Author's Note:

I plan on this being a multi-chapter fic, so if you don't want to lose this in the pile of Downton stories I would love for you to follow it. All characters are owned and all rights are reserved by Julian Fellows. Many "thank you"-s to my lovely beta, MonaLove. You should all go read her beautiful work! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it.

Ms. Hughes pushed open the attic door without a knock. "Mr. Carson, I've co- ", she heard his snores before seeing his sleeping form. When she turned to see him slumped against the headboard, a forgotten book in his lap, she smiled to herself. The sight of him relaxing without a care was as much a comfort as it was sobering.

Seeing him still, peaceful, and taking time for himself, warmed her heart. It was what she wanted for him. What he deserved. Although the thought of what brought him here, made her heart sink. His heart attack was the hardest thing she had yet to face at Downton. The sight of this strong tower of man, the glue that held the house together, clutching his heart and sinking to his knees, was one she was thankful she missed. The instant she heard, Elsie had sprinted to his room, bursting through the door and going to his bedside. Clutching the bedpost with a strangling grip, she waited to hear what Dr. Clarkson said. "Minor heart attack" the doctor announced, and she expelled a breath she forgot she had been holding.

Charles snorted loudly in his sleep, the book falling from his lap and onto the floor with a thud soft enough to leave him sleeping. Giggling to herself, she went to pick up the book and lay it on his nightstand table. Grabbing the tray beside it, she turned to leave, stopping to whisper, "Sleep well, Mr. Carson." Elsie shut the door behind her, groaning at the sight of stairs at the end of the hallway.

She had been drowning in her own thoughts for the past few days. Knowing that Mr. Carson would be back on his feet tomorrow did not ease her mind much. It was a relief to hear that his heart attack was minor. However, she knew that the stubborn butler would never take Dr. Clarkson's advice. Soon he would be back to his old ways, moving too fast and taking on too much.

Leaning over the rail to see the three flights of stairs still left, she sighed. She sat down on the steps, setting the tray beside her. Mr. Carson was not the only one getting older. She cradled her head in her hands, massaging her temples. Although most of her days were spent worrying and caring for others, looking after Mr. Carson had taken an extra toll on her. It was so different watching over him, it was a desire rather than an obligation, as if her heart were leading her up the stairs to his room every hour.

Three flights below, she heard a door swing open and quick feet run hurriedly up a floor. The scurrying reminded her that there was work to be done, beginning with the washing of Mr. Carson's breakfast tray. Elsie picked herself up and descended the stairs, her breathing strained.

When she got to the kitchen, Mrs. Patmore was running about, with multiple dishes on the stove and a few in the oven. Screaming harshly at Daisy, she assigned task after task, eliciting timid "Yes, Ms. Patmore"-s from the timid girl.

Not wanting to put any more pressure on Daisy, Elsie moved to the sink to wash the dishes herself. Taking the porridge-stained bowl from the tray, she noticed a crisp white envelope hiding beneath it with "Elsie Hughes" scrawled neatly on the front. Written in the sleek curls and elegant lines of the butler's cursive, her name looked more beautiful than she had ever seen it. The dirty dishes suddenly forgotten, she left the kitchen, opening the envelope as she walked to her sitting room. Falling ungracefully onto the settee, she unfolded the letter.

My Dearest Elsie,

It must seem strange to see your Christian name written, for it is as much of an oddity to write it, as well. To refer to you so intimately is a rare treat I shall cherish. It is the dead of the night, yet I find myself unable to sleep. The darkness is quite freeing, inspiring confidence I am sure I shall lose by morning. These past days have opened my eyes greatly. I have been forced to consider the time I have left, and the things I've yet to accomplish. The most urgent of those being to award the person most important to me, my full honesty. That person is most definitely you. Elsie, you are more special to me than anything. I cherish the time you have given me this week. I can only dream that someday I may return the kindness and devotion you have shown me. When I was overcome by my spell, my greatest fear overwhelmed my mind. I realized my life could be ending without admitting my love for you. Perhaps that was not the most sentimental wording, but I am not a man of words. No matter how it is said, it shall remain true always. Elsie Hughes, I love you more than my words or actions could ever show. I regret so terribly that I have not told you sooner. That I could not muster the courage to admit my admiration the day you walked into Downton. That was the day I decided I would spend the rest of my life with you. I suppose we have done that, yet not in the way I had dreamed of. Losing focus, I let myself settle for watching you from afar, completely entranced by my Scottish Goddess. I have always loved you my beautiful woman, and I always shall. I hope nothing more than for you to know and believe this. I do not expect for you to feel the same, and shall not be disappointed if my assumption is true. Envisioning you reading this, picturing your face as you realize how dearly you are loved, will somehow help me sleep easier.

Undeniable and Eternally Yours,
Charles Carson

Elsie sat frozen, biting back a wide smile, her cheeks wet with tears. She folded the letter back and held it to her chest. She had always thought of Charles the same, and it seemed his description of settling for less was a reflection of her choices as well. She too had grown lazy, giving up on the idea of him returning her love. After being appointed Head Housemaid, spare time for flirting and courting had dwindled dramatically to sly smiles and formal "Hello"-s. By the time they were appointed Housekeeper and Butler, they would go an entire day without speaking to one another. After dinner they would sit, sipping wine and making meaningless small talk, both wanting more but too afraid to ask.

Her feelings had never wavered through the years. She still yearned for him greatly. Still thought about him in the dark and silence of night, when she was forced to face her loneliness. She would lie alone and think how easy it would be to go to him. He was only a few steps down the hallway. Yet the fear of him not returning her love, bound her to the bed like shackles. Each morning she would wake and begin the day, counting the hours until she could sit with him by the fire. Each day telling herself that this would be the night she will finally confess her love to him. Yet always in the back of her mind, she knew she could not.

As wonderful as the contents of the letter were, it put Elsie in an odd position. She was now forced to make the first move. She would have to be the one to admit her feelings aloud. To look Charles in the eye and confess her love for him. Or perhaps, she wouldn't...

Rushing over to her desk, Elsie pulled out a piece of paper and an envelope. She sat down and began to write the most important letter of her life.

My Most Cherished Charles,

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