"Remember that the Mirror shows many things, and not all have yet come to pass. Some never come to be, unless those that behold the visions turn aside from their path to prevent them."

It began with a property deed and a proposal.

He had approached her earlier that day, asked if she would be available later to talk about a matter of some importance. She was shocked when he grazed her arm during the first chimes of Lady Mary Crawley's melody. He pulled her through the crowd and opened the green baize door. Elsie, in haste, grabbed two dainty glasses of punch and walked through the entrance following him down the dim-lighted stairs of Downton Abbey. Downstairs it was dark but the brightest light shined from Charles Carson's pantry, luring the couple inside. When he shut the door, her breath hitched.

There was no need for privacy. They were far away from the celebratory throng upstairs, not a soul was left behind down below. But when he closed that door, the air changed around them and Elsie became uneasy. How odd it was for this man to speak to her so clandestinely. She could immediately tell his intentions were for them not to be interrupted and the firm click of the lock solidified her speculations. He turned and gave her a weak smile. With shallow breath, she offers him a glass. Charles grunted out an acknowledgment and took it from her, the tips of his fingers barely grazing her own. They simultaneously took their sips and eyed one another.

"Well.." Elsie spoke first, breaking the eerie silence that hung around them.

"Yes." Charles straightened his back and cleared his throat. "I've brought you here to tell you something."

Elsie looked upon him with confusion. He was nervous. Her head tilts as she spots his shaking hands and shuffling feet.

"Mr. Carson, what is it?"

"I've made a rather important decision." His movements ease and he looks at her with sadness in his eyes. "I'm retiring."

She nearly drops from the pressure aimed at her chest, as if someone had squeezed the air out of her lungs. A sharp searing pain directed towards her heart finished the blow. Her mind is spinning and she feels herself tighten the hold of the crystal in her hands. Retire.

"Congratulations, Mr. Carson" her voice misses a beat and for a moment she sounds broken "What wonderful news."

How unexpected.

She had come to the decision, a few months after their time in Brighton, that Charles Carson would die in the halls of Downton Abbey. They had once tightly held hands and flirted under the balmy sun by the sea. Her skirts were held high and their feet stood amongst the fishes, tiny things trailing along with one another. Together they stood, sinking in the sand and watching the empty horizon. She had felt his thumb stroking her own and her heart raced. She had wanted this contact for so long, she's wanted an acknowledgment of something more than just friendship amongst colleagues. She'd known this man, had known him for years, and yet it felt like they were worlds apart. But in that moment, they were synched as one, connected by the steady force of their hands clutching to one another.

"I quite like it here."

Elsie had barely heard him amongst the sounds of the waves hitting the shore and the gulls squawking above their heads. She tilted her head high, letting the rays of light wash across her pale skin. She did not speak, squeezed his hand to let him know that she had heard him. They stood for what felt like ages, letting the water flick the bottom of their calves. Elsie's chuckle broke the silence and she began moving, shifting her body closer to his. They were not at arms width now but pressed against one another from shoulder to palm, side by side they stared forward at nothing but sea and sky.

She smiled.

"What's that grin for?"

Elsie Hughes had felt utterly helpless to this man who's possessed her soul for so long. His weight shifted against her and he fidgeted against their clasped hands. She won't let him go. Her eyes shine and her smile is now wide and brimming with something he does not understand. She is happy.

"I like it here, too."

"That's good, Mrs. Hughes. Very good."

They spoke no further after that and returned to shore towards the apprehensive gaze of Mrs. Patmore. They watched the others, sitting next to one another on the blanket they'd laid. He had bought her lemonade and escorted her back to the station where they sat together once more on their journey back to the London house. They were electrified, surging with the unknown mystery of their current understanding. Her heart was full and beating softly in time with the ticking wheels of the train on its track. He was here, they were together. And the only way to continue with their newfound dalliance was to move forward. At least that is what she had hoped.

Over a year after the beach, and not once have they talked about that day.

And yet, he stands before her now with shaky hands and an iron-rod back and he's speaking of retiring. She does not understand. They were supposed to grow old with one another within these walls. They were supposed to live out their lives in service like he's always wanted. She looks upon him with tears in her eyes but she will not let them fall.

"When will you leave?"

"Well, that's the thing. I have a proposition for you." Charles moves around her, stands behind his desk as he searches through a stack of papers. He looks a bit silly with his cup in one hand and his other shifting and scattering receipts along with other house business across the wooden surface. His fingers stumble upon a solid black folder, he turns it so that it faces her and she is able to open it. Elsie's mind is going a mile a minute, she does not want to get her hopes up but she believes that he will ask her to go with him. She feels another sharp ache because she knows that she can not. Her hand gently trails along the folder, grasps the corner, and opens to the first document.

"I've purchased a house. It's substantial; five bedrooms on the second floor, along with two washrooms. There is a good-sized kitchen, a laundry room, plenty of gardening space. I think it's perfect for what I've got in mind." He seems proud.

He's watching her sift through the photographs, blueprints, and documentation of his purchase. She fumbles upon the deed, pauses at his signature at the bottom. It's his own house and has signed his name neatly along the line as proof.

"And your proposition?"

"I would like to run it as a bed and breakfast." She looks sharply at his face. So he's not retiring, merely shifting his workload towards a more manageable affair. "And I was wondering…" There's a long pause between them as they gaze upon one another. She's searching for clarity in everything that has transpired this evening, everything that has transpired since the seaside. What does he want from her? What is he willing to sacrifice? Charles sighs deeply and finally rests his punch on his desk. She follows suit and they continue to glance at one another

"Well, I was wondering if perhaps…" He fumbles for the right words.

"Perhaps?" She coaxes.

"Would you be at all happy to come along with me?" She notices his blush and starts to feel giddy about his request. "To run the business, of course."

And with that, she's put back in the realm of reality. Of course, he just needs someone to help him with the cleaning and other tasks that would be more suitable for a woman. As colleagues, they would reside within this large house and scurry around one another as they have always done. She has to think about it. But, first, she must speak of her sister and the life that she has hidden from him all these years.

"I have to tell you something, as well, it would seem."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I've failed to inform you of my financial situation."

"There is no need, Mrs. Hughes. The house has already been purchased. Besides the repairs, which I'll see to, there is really no need for your pecuniary input." Charles straightens his vest and puffs his chest out. He's defiant in his decision, he won't let her waste her money on his little dream. He just wishes that she'd follow him in stride as they have always done.

"Perhaps, you should sit down, Mr. Carson. It's more complicated than you might realize." She pulls a chair to the desk while he sits opposite her, the mahogany being their only barrier. Elsie bites her lip and looks upon him with a sadness he's not seen since the passing of Matthew Crawley. She sighs and looks for the right words to bring forth the truth about her next of kin.

"I've never spoken of my sister, Becky." She hesitates to gaze upon his bewildered expression.

"I was under the impression that you had no family of which to speak."

"Perhaps, because that's what I wanted you to think." Elsie Hughes bows her head in shame as she tells him about her sweet sister who was just not right in the head. She speaks of how she's saved every cent she could spare for the superior care at the facility in Lytham St. Annes. She tells him about her sister's condition and the place where she lives. Tells him that Becky has the mind of a small child but the body of an old woman. She speaks highly of her sister because she loves her dearly and does not want him to think poorly of her. When she finishes and dares to lift her eyes to his face, she sees him downtrodden and hurt.

"I hope you understand. It's not that I don't wish to accompany you in this venture… It's that I cannot." Elsie whispers softly.

His brows are furrowed and his ring finger taps lightly against his knee while he tries to take in this new information. Charles does not pity her, he feels a warmth spread in his chest because he is utterly proud of this woman and the life she's led. He applauds her for working so hard solely to take care of her feeble sister. It has somehow made every task in their life have meaning, every payday now seems like a blessed relief.

He clears his throat, "The revenue from the cottage would certainly pay for your sister's expense."

She's shocked. He's managed to completely veer from the subject of Becky's condition to the property, bypassing the shocking secret she's revealed to him. She's left with a choice.

To go with him. Or to stay at the Abbey without him.

"If you're sure?" she ponders.

"Yes, we'll have three bedrooms to let out. That is, if we charge enough for nightly stays we'll more than manage the payments for your sister."

Three bedrooms? She glances at the sketchings of the house's layout, fooling herself into thinking he's mistaken and there were only four rooms upstairs. She's dismayed as she sees the two small boxes marking rooms on the eastern side of the cottage, one in the middle by the stairway, and two much larger rooms on the western side. There was a small washroom in one of the larger suites (a luxury), and the second was situated at the top of the stairs. She had wondered if they were to share the largest room with their own bath but now wondered which little graphite box was to be her room and which was to be his.

"But, Mr. Carson, this is your home! You've paid for it with your own savings, surely you wouldn't want the proceeds to go towards my personal finances."

"I wouldn't mind." He scoffs. " I've made other investments over the years and have a sizable portion stowed away. The truth is, I wish to retire but I'm not quite ready to give up my purpose in life." Charles shifts in his chair and gives her a promising lift of his lips, a wee smile to reassure her.

"You do surprise me, Mr. Carson."

"Do I? In what way?"

"Investments? This cottage is large enough as it is, I can see here on the deed that it has cost you a fortune. Surely you have not been so profitable in your life that you have stashed enough away for the expense of this house and left enough to live comfortably." She's astonished, if only Elsie Hughes were as financially astute as Mr. Carson. Perhaps, her life would have turned out far differently. She'd even go as far as saying that perhaps, they would not even be having this conversation.

"I'd be happy to show you the figures." He goes to pull something from the desk drawer but she stops him with a palm in the air, shakes her head no. She's trying to summon the answer to his question. Her mind is urging her to accept his proposition but, surely they are missing something. It can't be so easy as investments. Charles watches as a flurry of emotions cross the housekeepers face. He waits patiently for her to speak next.

"I don't need to see the figures but…" Her brow creases and she stares at him in awe. "Are we to be married?"

"Well -" He's put off by the question, did not expect her to be so forthright with it. Charles had just assumed that she understood that being married was a part of the deal. It would be a sin to live under the same roof without having a ring on their fingers. "Yes. We'll be married but we don't need anything extravagant. I thought we would have a visit to the registrar's office, get a license, and have a vicar perform the ceremony."

"And the witnesses?" Elsie is near tears, knows it is all just a farce. There is no love between them, she feels as though she were dreaming. A part of her feels like she ought to turn him down, not accept his terms and let him live his life in retirement - alone. But she knows she can't, she'd follow him anywhere if she could.

And she can.

"Lady Mary… Of course." He's attuned at this moment. She's not said no and she's speaking of their wedding. "I wanted you to be able to pick the other witness."

"Oh." She doesn't hesitate with her response, "Mrs. Patmore."

"We'd just have to settle a date, then. The cottage is ready, we can move in whenever we please." Charles sighs heavily, feels his insides shaking as he fights his urges to convulse. He wants to fiddle with the buttons on his waistcoat, tap his foot against the wood grains of his pantry's floor. He wants to fall apart from the anticipation of her response. He wants the weeks to pass him by until they are finally married and alone. He doesn't want to wait any longer.

"May." Her breath hitches, she presses her palm to her chest. Against her pounding heart. "That will be enough time to train our replacements. By May." She watches his eyes flit around the room as he does the arithmetic in his mind. He nods his head slowly, he understands that was her answer.

"We best be heading back upstairs." Elsie abruptly stands up, cutting off this neverending awkwardness. She quickly picks up their cups, the sensation of the glass against her hands brings her back to the start of their conversation. How elated she had felt when he touched her arm and ushered her downstairs. Now … Now she felt shaken. She was unsteady. Somehow her body seemed to keep her upright. The glass remained within her grasp and not shattered on the floor. This time when he opens the door for her, her mind is foggy. What will her future hold with this independent self-reserved butler?

They part ways as she heads inside the kitchen to empty their unfinished drinks in the sink while he trudges up the stairs. Without joy and contempt, each mull silently on their sudden union. She keeps thinking about how his proposal was meant to be entirely different. Surely, he meant to express his affection towards her. This was not what she had imagined in the recesses of her mind for the past few decades. A lump emerges in her throat and she fights the urge to let a sob escape. She won't fall apart, not now. Not in this kitchen. Elsie Hughes doesn't fall apart over any man. But, it somehow stings more when she tries to inhibit her tears. She inhales deeply, clutches the side of the basin, and pins her eyes on the faucet to help her stay centered. Her muscles clench; her toes curl, her calves and upper thighs become heavy like rock, her back forces itself in alignment. Her head remains low, watching the copper pipe and the collected droplet of water that she desperately wants to fall.

All the while her mind races with thoughts of Charles Carson and retirement.

A/N: It's been years since I've thought about writing a story. This one has been mulling in the back of my mind for nearly that long. I finally have time to dedicate one chapter a week to this. Hope you enjoyed it, please leave me a review if you have a second!