Thank you so much to everyone that has reviewed this story so far – you make my days much brighter. Before we move on, I have a friendly request: this story is S5 spoiler free, so if you could keep your reviews spoiler free as well for anyone reading along that hasn't had s5 air for them yet, that would be nice. If you would like to fangirl with me over S5 Chelsie, do PM me. I never tire of talking about them…

My thanks to chelsie fan, beta extraordinaire. And now...the letter we've all been waiting for.

Mr. Carson regarded the ill-timed letter with grave mistrust. He had longed for it to come, knowing that it worried Mrs. Hughes more each time the post failed to produce it, but he feared its contents. They had not discussed her leaving. It was silently agreed to be too painful a subject. Of course they couldn't go on as they had this past week forever. A better arrangement had to be made.

It took great effort for him to hold the letter opener steady, but years of practice hid his nerves. With much trepidation he pulled the letter from its envelope.

"Well?" said Mrs. Hughes. "It is from Lorna; isn't it?"

"No…" he said, double-checking the envelope. "The address is right, but it's from…Douglas?"

Mrs. Hughes adopted a worried expression. Her sister's husband didn't write her with any great frequency and rarely because he had good news. "Well, what does it say?" she asked as patiently as she could manage.

"One moment." He tried to read it over quickly, but the handwriting was scrawled and difficult to decipher at any speed.

"Would you stop reading it to yourself and start reading it to me?" she demanded, her anxiety beginning to show.

"Right. Sorry." Mr. Carson cleared his throat and forced himself to focus. "'Dear Elsie, I was sorry to hear of your eyesight and know this must be a very difficult time for you. Unfortunately, your suggestion of joining us on the farm is not possible, as it has just been sold. It, and a good many other things, have become too much to manage, so Lorna and I have elected to move into a small rooming house in town. I will not go into details here, but suffice to say that the chickens have had enough and so have I.'"

Here Mr. Carson paused, looking at her inquisitively. She looked rather pained, and clearly the cryptic words meant more to her than they did to him. "Elsie, what does that mean?"

"Keep going," she said shortly, having no desire to answer his question.

Mr. Carson did as he was told. "'Before you worry, I'll not be going back on my promise to you anytime soon.'" More enigmatic sentences he didn't understand. Mrs. Hughes tapped her toe impatiently, and he hurried onwards. "'But I'm sorry to say that I cannot offer you a home now. I know you understand that I write these painful words in your best interest, and in Lorna's. She has read your letter, though I do not think she truly understands. Nor will she, until she sees you in person.'"

Mr. Carson had reached the bottom of the page and he looked at her in confusion. "Elsie, do you know what he means?"

"Yes," she said monotonously, "it means Lorna is worse and I haven't been home to see it." Her bitterness at her own neglect of her sister overshadowed the surprise that she wouldn't be going to live with them.

"She's ill?" Mr. Carson couldn't believe she would keep such news from him. He knew they were close, and they wrote each other religiously, even if she rarely visited. She would have had time off in a heartbeat to care for her sister, if she'd asked.

Mrs. Hughes shook her head. "Lorna is a little bit…" she fished for the right word, "absent."

"I'm sorry?"

Mrs. Hughes folded her hands carefully in her lap. "I mean, she's always been a distracted person. Even as a child she never was capable of keeping her mind on anything for a reasonable length of time. But lately…well… it's become more pronounced in the last few years. Much more pronounced. Occasionally Douglas writes me about it, but I didn't think it was quite so…much for him I suppose."

"And the chickens?"

"A long story. The short version is that a last year she got confused and fed them dried beans. Almost killed the lot of them. That's when we knew she wasn't quite herself anymore." She deliberately left out the part about how Lorna had tried to sleep in the hen house that night, and many nights after, thinking it was her bedroom. This was her family she was speaking of, and she wished to preserve some of their dignity. Poor Douglas must have his hands quite full. He loved Lorna with all his heart and had promised his undying devotion to her, no matter what. Douglas and Mrs. Hughes did not see eye to eye on several things, but she respected his fidelity, and that was enough.

Mrs. Hughes sighed, feeling more than a little guilty. From Yorkshire it had been easy to pretend everything was fine, and Douglas had reassured her in his last letter two months ago that it wasn't too serious. Words were easily twisted to make everything appear rosy, but the fact that they were giving up the farm spoke volumes. Mr. Carson watched her carefully, unsure of how he felt about the situation.

She bit her lip. Without Lorna and Douglas, she didn't know what she was to do. "Is that all?" she asked. "Does he say anything else?"

"There's another page here," he said, pulling it free. She twisted her hands together, anxious for him to continue.

"Go on then."

Mr. Carson cleared his throat. "He says: 'You are dear to us both, and we will not abandon you in such a time of need. Lorna tells me you will not remember your cousin Martha, but she and her husband David have a farm some eight miles from Blackpool. They have agreed to take you in, and it would be close enough that we might visit. I've arranged to have them meet you off the two o' clock train to Blackpool on Monday, if you can manage it. They'll know you and what to do. I've enclosed their address, and we'll try to come and see you when you've settled in. I'm sure you'll find them agreeable people and come to like them very much in due time. I wish you a safe journey, Elsie. Until we see each other again, Douglas.'"

The room suddenly felt very cold. Monday was the day after tomorrow. Could she really be leaving that soon? It didn't seem possible, but there it was in lopsided black and white letters. Mr. Carson opened his mouth to speak, but no words came to him.

Mrs. Hughes gripped the edge of her chair tightly, her knuckles white under the strain. "Well," she said primly, "that's settled."

She couldn't be serious; she didn't even know these people! He managed to find his voice again, "Elsie…surely there must be some other-"

She stood abruptly. "I should go up. Best get to sleep if I'm to get all my packing done tomorrow."

"Elsie," he protested.

She ignored him completely. "I'll tell Anna. I'm sure you won't mind if she assists me," she said stiffly, moving towards the door.

"Elsie!" He blocked her path, forcing her to stop short to avoid running headlong into him. Her posture had become rigid, all angles and hard lines. There was no trace of the soft, blissful woman that he had come so close to kissing. If it weren't for Jimmy and that blasted letter!

"Good night, Mr. Carson," she said firmly, returning back to the formalities they'd employed their whole lives. It was a necessary distinction. Mr. Carson was a known quantity. Mr. Carson was her steadfast friend, a man of rules and decorum and an absolute sense of place. With Mr. Carson she knew she stood on solid ground, but Charles…Charles had made her feel fluttery and reckless. With Charles, her emotions got the better of her and she had almost forgotten herself. If it weren't for Jimmy and that providential letter, she might have given in completely to his charms, and there would have been no recovery from that.

He put a hand on her forearm, pleading with her to stay with him, to talk to him. She recoiled from his touch, and a sharp pang of hurt resonated through his chest. She pushed past him, knowing full well that she'd wounded him, but unable to see anyway around it. He could hurt a little now from her iciness, or infinitely more in the years to come if they crossed that sacred line when nothing could come of it. She would spare him that. She owed him that.

He turned to watch her as she stumbled up the stairs far too quickly for a woman who couldn't make them out. Her cane knocked loudly against each one, but miraculously she did not fall. He longed to follow her, but she had made herself clear. She wanted nothing more to do with him tonight. Possibly ever. No, he could not think like that. She was upset and overwhelmed; that was all. Their near miss had sent them both reeling off-kilter, to say nothing of her brother-in-law's letter.

Mr. Carson noticed the letter, still clenched in his left hand and fought the overwhelming urge to tear it up. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, and he forced himself back into her sitting room to calm down. Everything in the room was her: the sturdy oak desk she'd spent her life at, the ledgers filled with her handwriting, the table linens she'd sewn and adorned the table with. Even the clock on the wall reminded him of her, its steady, reliable ticking measuring the each passing second.

He closed his eyes, but all he could see was her face leaning towards his. Had it all been in his head? Perhaps she didn't know how close they'd come. It was hard for him to imagine life from her new perspective; perhaps she'd been oblivious to him. Perhaps she hadn't been, and now she was furious with him. Perhaps any number of things. The more he thought the less sure he was of anything.

He tucked the letter back into its envelope cautiously, as if it might spontaneously combust and burn him at any moment. He felt oddly cheated. This was to be their fate? The end of the line for them? For her to disappear to a farm outside of Blackpool with cousins she'd never met to live out her days? And for him to carry on running Downton without her, until he dropped dead? There would be other housekeepers, excellent ones even, but he knew none of them would ever replace her. She was different. She was special. He'd known that for years in truth, even if he didn't like to dwell on it too much. Since her health scare, she'd become more open, teasing him, flirting even. She'd never pushed too far, always knowing when to ease off, but he'd enjoyed her attentions. They'd been light, carefree, with hints of a promise that one-day…just maybe…

But one day was not coming. She'd made that clear when she'd fled his company that evening. He didn't have the right to feel as disappointed as he did, for they had made no agreement. They'd said no words at all, really, about the future. He'd just always assumed that he would be in hers and she in his.

Damn and blast that woman. She had crept so carefully and so completely into his heart that he'd hardly noticed it happening. Now that she was there, he had no idea how to let her go.

TBC…