April 1912 – It was unusual for Charles Carson to take his half-day. The esteemed butler of Downton Abbey loved his work and dismissed most opportunities to take a rest. That day however, he felt a need to get away from the house. A need, he hadn't had in a long time. It wasn't because he had had an argument with Mrs. Bute concerning the Duke's visit or because his hallboys had rearranged the attics exactly how they had not been supposed to do it. Charles needed to get away from the house, because he felt like everything was falling apart. While things were carried on like nothing had happened, he could feel change crawling up from the shadows. And he knew that it would change his life the way it had been until now. The new heir would soon arrive and there was no way of knowing what would happen next. Charles worried for Downton's future, for the family's future and in a way for his own future. Downton was his life essence, the Earl's daughters the closest he had and ever would have to children and those under his command downstairs were the only family he had left. Each and everyone under Downton's roof was threatened by an uncertain future. And that was what made him leave the house that day. He needed to get away for a while and calm his nerves.

Out of habit his legs carried him towards the village. The clean spring air cleared his mind with ease. The villagers greeted him and he tapped his hat every time in reply. He walked past the station, not paying much attention to the train that had just arrived. Charles wanted to get past the village and wander about in the fields behind it where he wouldn't be disturbed.

The village green was already well behind him when a woman appeared in the distance. She was walking down the road towards the village, carrying a basket. They walked past each other, Charles politely wishing her a good day.

"Charlie Carson!", she called out in surprise and he froze. His body tensed while his brain presented him with a flood of images it connected with the voice. His mouth went dry and he pressed his lips into a thin line. The woman had a pained expression on her face when he turned to face her, his dark eyes coldly looking at her. "Mrs. Grigg, I presume", he said, his voice not giving away the emotions raging inside him.

She shook her head and forced herself to smile. "I didn't marry him", Alice Neale said.

Charles only reaction was a raised eyebrow. He wouldn't let show how hurt he was, how much his heart bled at the sight of her and how comforting it was to hear that Grigg hadn't gotten her after all.

"You don't look surprised?", she said carefully.

"No", he answered. "Not when I think about it." Grigg was a drunk idiot. Charles had never understood why someone like Alice, someone clever and kind would want to be with such a man. For a long time he had thought that he had misjudged Alice, but then it had become clear to him that she had been fooled and too young and inexperienced to see it. They both had been too young.

"Where did you go after…", she swallowed hard. "After I ran off with Grigg?"

"I went home, back to the life I had had before. I'm butler to the Earl of Grantham now", he answered proudly.

"That sounds like you", Alice said with a warm smile that wrapped itself around his heart like a blanket.

"What about you?", he asked, sounding much kinder now.

"We wanted to go to New York, but the morning our ship would take off he was lying in some pub, drunk. He had lost all his money and our tickets in a silly card game. I just so managed to get a train ticket back to London and lived with my sister for a while. She told me that you were gone. I started working for a local tailor and now I work for Mr. Peters here at Downton", she concluded.

"And you never married?", Charles wondered.

"No. I never met the right man and after Grigg… I suppose, I didn't look very hard for a suitable husband", she admitted. "Are you married?"

"No, butlers aren't married", he replied matter-of-factly. They looked eyes. Strange, he thought. Last time he had stared into those eyes he had wanted to marry that woman and now? She felt unreal, like a ghost. But then again she was stirring something within him. Was it love? Could he still love her after all these years? Was that possible? He cleared his throat. "I mustn't keep you from your work", he said and gestured towards her basket. "Good day."

"Charl… Mr. Carson!", she called after him and he turned around, having gotten no more than three steps away. "I'd like you to know that I'm sorry for what I did to you. I was wrong and I'm sorry."

His mask started to break and a half smile appeared on his face. "Thank you."

Relief washed over her. "I hope to see you on Sunday at church", she said and turned around. He looked after her, frozen to the spot.

"What is it you're smiling about suddenly? When you left you looked like an ogre about to feast on the village's children", Beryl told him when he entered the kitchen. He was used to her comments and only raised an eyebrow at her, shaking his head.

"I mean it!", she said. "What managed to get you into such a good mood?", the cook asked seriously.

"Nothing in particular", he lied. "Is everything set for tonight's dinner?"

"Charles Carson!", Beryl exclaimed and smacked his arm with a towel. "Yes, all is set for dinner. What do you think I do all afternoon? And don't think you can lie to me! I've known you far too long to not see that something or perhaps someone lightened your mood", she challenged.

"Mrs. Patmore, really. I won't discuss private matters in front of the entire kitchen staff, thank you very much", Charles declared.

"Very well", Beryl said, grabbed his arm and dragged him into his pantry, closing the door behind them.

He sighed. "Beryl, really. If you want me to stop behaving like a grumpy ogre towards the staff stop making me look like I'm one of those poor rabbits you slaughter for dinner. This is not how I will gain their respect and you know it."

"Yes, yes, sorry", she waved aside and sat down in front of his desk, waiting for him to tell the tale of his improved mood. Charles walked to his desk and sat, knowing that there was no escape. If he didn't talk to her about Alice who could he talk to? She was like a sister to him. "I bumped into an old acquaintance. We met in London a long time ago."

"Are we talking about a woman?", Beryl asked sceptically.

Charles simply nodded.

"Ha", the cook exclaimed. "And you were fond of her?"

Charles sighed and rubbed his neck. "I was, though truth to tell, I felt she treated me badly. But people drift in and out of your life, don't they? So what does it matter anyway?"

"It always surprises me how you ruin stories of your past by making them sound sad."

"Beryl, it wasn't all nice. She did treat me badly in a way. But… I thought I'd never see her again and suddenly there she is. I'm feeling confused and happy at the same time", he explained.

"How about you let the past rest and start again with that lady?", Beryl suggested.

"Do you really think I should?"

"Heavens, Charles, people don't just drift out of your life and pop up years later by accident! The people we are meant to be with always come back eventually. That's what my granny always said."

"That does sound a little like a line from a very romantic novel", Charles remarked. "But in a way it's true, I guess."

"See, now try and keep your good mood to allow the staff some rest. They've been avoiding you with great difficulty for days. I'll get back now before anyone ruins dinner."

Charles let out a long, deep breath when Beryl was gone. He couldn't deny that Alice returning into his life meant something. And his tortured heart told him to heal it. Charles was certain that what he felt for Alice was still there and would be the only cure for him.

Next chapter - Charles and Alice take a walk and Beryl discovers an old recipe book from her granny.