A/N: Skipping all the arguments we're sure to see and getting right to the day in question. This is just my little wish of how things will turn out. I may have been a little harsh on the blessed Lady Mary, but if she's going to be causing trouble, I can't see why I shouldn't! This was written before I saw episode 2. I'd intended on getting it up before it aired, but real life …. So yeah, maybe some spoilers, but I'm not an oracle nor Fellowes' assistant, so I doubt it.

Ch 1: Preparations

Having become accustomed to early starts from her youth, Elsie Hughes found she was unable to make an exception on the one day it did not matter and therefore found herself wide awake well before the dawn, which, being April, would not happen for another hour. Luxuriating in the lack of need to spring from beneath the covers, she instead reached out an arm for the lamp beside her bed and simply laid there, smiling a little, allowing memories from the last twenty years to flood her mind.

She was not at all nervous, she found, as she wallowed in the warmth of her bed. Indeed, she wondered how she could ever have allowed herself to indulge the concerns that had almost scuppered the relationship before it had properly started. She felt a pang of guilt at the heartbreak she had inflicted, but set it aside with customary determination, knowing that they were stronger for the misunderstanding. They were more able to express themselves than she had thought they would be before the wedding – indeed she blushed to remember some of their more tender moments.

Seeing that the patch of sky available through her window was lightening, she determined to see what the day held for her. Getting out of bed, she pulled on her dressing down, running her hand over the heather by her bed – a little ritual which had started when she was seven and assured her (albeit ironically sometimes) that the day would be lucky. Slightly frustrated by the lack of eye level windows in her room, she stood on her chair to peer through the skylight.

From what she could ascertain, it had not rained during the night, for which she was profoundly grateful. The sun did not seem inclined to put in an appearance, but she found she did not really mind – indeed she felt that a perfectly sunny day would not suit her in the slightest. The perfection of it was more appropriate to grander ladies than herself. This day was far more suitable for a Scottish farmer's daughter. She only hoped Mr Carson would not be inclined to fret on her account. But then, he knew her better than that. Much better.

Turning carefully on the chair to grasp the back so she could climb down, she spied a small square of white just in front of the door. It had not been there when she went to bed. Crossing to the door, she bent to pick it up. It was an envelope addressed to 'The Beautiful Miss Hughes'.

She would know the handwriting anywhere. He had his own key to the connecting door in the corridor and had obviously let himself through for a moment – unless Mrs Patmore had been called upon to reprise her role as go-between, which she didn't think very likely. She was highly tickled by the fact that he still refused to use her first name (although it had slipped out on occasion recently) but that he'd seen fit to remind her that for a few more hours the title of Mrs was not legally hers. That neither of them had the least idea of the happiness they were about to share, even if both of them could lay a claim to the emotion.

She sat on the edge of her bed turning the small envelope in her hands and then firmly pulled the flap open and removed the note, looking down upon the handwriting so familiar to her.

Dearest,

Tradition dictates we be hidden from each other until 11. I find I'm a little put out at tradition. I might even be breaking the rules with this note, but I couldn't care less. I simply wanted to wish you good morning as I won't have the chance and it might look a little odd in church. I love you Elsie. I am unable to stop smiling when I think you'll be my wife in a few hours and we can share the rest of our lives together.

I love you, I am yours

Charles

The words were simple but they spoke to her on a deep level, for they were the truest she had ever read and reciprocated in full force. She did not know what she had done to deserve Charles Carson, but she felt absolutely blessed to have him in her life.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a brief knock at the door, Anna and Mrs Patmore entering upon her invitation.

'To what do I owe the pleasure?' She smiled at them, slightly perplexed that she already had visitors.

'It couldn't have something to do with the fact you're getting married could it?' scoffed Mrs Patmore, rolling her eyes at Anna.

Mrs Hughes chuckled slightly, indulging in a little eye roll herself. 'Yes Mrs Patmore, I've not quite lost my memory, you know. But I'd assumed I'd be left alone to dress and then be inundated with visitors more flustered than myself. Where is my dress anyway, Anna?'

Anna smiled at this enquiry, knowing that the creation of the dress had been something of a herculean task, both to get right and keep a secret from Mr Carson.

'Well, that lead us to why we're here, Mrs Hughes. Lady Mary wondered if you'd like to use the Gold room to prepare? I hung the dress there last night, but it can easily be brought up here if you prefer.'

Mrs Hughes frowned. 'I …' she started to speak and then fell silent as she considered the offer. Lady Mary had gone out of her way recently to be generous since she had managed to incur Mr Carson's disappointment. She was so adamant about not feeling like a servant on this of all days that a refusal would make no sense. She gave a nod of agreement to Anna who beamed back in delight.

'We can go down now. Mr Carson has already left for Dr Clarkson's, so there's no danger of running into him on the stairs.'

The three women shared a short laugh and then made sure they would have all the things Mrs Hughes might need to prepare. She left her case full of things for their short break (she hardly dared call it a honeymoon) on the bed to collect later, but slipped some heather into it on a last minute whim. Luck on the wedding night would be needed, she was sure, even if neither of them were truly nervous.

Entering the Gold room a few minutes later, Mrs Hughes saw a breakfast tray laid out on the dressing table, Miss Baxter adding a small bunch of buttercups to it. The warmth of the smile the lady's maid sent her was charged with emotion but it was quickly dispelled by the practical words that were directed to her.

'We thought you'd like to have breakfast in private and a relax in the bath, if you wish.', Miss Baxter said, sharing a look with Mrs Patmore. 'That new maid is entirely too curious.'

Mrs Hughes huffed slightly, although she was more amused than irritated. 'Whatever her faults, it cannot be denied that Madge was impeccably silent in the mornings.'

Mrs Patmore shifted her feet in a show of awkward impatience and then clapped her hands together. 'We'll be back at nine thirty to help you get ready.' The three women all trooped out and, picking up a piece of toast to nibble on, Mrs Hughes went to run a bath.

Some while later and the calm atmosphere of the Gold room had shifted somewhat as Anna flew around Mrs Hughes, tweaking hemlines at Mrs Patmore's orders before she started to think about a suitable hairstyle.

'Something slightly looser than normal, but which will withstand some dancing' Mrs Hughes replied to Anna's enquiry, as she stood in the middle of the room trying to keep still whilst her emotions made her want to pace about in excitement. With only an hour to go, the butterflies were gathering in the pit of her stomach and she wished she could be on her way.

She wondered if any bride had been early for their wedding.

A knock at the door drew her attention and Miss Baxter popped her head around it. Her eyes widened, however, and she moved fully through the entrance. 'Oh, Mrs Hughes!'

Instantly concerned, Mrs Hughes attempted to turn (earning a hiss from Anna) so she could find what was wrong with her attire. 'What is it? What's wrong?'

'Nothing's wrong you daft woman!' laughed Mrs Patmore. 'Miss Baxter's reaction is something you're going to have to get used to. Particularly from Mr Carson.'

Mrs Hughes waved her hands distractedly. 'Flattery, Mrs Patmore, has no place in this room. Did you need me Miss Baxter?'

Miss Baxter nodded, taking a firm grip of her emotions. 'Her ladyship and Lady Mary wondered if they might come in and see you. They said to stress you weren't to feel obligated.'

Mrs Hughes did feel obliged to allow them into a room they owned, but decided it wasn't worth the effort to think up an excuse and so merely nodded at Miss Baxter, whilst Mrs Patmore let her own feelings be known by emitting a low grumble in the corner. She had witness the effect of Lady Mary's high handed approach to the organisation of the wedding on the burgeoning relationship between her friends and found it difficult to forget. But then she wasn't the one marrying Lady Mary's champion.

A moment or two later the door swung open again. Cora and Mary walked tentatively into the room, each clearly anxious not to intrude. Mrs Hughes willed herself to keep eye contact, not really accustomed to being on show and was therefore startled to see the eyes of her employers shining with unshed tears. Cora looked absolutely delighted, but Mary's gaze faltered and she contemplated the carpet for a moment or two before taking a breath and look at the woman who Anna was still fussing over.

'You were quite right Mrs Hughes. The grey is perfect and the style is ever so becoming.'

Mrs Hughes couldn't bring herself to speak for fear her voice might crack. There had been an almighty battle over her wedding dress. Whilst she had appreciated the generous offer of the family to buy the fabric, she resented Mary's assumption it also gave her the right to dictate how it should look. In the end Cora had forced Mary to understand that her high handed manner was more hindrance than help, and reminded her that her recent actions had not shown her to bee perceptive to the needs of others.

The debacle over Marigold was still fresh and Mary had taken a less active role since then, although she hadn't apologised. This was therefore the nearest she had come. Mrs Hughes merely inclined her head in thanks and wondered, a trifle desperately, if Anna had finished with her hair.

Cora, sensing the highly emotional atmosphere, stepped forward, smiling one of her trademark fond smiles. 'How are you feeling Mrs Hughes? Any nerves?'

Mrs Hughes shook her head but was unable to speak before Mrs Patmore burst out with her own opinion.

'She's as cool as the wine cellar in January. It's the rest of us whose nerves are shot to pieces and too emotional to do more than boil an egg!'

Laughter sounded from the company. 'Careful Beryl' Mrs Hughes said, using the cook's first name deliberately, 'It wouldn't do to wake the Queen of Scots, she's been fairly silent these last twelve years!'

More laughter rang out, although Cora and Mary looked a touch bemused. Mrs Hughes sighed slightly, the nerves everyone assumed she was feeling starting to set in. It was the waiting that was the killer, she decided. Or perhaps the keen attention that was focussed on her. She wished Anna would stop fussing. She started to rub her thumb along the back of her hand and let out a small huff of frustration.

Cora, who recognised the signs of a bride anxious to see her groom once again sought to calm her valued housekeeper. 'Do you have everything you need? Something old …?'

'Oh, yes, I think I do your ladyship. The old are the shoes. Beryl do you …' the question was left incomplete as she was silently handed a sixpence by her friend who, after her initial jokes, looked like she was struggling to hold back tears. It was passed to Anna who knelt to push it into the left shoe.

'Something new is the dress. Blue are the forget-me-nots in my bouquet, and as for something borrowed … well, I'm sure one of you could lend me a handkerchief. I have a feeling I may need it.'

'Oh, I think we can do better than that.' smiled Cora, beckoning Miss Baxter over, who drew a box from her pocket. 'This was Robert's first gift to me after we were married. I'd be thrilled if you wore them.' Seeing that Mrs Hughes's hands trembled too much, Cora opened the box to reveal two silver combs inlaid with mother of pearl and moonstones.

She was overcome and looked at Cora in bewilderment. 'I'm not sure I deserve such fine ornaments.'

'The gulf between what you think you deserve and what the rest of us believe is wider than the Atlantic Ocean. Please wear them and know they come with my very best wishes.'

Mrs Hughes didn't trust herself to voice her thanks, so turned to Anna instead. 'Can you find a place to put them? I hope you don't need to redo the style.'

'Not a chance' grinned Anna brightly. 'Her ladyship let me in on the secret, so I planned around them.' Swiftly the combs were placed at the back of the delicately wound twists Anna had put her hair into and then a hush fell on the room.

'I do believe you are ready Mrs Hughes.' Anna said, drawing her closer to the mirror so she should have the full effect of the last hour's work.

She wondered who the woman was who stared back. It certainly wasn't her, not the woman in late middle age who felt her looks were a thing of the past. The cut of the dress was as flattering as she could have ever hoped; the neckline was higher than Anna had originally suggested, but there was still more of her neck revealed than ever before. The grey tones of the fabric did not drain her, as Lady Mary had starkly declared they would do, but highlighted the rosy tone of her cheeks and the warm auburn of her hair, which seemed to echo the style she had worn during the war, but which framed her face in a softer manner than before.

She was a woman not a housekeeper and that was clear beyond a shadow of a doubt from the image she saw in the mirror. 'Thank you' she said lowly, not really sure, in that moment who she was thanking.

The various women in the room stirred themselves at her words. Each of them had been lost in contemplation as they watched her, but not they realised the time and all but Mrs Patmore melted away as they left to travel to the church.

Mrs Hughes took one last look at her reflection and then moved to put on her gloves, which matched the dress exactly. Turning to face her friend, she found that Mrs Patmore wore a very serious look.

'Will I do, do you think?'

'Do?!' exploded Mrs Patmore. 'You're a vision, and if I weren't that afraid of creasing you, I'd give you such a hug!'

'I think I can cope with one embrace Beryl' she answered seriously, reaching out to draw the other woman into her arms. It was the closest they had ever been, but neither felt awkward. Change was afoot and they both sought to reassure the other that their friendship would withstand the shift.

It was time to leave for the church. Mrs Hughes gathered her bouquet and cast a quick glance about the room to ensure she had everything, then followed Mrs Patmore out of the door and along the gallery to the main staircase. Concern caused her to voice an enquiry as to the propriety, but was silenced by a glare from Mrs Patmore.

'I've had me orders. And if her ladyship or Mr Carson find out you disobeyed, I'm not sure which of us will be in more trouble.'

There was nothing for it but to glide down the magnificent stairs, sweep across the grand hall and go out through the main doors to the waiting car.

Five minutes later it drew up outside the church where Dr Clarkson stood waiting for her. He was to lead her down the aisle to her new life.

'Ready' Mrs Patmore whispered

'Absolutely' Mrs Hughes replied, smiling broadly and squeezing her friend's hand briefly as the cook got out of the car and hurried up the path to the church to take her place in the front pew.

The car door had remained open and Dr Clarkson stretched out a hand to assist her. 'You look lovely Mrs Hughes.'

'Thank you' she said as she stepped out of the car. The minute she straightened up, she heard a sound which was intensely familiar yet so unexpected she gasped in shock.

'Bagpipes?!' she enquired of the doctor who winked at her and pointed to the doorway of the church, where a bagpiper had indeed come into view.

She felt the tears spring into her eyes as she marvelled at the fact she was about to marry a man who was still able to surprise her. Taking Dr Clarkson's arm, she took shaky yet determined steps towards the church in which stood the man she would pledge herself to.

Inside, Charles Carson heard the bagpipes and smiled broadly. His bride was about to arrive.

A/N: OHMYGOD …. Ok, this was written before episode 2 (as I said before) but ALSO before all those amazing pictures, ARGH! I've been slightly cannonballed by them, but I'm sticking to what I wrote. I was trying to remember the BTS pictures from April, where I was fairly sure she was wearing worn brown shoes, so went with that.

I intend this to be a three parter, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to write and/or get the other two chapters up by Sunday. I'm going to Greece, so I'll probably miss the episode when it airs, unless I can find decent wifi, so whatever I write is going to be my head canon ….. Oh god, I don't know how I'm still functioning!

Reviews would be lovely!