I am so sorry I left you all waiting for so long. I was doing a lot of writing but mostly job applications and proposals… I hope I can make it up to you with this chapter, which is not only long but also full of good news, fun, love, and smut. xxx
The next morning, the group of four caught an early train to Dorset. This train ride was only a little longer than two hours so there was no need for picnics, naps, beers or awkward encounters with posh old ladies this time around.
They sat on four seats, facing one another, a small table between them. After the events of the first part of their holiday and the memories they made, one would think they'd be full of energy, chatting away, but the contrary was the reality.
Mrs Patmore, white as sheet, had her eyes closed, head tilted, trying to conceal her hangover. She really overdid it with the port last night – and it wasn't an accident. Yesterday evening, before they left the hotel, when Mr Mason asked her about taking a bath, she had become very anxious - she couldn't stop thinking about it all the way through dinner. Beryl wasn't sure if his comment was a joke or if her husband was actually being serious then. Either way, she didn't know how to stop the nerves – until she felt the soothing effect of the port on her tongue which gradually relaxed her mind as well. When they left the restaurant, Mrs Patmore had all the courage of five lions, ready to jump into the bath, but when they arrived at their room, she felt too dizzy and passed out almost instantly.
Mr Mason was sat right next to his wife on the train, he was studying her pale façade and reminiscing over last night's events. He was trying hard to get to the cause of her odd behaviour but remained clueless. Why wouldn't I be fine? - she snapped at him earlier in the morning when he dared ask if everything was ok. He recognised things were not ok, he knew a thing or two about women, he was married before after all. The conclusion, to which he eventually arrived, was to get her something nice – maybe a flower or an ice-cream at the beach. Yes, that should do it.
Mr Carson was also miles away, looking out the window at the passing views.
"Is everything alright?" Elsie asked when she noticed his worried look.
"Hmm…" Her voice brought him back to the present moment. "I was just thinking about something his Lordship said to me before we left."
After that he remained quiet so she had to push him for more details. "And what's that?"
"Something that might affect you greatly, but now is not the time and place to talk about it."
"Me?"
"Yes, you. But as I said-"
"Well, now you have to tell me." She demanded.
"Very well." The butler inhaled. "I have to ask you all to keep this to yourselves, as nothing has been made official yet." He turned to the Masons who were now also listening – well at least Mr Mason was, Mrs Patmore was just struggling. "It seems they might be making more cuts to keep Downton running."
"What?" Mrs Carson was eager for him to continue.
"It's not all bad, as Mr Branson keeps finding different revenues for income apparently," He added with a hint of disapproval in his voice. "But he suggested you might start working casually."
"What on Earth does that mean?"
"That you'd be working only some days in the week and leave instructions for the maids on the other days – when you're off."
"I am still not following." She was becoming quite agitated. Her confused look matched the looks on the Masons' faces.
"Don't worry, it took me a while to get my head around it as well, but it basically means you'd have more time to do work around our cottage."
She inhaled sharply. She wasn't sure which part of this she was most angry about – The worst part was that she actually liked the idea of working 'casually', but she certainly didn't like the way it was presented to her.
"You'd still get a very decent income. I gather his lordship thought it could be as much of a benefit for me as it is for them."
"Well…" She was speechless.
"It's not been decided yet."
"Good. We can talk about it later then." It took all of her being to calmy conclude their conversation. She didn't want to quarrel on the train, in public. Even though it was quite obvious to Mrs Patmore especially, who was looking at her with wariness, that she was holding back, and her rage would inevitably come out at some point.
After this stirring exchange, it didn't take long till they arrived at the last station - somehow it made the journey pass a bit faster. They then jumped on the bus, that was supposed to take them to the village, where they were staying.
Even though the bus was fairly crowded, they did manage to secure some seats. The Carsons sat together but the Masons sat apart – as there were no more free double seats. Mrs Patmore didn't care where she was sitting – as long as she was sitting! Her whole world was spinning, she was very hot and in desperate need of some water.
Mr Carson was also getting quite hot, but for different reasons. He and Elsie sat so close together - his arm was brushing her bosom. He was aware she was a bit tense, but he was distracted by another thing entirely. Once he noticed, he couldn't help himself and kept staring at her chest. He was grateful she chose to wear her brassiere instead of her corset today and that the driver wasn't concerned with trying to slow down when driving over the bumps.
They all appreciated the fresh air when they finally got off the bus. It didn't take them long to find the B&B they had booked, as it was the only such place in the tiny village that consisted of a very small number of buildings as it was.
The walk, and the smell of the sea made Mrs Patmore feel a tad better and she was finally able to talk and joke around again. "Ugh, I thought I wasn't going to make it! That was one bouncy ride!"
"It was, indeed!" Mr Carson replied quietly with a smug smile on his face.
…
Upon their arrival, they were greeted by the friendly hosts (Mr and Mrs Bennet) and given two sets of keys. Once they got to their room, the Carsons were welcomed with an unpleasant surprise.
"Why on Earth have we got two beds?!" Mr Carson judged this to be the worst kind of catastrophe.
"Maybe all their rooms have single beds."
"I saw the Masons' room, they've got a double, Elsie."
"Well, I don't know, Charlie, I suppose her ladyship wasn't too concerned about making sure we sleep next to each other when she was kindly booking our rooms." She said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
"Hmm." He rumbled. "I dare say she wasn't." After a second of contemplating, he turned on his heel and headed downstairs to talk to the Bennetts.
After a few minutes he snuck back in quietly with a self-conscious look on his face. His wife was sitting on one of the beds, she just looked up at him with her eyebrows raised when he returned.
"I asked if they have any other free rooms."
"And?"
"Well, they don't." he was rubbing his thumb. "I didn't want to tell them why we wanted a different room, but they wouldn't let it go. They really want to make sure we are satisfied."
At that Mrs Hughes laughed out load.
"I managed to get rid of them, but I suspect they guessed."
"We can just push them together, Charlie, it's not a big deal."
"I think you are right." He gathered and sat down next to her, gaping at her lips.
Her throat suddenly went a bit dry. "Can we talk about the discussion you had with his lordship?"
"We can." He said hesitantly, confused at the timing she picked.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Elsie looked at him with frustration.
"I was waiting for the right moment, I had to bring it up on the train because you made me!" Charles became a bit defensive.
"That's not the point."
"Then what is?"
"Well…" She hesitated. "Do I get any say in this?"
"I guess that depends on his lordship." He explained, shook his head in confusion and added "I thought you'd be pleased."
"I would be if I was allowed to be involved in it." She was becoming impatient with him.
"I don't understand what you're getting at, Elsie."
"No, you don't" She sighed.
"His lordship brought it up when we spoke about the memoirs. He would have talked to you first, but it occurred to him when he spoke to me, that I could do with having you at home more often."
"To do more work?" A high-pitched forced laugh escaped her mouth.
"To spend more time with me." He corrected her.
"Well, that's not what you said earlier."
"No, and that's exactly why I said it wasn't a good time to talk about this on the train. I didn't want to get into too much detail in front of everyone."
She just nodded.
"Well then, Mrs Carson…" His voice became very low and breathy. "Are you finally going to kiss me?"
Elsie shook her head at his silliness but did as he said.
…
Then, the Carsons started making love on one of the single beds, and in the broad daylight; something they will both blush about for days. After a few moments Mr Carson came crashing down onto his wife while roaring "Mrs Huughes!" He finished very early, so early, his wife didn't even have a chance to enjoy herself. He was so embarrassed he kept his eyes shut for a while; this has never happened to him before – he was not a young footman anymore after all.
She was as surprised as he was. "Are we… done?" She asked him innocently, avoiding eye contact.
He awkwardly climbed of off her, nodded slightly and cleared his throat "Hm".
"I'm just going to…" Elsie pointed towards the bathroom. She was too shy to finish that sentence, but her husband understood what she meant and nodded at her again as he was tucking his shirt in.
She swiftly disappeared in the bathroom and started to tidy herself up. What just happened (the lovemaking) flashed in front of her eyes again like a scene in a movie. She shook her head when she remembered how awkward they both still can be about these situations – such old boobies. The image of him falling into her with a roar caused her to inhale sharply and blush uncontrollably. He called her Mrs Hughes again.
It wasn't unusual for Charles Carson to sometimes call her Mrs Hughes when they were making love; when she was moaning under him or when he was nearing the peak. He had loved and lusted after her for so long, it reminded him of the times he couldn't have her, and it gave him a sort of power, almost a feeling of victory. He didn't think she had noticed; he would hate to have to explain it to her. They hardly ever actually talked about sex anyway.
And of course, she had noticed. She didn't ask him why, she has got her theories, and she didn't mind. She was still called Mrs Hughes by many others; she had been for so long. When he called her Mrs Hughes it reminded her of Charles Carson before he became her husband - the stoic butler, who kept his feelings locked away, unable to endure them. It took her back in time and gave a sense of nostalgia, a sense of 'this has been worth it.'
Elsie shook her head again as her reverie slowly dissolved into thin air and she quickly gathered herself in front of the looking glass. They scheduled to meet with the Masons so that they can head to the beach, and they were already late.
