A/N: This is in response to a prompt I saw on Tumblr some time ago. I'm sorry that I don't remember certain key details, such as who requested it, only that the prompt involved Mr. Carson asking Mr. Bates' advice. As always, I don't own these delightful characters. I'll follow with an epilogue very soon.

His wedding day was approaching quickly. His wedding day…the words caused a thrill of ….what? Expectation? Satisfaction? Anxiety? Dread? Charles looked with disdain at his threadbare pajamas. Should he buy new ones? Would she expect him to or would she be displeased by an unnecessary frivolous expense? Would she purchase new evening attire? Would she have the money to spare? Could he offer her a small sum? He shook his head angrily. He shouldn't even be thinking about the condition of Mrs. Hughes' current nightwear and he should not, under any circumstance, give thought to any new purchases his intended might or might not make. And it was quite out of the question to offer her money.

The family had been unexpectedly delighted by the news and unquestionably generous towards the couple. Mrs. Hughes had been whisked away by the ladies, and she later told him they insisted on making a gift of a new dress for the ceremony. Though discomfited, he could tell that she was both touched and flattered by the family's kindness. Time off had been granted and railway tickets to Lytham St. Anne's had been purchased. Two days away from the house. And three nights, m'boy. Lord Grantham, on hearing the news, had clapped him across the back in a very undignified manner, accompanied by words to the effect of "you sly devil." He'd found it very hard to maintain his composure, and of course he didn't dare repeat any of it to Mrs. Hughes.

As Charles hung his livery in his wardrobe, he wondered when it might be proper to call Mrs. Hughes by her first name. He hadn't done so in twenty-odd years. A sudden vivid picture of a young Elsie Hughes sprang to his mind. She had been a trim, lively young woman whose arrival had caused something of a stir, quite a stir, as he recalled, but to his mind she had grown lovelier still with the passage of time. When had her face become so dear to him? He supposed his love for her happened so gradually that he hadn't noticed when his professional regard for her deepened into something more. He remembered being relieved that she refused a second offer of marriage from that detestable farmer, as if he could appreciate a woman like Elsie Hughes! But was his relief professional or personal? At the time, he hadn't allowed himself even to form the question. Later, when they feared she might be seriously ill, his blind panic gave him a courage he ordinarily lacked. But it wasn't until she offered him her hand at the seaside that he allowed himself to consider a future outside service. The memory of that delightful day brought a smile to his face.

In the end, it hardly mattered, did it? He had awakened to his feelings, and though the means might be considered circuitous, he had made her his in the end. They were to be married, and the lovely little cottage on Brounker Road would be the site of a retirement he'd hardly dared imagine.

*CE*

Charles allowed himself to finger a lock of her hair. Loose, it was far curlier than he expected. And soft. And it smelled so fresh and clean, like lemons. He brought a curl to his lips and gently kissed it. He was gratified to see a faint flush rising along Mrs. Hughes'…no… Mrs. Carson's cheek. He was close now, so close. He could see her pulse throbbing along her neck, and he nearly groaned aloud when she unwittingly wetted her lips. He leaned closer still and felt her warm breath on his cheek. He-

He jerked awake, flushed and embarrassed as the shy young lad he'd once been. Irritable and ashamed, he rubbed his face roughly. As if he weren't still that embarrassed young lad. What would Mrs. Hughes expect? What did he expect? Plenty, if his dreams were taken into account. She had reached for him, grasped his arm once she'd accepted his proposal. That was something, wasn't it? Of course they had touched one another before, even held hands in broad daylight, but this dream, this longing, was something else entirely. And he had no idea what to do.

*CE*

"Mr. Bates, might I have a word?"

"Of course, Mr. Carson. How may I be of help?"

Mr. Carson gestured Mr. Bates into his pantry and closed the door behind them. He'd practiced what he might say all morning, and now the words simply would not come. "Mr. Bates, I…ah, that is to say, I was merely wondering, only I know how you, that is, I understand, of course I know-"

Mr. Bates could bear it no longer. "Mr. Carson, may I assume that the matter you wish to discuss with me is personal?" Mr. Carson nodded gratefully. "May I also assume that it has to do with your wedding?" Mr. Carson nodded vigorously. Mr. Bates thought it best to be frank. "I presume you are asking advice regarding the wedding night?" My god, the man was blushing. Mr. Bates struggled mightily against the grin threatening to spread across his face. "Is there something specific you wish to know?" The look of shock and dismay on the poor man's face nearly caused Mr. Bates to lose his last bit of composure. "Shall we speak in general terms, then?" Mr. Carson nodded. "Very good. " He remained silent for some long moments, trying to recollect what his own father had told him precious little and what might be of most benefit to Mr. Carson and of course Mrs. Hughes.

Mr. Bates cleared his throat. My gods this was excruciating. He fixed his gaze on a point just beyond Mr. Carson's shoulder. "Mr. Carson, as the husband, it is your responsibility to introduce your wife to marital… intimacies… as gently and kindly as possible." He heard Mr. Carson's sharp intake of breath and held a hand up to forestall him. "I understand, Mr. Carson, believe me I do. I take it you have never…?" Mr. Carson nodded curtly. "Forgive me, but you are familiar with the mechanics?"

Mr. Carson drew himself up rigidly. "I am."

"Good. Then all you need remember is how very much you care for Mrs. Hughes and all will be well."

Mr. Carson grimaced. "You say that, but what of…what of, that is I've heard stories that, sometimes- " He lowered his voice. "Sometimes the act can be painful for a lady."

Mr. Bates nodded. "That is true, but the less nervous you are, the less nervous she will be."

Mr. Carson let out a frustrated sigh. "But that is exactly the point. I am… extremely nervous. I would not want to cause Mrs. Hughes, please excuse me, the future Mrs. Carson, even the slightest discomfort."

"And in so far as it is in your power to do so, you will not. But you cannot change basic human biology, Mr. Carson. I hope you can forgive me for being so frank, but you must simply let nature take its course. You will be fine, I assure you." Oh gods I'd rather be drug through the village green by my heels. But who else did the poor man have? He was forbidden to speak of such things to the only other person in the world he trusted.

"Do you really think so, Mr. Bates?"

Mr. Bates smiled as naturally as he could. "I'm certain of it. And perhaps a glass or two of spirits wouldn't go amiss, for either of you."

Mr. Carson nodded thoughtfully, then met Mr. Bates' eyes. "I appreciate your candor, Mr. Bates. This can't have been easy for you. I do thank you."

"Not at all, Mr. Carson." And please God never let us speak of it again. "I must be about my business, and I'm sure you have much to attend to."

"Yes, yes. Of course, Mr. Bates," he replied absently and Mr. Bates took his opportunity to make a quick escape.

*CE*

"What were you speaking of to Mr. Bates this afternoon?"

"What? I've no idea what you're referring to."

"I saw him leave your pantry this afternoon and he looked rather flustered. Surely you had no reason to reprimand him?"

"Reprimand him? What? Oh, no, no. Certainly not. His work is exemplary, as usual. His lordship is well pleased. Very well pleased with Mr. Bates. As usual."

"Well then, what were you about? It's nothing to do with Anna, is it?"

Mr. Carson was taken aback by the sharpness of her tone. "No, no. Nothing to do with Anna. Merely household business, my dear." He was gratified to see Mrs. Hughes attempting to hide a shy smile.

"What sort of household business?"

Oh gods. He might have known she wouldn't let the matter drop. Whatever could he tell her? "I only wanted to confirm his Lordship's upcoming schedule with Mr. Bates. I wanted to be certain nothing would go amiss while we're away." His shoulders relaxed as he saw her smile with delight.

Mrs. Hughes smiled indulgently at him. "We'll only be gone two days, my dear. I can assure you the house will still be standing when we return."

He wondered if it might be proper to grasp her hand, perhaps even to kiss it? It was rather something to be called my dear, even though he suspected the younger members of the household would think him quite foolish to revel over something so minor. He couldn't quite bring himself to use her Christian name, and it was clear she felt the same. He would quite happily answer to my dear for the rest of his life, as long as the words came lilting out of that delicious mouth...

"Mr. Carson? Are you quite well?"

"What? Oh, certainly."

"Are you certain? You seem a bit flushed." She raised her hand to touch his forehead, but he moved out of her reach.

He gave his waistcoat a decided tug. "I was somewhat preoccupied. Perhaps we should retire for the evening. Separately, of course. I wouldn't presume, Mrs. Hughes-"

"That's quite alright, Mr. Carson." She deftly hid an amused smile. "I'll say goodnight then."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Hughes. Pleasant dreams."

"Goodnight, Mr. Carson."

He lingered in the doorway for a few moments, breathing in her faint scent and watching her walk down the corridor. Only a few more weeks. He'd never realized time could move so slowly. Or so quickly.