Chapter 22: Epilogue

Elsie stood at the kitchen window and looked out at the impressive garden her husband had worked so hard to cultivate for her. It was a proper English garden, he'd often said, for his beautiful Scottish rose. She smiled to herself as she took a deep breath and reveled in the beautiful colors and varieties of flowers her view afforded her.

Charles had spared no expense when it came to their little garden. He had worked diligently and conferred with several local gardeners about what might work best with the soil and his limited experience. In the end, he had created a masterpiece of love for his bride. Foxgloves, garden peonies, larkspur, lavender, and various shades of roses were just a sampling of the diverse flowers in their little patch of heaven. He had even splurged and had a wooden bench crafted so they could enjoy summer evenings amongst the heady scents of the flowers and the large bird bath that took pride of place in the center of it all.

He had tried, bless him, to become a proper farmer, working the land and raising crops which could be used for their own food and to sell, but no matter what he tried, he couldn't quite get the hang of it all. Even with Colin's tutelage, the crops never seemed to produce, and after much discussion and several frustrated tries from Charles, he decided to turn his attentions to the flower garden and left the other one to those more skilled. Not long after that, Charles and Colin had hired some of the local lads to help with the farming, giving Colin more time to devote to his clocks and trips to local village fairs.

Charles and Elsie had settled in quite nicely at their new cottage. The Queen Mother had purchased the land and home owned by Joe Burns and completely renovated it as a wedding gift for the former butler and housekeeper of Downton Abbey. She had also paid all of the taxes owed on the Hughes farm and ensured that all future bills would be sent directly to her. She had made it very clear that neither Charles, Elsie, nor Mr. Hughes were to argue with the arrangement, stating that it was the very least she could do since the butler and housekeeper, though her time had been brief, had taken excellent care of the Abbey during the family's absence.

Elsie had been so caught up in gazing at her little garden and happy memories that she failed to hear Charles entering the house. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen and watched her for a moment, still marveling at his luck in finding such a wonderful woman with whom he could share his life and heart. Silently, he crept up behind her, slipped his arm around her waist, and presented her with a single, deep red, Checkmate rose.

His lips were soft against the side of her neck and his breath caused her to shiver with desire and excitement. She leaned back into his embrace, bringing the rose to her nose and breathing in its lovely aroma, as her head lolled to the side encouraging him to continue his slow exploration.

He wrapped both arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. "Hello, love," he whispered against the shell of her ear. "I saw that rose and thought of you. I think it's one of my best yet."

"It's beautiful. Thank you," she replied, a soft sigh escaping her lips as he continued to lavish her with his full attention. His hands were warm against her belly and hips, his strong fingers caressing and teasing her as only he knew how. His breaths, and hers, too, were growing arduous, laced with desire and need, want and love. When his hand gently cupped her breast through the cream colored blouse and gave her a gentle massage, she groaned loudly and felt her knees beginning to weaken. She was in fear of losing herself in his touch, and they couldn't afford that luxury. They would simply have to resume this amorous discussion later in the evening.

Despite her body's protests and her desperate yearning that they continue, to retire to their bedroom and devote the rest of the morning to giving and receiving pleasure, Elsie pulled back a little from him. After carefully placing the rose on the counter, she turned in his arms and draped hers over his shoulders, locking them at the back of his neck. When he groaned at the disruption, she quickly pecked him on the lips. "Patience, Mr. Carson. We have somewhere we need to be this afternoon and I daresay you'd not be pleased if we missed it, regardless of the reason."

He rested his forehead against hers and grinned. She was right, as always. Even to this day, she was his very practical Mrs. Hughes at heart. "This is a proud day, Mrs. Carson."

"I wouldn't say I'm proud, but I'm very glad you're happy." And she truly meant it. She slipped deeper into his embrace and rested her head against his chest, content to snuggle there for a few moments to enjoy the closeness. With his strong arms wrapped around her and his steady heartbeat beneath her ear, she knew deep down that this was the kind of love the poets often wrote about in their sonnets.

Unfortunately, every poem had its ending and so would this lovely moment shared with her husband. It could not be helped, though, as they were on a tight schedule, and Charles would be horrified if they were late for such an important event involving one of the members of the family.

Ever since the return of the Crawleys, Elsie Carson had witnessed the way Princess Mary could twist Charles around her little finger. It had annoyed her at first, watching as the spoiled and somewhat demanding young woman would ask so much of others, seemingly giving little in return in the way of gratitude. But, over time, she had come to make peace with that side of things, knowing that if her husband could love the princess, she could, at the very least, learn to tolerate her for his benefit and happiness.

And, in some respects, Elsie owed this woman and her entire family a debt she could never repay. It had been their misfortune, and Charles's too, that he had been cursed. She had come to the rational conclusion that if those events had not occurred, she would never have crossed paths with this kind and loving man she now had the privilege to call her husband. Her father would, most likely, still be worrying about money and the land, struggling to repair clocks in order to keep the farm afloat. It hadn't been an ideal start down this other pathway, but the rewards were beyond anything she had ever imagined.

"What time are we supposed to pick up your father? He is going, isn't he?" Charles brushed his lips against the top of her head and rested his head there a moment later.

She opened her eyes and stole a glance at the cherished clock which took pride of place on their mantle. It was the same clock she had rescued from the stable all those many years ago and which stood as a stark reminder that each moment was precious as were the people with whom they shared it. "I told him we'd leave around one o'clock. That should give us plenty of time. I know you said you wanted to stop by the house first."

"Mmm, indeed. Princess Mary has asked that I be there, though I'm not entirely sure why. Mr. Barrow is the butler now, so there's nothing for me to oversee in that respect."

"My darling man, she loves you and wants to make sure you're there for her most important day."

"As if I'd miss it," he scoffed.

She shook her head and laughed as she leaned back to look into his eyes. "No one is saying you would. I'm sure she simply wants a moment alone with you. After all, you've been her greatest champion, and I would venture so far as to say her best friend at times." She decided against adding that perhaps he was her only friend most of the time.

Charles beamed proudly at that thought. He'd loved each of the Crawley girls, but Mary had been his favorite from the start. They had shared so many happy and somewhat secretive memories … from her wanting to run away, to her thoughts on having a new sister and then another, and everything in between. "Even a butler has his favorites, my lady," he teased.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him sweetly on the lips. "Princess Mary does not deserve you, Mr. Carson! Truth be told, I'm not sure I do, either."

He pulled back from her and gripped her upper arms gently but firmly. "You are a woman of integrity and honor, Elsie, who raises the tone of this house by being part of it, by loving me, and accepting my love in return. While I cherish the family and will always be incredibly grateful for their generosity, you will always come first in my eyes and especially in my heart."

She brushed her fingertips across his smooth cheek and down the side of his neck causing him to tremble in anticipation. Her touch had always caused a little spark within him to ignite, ever since that first day their fingertips had touched at the stable, and marriage had not changed that one bit.

"And if we don't stop flannelling and get on with it, we'll be late for picking up Da, and you won't make it to Downton Abbey in time. And heaven knows I do not want to be the cause of that." She patted his bottom and gave it a naughty pinch. "But, I do hope we can continue this little conversation later this evening, when we're all settled in for the night."

"You can count on it, Elsie." In return, he smoothed his large hand across her bottom then, without warning, gave it a playful smack. She yelped and squirmed out of his arms, walking away with an exaggerated swing to her hips as she went to their bedroom to change into her Sunday best. Charles chuckled to himself and followed her, reciting a few lines from one of his favorite poems by Byron:

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes.

The marriage of Princess Mary to a solicitor named Matthew had been the highlight of endless days of preparation for the servants of Downton Abbey. Mrs. Patmore and Daisy had truly outdone themselves with the cake and all of the little nibbly bits served to the guests. Mr. Barrow had, much to Charles's surprise, paired the wines almost perfectly, proving that he had been listening. The housemaids and footmen, under Mrs. Baxter's supervision as the new housekeeper, had everything gleaming and practically spotless. And to make the day even more special, Anna had secretly confided in Elsie that she and Mr. Bates were planning a small, quiet wedding of their own. Once things settled down at the Abbey and the banns were read, she hoped Elsie would consider helping her plan the whole affair.

Violet and Colin sat in a corner of the reception room watching as the youngsters enjoyed the music and excitement of the day.

"I must thank you, again, Mr. Hughes, for helping me gain back my family, and for everything your daughter has done for my son, his wife, and their daughters."

"I don't know what you mean, Your Highness. It is we who owe you the thanks, and not just for the gifts of the lands and tax relief. It's much more than that. I've never seen Elsie happier. It is a debt that I know I will never be able to repay."

"The same could be said for Carson, too. I've known him since he was a lad, and she brings out the best in him. They complement each other well." Her eyes drifted through the crowd and landed firmly on the couple in question, watching as they greeted the new bride and her husband. "You know, Carson has always been like a downstairs father to my granddaughter. He was blindly devoted to her until …" She trailed off, not wishing to dredge up the curse and all that entailed.

"The same could be said of my Elsie. I fear she would have given up everything and every opportunity for happiness if … ahem, if fate … hadn't intervened to show her another way."

Violet smirked to herself. Fate, indeed! "Then, we must all be grateful that events turned out as they have." She gave him a rare smile then quickly changed the subject. "Now, you must speak to my gardener about the fertilizer for our roses. I fear if Carson enters the flower show this year, I may lose the coveted award, and we can't have that."

After an exhausting, but joyful day, Charles and Elsie finally collapsed into their own bed. With the windows opened to allow the gentle breeze to cool the room, they pulled the sheet over them and settled into each other's arms.

"It was a lovely ceremony, don't you think?" Charles's fingertips danced lazily up and down Elsie's back over the thin material of her nightdress as she curled into his side.

"It was, though not as beautiful as ours," she answered honestly. "While they had everything planned to perfection, I prefer our much simpler ceremony. Though, to be fair, I might just be a little bit biased. You see, I was marrying this handsome man, who was rumored to be a beast, but who turned out to be a cuddly bear."

"A bear?" He shifted so that she was beneath him, his eyes dancing with mischief as he hovered over her. "Is that what you think of me?"

She slipped her hands beneath this pyjama top and lightly scratched his chest and sides with her nails. "You certainly sound that way, sometimes, especially when you growl in my ear," she said, slipping her foot up and down his leg teasingly, hoping to continue their amorous adventures from earlier in the day.

He hissed in delight as his body began to react to her touches and the sounds she was making thanks to his attentions. "And here I was thinking you saw me as an ornery old curmudgeon when you first met me."

"Curmudgeon or bear … doesn't matter," she said, quickly maneuvering from beneath Charles and shifting so that he was now beneath her. "Either way … you're mine and that makes all the difference." She began slowly unbuttoning his pyjama shirt, teasing him with her eyes and with softly spoken promises of pleasures they would enjoy together.

His last thought before giving himself over to the wonderful and pleasurable attentions of his wife was how magnificent it felt to finally love and be loved, warts and all. And, of that, he had never been so sure of anything.

Charles and Elsie Carson would live as closely as two people can for the rest of their days, filling their little cottage with happy memories, friends, family, and always fresh roses on their bedside table.

The End!

A/N: This has been such an incredibly journey with you and ChelsieSouloftheAbbey and I thank you from the bottoms of our hearts for each and every review (signed and guest). You have made this labor of love even more enjoyable for us and we cannot thank you enough. If you have a moment, hop over to our Tumblr pages (Chelsie-Carson and CSOTA) and take a peek at the amazing artwork by our friend, DameofDowntstairs. Her 3 panel series for the story is out of this world! With love and thanks … we now bid you adieu … until next time!