A/N Here's the sequel to Downton Academy – finally. (If you're new to this story, you should probably read the prequel and the main story before you read this sequel.) I know it's been a long time coming. Real life has kept me busy, and this chapter has given me fits.

Thank you all for your reviews to the last chapter of the main story. I'm grateful for your support. Thank you also to all of you who have asked about this story and how it's been going. I sincerely appreciate your interest and encouragement. Your gentle nudges provide the prodding I need to keep going.

Since it's been so long, I'll provide just a quick reminder of our current status. Our happy couple have been engaged since Christmas and have set their wedding date for June 11. They've had a nice New Year's Eve/engagement party at the Crawley's place, and that's where we left them. We'll check in on them now at the end of January. Charles reveals a deep, dark secret, and there's probably an overload of smooching here.

Saturday, January 30, 2016

"Thank you for taking me to the Burns Supper* tonight," said Elsie as Charles walked her to her door. "I had a marvelous time. And you're a darling to have endured it on my account," she said.

He kissed her hand. "It was my pleasure. You know I'd do anything to make you smile like that."

"Will you wear a kilt next year?" she teased.

"Anything within reason, my dear," he amended. "I might manage to choke down some haggis, and I might be willing to give the dancing another go, but I'm not sure I'd like to show off my legs to half of Chicago."

"I'm sure they're very nice legs," flirted Elsie.

"Right. Well." Charles cleared his throat and changed the subject. "I do think your little party in the dining hall on Monday night was even nicer," he said, referring to the Burns Night celebration Elsie had orchestrated and implemented with her students.

"Well, thank you. Ours was on a much smaller scale and a lower budget than tonight's grand fête, of course, but I think it turned out rather well. The students made a real effort with the decorations and the readings. Beryl's food was completely authentic, and I can't believe William found us a piper!"

They arrived at her door, and she dug around in her purse for her keys.

"It was a lovely affair," he agreed. "I will admit, though … I had tremendous difficulty paying attention to poetry or music or decorations or food, as I was distracted by the mistress of ceremonies. Enchanted, in fact." And before she managed to locate and retrieve her keys, he took her face gently between his large hands and kissed her.

"Mmm … " she hummed against his lips. "This is very nice, Charles, but it's cold out here. Would you like to come in? I know it's late, but I could make us some tea."

"Maybe just for a few minutes."

Elsie let them inside, and Charles hung their overcoats in the front closet while she headed off to the kitchen to make tea. He unknotted his bow tie, letting it hang loosely around his neck, and unfastened the button on his shirt collar. Soon, he joined her in the kitchen and approached her as she stood at the stove, sliding his arms around her waist and clasping them at her stomach.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked while nuzzling the side of her neck.

She rested her hands on top of his and leaned back against his chest. "What you're doing right now is not helping at all, but I won't ask you to stop," she told him.

But he did stop when the kettle whistled.

"Just let me get that," she breathed raggedly, "and then I'll give you my full attention."

"I do so love your attentions," he observed as he drew away reluctantly.

As Elsie set the tea to steep, Charles continued, "Elsie, I have a confession to make. There's something I think you should know, now that we're going to be married."

She furrowed her brow and narrowed her eyes. "Yes, Charles? What is it?"

"I don't really care for tea," he admitted sheepishly.

"What?!" she cried, utterly shocked. "But you drink it all the time! We have tea every afternoon at school, and you always have a cup during a meeting or after a meal."

"I drink it, but I don't like it."

"They why do you drink it?"

"Well … " Charles hesitated. "You see, I'm English. I feel like I should. No self-respecting Englishman spurns tea. It's a matter of pride!"

Elsie spluttered with laughter. "Charles Carson, that is the most preposterous thing I've ever heard! I'm not sure whether I find it endearing or exasperating." She swatted at him playfully.

He grasped her by the arms, pulled her flush against him, and kissed her. "Endearing. You should most definitely find me endearing."

"I do find you endearing, darling," she assured him, kissing his chin, "but I find you exasperating in equal measure."

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" he worried.

"Your secret is safe with me."

"The only other person who ever knew was Alice."

"And what did she say about it?"

"She told me it was silly," said Charles, "but she indulged me."

"And so shall I," Elsie promised with a kiss.

"So you won't mind if I forgo when we're alone? You won't think me rude for declining?"

"Of course not!" she said, soothing him. "But you could have just told me – long ago – and saved yourself the trouble of pretending, at least when it was just the two of us."

"I was embarrassed," he confessed. "I was afraid you might think me ridiculous."

"I do think you ridiculous – sometimes … but I love you." She tapped his nose with her index finger. "And for the record, my darling man … your aversion to tea in no way diminishes your English nature. You are the most quintessentially English Englishman I've ever known!" Tugging on the loose ends of his bow tie, she pulled his head down and gave him a sweet kiss.

When the tea had finished steeping, Elsie prepared a cup for herself. Then she and Charles retired to the couch in her sitting room. For a few minutes, they chatted about this and that, and then a comfortable silence descended during which they simply sat nestled warmly together. Soon, however, idle hands and mouths grew restless, and the pair found themselves kissing and caressing.

Elsie's dress, though perfectly respectable, displayed an ample amount of her upper chest and shoulders, and Charles took advantage of that fact. Encouraging her to tip her chin up and tilt her head back, he drew an imaginary line along her throat and collarbones with his forefinger and traced along the invisible path with the tip of his tongue. He nipped lightly at her shoulder before working his way up the side of her neck and delicately nibbling her ear. While his lips kissed every bit of exposed skin from her shoulders up, his hands roamed urgently over her back, sides, and hips, and he struggled mightily to keep those lips and hands from straying into other, more tempting regions. She smelled so inviting … felt so soft and warm … made the most alluring little noises. It had been so long since Alice died that Charles had almost forgotten what it felt like to be this close to a woman; but Elsie's present proximity reminded him acutely what it felt like to be a man.

For her part, Elsie was equally keenly affected by their intimacy. It had been twenty-five years since she lost Joe, and during that entire time, she hadn't even kissed another man until last month, when Charles had made known his feelings. Until recently, she could hardly remember what it had felt like to be desired … and to desire someone else. But now, after so long, here she was again, loving and being loved, wanting and being wanted; and it felt wonderful. While Charles continued to cosset her with his tender ministrations, she reciprocated his devotions. She scratched lightly at the nape of his neck with the fingernails of one hand. Her other hand rested in the center of his chest, and her fingers trifled with the shirt button at his neck. She stroked his neck, which was enticingly exposed thanks to his open collar, and tickled the spot where a few sparse hairs peeked over the top of his undershirt. All the while, he whispered sweet nothings in her ear, and his deep, rumbling voice and warm breath nearly drove her mad.

Presently, Charles began to fear he was in grave danger of losing all control and all good sense. He eased himself away from Elsie slightly but rested his hands on her shoulders and his forehead against hers. Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, he gathered his thoughts. He'd known that they'd have to have this talk sooner or later, and it seemed the time had come.

"Elsie," said Charles with a pained, pleading expression. "When we were choosing a date for the wedding and I said I wanted it to be soon, I wasn't joking. There's more than one reason I was – still am – eager to marry you quickly. You know that I love you – that I'm in love with you. And God help me, there's nothing I'd like better right now than to make love to you. I'd like nothing more than to carry you off to the bedroom this very instant and have my way with you. But … " His words trailed off, and he threw his head back helplessly. He wasn't sure how to explain himself.

In his previous ponderings, he'd composed a whole litany of valid reasons why they shouldn't and couldn't be physically intimate yet: he respected her and would never compromise her in such a way; he wanted their wedding night to be something special; if they did sleep together now, he could never sit in church tomorrow morning and face Reverend Travis and all their colleagues and students; he'd never be able look Peter in the eye again if he behaved less than honorably toward the lad's mother; and perhaps most basically, he was simply old-fashioned and wanted to do the right thing.

There were also practical considerations: they lived in a fishbowl on the campus of Downton and should never be seen entering and leaving each other's flat at all hours of the day and night; because of their positions, they needed to remain beyond reproach; a nasty scandal would ensue if they were ever caught behaving inappropriately.

Though his reasons were perfectly sound, he couldn't manage to voice any of them. He didn't know where to begin and was afraid he'd sound ridiculous. Fortunately, he didn't need to justify himself. As always, Elsie understood him perfectly. As Charles struggled to continue, she pressed her finger to his lips to silence him.

"But … " she said, picking up where he'd left off, "we'll wait. You needn't try to explain; I think I can guess at your reasoning. And you should know … I share your concerns. We're in agreement on this, Charles. You can breathe again now."

"Oh, thank God." He released a substantial sigh and a great deal of tension along with it. Taking her face in his hands, he said, "I have never loved you more than I do at this very moment." He then emphasized that sentiment with an earnest kiss.

"You weren't actually worried, were you? Did you truly think I'd feel differently? Or that I wouldn't honor your wishes even if I did feel differently?"

"No! Of course not! But I couldn't be completely certain, and I didn't want to presume anything. Remember: I've been married before. I know only too well the trouble a man can get himself into if he presumes too much."

She couldn't help but chuckle fondly. "You're a wise man, my dear. But you're right. We've both been married before, and we're experienced enough to know that the bedroom activities are only a very small part of the much larger picture of marriage."

"Perhaps … But a very enjoyable part!" he was quick to remind her.

She grinned and shook her head. "Daft man!"

"I was worried, you know," he admitted, now turning serious. "I feared that if I were too forward with you, you'd be offended. And at the same time, I feared that if I weren't … well, fervent enough, you'd think I didn't find you attractive."

She repeated his actions and his words from moments ago, laying her hands on his cheeks and kissing him. "And I have never loved you more than I do right now."

Within seconds, they found themselves in the same predicament, kissing ardently in a heated embrace. This time it was Elsie who pulled back grudgingly.

"I'm beginning to doubt the wisdom of waiting until June to be married. I should have listened to you. What was I thinking? How will we ever last for four and half more months?" she asked, dropping her forehead to his shoulder. Then she looked back up at him. "Do you suppose we can move the date sooner?"

He eyed her in mild disbelief. "You can't mean that! Would you like to be the one to explain to everyone that we need to be married immediately because we can't keep our hands off each other?"

"No, of course not."

"All of your original reasons for waiting still hold," he pointed out. "We do need time to plan the wedding, to find a house, to move our things, to have a honeymoon, and to settle in."

She sighed resignedly. "We'll just have to hold out until June, I suppose."

"I have some ideas."

"So have I. Plenty of … ideas," she joked wryly. "And not one of them is helpful! They'll only make things more difficult."

"That's not what I meant," clarified Charles. "I meant ways to avoid tempting situations. During the week, we'll see each other in school, but there's not much danger of anything happening there in the middle of the day with so many people around. On Friday nights, I'll take you out. We should be pretty safe, more or less, in public places like theaters and restaurants. On Saturdays, we can look at houses and start packing and moving. And I think we should bring back game nights on Saturday nights. We can invite our friends, and that way we can be together without being alone together. And on Sundays after services and brunch, we can stay at school. We can go to one of our offices or a conference room and work together. We'll both have lectures to prepare, exams to write, papers to mark, and grades to enter. Why shouldn't we do that together?"

"You've given this some thought," Elsie remarked.

"I have. We'll just need to keep ourselves busy, and that will keep us out of trouble."

"That does sound like a sensible plan," she agreed. "And The Field Museum has a traveling exhibit on ancient Greece.** Five hundred artifacts. The most comprehensive collection outside Greece itself. The exhibit will be at the museum until April. I'd like to go with you sometime."

"Since when do you have a burning interest in ancient scrolls and tools and pottery?" he teased.

"I never have, and I don't expect to develop one," she conceded. "But I do have an avid desire to see your face light up like a child's on Christmas morning; and some old books and other remains from Greece are apt to have that effect on you."

"That's awfully sweet of you, love. Thank you. I'll look forward to it." He kissed her nose.

"Besides, I feel somewhat indebted to you now. I happen to know that you have no great affinity for haggis or bagpipe music, yet you tolerated both tonight for my sake."

"Truth be told, the Scotch whisky helped," he deadpanned.

"Aha!" exclaimed Elsie. "Now I know the secret to keeping you happy! A little bit of alcohol will get me whatever I want."

"No alcohol is necessary, love. If it's within my power to grant, you need only ask, and it shall be yours."

"Really? I need only ask?"

"Your wish is my command, madam," Charles stated seriously while kissing her hand.

"Hmmm … " Elsie pretended to consider. "There is one thing … "

"Name it."

"It's a simple request, really. I'd like a kiss from my man."

"Just one? I think I can manage that. What did you have in mind? A genteel kiss to the back of your hand? A little peck on your cheek? A fond smooch on your forehead?" He illustrated his words with the corresponding actions. "Or the fervent kiss of an ardent lover who longs to show his beloved how desperately smitten he is?"

"Oh, the last one – please," she whispered breathlessly, and he complied.

Moments later, having thoroughly convinced her of his ardent, smitten condition, he released her. "I hate to have to tear myself away," lamented Charles, "but if I don't leave now, your virtue and my honor will be in grave peril." He stood and went to the closet to get his coat, and Elsie followed.

"Only one hundred and thirty-two more days, darling," she informed him helpfully.

"That is one hundred and thirty-two days too many!" he complained as they made their way to the front door. He pulled on his coat and opened the door to let himself out.

"You'll text me when you get home?" she asked.

"Of course," he told her. "And you'll be sure to lock the door as soon as I leave?"

"I will," she promised. He kissed her good night and closed the door behind him.

Five seconds later, he knocked on the door, and she answered it, laughing. "Yes, Charles? What is it?"

"What are you doing, opening your door to a strange man at this hour of the night?" he admonished her.

"Do you need something," she asked, "or are you just being troublesome?"

"I do need something." He grasped her by the hips and pulled her to him for one last kiss.

She humored him briefly before gently pushing him away. "Away with you, now!" she said, shutting the door on him once more.

Three seconds later, he knocked again. "Begone, you wily rascal! It's far too late for any respectable gentleman to be calling on a lady!" she called without opening the door.

"I was just testing you. Good night, darling," he answered through the closed door.

"Pleasant dreams, love."

A/N * Every year, on January 25 or a date close to it, the Chicago Scots organization hosts a fancy Burns Supper at the Union League Club (the place mentioned in my previous story, where the faculty Christmas party was held; very swanky). I've posted pictures on my tumblr page. I thought it might be nice for Charles to take Elsie.

** The traveling exhibit on ancient Greece really is at The Field Museum right now.

Next chapter … Valentine's Day.

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