On her one month anniversary, Elise Carson awoke in her very own bed, in her very own bedroom, in her very own house for first time in her life. It was an accomplishment that had taken over half a century to attain, and it was something she'd never expected to experience. Though she was awake, she lay sprawled across their spacious double bed with her eyes closed enjoying her triumph.

Currently, Elsie was the lone occupant of said bed as her lovely husband had promised to cook and deliver her breakfast. Delicious smells reached her from the distant kitchen. There was a tinge of acrid, burn lingering under the otherwise sumptuous smells, but not enough to alarm her. Charles had assured her that he could make do.

Sighing, she rolled towards the window and finally opened her eyes to gaze out on the tops of the trees that were visible from her current position. She smiled to see a tiny bird flit by the window. Spring was coming. Elsie sighed in contentment as she considered the happy events of the past few months. Just when she was preparing for the autumn of her life, love had delivered a late spring. She felt her life was opening up like a sleeping bud. The main reason for that change was the dear man downstairs right now.

Spending their anniversary in their house had been all Charles' idea. He'd arranged with the Crawley family to give them both two full days off. He'd conspired with the workmen to have the kitchen and bedroom completed in time. He had surprised her yesterday when they came by the house on the pretense of inspecting the ongoing work. It was difficult to say which of the two of them found more joy in the surprise.

Elsie closed her eyes again, rolled back to her original supine position. She smiled as she contemplated the blissful turn her life had taken. It was still hard to believe that, after so many years of obligation and duty, she was now a wife being spoiled by a doting husband. In the privacy of their room, Elsie allowed herself to be idle, selfish and deliriously happy.

Elsie felt lithe and limber as she stretched. The morning after her wedding, her body had felt stiff and sore; though pleasantly so. What a difference a little of experience makes, Elsie chuckled to herself naughtily.

Though they had both made it clear that their union was to be in body as well as spirit, it had taken the newlyweds some adjustment to become comfortable with their new physical arrangement. Early passions had been tentative and respectful. For over a week, they exercised their marital right exclusively in the pitch dark and almost fully clothed. It wasn't disagreeable, far from it, but they both instinctively knew there was something more that eluded them. As Charles said later, the mechanics and the technicalities were 'by the book,' but it wasn't quite everything they'd expected. If not for her complete trust in Charles, Elsie might have despaired in these early days.

It didn't help matters that the staff believed it was their right to comment on the conjugal status of the butler and housekeeper. Though most of the comments were innocent, they never failed to mortify Charles. The comments that were not as innocent, usually from Mrs. Patmore or Mr. Barrow, drove him nearly apoplectic. Charles hid his embarrassment well, but brought it into their private rooms. Elsie keenly felt the irony that she could not talk to her husband about sex, though she felt they could talk about anything else. The topic was verboten even if the act was greatly desired.

While their physical intimacy was floundering in unknown waters, the couple had grown ever closer in other ways. There were the joys of cohabitation to consider. The family had empowered them to design their own little suite of rooms from existing rooms in the guest wing. In the end, a large bedroom was converted into a public room with chairs, table and a modest settee. Here, the Carsons could entertain friends or laze about beside the fire on a half day. The attached gentleman's room was the couple's private bedroom. It was almost as spare as their individual rooms in the attics had been. The bed was not even so large as a double, being a mattress left over from when the Crawley sisters were small. Neither of them had any objection to the small bed.

Evening wine and sherry was now enjoyed in their sitting room rather than in one of their offices. Elsie performed her nightly preparations in the bathroom across the hall, while Charles used the bedroom to change into his pajamas. While he waited for her, he would select that evening's wine and see to the fire. Things were cozy and comfortable during these sipping sessions; Elsie even dared to cuddle up to Charles' side which he seemed to enjoy. Still, in that first week, there was an unspoken tension beneath the relaxing evenings.

Elsie drew the crisp sheets closely around her as she remembered the night everything had changed.

Mrs. Patmore had made a particularly lewd comment to Elsie after dinner. Unfortunately, Charles overheard it just as he returned from settling the family in the drawing room. He managed to keep his composure through servant's dinner, but did not linger in his office afterwards. Elsie was forced to abandon her own bookkeeping to follow him up early. She knew it would be a bad idea to let him stew on his own.

"She ought to be disciplined!" Charles roared as he burst into their sitting room.

"Neither of us has the power to do that, Charles," Elsie reminded him calmly.

"Lady Grantham could," Charles countered.

"And would you care to explain to Her Ladyship why you think the cook should be punished?"

Charles' color became a darker red as he sputtered. Elsie felt badly for goading him, but he was behaving ridiculously.

"It isn't anything to get so worked up about," Elsie insisted. "It was just two friends chatting and giving each other a hard time. I started it, really, by making a jibe about her helpful Mr. Mason."

"Just two friends?" Charles half choked. "Two friends discussing…"

"Discussing what friends discuss."

"You mean to just let this go?" Charles demanded in astonishment. "What business is it of hers if my shoe size is indicative of anything else?"

"She didn't intend any harm, Charles," Elsie assured him, struggling not to laugh. "You weren't meant to hear and I certainly wasn't going to answer."

"I should bloody well hope not!" He exploded haughtily. His anger wiped the smirk off her face. He had no right to be angry with her. If anything, he should be apologizing for his behavior.

"There is no cause to curse, Charles Carson," Elsie answered coldly. "Of course I wouldn't discuss it with her. I can't even discuss it with you!"

Charles blinked at her in surprise. How had Mrs. Patmore's crude speculation turned around to implicate him?

Elsie continued to fume, her ire fed by his gormless expression. It was about time they had this conversation, she reckoned, and plowed ahead. "Besides, I wouldn't know what to tell her, would I? I've never even seen it!"

"You don't have to see it to…I mean, you have to have some idea…You've…you know…touched it…" This turn of conversation had Charles mightily perplexed. "I shouldn't think you would want to see it."

"You only think that I don't want to see you because you don't want to see me. You must think my body will be revolting." Her voice cracked with emotion as she didn't know whether to laugh at the absurdity of the conversation or cry at his rejection of her.

"Is that what you think?" Charles' heart clinched as he witnessed her despair. "Nothing could be further from the truth."

"Then how do you explain…what we've been doing?" She demanded.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I suppose I didn't want to be vulgar."

"It isn't vulgar, Charles. It can't be; we're married."

"And that forgives everything?"

"Maybe not everything," she teased, wondering exactly what vulgar thoughts he'd been harboring. "But I think we are at least entitled to see each other naked."

"Naked? Completely naked?" Charles swallowed nervously at the thought.

"That seems like a good place to start," Elsie said coyly. "Only if you want to see me naked."

Charles nodded frantically. "You've no idea."

"I've a bit of an idea," she'd said, reaching out to remove his cufflinks.

After that day, they'd realized their best course of action was complete honesty. Their intimacy was complete. She was finally free to tell him what she liked and wanted, and vice versa. They could talk and tease and fondle in the sitting room before removing to the bedroom. Sometimes, they didn't even make it to the bedroom. Their new confidence together even helped Charles ignore the snide remarks of Mr. Barrow and Mrs. Patmore. Though he was never pleased by their impertinence, he was able to endure it because the lewdness of the remarks was so far removed from the reality of their love.

The sound of Charles' footsteps on the stairs brought Elsie back around to thinking of last night; their first night in their own home. Just as Charles had not felt free to kiss her properly at Downton before securing the family's blessing, they had both been afraid of making too much noise in their rooms. The freedom to fully vocalize their desires and pleasures had raised the quality of their love making yet again. With their time in their house limited, Elsie had coaxed Charles into an encore this morning, before he'd headed downstairs to cook for them. This morning's session, Elsie's approval had been almost deafening. Besides the delicious ache of her muscles, Elsie's throat was raw from her enthusiastic exclamations. She was sitting up to reach for a water glass when Charles arrived with a tray containing two plates and tea for two.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he purred from the doorway.

"I'd have been up hours ago if I hadn't been promised breakfast in bed," she rejoined.

"You were up hours ago," he reminded her with a wink. "So I know you're hungry."

He set the tray on the foot of the bed as Elsie pulled a soft, silk robe around her.

"Tada!" Charles uncovered the two plates simultaneously. "A Carson family secret…'Chicken in the Hole'."

"Isn't that supposed to be 'Toad in the Hole,' love?"

"Who would want to eat a toad?" Charles joked as he sat on his side of the bed. "Besides, I can't make Yorkshire pudding. This is all my granddad ever taught me to cook."

Elsie looked back at the plate with new respect. Charles never spoke about his grandfather, so it was quite a treat to learn this little thing about the mysterious man. Apparently, 'Chicken in the Hole' was a piece of toast with a fried egg in the middle. The presentation was impressive, but Elsie wasn't sure why it was necessary. Still, she was not about to ask why they couldn't just have fried egg and toast. Instead, she gave the meal a hearty nod of approval. "Impressive."

"Happy Anniversary, love," Charles beamed proudly.

"This is the best anniversary I could have imagined, love," Elsie praised as she prepared his tea. "What a beautiful gift, you've given us."

"There's more to the gift," Charles said, looking suddenly nervous.

"I don't need anything more," Elsie assured him as she handed him his cup of tea.

"Maybe you don't need it, but you deserve it," Charles insisted.

"I hope you haven't spent too much on me," she scolded with a smile. "We said we wouldn't be frivolous with money."

"And I assure you I haven't been," Charles said. "I'm giving you the gift of me."

"Well, you could have spent a little more than that," Elsie joked. "Besides, I already have you."

"You keep asking about my childhood and I've kept putting you off," he said quietly. "I'd like to tell you now. I hope it will help you understand how much I owe to you for loving me."

Elsie wanted to insist that he owed her nothing. She wanted to assure him the arrangement was mutually beneficial, but she did not want to diminish the value of what he was offering.

"What a lovely gift, Charles," she smiled gratefully.

Charles took a deep breath, ready to begin his story, but Elsie placed a hand on his knee.

"This is not likely to be a short tale, is it?"

"No," Charles admitted.

"I think we should enjoy our breakfast first. Then, we shall have all day to cuddle up and open your gift properly."

"That is a wonderful suggestion, love," Charles agreed with relief. "Breakfast first. Story after."

He was nervous about sharing his story with her, not because he feared her reaction, but because he would be dredging up memories that he'd not thought about in decades. He knew there were pains he had not properly confronted and he worried that there might be unhealed wounds in his past. He didn't want his gift to her to be the burden of healing him yet again.

But he'd already committed to telling her everything. He needed to tell her everything and she needed to hear.

TBC…

AN/Next chapter will be a fleshed out version of Charles' 'story' that I hinted at in Our Little Dream, Chapter 30…

'Some day he would tell her how he'd rejected the life his grandfather and mother had wanted for him. He'd tell her of a young man convinced that he was too high and mighty to be a servant; a young man who thought he was unique and special. He'd tell her how Charlie Carson finally learned the painful truth; he wasn't special. He couldn't even convince a simple girl like Alice to choose him over a charlatan like Grigg.

Charles had tried to live an extraordinary life, but he'd failed. He'd returned to service humbled and resigned. He would be what he was born to be. He would be the best butler he could be, but he would be only a butler. He would be content with vanity stolen from the family he served. He would accept the cold, reflected glory due to a servant. He would settle for style and show over substance. Or so the butler had told himself. And so it had been until he met a woman from whom he could no longer hide the man.

Someday Elsie would know exactly how she had rescued him, but today was not the day.'

That day has come.