Decisions 9: The Christmas Special

Elsie smiled as she opened her eyes and was greeted by the sight of her husband, his face so close to hers that she could feel each puff of breath and the warmth of it as it caressed her face. Her fingers itched with a desire to lightly stroke his regal nose, his massive eyebrows, his soft, supple lips, his large ears, and the charming cleft in his chin. With a strong will, however, she refrained and, instead, tucked herself a little closer in his arms, reveling in the scent of him, his solid frame, and his love. She wanted nothing more than to stay right where she was, but the day ahead of them was full and she had plenty to do.

After a few more moments of contentment, Elsie finally untangled herself from Charles's embrace, earning her a groan of displeasure as he now found his arms empty and his bed less enjoyable. Elsie pulled the blankets around him a little tighter and stoked the fire quietly before heading downstairs to make breakfast, hoping to surprise him with a breakfast in bed.

Within the hour, she returned, along with an enthusiastic Katie, to find Charles still fast asleep, her pillow now cradled in his arms and his hair sticking out wildly in all directions. She placed the tray aside and gently slipped back onto the bed, her desire to touch him returning with renewed force.

"Wake up, sleepy head," she whispered softly against his ear. Her warm lips traveled across his cheek and down to his lips where they brushed lightly against his. The corners of his mouth began to turn up and she knew he was slowly emerging from his slumber. She scratched his scalp with her fingernails as she drew his bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it slightly until he took that first deep breath of the morning.

"Mmm, what a lovely wake up call," he said, his voice still rough from sleep though tinged with the love and tenderness he held for her in his heart. "What time it is?"

She smiled and cradled his cheek in her hand. "Time you were up and about, Charlie. It's Christmas Eve, and we have plenty to do today." She watched him slowly open his eyes and focus on her face, though instead of seeing that childlike sparkle that usually invaded his brown eyes at Christmas, she saw only a dull glimmer of what used to be. Brushing it aside as nothing more than the first few moments of being awake, she leaned down and kissed him properly on the lips. "I made breakfast."

"Wonderful, love. Thank you. Give me a few minutes and I'll be down ... "

"No need. I thought we might enjoy breakfast in bed. I'll get everything sorted while you go wash your face and hands."

He brushed her hair away from her forehead and smiled. "I won't be long," he said as he slipped from bed and headed towards the loo. By the time he returned, Elsie had straightened the bedclothes, plumped and repositioned the pillows, and was lounging impatiently for his return. When he slipped back into the bed, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thank you for this, Elsie. It looks delicious."

She watched him gently lift the tea cup to his lips and take that first soothing sip of the morning. "Is everything all right, Charlie? You seem a little … I don't really know, to be honest … off, I suppose. Did you not sleep well?"

"No, I slept just fine. I always do after we, well, after we enjoy ourselves as we did last night," he said, his cheeks turning bright pink with embarrassment as images of their lovemaking clouded his mind.

"That makes two of us. You certainly know how to make me happy, Charlie." She rested her cheek against his shoulder, not daring enough to look him in the eye as she finished her thought. "I never knew that performing my wifely duties would be so very enjoyable, but you certainly make me crave them," she said with a low, almost seductive voice.

He cleared his throat and tried to tug on the bottom of his pajama shirt. "Yes, well, I'm glad you're not disappointed with that aspect of things. I can say I've never been happier, either. That is to say, I hope you know how much I enjoy … well, that side of things, too."

"Eat your breakfast, love. I think it's safe to say that we are both very happy in that department." She picked up a slice of crispy bacon and snapped it in half, feeding him a bite before popping the other piece in her mouth. "Now, let's talk about today, hmm?"

"What's there to talk about? It's Christmas Eve. We have the house decorated, stockings hung, presents wrapped. We should be able to have an easy day. I plan on finishing my book this afternoon so I can start on the new one tomorrow or the day after."

"What new book? What makes you so sure Father Christmas is going to bring you anything?" she teased.

Charles laughed heartily, waggled his eyebrows, and lowered his lips to the side of her neck. "Because I've been very, very good," he whispered, his lips stopping at the spot where her cheek met her ear, causing her to shiver and moan. "Wouldn't you agree?"

With her eyes closed and her body tingling, she let out a shuddering breath of desire and happiness. "Let's just say I may have put in a very good word with St. Nicholas on your behalf. After all, you have been doing the dishes more often and helping with the laundry."

Charles laughed so hard that he nearly spilled their tea all over the bed. "Since we're being completely honest, I will admit that I had a chat with him, too." Charles rested his head on her should and draped his arm across her stomach, hugging her closer to him.

"And did you tell him that my cooking skills have greatly improved so he won't need to bring me that cookbook after all?"

"No. I told him that he is allowed to visit this house but under no circumstances is he allowed to eat any of the biscuits in the kitchen since you made those for me, and I'm not a fan of sharing those. I told him he could have an iced bun we bought from Mrs. Callender. And I may have mentioned that he's to stay away from the mistletoe I'm planning to hang in the house today."

Elsie found she couldn't help but laugh, and she leaned into his arms as they both enjoyed the joke. "You've nothing to fear on that score, Charlie. You're the only man I want kissing me under the mistletoe … or anywhere else for that matter."

"Good. Then I won't add an extra log to the fire to keep him from coming down our chimney tonight," he announced, trying to sound serious given the nature of their discussion.

"Who knows? He might decide to visit us while we're at Downton Abbey tonight. I'm sure he knows how much we enjoy staying up late, watching the fire, and sipping whatever wine you've chosen for us."

Almost immediately, the mood shifted in the bedroom and Charles began to withdraw from Elsie and their playful banter. "Indeed," he said, making a move to get out of bed. "I should get these dishes downstairs and do the washing up. I'll clean the kitchen if you'd like to take a tub or read."

Elsie rested her hand on his arm, stalling him for a moment. "I was only teasing, love. You do know that I enjoy our quiet evenings as much, if not more, than you. I didn't mean to upset you."

He leaned back and kissed her cheek tenderly. "You didn't. Now, let me get these things downstairs and see what sort of state our kitchen is in after you've been cooking." He tried to inject some levity into the conversation but to no avail. "You take that long soak in the tub and leave the household stuff to me. It's Christmas Eve, after all, and you should be spoiled."

She ran her hand down his back lovingly. "You spoil me every day, in the big and the little things, Charlie. I love you."

"I love you, too," he said, gently rising from the bed and leaving Elsie a little confused about what had just transpired. Deciding to give it some thought and Charles some space, Elsie ran a hot bath and hoped that by the time she emerged, he would be in a better frame of mind.

Unfortunately, Elsie was not so lucky. While she had taken a bath, Charles has cleaned every surface in the kitchen, washed the dishes, straightened their sitting room, and swept the snow away from their front and back walkway. "You've been busy. What happened to finishing that book?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I can do that tonight, I suppose. I thought we might eat by the fire then have an early night."

She slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly, inhaling the scent of his cologne and something uniquely Charles. "Sounds lovely but we can't do that tonight. Maybe tomorrow. We are supposed to head up to the house early this evening, before the children go to bed." At that moment, she felt him stiffen in her arms. "Charlie, whatever's the matter? You're not yourself, and I wish you'd tell me what's wrong."

He shook his head but couldn't meet her eyes. He had hoped he could avoid the conversation but Elsie was too good at reading his moods and worming her way into his mind until he had no choice but to share everything with her. He had known, since the moment his eyes first opened, that he'd need to tell her his decision, and she wouldn't agree with it or be happy about it. His only hope was that he could make her understand. When she took his hand and gave it a tug, indicating that they should go sit on the sofa by the fire, he knew the time had come.

"We will sit here until you're ready to talk to me, Charles. It's Christmas Eve, and I'd like to know what's upset you so much. You … we … were fine last night, or so I thought. Did I say or do something to upset you?"

He draped his arm around her shoulders and gave it a squeeze as he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "Heavens, no. We are fine, Elsie. And last night was wonderful."

"Then, what happened between last night and this morning to put you in a mood? When I mention going to the house, you seem to change. That's certainly not like you."

He sat completely still and utterly silent for several long moments, thankful to Elsie for giving him the time to compose his thoughts. He pondered how to say what was in his heart and on his mind, struggling to find a way to make her understand why he couldn't go to the house, not tonight, of all nights. Finally, and without any preamble, he spoke.

"I'm no longer the butler."

His words confused her, and she bit her tongue to keep from replying with a sarcastic remark. His statement of fact was nothing new or earthshattering, certainly not something which should alter his mood so drastically at the mere mention of a home. Instead, she merely nodded her head and took his hand in hers, massaging it as she often did when his tremors seemed bothersome to him.

"So, you see, I can't go to the house tonight," he said, as if that explained everything with clarity.

She gave his hand a squeeze, forcing him to look her in the face. "No, I don't see, Charlie. I'm going to need more than that to explain your up and down moods today. You haven't been the butler for months. Nothing has suddenly changed. Help me understand what's going through your mind." She tugged his hand until he was safely ensconced in her arms, his head resting on her chest and her fingers were carding through his hair.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, releasing the breath and letting his shoulders slump in defeat. "Thomas will have duties to attend to this evening since it's Christmas Eve. I won't be needed, you see. I'd rather stay here and spend the evening alone, with you, than to go to the house and feel like a broken down old butler."

"Charles Edward Carson," she said tenderly, "you are not broken or old. You are retired with your wife and enjoying what most people take for granted. We both are. I don't see what serving drinks to the Crawleys or overseeing dinner this particular evening has to do with your reluctance to visit the house. You know we're invited for this evening and tomorrow's festivities. Do you not want to go tomorrow, too?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm looking forward to Christmas dinner and pudding with everyone. I'd never dream of denying you that treat, love. Truly, I hadn't planned on not going tomorrow."

"Then, what is it about this night?"

"The children," he said softly. "I'm not the butler so the children won't need me. I'd rather not go to the house and know that I won't be the one. The tradition will continue, but it won't be me this year," he said as a single tear slipped down his cheek, landing on their joined hands.

Elsie hugged him a little closer, her heart breaking as she finally understood his meaning and the emotions behind it. "Well, then, you'd best hang that mistletoe before your wife climbs up on the chair, and I'd best make a phone call to let them know we're celebrating at home this evening. Anything in particular you'd like for your supper, Mr. Carson?" She kissed his head and continued to hold him until he was ready to move forward.

"We have the rest of the chicken stew in the refrigerator. We could reheat that and have it with some bread. And there's plenty in the kitchen for dessert."

"Sounds like a lovely evening, then, love. You sort out the mistletoe and finish your book. I'll take care of the rest." After more than a few minutes cuddling on the sofa, Charles and Elsie shared a tender kiss then went about their tasks.

While Elsie puttered around in the kitchen warming their stew and bread, Charles turned on the wireless and found a station playing lovely Christmas music. He'd grumbled at first when the contraption had first appeared in the house, but now, listening to the soft music, he found himself grateful for it. He tossed another log onto the fire and turned on the electric lights on their tree. He had tried, for Elsie's sake as much as his own, to keep his mood light, despite his rocky start to the day, and he felt proud that he had mostly succeeded.

"Almost ready. Five more minutes and we'll be ready to eat," Elsie called out from the kitchen.

"Setting the table, now, and the wine is ready when we are," he called back, before starting to hum Silent Night along with the wireless. He was on his way into the kitchen when someone knocked on their front door. "Who on earth could that be at this time of night on Christmas Eve," he asked as Elsie joined him in the entryway.

"Only one way to find out," she said, just as bewildered. "Everyone we know should be at their own homes having dinner."

Charles raised his eyebrows at her cheek then went to the door, curious to see who was visiting them. As soon as he opened the door, though, his heart leapt in his throat. Standing on their threshold was Miss Sybbie Branson, Master George Crawley, and their parents.

"Barrow said you weren't coming to see us tonight," Sybbie announced before flinging herself towards him and wrapping her arms around his legs. Charles took the girl by the shoulders and eased her back so he could bend down to scoop her into his arms.

"Please, come in, milady, Mr. Branson, and Master George." Charles was shocked to see the foursome at their home on Christmas Eve, and one look in Elsie's direction showed she was just as surprised. "We were just about to have our dinner, but that can wait," he said, hoping Elsie could save their meal until later.

"I did suggest we ring you first," Mary Crawley announced, "but I was told that Christmas Eve surprises are always the best," she said, giving her niece a little wink.

Charles invited them into the sitting room as he hastily cleared away the place settings and wine glasses that had been set out for their stew. "May we offer you something to drink, something to eat?"

"We're fine, thank you, Mr. Carson. We came for … well, Sybbie, it was your idea. Why don't you explain?" Tom handed his daughter the present wrapped in tissue then watched with pride as she took George's hand and led him to where Charles and Elsie were standing.

"It's Christmas Eve, and you always read us the story." She handed Charles the book wrapped in white tissue and topped with a neat red bow. "Barrow said you weren't coming so I asked if we could come to you tonight, instead. We weren't sure if you were sick, so we thought we would come to you instead." Sybbie nudged George who turned around and took a small parcel from his mummy.

"We brought these, too. Shortbread biscuits. We made them with Mrs. Patmore today because we knew you were coming. It was supposed to be a surprise."

Charles felt hot tears prickling his eyes and when he looked over his shoulder at Elsie, tears freely streaming down her cheeks, he lost his battle. He quickly sat down and opened his arms, inviting the children to sit on his lap.

Eagerly, Sybbie rushed into his embrace and wrapped her little arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "It's not Christmas without you reading me the story," she said sweetly. "But, didn't you want to read it to us this year?" Her little voice cracked as she buried her face in his chest.

The three adults looked on, all anxiously waiting to hear what Charles would say to the little girl who had stolen his heart from her first breath. "I did, very much, but you see, Miss Sybbie, that privilege is one that is usually reserved for the butler of the house. It has been since your mummy and aunts were little girls. Then, when you came along, then your cousins, I continued the tradition. Now that Mr. Barrow is the new butler, the honor is his."

"But we don't want him to read it to us. We want you. That's your job," Sybbie said, as if declaring the most obvious thing in the world. "That's why we brought our book to you. Please, read us the story and do the voices. You have the best voices for characters," she said, nodding enthusiastically to George.

The little lad, who had been quite reserved up until this point, stepped forward and climbed onto the sofa beside Charles, scooting closer and closer until his little body was pressed tightly against the large frame of the retired butler. "I'm a little hungry, too. Sybbie talks about visiting you and eating with you and Mrs. Hughes. Could we have something, too?"

"George! You will have your dinner when we get home," Mary scolded gently.

"It's no trouble at all, milady." Elsie quickly spoke up as she looked down at Charles and the children. "We were having some chicken stew, and there's plenty if the children want to eat. In fact, there's enough for everyone," she added, hoping Charles wouldn't be cross with her for impulsively inviting them to dinner.

"I'll help you dish it up," Tom said with a bright smile, taking Elsie's arm and escorting her to the kitchen and leaving Mary, the children, and Charles alone. When they were safely in the kitchen, Tom held his finger to his lips to silence any questions she may have. "It was all Mary and Sybbie's idea. Thomas came to the nursery and announced that you'd phoned and Mr. Carson wasn't coming tonight. I've never seen two more upset ladies. I don't know who was more bothered, Mary or Sybbie."

Elsie hugged Tom tightly. "I can assure you, the mood here at the cottage has been rather somber, too. It hit him rather hard this morning but once he told me why he was upset, we managed to keep him busy so he wouldn't think of Thomas taking over one more aspect of his life. Thank you for bringing them here, tonight. This is the best Christmas gift you could have given him … or me," she said before lightly kissing his cheek.

As Elsie and Tom worked together to get everything ready for their little impromptu dinner party, Charles settled down with Mary, George, and Sybbie, who helped him quickly tear off the wrapping paper from the book. "It's the same one from the nursery. You always read from this book so we just had to bring it along. Aunt Mary says it's the same one you read to them when they were little."

"It is, indeed. I bought the book for your Aunt Mary on her first Christmas and it's seen quite a few Christmas Eve's since then," he said, giving his favorite Crawley girl a smile and a subtle wink.

"Right, nevermind how many years this book has seen. I know two children who need to have the story read to them, dinner, then off to bed. Otherwise, Father Christmas might miss our house, and I will be terribly cross if I don't get my stocking filled this evening," Mary said, giving George a little tickle and Sybbie a wink.

Tom and Elsie returned with the light dinner while Charles poured four glasses of wine and two small glasses of milk. "I know it's not what you're used to eating, milady, but we are thankful you're here," Elsie said in earnest.

"Nonsense. We should be thanking you for sharing your dinner with us, and for allowing us to intrude on your evening. I'm afraid we should have called first."

"But then the surprise would have been spoiled," Sybbie announced as she tried to talk around a mouthful of bread.

"And we might not have been allowed to stay for soup," George added. "Mr. Barrow promised to bring me some chocolate later, but I still have room for this," he said, taking another spoonful.

The conversation around the dinner table was light and mostly filled with the children talking about what they hoped to get for Christmas or little stories about making the shortbread with Mrs. Patmore. Tom and Mary added little bits to the conversation here and there, but mostly remained quiet at Charles and Elsie enjoyed the company of the children.

"That was very good soup, Mrs. Hughes. I liked it so much better than Mrs. Patmore's" Sybbie announced. "Can you teach her how to make it like you do? I'm sure she wouldn't mind, and I wouldn't mind having soup for my dinner."

Charles and Elsie shared a knowing look before bursting into laughter. "I don't know if I should tell Mrs. Patmore how to do her job, lass. She's been cooking longer than I have, and I could learn a few tricks from her."

"Maybe you could share ideas, then. You could teach her how to make soup and she could teach you … something. I'm not sure what."

George tapped Charles on the arm until he had his full attention. "May we have biscuits and the story, now?"

"Brilliant idea, Master George. Why don't we leave everything here on the table and go into the sitting room where it's warmer and more comfortable?" He reached out to take George and Sybbie by the hands, leading them into the other room.

"Mummy, aren't you coming?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," she answered, settling down in a chair and slipping George onto her lap and hugging him close.

"Mrs. Hughes? Papa? Hurry up. He's about to start!"

Elsie pretended to rush about through the room, looking for a spot to sit when Sybbie grabbed her hand and motioned for her to sit down beside Mr. Carson. "That way, I can sit on your lap and be close to both of you and see the pages."

"Right you are," Elsie said, taking the afghan from the back of the sofa and spreading it across their laps and handing one to Mary and George. Tom sat down in the floor by Katie and the fire, excited in his own way to hear the reading by Mr. Carson.

When everyone was properly settled, Charles began.

"Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. …"

By the time Charles had finished, two little children were nearly asleep. George was yawning and Sybbie was more than content being snuggled in Elsie's arms. "I think it's time for these two youngsters to get into bed. Father Christmas will be here soon, and we don't want them to miss anyone's stockings," he said, giving Lady Mary a knowing smile.

"No, we couldn't, Mr. Carson, and I'm sure you two will need to head to bed soon, too. Otherwise, your stockings won't be filled in the morning, either," Tom said, nodding his head towards the fireplace where the silver and gold stockings hung.

Sybbie stretched in Elsie's arms then reached over for Charles to take her. He hugged her as she kissed his cheek. "Will you come visit me tomorrow so I can show you what I got for Christmas? I'll even share my biscuits with you, and Mrs. Hughes, too." She reached out her hand to take Elsie's hand in her much smaller one.

"We will be there for the staff dinner tomorrow so I'm sure we can stop by the nursery to see what Father Christmas left. Now, you two run along and make sure to clean your teeth before bed. I promise, we'll see you tomorrow." He kissed her cheek then handed her back to Elsie as Tom carried George out to the car, Elsie and Sybbie tagging along behind him. Mary lingered for just a moment, hoping for a quiet word with Carson.

"Thank you, Carson. You've made the children very happy tonight. They were most unhappy when Barrow told us you'd not be coming tonight. I hope we haven't offended you in some way."

"Not at all, milady. I merely assumed Mr. Barrow would be reading to the children tonight. He is, after all, the new butler."

Mary's eyes widened in surprise. "He may be the butler, Carson, but he will never be you! It was never about the butler reading the story to us, or to our children. It was only special because it was you who was reading it to us … our Carson." She stretched up and kissed his cheek quickly. "Barrow may be the butler, but there's only one Carson in this world, and the Crawley's are lucky to have you be a part of our lives. I'm happy Sybbie and George will grow up under your watchful eye, and now, Mrs. Hughes's, too." She touched his hand lightly then straightened her back and left the cottage.

When the door shut firmly behind Mary, Elsie emerged from the kitchen with tears in her eyes. "She's right, you know."

"You heard? How much of it?"

"I heard enough, and she's right. There's only one Carson in this world, and I'm so glad you're mine," she said walking over to him and enveloping him in her arms. "Though, I suppose I shall have to learn to share you with your fans."

"My fans have all gone home, except for the one that matters most. I'm hoping I can convince her to leave everything until morning so we can retire upstairs before jolly Saint Nick comes bounding down that chimney and demands biscuits and mistletoe!"

"Hmm, it might not be a bad idea to take the treats and mistletoe up with us. You know, so they're both safe tonight." The sparkle in her eyes told him all he needed to hear.

"Mrs. Carson, we may not be asleep for quite some time. How would you feel about not having your stocking filled in the morning?"

She gave him a cheeky grin and unplugged the Christmas tree lights, plunging the room into near darkness. "I'm willing to risk it. I'm sure whatever keeps me awake will be better than anything in a stocking on the mantle."

"Merry Christmas, Elsie," he said as he caught her around the waist as she passed him on the way to the stairs.

"Merry Christmas, Charlie." She stood on her tiptoes and grabbed a piece of the mistletoe hanging over their doorway before dashing up the stairs. "Now, where to put you?"

As he stood at the bottom of the stairs, he could hear her talking to the mistletoe, and it made him grin. "Merry Christmas to me, old Charlie. Butler or no, you're one lucky man," he said before rushing up the stairs to unwrap and cherish the best gift life had ever given him. Her name was Elsie.

A/N: Thank you so much for kindly reading and reviewing each and every one of these chapters! This concludes our adventures into the world of Downton Abbey Series 7. I hope you've enjoyed reading them as much as I've enjoyed writing them. Special shout out to my FANTASTIC friends who listened to me whinge and moan about certain things while always being supportive and encouraging. Without you ladies, I would have tossed in the writing towel ages ago! xoxoxox Until next time … Chelsie On! xoxo