A/N wow. It's again been a week! Sorry!

I got lost on the way to chapter 05 but thanks to you - readers - I found my way back. Thx to kouw and batwings79 for beta-ing and their input. It made me realize a few things! merci.

The characters are not mine. Fellowes/ITV/Carnival/Masterpiece (whoever!) own them. Sadly enough.

Her hands tremble too much to open the envelope without ripping it. She does not want to feel this anticipation. It is only a letter, containing maybe an answer, maybe a question, in any case something she does not want to think about. With the index finger of her right hand she breaks the seal, opens the envelope as carefully as possible. The first words appear My dear Elsie, love. The letter falls into her lap and she does not want to look at it a second time, refuses to read more of it.

This is not her anymore. The Elsie Hughes Joe refers to, has ceased to exist. What lies in her lap is her past, a time she had tried to forget since the first day at Downton Abbey. All those years she had spent in the constant search for something better, for a place where she would finally feel at home. Elsie looks at the building in front of her, the lower parts hidden from view by the large old oak trees in the backyard. This is her home now and the place she had been looking for. And no one will take it away from her ever again.

She takes a deep breath and picks up the letter again, ignores the word love which Joe uses too often in the next sentences that fill almost two pages. He speaks of the farm, what has happened since she left Northumberland, how much he misses her and in the last paragraph there is the question she has feared. Have you thought about my offer? Will you marry me, Elsie? I love you and I want you to become my wife. Wife, marriage, love. What does it mean to her? Does it mean anything to anyone? For her mother, love turned into torture, fear and self-loathing. For one employer's wife, love meant to live with the knowledge that your husband also loves other women. Love is a feeling she has never experienced as something positive. Elsie folds the letter, puts it back inside the envelope, closes it and stares at it for a moment until her eyes hurt and she cannot read the handwriting on it anymore. Her vision is blurred and her cheeks are suddenly wet. She has forgotten the last time in her life she cried and she wants it to stop but she is not strong enough. Not this time.

ooooo

Some fresh air is what he needs now. The house is too full, too busy, too constricting. "Get some distraction." The words echo in his head, over and over again. He cannot stop thinking about her and the accidental touch, this short moment of closeness. She is inside his head and whenever he closes his eyes the only thing he sees is her face. A beautiful smile, large blue eyes, reddened cheeks. He has to stay away from these thoughts, ban them, ignore them like he did so many times before during the years on the stage when there were other women he could not take his eyes off. He had come to Downton Abbey to get away from all of this. Years of hard work, of not breaking a single rule, of becoming the perfect servant start to crumble now. He will not allow this to happen.

With great strides he crosses the backyard, not even looking where he is heading to. Through the small gate in the brick wall he enters the vegetable garden with its apple and cherry trees and the small bench he always sat on when he was still a footman. There were times when he needed to get away from the house even then. More often than now in fact. It is one of the few places on the estate where no one ever disturbs him. A few more steps and a turn around the corner of the old sandstone wall and he will be there. For the first time since he has left the house he looks up but stops walking immediately when he sees her sitting on his bench.

The head she always holds up so high and proud is bent down to look into her lap. Her shoulders are slouched. Nothing resembles the strong head housemaid Elsie Hughes. Her whole appearance shocks him. Here sits a woman who is vulnerable, hurt, alone, he thinks and wishes he had never stormed out of the house in such a hurry without thinking where to go. Charles takes a step backwards, hides behind the wall, yet he can not avert his eyes. Her hand is lifted to her cheeks, wipes away tears. He is not supposed to be here and witness this moment of weakness. As much as he had needed this walk and some fresh air, nothing can erase this scene from his memory now.

He wants to step out from behind his hiding place, walk down the rest of the path towards the bench, ask her what is wrong, comfort her. Charles Carson would do that. Mr. Carson cannot carry out this simple act of kindness. So he observes her from the distance until she suddenly stands up with that determined look on her face he has seen so many times already. And then he realizes why he is so attracted to her. The head housemaid Elsie Hughes is a façade, a role, something she has perfected over the years. There is a different Elsie underneath it all, just like he hides his real self under a stern exterior.

ooooo

The weeks pass by too fast and she has hardly time for herself. His letter she puts in an empty box inside her cupboard and she tries to forget the words it contains. She has made her decision. On the day of the annual harvest fest it is hidden in the pocket of her apron, written on plain white paper. Only one page filled with her neat and tidy handwriting, telling him that she cannot take this step. She will not become his wife.

Elsie has never seen the house so busy as in the hours before the harvest festivities. The younger servants are running around, trying to immediately carry out all the orders they are given. Mrs. Barnes sends them downstairs, upstairs, out of the house, to fetch additional cutlery, dishes, decorations. Musicians arrive, extra food is brought into the kitchen, the housemaids are ordered to prepare the tents in the garden. Elsie follows them outside, supervises the set up of tables, chairs and they perfect the decorations. She has never been involved in the preparation of a festivity like this before. For her it is fun, it makes her happy, requires all her attention and her skills as head housemaid. This is what she had been looking for all these years. A place where she is needed and her work is rewarded. And during all the fuss she forgets about the letter until the sun begins to set and the guest keep arriving.

There are farmers everywhere, wearing their Sunday best, however even the finest clothes cannot hide their profession. Tanned faces, cheerful smiles and red, vital cheeks contrast with the porcelain complexions of the attending ladies, earls and lords. Callused hands shake His Lordships and Ladyships hands innumerable times that evening. Her past becomes so real again one more time while she obediently waits on the noble guest and at the same time steals too many glances at the singing and dancing farmers in the big tent. They seem so happy, free, not concerned about politics, money, or reaching a higher position in society. Things Lord Grantham sets such a great value upon. She has turned down the offer to become a farmer's wife. The letter is still in her pocket, she hasn't found the time to give it to one of the hall boys that take care of the mail. But the more time she spends looking at the people she has left behind, the more she believes she has made the right decision. She is no longer the farm girl she once was. There are other people now that are more important. Mrs. Barnes, Beth, the other housemaids, and especially Mr. Carson, although she does not know what his role in her life will be. However she feels that he is important.

When she returns to the kitchen to fetch some more lemonade, she gives the letter to Jack, kindly asks him to run down to the village. Urges him to make sure the letter will leave Downton with the morning train.

"Of course Miss Hughes. I will hurry!"

"Thank you, it's very important to me."

ooooo

They haven't talked much since the day he has seen her in the vegetable garden. Elsie is always busy, assisting Mrs. Barnes more than the usual head housemaid. She would make a good housekeeper he thinks, more than once. Although it is too early to think about a replacement. But when the time comes, he will make sure she is offered the position. Even if this means he has to spend a lot of time with her and can no longer avoid her. He suppresses these kinds of thoughts, focuses on something else, on the harvest fest instead.

During the past weeks he slowly gets used to the many different emotions she manages to arouse within him. And he learns to deal with them. Bit by bit. He has found a way to stand to the rules now. Whenever they met in the corridor and she smiles at him, he counts to ten, smiles and moves on. At breakfast he never looks at her and when he finds her still awake and downstairs in the kitchen when everyone else has gone to bed, he keeps his orders very short and does not stay with her until she really makes her way upstairs to her bed. But at night, she is in his dreams. It's the only time he allows himself to break the rules. Although he knows it is not right, not proper. There is no other way.

At the harvest fest he is the one that takes over most of the responsibility. He shares some of it with Mrs. Barnes. Still, he is outside in the garden all day, observes, gives his orders, takes care that everything runs smoothly, makes sure the guests are treated they way they deserve to be treated. All of them, including the farmers. His footmen are doing a fine job and he tries to hide his relief. He has managed to train them well, gained their respect. Being butler does not feel strange anymore. When Mrs. Barnes joins him and they both take a look at what they have achieved he is proud. For the first time in years.

"Well done Mr. Carson." She pats his shoulder as is her habit with him.

"Thank you."

"I think it's time to get the wine ready."

He looks at her, nods. "I will take care of that."

ooooo

Downstairs he is in a different world compared to the festivities in the garden. It is cool and dark in the wine cellar and he only takes a hand lamp down with him. For a while he enjoys the quietness and the darkness. He selects the bottles, puts them in a wicker basket and takes them upstairs to be decanted later. What he did not except was to find her standing in front of the cellar door, looking after Jack who runs off through the backdoor.

"Miss Hughes?"

She turns around, startled, spills a bit of lemonade on the floor. The pitcher was too full.

"Oh I am sorry Mr. Carson. I did not know you where downstairs."

There is this wonderful smile again and he tries to count to ten.

"I just handed Jack a letter that needs to be in the mail tomorrow."

She does not make a move, holds the pitcher in both hands. He puts down the basket.

"Is it something important?"

He remembers the moment when he found her on that bench, crying.

"Yes. I had let go of someone. Something. Made a decision."

She looks down onto the floor and he feels the urge to take her into his arms, to comfort her. But all he does is say one more thing. "You've made the right decision." Although he does not know what it is.

He is standing in front of her and all she can do is smile. When he talks to her it is the best comfort she has ever experienced. They only exchange a few words, still she tells him about the letter, gives him more information than she wanted to. There is this familiar feeling of trust she always experiences in his presence. She cannot lie to him.

ooooo

"You've made the right decision." She hears him say and the next thing she sees herself doing is taking a few steps in his direction, closing the gap between them and she places a kiss on his cheek.

TBC

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