Thoughts on the shaking

It had been little moments to begin with, she'd caught the edge of a paper quiver in his hand, or his touch on her bare skin had been a little lighter and more feathered. But over time it became more obvious. Once or twice he'd spilt his tea at breakfast or his wine glass had shifted to his left hand at dinner. She'd tried to ignore it, but it was becoming more obvious. If she was honest with herself her concern was not entirely about his well-being, although naturally she was worried. No, what concerned her most was that he had not confided in her. As butler and housekeeper he would not have told her something like that, just as she had not directly told him about her cancer scare. But now, as his wife, things were different. She was supposed to look after him, to know his secrets and guard them herself. They were a partnership and the fact that he'd chosen not to confide in her filled her with worry, more so than the simple worry over his health had done with his other concerns in the past. She resolved to speak to him when they got home.

It was the shaking papers that caught her eye in the office one afternoon. He was too busy grumbling about Anna working in her condition to follow up on it in that moment. She resolved to speak to him later that evening when they were alone in the cottage. She didn't imagine it would be a short or quiet conversation and more importantly she didn't imagine they would manage enough uninterrupted minutes. She allowed herself a small smile at the idea that this would have been what being parents together would have been like. She shoved the thought unceremoniously out of her head. She didn't want to consider what might have beens and what they could not have.

When Charlie came downstairs later that evening however, he was not Charlie, but grumpy Mr Carson. He barely spoke to her as he passed. She raised an eyebrow at Mr Molesley who shook his head. She turned back into her sitting room. To be followed by Mr Barrow.

'Everything all right, Mr Barrow?' She asked as he pushed the door to behind him, a white tablecloth in his hands.

'Two things, Mrs Hughes, if you have a moment?'

'Of course.' She smiled kindly.

'Firstly, I wanted to say thank you. For everything you did that day and well, for everything before that too. No matter what I've done wrong, you have always been there when I've needed a bit of support and I'm very grateful. I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused over the years, but you've always been considerate and kind and I appreciate it very much.' She smiled at him, tears in her eyes.

'You don't need to thank me, it is part of my job.'

'I know. Welfare of the staff and all, but you take everyone under your wing here. You tell us off when we've done something stupid, you offer us advice and a listening ear, and you're always there with a good pep talk when we need it too. It's never gone unnoticed Mrs Hughes, but I thought you deserved to hear it for a change.' She was tearing up at his words now.

'Thank you, Thomas. I do appreciate you saying it.' She paused for a moment, then smiled. 'I am very proud of you. You've come so far and I am sure you will find a place that makes you happy. You can be such a lovely man and you really do deserve some good fortune now.'

'Thank you. I never really got on with my own mother Mrs Hughes, I could never count on her when I needed her if I'd done something wrong. Which was often.' She chuckled. 'I've discovered that service is littered with orphans and sons and daughters with less than loving families. But I've also learned that there are mothers here too. Of a different sort mind, but Downton is very lucky that it has one like you. I've certainly been in need of you often. I think if I'd had a choice of any one, I'd have picked you.' Several tears trickled down her cheeks now.

'Wherever you go, Thomas. You can trust that I will always be there to support you, if you're in need of me.' She placed a gentle hand on his arm and he smiled. The paused for a few moments smiling at each other. She laughed after a while. 'Come on. We should get on with something useful. What are you doing with the table cloth?'

'Oh. Mr Carson spilt wine earlier, I was bringing it down to soak. It was red unfortunately.' She blinked at him.

'He spilt wine? He's never…' Her face paled slightly.

'I know. He looked very shaken afterwards. I'll go and sort the cloth, I think he needs Mrs Carson more than the table cloth needs Mrs Hughes.' She smiled gently.

'Now, don't you get cheeky on me, Mr Barrow.' She teased, before thanking him and going in search of her husband.

She spotted him by the door collecting both of their coats. He smiled weakly at her, holding up her coat for her to slip her arms in. He didn't say anything else as he handed her hat to her. She put it on and stepped into the kitchen to tell Mrs Patmore they were leaving.

They walked in silence towards the cottage. She had made one attempt at conversation, but he didn't respond so she dropped the subject. Only later when they were sat in bed, him staring blankly at an open book, her gently plaiting her hair did she try again.

'Do you want to talk about it, love?' she asked, reaching for the ribbon in her lap and tying her hair. He shuffled his book, before closing it and looking at her. Tears filled his eyes.

'It's silly.' He said.

'You're even sillier if you suffer on your own. Now, out with it.' He remained silent for a few moments. She could see he was thinking about what to tell her. She gently laid her hand over his and began to gently stroke his fingers. They weren't entirely still under her touch, but she waited for him to say something.

'I spilled the wine at dinner.' He sighed, sadly.

'I know.' She replied, gently, her fingers still caressing the back of his.

'I've never spilt wine before and certainly not in front of the family. I'm so ashamed, I don't know what came over me.'

'There's no need to be. I'm sure it was an accident. And certainly, His Lordship wouldn't think anything less of you for it.' He smiled weakly at her.

'Thank you, Elsie. You always could talk sense into me.'

'Do you want to talk about it some more?' she asked, offering him a window to admit the shaking, but he didn't take the hint. His hand slipped from hers and he reached for her neck, gently caressing the skin with his fingertips.

'No, I don't want to talk. I just want to hold my beautiful wife for a while. Would she mind?' Elsie smiled.

'It depends where you're hiding her, Charlie. There's not much more room in here with both of us.' He laid down, pulling her with him, a smirk resting on his lips. One hand settled on her hip, the other went back to her neck as he dipped his head to kiss her. He gazed down at her as the broke apart and smiled at her lovingly. His hand moved from her neck to her cheek, the other running gentle circles over her hip and lower stomach through her nightgown. He pressed another kiss to her lips before smiling at her.

'I thank God every day for you, Elsie Hughes.' He admitted, continuing his gentle caresses.

'Carson.' She corrected.

'No.' He replied and she looked puzzled. 'For years,' he continued before she could argue with him. 'Decades probably, every time I've needed to rely on someone, there you were. Always at my side. Always with a kind word, some advice, a shoulder to cry on. I can't believe it took me so long to ask you to marry me. I keep thinking back. You held my hand all night when I had the Spanish Flu didn't you. When I was running a fever and hallucinating all night.' She laughed.

'You know I did. I wasn't about to let anything happen to you.' He wrapped his arms round her and pulled her to his chest. His hands began to gently rub her back, the gentle quiver in them more obvious now she had noticed it.

'I always liked my job before, but working with you beside me was different. I'm very grateful that I've been lucky enough to spend the last twenty seven years working with my best friend. Even when we haven't always agreed I always knew I could count on you on the things that mattered most. And I'm sorry to say all that was Elsie Hughes. I wish I'd been brave enough to ask her to be my Mrs Carson all those years ago…'

'Don't' she said firmly. 'We wouldn't have managed it, love. We weren't the people we are now and the world isn't what it once was. You know we wouldn't have been able to both stay on and I couldn't have left Becky nor would I have asked you to leave your post and us gone and worked somewhere else. We were certainly slow on the uptake after Anna and Mr Bates set a nice precedent for us, but I wouldn't have asked for a different life. Not really.'

'We could have had a family, Els, we could…' She shook her head against his chest and he looked down at her.

'I think we did.' She admitted with a smile. 'Mr Barrow said something to me today about being a sort of surrogate mother to the household staff and I think he was right, Charlie. He talked about how service is so often littered with orphans and broken hearted children abandoned by their families. Look at Anna and Daisy, their families abandoned them long ago and it's us they come to when they need a parent. We praise them for their achievements and punish them for their rule breaking. We love them when they're sad, or ill or hurt or homesick. That night when Anna… when… she was in the corner of my sitting room. It was me she came to in the worst moment of her life. Me, she let hold her and dry her tears and tend to her cuts and bruises. We have had a family, Charlie, just not the conventional kind.'

'See, you are quite marvellous, Mrs Carson. I should never have questioned you.' She chuckled. 'What else did Mr Barrow have to say? He seems to have had quite an effect on you.'

'He wanted to thank me for that day and for many others before. You do know he finds his way to me after you've scolded him don't you?' He kissed her forehead.

'Hmm, yes,' he said kissing her again. 'Just like a son would run to his mother when he got into trouble with his father.'

'He's come so far since his scheming days with Miss O'Brien. I hope so much that he gets some good luck soon. I can't bear to see him suffer anymore.'

'I know, darling, I know. I do feel for him really. I know I don't always know how to say it to him, but I hope for the same.' She nodded.

'He washed the table cloth out for you tonight. He didn't want one of the maids to find it in the morning, and he said I needed to be with you, not in the laundry doing it myself.' She could feel him tense at her words and she knew how much they meant to him.

'I…I'll thank him tomorrow.' He managed to whisper. They held each other for a few moments more before his arms pulled her closer and he began to chuckle. 'They all knew didn't they, before we got married. They knew if I needed pacifying to send you, or if they wanted something that I would say no to, that they had to get you on side to persuade me.' She laughed too.

'I'm afraid so, darling. Right up to the Dowager Countess herself!'

They lay in each other's arms for a while before Elsie felt Charlie's breathing even out and his head settled against her shoulder. She felt warm and safe wrapped in his arms. The worry of the shaking and what it meant still played on her mind. She was going to have to brave the conversation eventually, if he wasn't going to share it with her, but for now she was content to sleep beside him. He would set her mind at ease soon enough, she was sure of it. Perhaps it was nothing at all.

Unfortunately, when the next day dawned and she watched his hands tremble around his tea cup in the kitchen, she knew he wasn't going to talk. She was reassured by one look at the cook that she had not seen, but she was not satisfied to wait for him to talk anymore. It wasn't her imagination, it wasn't just a passing thing. She needed to know what was happening. She needed him to confide in her and if he was not going to, she had no choice but to ask him directly. She took a deep breath, placed her tea cup down and followed him to his pantry. She needed to do this now.