This is the final chapter and probably my favourite to write. It may be a little sentimental but it seemed fitting. Please comment if you like and have time.

Part Nine

Elsie took the first tentative steps outside of her room in over a week. Although she had risen early it had taken almost an hour for her to wash and fasten herself into her corset, adjusting the ribbons so it fit her smaller frame. Her dress would need taking in but she would have to take care of that later, instead it would have to do for a day or two. She still felt a little unsteady, weakened by the influenza, but she really couldn't stay within the confines of her room one day longer. Slowly, she made her way along the corridor, the comforting sound of keys jangling with each footfall, only to pause briefly at the top of the servants stairs. Three flights of stairs, she mused as she gazed down into the well, and she was already feeling a little weary. Her thoughts immediately turned to Mr Bates and the struggle he must have endured almost daily, descending and climbing the stairs six or seven times a day. And for a brief moment she allowed herself to dwell on his situation, to worry about him and to miss him. Thoughts pushed to the recess of her mind, slowly but surely she made her way down to the kitchen, pausing at the bottom of each flight of stairs to catch her breath.

A smile twitched at her lips as she heard the familiar hustle and bustle, the clash of pans from the kitchen, Mrs Patmore's voice calling for the kitchen maids and the laughter drifting from the servants hall. The smile dropped as she set her face in a firm grimace befitting of a Housekeeper, smoothed down her dress, and rounded the corner.

Her entrance brought a moment of silence then Mr Carson was the first to his feet. "Mrs Hughes, good to see you up and about."

She nodded in his direction before her eyes scanned the room, settling on each of her maids before returning to him. "It's good to be up. I am going to take tea in my sitting room and sort through the household accounts. Then I will take inventory upstairs."

"Very well," he said perfunctory, aware that they were no longer alone in her room but amongst the staff. "Please let me know if you need me to go over anything."

"I am sure everything is fine."She didn't want them to feel that she didn't trust them in her absence, because she more than anyone knew what they were capable of. Her desire to retreat to her sitting room was more because of her need to sit down. The exertion of dressing and coming downstairs had left her light headed and she wanted time to recover in private. "Anna, could you come to my room when you've finished tea."

"Of course, Mrs Hughes."

The sitting room was as Elsie had left it and for that she was grateful. If anything it looked like it had been unused in her absence. Lightly she ran her fingers over her desk, with a smug satisfaction that Anna had been in and cleaned but everything returned to its rightful place. She felt his presence rather than heard him; his ability to be almost stealth like in stark contrast to the strong omnipresent man. "Mr Carson?"

"I hope you have found everything in order. I placed an order for fish yesterday but I left the invoice in the ledger," he explained, taking a step towards her, almost desperate in his need to be close to her.

"I'm sure everything will be fine." She turned to smile at him, closing the distance between them. "I'm glad you stopped by. I wanted to say thank you, for everything. I know my incapacitation has created additional work for you but I'm back now and I will strive to catch up as quickly as I can."

He held up his hand and she stopped walking, careful to leave what would be considered a professional distance between them. "Please don't rush back, Mrs Hughes. Take your time until you are back to full health. We have managed thus far and can for a while longer."

"I'm quite well," she insisted, her arms folding across her chest as she automatically went on the defensive. "The doctor cleared me to return to work."

He failed to stifle his groan of despair. "Of course." They were back to this, he thought, professional and distanced, and it wasn't what he wanted. Every night he had sat by her bedside chatting inconsequentially about everything and anything, with a familiarity that had at first surprised him but then as he had been accustomed to it, made him very happy. He had hoped that they would allow a little more familiarity in their daily interactions, at least while alone, but she was clearly back to her old self. "You should have these back," he said reaching into his pocket and pulling out two keys.

Elsie held out her hand, her fingers lightly brushing his palm as he passed her the keys, his reaction bringing a smile to her lips. Her hand clasped them firmly, metal digging into her skin. She was back, the house was her domain again she thought as she stared down at them. Biting her lip, considering the significance of the moment, she glanced back up at him. "You realise this means no more late night assignations."

"Assignations?" he chuckled mildly. "That makes them sound slightly . . ." he trailed off as Anna appeared at his side, his eyes locked with Elsie's as they both blushed.

"Sorry am I interrupting?" she asked, conscious that she had blatantly done just that.

Charles was the first to speak, allowing her the extra seconds to compose herself. "No, it's fine. I need to get back to work." He turned again towards his friend, frowning at the expression on her face, wondering if he had somehow just said the wrong thing. "Maybe we can finish our discussion over wine in my pantry this evening."

The smile appeared and disappeared so quickly that he thought he had imagined it but she nodded and suddenly he couldn't wait for the day to be over.

/

Elsie was exhausted. It had been a long afternoon and she knew she had overdone it by rushing back to work. Unfortunately, it was more that once she began she couldn't stop. Although the maids had worked tirelessly in her absence she had discovered a long list of jobs that would require attention sooner rather than later and so engaged had she become that she had almost missed dinner. Charles had given her a concerned look when she had finally taken her seat but other than a gentle nudge of his elbow she had been unable to reassure him, the Drawing Room bell ringing, demanding his attention. Now finally she was done and as soon as Mr Carson returned from the drawing room she would excuse herself and go to bed. As much as she had been looking forward to their nightly ritual, she was too tired to appreciate it. There would, she hoped, be many other nights.

As she made her way back down the hallway, she rubbed her neck trying to ease the crick, wondering if she should just head straight up to bed. Her step wavered as her eyes fell on the door to her sitting room. It was closed, which was unusual in itself, as she always left it ajar unless she was working in there. Hesitantly pushing it open, she stepped inside and her eyes were drawn to a small brown bundle placed in the middle of her desk, illuminated by the desk lamp that someone had thoughtfully turned on. She would have thought that it was nothing special, maybe a delivery from the village, except for the bright red ribbon that secured the brown paper and its careful display. Lightly her fingers ran over it, looking for any indication of who might have left it there, almost child like excitement growing within her. Curiosity finally got the better of her and she loosened the ribbon, watching as the paper fell away to reveal crisp white sheets decorated in delicate blue cornflowers.

"For your bottom drawer," a voice echoed behind her. Elsie turned, grinning inanely but she couldn't help herself. "Don't you think I'm a bit past that now?" she asked, bemused by his gesture.

"No," he said simply, belittling his nervousness. "If we're going to settle into a cottage we are going to need a few things."

"And the first thing you thought of were bed sheets?" she teased lightly, settling into the familiarity of the situation.

"Well if I'm going to retire I am going to be spending a lot more time in bed."

She flushed at the implication of his words.

"Catching up on the sleep I've foregone in the last forty years," he continued oblivious to her interpretation. "I've bought one set for now. We can pick up another on your next half day."

He had never suggested that they would be more than companions, merely sharing a house and spending their days together but part of her was disappointed that they were going to have separate beds. Embarrassed, she turned back to the sheets, gently stroking the soft cotton. "Thank you, Mr Carson."

"You're very welcome Mrs Hughes."

She heard the soft click of the door and assumed he had left. It was for the best, she concluded. Retirement was a long way off for both of them and hopefully by then she would come to terms with their relationship. Letting out a deep sigh, Elsie leaned over the desk, bracing herself.

"Maybe you should go to bed."

She jumped, turning sharply to see him standing by the door. It was hard to imagine that such a man could hide his presence but he frequently did, years she supposed of having to disappear in the middle of a crowded room. "I thought you'd left."

"Apparently. Are you going to tell me what's troubling you, Mrs Hughes?" he asked, his voice tender, his hands balled at his side as he resisted the urge to touch her. He had a strong feeling she was regretting her eagerness to set up home with him; god knows he couldn't blame her. Stifling a deep groan of frustration, he continued, "I probably shouldn't have suggested we share a house when you were so ill."

"Would you have ever asked me if I hadn't gotten sick?" she asked flippantly despite everything that was riding on his answer.

He hesitated, for too long he realised.

"I guess that's my answer."

"I always imagined we would but I thought I should check, in case you had other plans." Although it was said in a rush, it was the truth, or at least as much as he was willing to admit.

"No," she admitted candidly. "I always thought I would spend my days taking care of you."

Charles arched an eyebrow in surprise, moving towards her."That's a lot to ask of someone who you've only worked with for twenty years."

"That's longer than most marriages," Elsie commented with a grin, suddenly aware of his proximity.

He ducked his head briefly before raising his face to catch her eye. "Are you asking me to marry you, Elsie?"

"Charles." She shook her head, the lines around her eyes crinkling in amusement. "I don't think the world has changed that much."

"In that case I would have to ask you." he part asked, part stated. The tension was palpable in the air as she stared at him, her mouth agape, her eyes widening.

"You would, I guess. I hadn't really thought about it." Now the idea was in her head she couldn't think about anything else. Did she want to be married to him? Did she want the intimacy that marriage would bring? He had already seen her at her worst, their hands entwined on the bed a newer intimacy than they were used to, his concern beyond anything she had ever seen from him, but seeing her naked was a whole different thing. She had always wanted to marry for love, but when Mr Right hadn't arrived in her twenties she had given up on the notion for a life in service, now in that second it was all she could think about.

"I don't expect anything from you, Elsie, but I do like the idea of spending what time I have left married to you. We can spend our days pottering in the garden, reading and cooking together and at night I can keep you warm. I find I like the idea very much."

"And what about love, Mr Carson?" she proclaimed, taking a step towards him, never breaking eye contact with him.

"What about it?"

Elsie bit the inside of her cheek nervously."Can you spend your life without ever loving someone?"

Charles gave her a sad smile, closing the distance between them to take her wrist in his hand. "I may never have had the opportunity to utter the words, Elsie, but that does not mean I have never loved."

Her face fell and he felt the steady beat of her pulse race beneath his fingers. She tried to slip from his grasp but he held firm. "And what of you, Elsie, could you marry for anything less than love."

"I am, afraid, a little old for notions of love," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, tinged with sadness.

"Never old to me," he whispered.

She scoffed.

"We could marry for love, Elsie, because while I may never have said the words, my feelings do run deep."

Her eyes lifted to lock with his.

"I would have settled for a lifetime of companionship but instead I find I am devoted to you."

Elsie gasped in surprise. She hadn't in her wildest dreams expected a dedication of love, but he was offering her everything she ever wanted. "Marriage brings with it . . ." she hesitated, a flush covering her cheeks.

"I am not a young man, Elsie, my memory is not what it was. You may from time to time have to remind me what marriage brings," he offered quietly, his fingers delicately stroking her bare arm, working their way up to rest on her shoulder. It had only been a few days since he realised the extent of his feelings, only time would tell whether he could live without intimacy with her, whether she would want to be intimate with him, but it was of no consequence unless . . . "Elsie Hughes, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

Her eyes crinkled as her smile widened, her eyes searching his for any sign of reluctance on his part. She found none. "Yes."

"Yes? May I be permitted to kiss you?" he asked formally, suddenly unsure of how it all worked.

Elsie nodded, wanting nothing more than to take the next step, her fatigue forgotten as he finally took her in his arms.

Lightly, he brushed his lips over her forehead as he held her tightly against her, surprised at first at how delicate she felt, then concerned than he could break her. Pulling back, he gazed lovingly into her eyes. "You have made me very happy, Elsie."

"As you have made me."

His lips found hers then, the kisses increasing in ardour as he forgot who they were and allowed his feelings to guide him. "You should go to bed. It's been a long day," he said when they finally broke apart, breathless and flushed.

Her heart fell."Maybe tomorrow we can take breakfast together here, just the two of us," he suggested, "Call it a working breakfast."

"Really?"

Charles nodded, taking her small hands in his, rubbing his fingers over her knuckles."Before we get married, I feel as though I should court you, my darling. But I don't know how else we can do that except within the confines of this house." He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her lightly. "One day we can walk through the grounds hand in hand, maybe have supper in the pub, but I'm not ready to announce us to the world just yet."

"You want to keep me all to yourself," she offered, not in the least bit disappointed.

Charles kissed her fingertips. "Yes. Unless . . .?"

Elsie shook her head, tugging her hand from his to gently cup his cheek. There were so many bad things going on around them, so many people close to them in terrible pain that she couldn't imagine flaunting their happiness. The idea of taking breakfast together and sharing a glass of wine at the end of the day sounded perfect, a few moments for them, an old fashioned concept of courtship befitting their relationship. Later he could walk her to her room but as he gazed adoringly into her eyes she decided there was no hurry. "I rather like the idea of being yours," she whispered as her lips lightly brushed his. "I find I like the idea very much."

The End