The plan was to have this out much sooner, but I've been sick and my foggy brain wouldn't allow this chapter to make any sense (it may still not, who knows). Anyway, your reviews have been and continue to be wonderful and amazing and they truly inspire me. I've really appreciated and treasured them all!

Tea time is apparently dinner (from 5 – 7 pm) in the servants' world - I took that from Lady Cora's quote in Season 2, "… And then starve until their tea at six." It's tough understanding all these things when you've never set foot in England.

Due to the fact that I'm also doing Secret Santa, this story will be on a short hiatus until I can write that ditty. One story at a time :)

They're having soup for tea time – something simple because they were out far longer than they had anticipated. However, all the time spent completing their errands was worth it and Charles is grateful there's not much to be done tomorrow. They'll take Benjamin to church, introduce him to their friends (he still feels odd calling them that, still views them simply as the people they worked with), introduce him to the Bates' children. Show him his new school. Keeping the lad busy is key, Elsie says. It's when he's idle that he's apt to get bored. Or disheartened. And that's something they're trying their best to prevent, though admittedly Elsie is doing a much better job than he.

Charles brings in the bread and butter and sets it on the table and takes his seat across from Benjamin. He knows Elsie will only be kept by the soup a few moments longer, and that gives him a bit of time alone with the lad. They still aren't connecting and he cannot understand why. He's never had trouble with children before; in fact quite a handful of them – well. He hesitates to say love; but they cared deeply for him. His thoughts drift to Lady Mary for a moment, and though he'd never dare to disclose such information to Elsie, he finds he misses her.

Misses her more than he imagined. He misses keeping tabs on her, watching over her, giving her guidance. She doesn't visit often – and he was selfish to think she would. Or at least visit more than twice. But there it is and he's suddenly feeling quite melancholy and nostalgic and badly wishes Benjamin would disappear for a moment so he could go and hold his wife close to his heart. Remind himself that he is loved, that his life would be considerably worse off had he chosen not to retire.

His mood is not lightened in the slightest as he watches Benjamin take a slice of bread.

"What are you doing?"

"Just taking me bread and butter, sir."

"In this household, you wait until everyone is present at the table before taking some food."

"Sorry, sir."

Benjamin reaches to put back the bread and Charles raises an eyebrow.

"Where are your manners, lad? Haven't you ever been told not to put back things you've touched?"

"No, sir."

"This is your first lesson in etiquette, Benjamin. Once you touch something, it is yours. Just leave it alone until Mrs. Carson comes in."

"Yes, sir."

Charles' head is beginning to ache and he leans back, rests it against the back of his chair. Truthfully, he would be scolded for this behavior had he still been a footman, but he is not. He's a retired butler who has let his mind take him to a depressed state, whose eyes have begun to ache after being in the bright light for the majority of the day. A moment later, he hears his wife enter the room, bringing with her their soup. Begrudgingly, he opens his eyes as she sets the bowl down in front of him and takes her place to his right.

"I hope you like vegetable soup, Benjamin?"

"Yes, Mrs. Carson."

"Good. It's good for growing lads. Helps you grow big and strong."

"That's what me mum tells me too."

"Well then, your mother is a smart woman."

There are quite a few things Charles could call Benjamin's mother, however smart was most decidedly not on the list. Taking a deep breath, he lifts the lid and serves the soup; purposely serving Benjamin last. They begin to eat, and it doesn't take long for the lad to make another, more obvious error.

"Stop!"

Benjamin looks up at him, the bowl frozen just below his mouth.

"Now, you may have been hungry at lunch, I grant you that. But if you are to live in this house, you are going to learn how to properly eat like a civilized young man," he reaches down, crossly grabs his spoon and thrusts it into the air for Benjamin to observe. "This is a soup spoon. Do you see that utensil next to your arm? That is yours. Use it."

Benjamin glances down to the spoon and hesitates.

"Put the bowl down. Pick up the spoon –"

"Charles," his wife is glaring at him, hissing her disapproval. "This is hardly the way to teach anyone. You must be more patient with him."

"Elsie, my patience is –"

Her attention is no longer on him.

"Don't fret, lad. Do you understand what Mr. Carson is asking?"

Benjamin shakes his head.

"Let's start with this: do you know that this is a soup spoon?"

"J-just a spoon, Mrs. Carson. We calls it a spoon."

"And you know how it works?"

"Yes, sir. I use it after I drink the soup."

"No. You eat with the spoon, and at no point do you ever drink from the bowl. Now, use it properly, please."

The rest of the meal continued in silence, something Charles was appreciative of. His headache, which he highly suspected was tension related, was slowly growing more intense. The distinct manner in which Elsie clinks her spoon against her bowl signals to him that she is not happy. The lad across from him is practically too nervous to eat, however he is at least using the spoon, to which Charles feels a small victory. The day has clearly taken its toll on everyone, but he suspects his mood is the true cause for the tension that has quickly filled the room. And yet, he cannot help it. He is tired and melancholy and there is nothing he wants more than to take a headache powder and crawl into bed – though the more he thinks on that, the more he fears Elsie will banish him to the settee to sleep; something that has yet to happen in their relationship, but has happened in plenty of others around England.

He hears her chair scrape against the wooden floor.

"Elsie, let me clean up."

"No, thank you. I can manage," her voice is clipped, her frustration evident by her more pronounced accent.

He pauses a moment.

"Benjamin, go and help Mrs. Carson, please."

"Yes, sir."

The lad scrambles from his seat, in something Charles equates to eagerness. Perhaps not eager to help Elsie, but eager to escape the unsettling atmosphere that he has created. He cannot fault him. Taking in his bowl and spoon, he hands them to Benjamin, wanting to avoid Elsie's wrath and shuffles off to find his chair.

Collapsing upon it near the window, he curses his old age. He has spent too much time walking and standing today. He's not been required to do such a thing since retiring and it has clearly affected his health. Charles rarely develops migraines; that is something of his wife's specialty and over the years he has become accustomed to treating hers. Headache powder, low lighting, covering her eyes altogether with fabric, rubbing her shoulders, her neck, her eyes – something he was afraid of doing initially, fearing he'd end up blinding her, but he learned that for some peculiar reason it seemed to help.

Gingerly, he raises his fingers to his eyes and gently rubs, but finds he prefers them simply covered. He takes the palms of his hands and covers them firmly, lowers his elbows to rest on his knees.

Footsteps alert him that he is not alone, and he blearily takes his hands down, squinting at the figures of Elsie and Benjamin.

"We're going up. I'm going to draw Benjamin a bath and," she trails off, taking in the sight of him and immediately softens her voice, "get him ready for bed."

"Let me know if you need help."

Elsie nods and puts her hands on Benjamin's shoulders, "Come on, lad."

A short time later he wakes to his wife's hand on his knee, a glass of water in hand. Her head is tilted to the side, taking him in, studying him. Her disappointment, irritation has been replaced with such a loving, caring expression and he instantly feels guilty. He's the cause for their bump in the road with welcoming the lad. He's ruined the day, the positive ambiance they had created has been shattered all over a spoon and he closes his eyes tightly to escape Elsie's tender gaze.

If he weren't made of such stern stuff, he'd nearly be moved to tears.

"You look like I do when I'm suffering one of my headaches."

"I fear I feel like you do as well."

"Oh, Charles. Have you had it all day?"

"No, it just came on during tea and has grown ever sense."

"Is this why you were so cross? I was worried you had grown tired of Benjamin."

"No, Elsie. I will never do so. Honestly, I do like the lad. He seems to be very polite, very sensible. But I will admit that his lack of manners perturbs me and I lost my temper over tea."

"He isn't Master George, or Miss Sybbie. He comes from a different world. And I promise you we'll be able to teach him how to properly hold a spoon, how to use a napkin, the manners he'll need in life. You can even teach him the different serving spoons if you wish. But, you must go about it sensibly. Snapping at him and losing your patience will only impede our efforts."

Charles lets out a deep sigh, "I don't know what to do, Elsie. I feel I've ruined everything and I don't know how to fix this."

"I told Benjamin in the bath that you weren't feeling well. And that sometimes when people don't feel well, they say things they don't mean, and say things in a harsh tone. And even though I told him all this; I still think he's right out of his mind with fear."

"I'm sorry. I don't want this to be any harder for us than it already is, and I've mucked it up."

"There's no need for me to tell you that you haven't, but it can be righted. Patience, understanding, kindness – we need to practice these things whenever we teach him or reprimand him. It may not be easy at times, but I know we can manage."

"Right. I'll do my utmost and will apologize to him first thing in the morning."

Elsie hums her agreement and hands over the glass, watches him intently as he downs the contents and places her hand on his forehead, his cheek, checking for fever.

"You feel a bit warm. Let's get you to bed."

"You're not casting me off to sleep on the settee?"

"Charles, where on Earth did that come from?"

"I don't know. I just …"

"You needn't ever worry of that. You wouldn't fit the settee and I would be terribly lonely and cold without you."

She helps him up and they ascend the stairs together. Charles pokes his head in to bid an awkward goodnight to Benjamin, and is met with the same uncomfortable response. They head to their bedroom and Elsie helps him out of his clothes, turns down the bed and turns off the lights while he settles himself under the covers.

He feels her smooth over his hair and kisses his forehead gently.

"I'll be in as soon as Benjamin is in bed."

He is very fortunate to be married to a woman who so easily forgives his wrongdoings and this is not lost on him as he drowsily awaits her return.