? Well I hope," Charles answers.

"Come now, Charles. I think we can forgo the titles for old friends like us," she purrs, as she leans in for the obligatory kiss on the cheek.

"It is nice to see you again," Charles offers, as Rosamund takes a seat next to his. "I was out of town when I heard about Marmaduke's passing. I am very sorry. I hope that you got my flowers?"

"I did, thank you. You remembered that I like lilies," she demurs, placing her hand atop his. She and Charles share a sweet smile, and a momentary undercurrent of history passes between them.

"Well, I do appreciate your visit, but I suspect this isn't entirely a social call?" Robert interjects, breaking the little moment between his sister and Charles; Rosamund's hand slips back onto the armrest of her chair.

"Um, no. I've come to enquire about a position," Charles begins tentatively. "I was wondering….if your sport media group has any openings…. for a color analyst. You'll find that my references are all in order." Charles hates to ask, hates to come on bended knee as it were but Downton Media is the largest independent television producer in London and he needs to be removed as quickly as possible from his current situation.

"Oh, come on, Charlie, you don't need references," Robert assures him sincerely. "But I would ask. Why are you leaving after all these years?"

Charles twists in his seat; he knows that Robert is right in asking for an explanation and that the Crawleys have had enough scandal in their own right to keep his secrets but nonetheless it pains him to say it aloud. In fact, he has not said aloud what has happened between Alice and him to anyone, yet. He has a few mates, but none of them close and he tried to call on Elsie but that ended quickly enough. He has not told his mother; he knows what she will have to say. And here he sits about to say aloud only what is in his mind, though he knows it to be true.

"It will hit Sarah O'Brien's column soon enough I suppose," Charles begins. "I cannot work with Charlie Grigg. He and Miss Neal have been having an inappropriate relationship behind my back and I just found out about it."

"But you felt you had to be the one to leave your position?" Rosamund asks, shocked and saddened by Charles' confession. She knows Charles to be a good man, kind and steady.

"He would have never left. He has no shame. I haven't turned in my notice yet, but as soon as I have other employment,"

"Well, of course," Robert comments. "You know that you will always have something with us old chap. After all, I would have never completed my maths courses with any success if Rosamund hadn't let me borrow you on Sunday afternoons when you two were at university," Robert laughs.

'Of course, don't worry about a thing," Rosamund chimes in. "We'll work everything out and our publicity team will make this into the biggest media coup since….since….well, since ever," she laughs. "Perhaps we can make it a multi-media deal. A book on the history of cricket, perhaps? A newspaper column? The broadcasts, of course. How does that sound? And Charles, don't worry about Sarah O'Brien's column. Richard Carlisle owes me a favor," Rosamund says a smile in her voice, as she leaves Robert and Charles to work out the details of Charles' employment.

Charles can feel his ears tingle; he is not accustomed to having so much attention and Rosamund is positively ecstatic. For an only child, who spend his youth wandering the Yorkshire countryside often alone, or hours sprinting away on his bike, Charles Carson sees himself at home, finally. Now, if he can push the picture of Alice and Grigg from his mind. The return of a lovely Scottish writer from America will certainly help, he thinks. If only he could share his news with her.

TBC…..Thank you for continuing on with me. I apologizing for not responding to the last round of reviews. I read each and every one of them. Illness has prevented me from writing and responding but I promise to do better. If you are inclined, reviews are appreciated. Very much so. x