A/N: This started life as a little drabble I wrote directly on my tumblr, for no apparent reason other than I had a sudden inspiration. It's now grown into what will probably become a three part fic, if only I can get darling Charles and Elsie to stop standing about in silence and actually TALK about what's just happened.

'Of course I'll marry you, you old booby. I thought you'd never ask!'

The silence which enveloped the Butler's pantry after she had declared those amazing words had an almost ethereal quality to it. There had been no need for additional explanation after her acceptance had tumbled from her lips, and she had laid her hand on his arm. It was her touch that had undone him completely; he had felt giddy at her words, but her actions seemed to seal the promise somehow. He allowed himself to be consumed by his emotions and tears rolled down his cheeks as his face crumpled with the utter relief of it all.

He couldn't immediately recall the last time he had cried, but suspected it had been at the death of Lady Sybil – the shock of Matthew's loss, again so soon after the birth of a child, had rendered them all dry eyed. Then, as now, her touch had brought him comfort. It occurred to his befuddled mind that he wouldn't need a formal reason to touch her anymore, nor would the occasion require sadness. This delightful thought dried his tears instantly, to be replaced by a dazzling smile.

His fiancée missed this sign of his happiness, however, for her gaze was still fixated on the placement of her fingers and she seemed to be testing the smoothness of his jacket in the small circles her fingers were making. She felt a slight strain as his arm moved briefly, but before she could even begin to think what it meant, the tension ceased and his hand covered the one she had placed on his arm. Mrs Hughes's thoughts had been in a whirlwind (truth be told, she had been quite confused ever since he had suggested leaving as Mr Branson had been speaking), but now his touch drew her back down to earth. 'So – the steadying goes both ways', she thought, as she finally drew her eyes up to meet his and basked in the warmth of his smile, which she fully returned.

The silence grew, but a thousand emotions played out on the faces of the couple as they stood adjusting to this new situation, which managed to also feel decades old.

'Are you alright, Mrs Hughes?'

It was the first time he had said her name during the encounter (one could hardly call it a conversation) and it was so infused with feeling that she wondered if that was the reason he had avoided it, lest he gave the game away.

She leaned to her left slightly to discard her undrunk punch too and covered his hand with hers.

Oh yes, Mr Carson! Don't mistake my silence for anything other than complete happiness.* There are so many things to say that I find I don't know where to start. You've struck me quite dumb!

He chuckled, and refrained from making the obvious 'first time for everything' joke. On any other night she might have said it first, wanting to deflect the awkwardness for him, but tonight ….? No.

'Perhaps it's for the best.' He said. 'We both have things to share, and if we stay down here much longer, we'll run the risk of being missed.'

He squeezed the hand that still rested on his arm and nodded towards the door. 'Once more unto the breech, Mrs Hughes!'

She laughed merrily at this, rolling her eyes at him. 'I don't think we're going into battle, Mr Carson, although you were rather like a Sargent Major ordering Mr Barrow and Andy about earlier. I'll ask you why later.'

She let her top hand fall from his, but the one grasping his arm was not so easily relinquished, and as he opened the door and moved towards the staircase, she found that their fingers had become entwined. This was an entirely new sensation. Even at the seaside, their hands hadn't been so intimately connected. She stared at the interplay of their fingers as she followed him, and marvelled that something so apparently natural should be considered so daring. Her mind drifted on to other natural, yet daring, activities and suddenly she found she wanted to be doing anything but returning upstairs to her duties.

He was already on the third step before a strain on their link caused him to turn, releasing her hand as he did so, and realise that she wasn't quite ready to follow him. She stood at the foot of the stairs, a look of bemusement on her face, whilst her cheeks were flushed faintly pink.

Having regained the use of both her hands, she tugged slightly at the ends of her sleeves, smoothing the fabric, before she moved up to adjust her collar and pat the sides of her hair.

He smiled down at her, 'I assure you that your hair is quite tidy.'

Delight danced in her blue eyes as they met his, and a slight laugh ghosted through her lips as she marvelled at the new, easy, way he teased her. Yet his words were doubly layered with an undercurrent of pride in his voice and his eyes shone with feelings he had never allowed himself to reveal in any other encounter. It was all so supremely thrilling.

'I feel so changed inside that I suppose I wanted to check it wasn't outwardly visible. It wouldn't do for everyone to guess.'

He beamed broadly at her and drew her left hand into his once more, raising it to his lips. 'You are the same as you ever were Mrs Hughes' he intoned lowly 'Only now you are loved completely.'

He brushed his lips over her knuckles then, perhaps lingering slightly longer on the base of her fourth finger, and the gasp she gave at hearing his words was considerably lengthened by the very new sensation his lips on her skin gave.

He turned and led her up the stairs, back towards the party and their duties. He released her hand as they reached the door leading to the great hall, but paused to whisper something before they fully entered the room. A perfectly normal occurrence for the heads of the household, although if anyone had heard the whispered 'Sherry? After this?' and seen the small smile that accompanied her nod, they might have been a touch suspicious.

Love was clamouring in their ears as they had returned to the party, so neither of them had heard the back door open or the discordant steps making their way down the passage. But Mr Bates had heard their conversation and was beyond glad of the events that had taken place in his absence. He lingered a few minutes, not wanting the couple to know they had been overheard, and then he made his way up the stairs to find his own love.

A/N

There we go. I am planning on extending it slightly, but probably not beyond a three part fluff fest. I've been writing this with a cold, and finding it extremely difficult to get them to SAY anything. They seem far too happy to just sit about in silence and smile. Which is fine, but doesn't make for an interesting piece of fiction. Anyone like to give me a phrase to slip in at some point? Not too out there, but I'm open to offers!

*Someone somewhere (I've read far too much fanfiction recently) quoted Shakespeare's 'Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much.' from Much Ado about Nothing, which I think serves them well. Not wanting to plagiarise, I've gone for them acting out silence instead…..