A/N: My goodness. Thank you all for your lovely reviews! It's quite staggering to get them, and great to know that you like it all. This chapter is considerably longer, because they would keep staring at each other and just going 'OMG, we're engaged. How'd that happen?!', and then when they started talking, they just wouldn't get to the point.

I don't own these characters, they own me. And belong to JF of course.

They had slipped seamlessly back into the crowd heartily singing carols, making sure they stood a little further apart than they really wanted to, lest the temptation to hold hands proved too great. By mutual, but silent, consent they each moved to a different side of the hall, after the carols had finished, chatting with the tenant farmers and making sure they had everything they needed. It was not until half an hour had passed, therefore, that Mrs Hughes found herself near enough to Mrs Patmore to talk to her.

'I can't see Anna anywhere. Has she gone back to the cottage?'

Mrs Patmore grinned and gave a short laugh. 'Oh, I daresay she's done that alright!'

The joviality with which she spoke confused Mrs Hughes, given Anna's situation. 'Whatever do you mean?'

Mrs Patmore's grin widened. 'Only that Mr Bates has returned!'

Mrs Hughes gasped with delight, her hands grasping Mrs Patomore's. 'Does anyone know?'

She barely waited for an answer, but span around to scan the room. She couldn't see Lord Grantham, and thought he might have been forced to retire, but she spotted Lady Mary by the side of the Christmas tree with Lady Edith and Mr Branson and made her way over to them, dragging Mrs Patmore with her.

'Milady?!', she began – a perfectly normal way to begin a conversation, but the tearful happiness in her voice was enough to draw the attention of her quest.

'Mrs Hughes? What is it?

'I thought you'd like to know that Mr Bates has returned.'

'Oh! When did he arrive? Where is he?'

Mrs Hughes indicated that Mrs Patmore should fill in the details, delighting in the romantic way Anna had been surprised, before turning back to Mary. 'I wonder if we might send a note to let Anna know she won't be needed tomorrow? I'm sure Madge or Miss Baxter could perform her duties.'

'Oh yes, of course Mrs Hughes. This is really such marvellous news! It's such a relief, and at Christmas too!'

'Yes!', agreed Mrs Hughes, 'They deserve all the happiness they can get!'

Her voice cracked at this point and she felt tears spring into her eyes. She was behaving most unprofessionally and the small group were all looking at her with slight alarm. All, that is, except Mary, who shared a knowing smile with the housekeeper and said 'They do indeed.', patting her arm as she did so.

'Is everything alright?' Mr Carson, in full butler mode, had spotted the tight knit, and slightly unusual, group and sensed an emotional atmosphere.

'Mr Bates has returned!' said Mrs Hughes, smiling up at him, her eyes still shining with unshed tears.

'Oh. That is good.' He allowed himself a brief smile, feeling anything more would break the fragile shield with which he had encircled his emotions. Turning to his left he said, 'Lady Mary, the tenants are beginning to depart, and Lady Grantham asked if you would bid them farewell. She thought Lord Grantham should retire.'

Mary laughed. 'He did hit the punch rather hard! Poor Papa. Come on Edith.' And she swept off towards the front door.

'Well I never!' exclaimed Mrs Patmore, although she chose to remain silent on precisely which event of the past few minutes had so surprised her. 'I'm dead on me feet. Think I'll turn in.'

'I need to send a hallboy to the cottage with a note, so Anna knows she's not needed. I don't suppose you would manage to pack a luncheon for them, Mrs Patmore?'

'What's one picnic on top of feeding this army?', joked the cook.

Mrs Hughes smiled and nodded her thanks. 'I'll see you in the morning then.' She turned away to the servants quarters, not even sparing Mr Carson a glance – if she had, she didn't think her smile would have borne Mrs Patmore's scrutiny.

Having sent Martin, the hallboy, haring off to the cottage, Mrs Hughes spent a few minutes in her sitting room attempting to gather her thoughts. The clatter of footmen bringing down the glasses gradually subsided and the staff all trooped off to bed, some of them calling 'goodnight!' down the corridor to her, but mercifully she was left alone to sit and daydream – an activity she rarely indulged in, but tonight she seemed determined to build castles in the air, her mind running through every question that his proposal had thrown up.

Lost in thought as she was, she missed the sound of his measured tread on the stairs, and it wasn't until she suddenly heard a little cough announcing his presence in her doorway that she even noticed she was no longer alone. He had obviously paused at his pantry, for he was holding the two previously discarded glasses of punch.

'Good evening Mrs Hughes.', he said, leaning slightly against the door frame, seemingly content to just stand and look at her, a smile twinkling in his eyes, even if it hadn't reached his lips.

'Oh don't just stand there, Mr Carson', she responded, getting to her feet and dragging 'his' chair over to the one she'd been sitting in. 'You look like a lost … bear!'

'Do bears often get lost?', he asked, sounding amused but refusing to budge from his relaxed position against her doorframe.

'Perhaps not, but you're hardly a sheep, are you?'

'Baaaa' was all the response she got, but he did at last move into the room to stand in front of her, firmly holding the punch glasses, in a strange role reversal of earlier in the evening. She could barely contain her mirth at this unexpected utterance and looked between him and the door in mock confusion.

'Alright – what have you done with Mr Carson?'

'He's been replaced by an old booby.'

'I make no apologies for calling you that.'

'I don't ask for any.'

Silence, it seemed, was to become a running theme of their evening, for once again they both found themselves unable to voice the thoughts which were chasing around their brains. She wondered if perhaps they ought to sit, but she couldn't quite remember how the action was performed. Besides which, she was becoming quite lost in his eyes and she didn't want to break the connection.

He evidently thought that some words were needed, and as he finally handed her the punch (making very sure that their fingers brushed as he did so), he grinned and said 'So, Mr Bates? That's some Christmas present for Anna.'

She nodded and was all prepared to speak, but found that the tears which had threatened all evening had grown tired of being held back, and a sob forced itself from her throat rather than the words she had meant to say.

She managed to set down the punch (seemingly destined to remain undrunk by her) before the second sob broke free, and she brought her hand up to try and stifle the sounds she was making. It seemed more than a little ridiculous that she was standing in front of the man she was to marry, sobbing her heart out, but try as she might, she found she simply couldn't stop. She wasn't even sure what she was crying about anymore, it certainly extended beyond Anna. It possibly went back as far as William.

In the few second following her initial sob, Mr Carson has stood transfixed. The old Mr Carson would have attempted comfort by gently chiding that this wasn't like her. The old Mr Carson would have been flustered. The old Mr Carson hadn't been in love. The new Mr Carson, however, was a man very much at the mercy of this emotion, and had the happy security of having his love accepted. The new Mr Carson knew precisely what to do.

Mr Carson set down his cup of punch, closed the gap between them and drew Mrs Hughes into his arms, allowing her to cry against his waistcoat. He said nothing, but one hand circled her shoulder, whilst the other cradled her head. He rested his chin on the top of her hair very lightly, and stood waiting for the torrent to cease.

Eventually her sobs grew less and then stopped altogether, and she felt calm enough to pull out of his embrace, braving raising her tear stained face to his, and was met by a pair of concerned brown eyes. And the offer of a handkerchief.

'I'm so sorry Mr Carson!'

'Don't apologies. It sounded as if it were needed.

Their conversation was interrupted by the bang of the back door.

'Oh good heavens. Martin! Could you …?'

She didn't even need to complete the request, for he had already stepped into the hall and intercepted Martin.

'All sorted Mr Carson.', said the lad cheerfully. 'I pushed it under the door as Mrs Hughes told me, but Anna must've heard because she opened the door as I was going and wished me a happy Christmas. Gave me a kiss too!' The young lad blushed and rubbed his cheek slightly, receiving a benevolent smile from Mr Carson.

'Very well, thank you Martin. Off to bed with you now.'

Martin scampered up the stairs, and Mr Carson turned back into the room, finding Mrs Hughes sitting on one of the chairs, dabbing away the last traces of her tears.

She smiled up at his entrance, however, and patted the chair beside her.

'I must look a sight!'

'You look beautiful.', he said, claiming the seat beside her and drawing her hands in his.

'Really Mr Carson! There's no need for flattery.'

'But you do.', he insisted, rubbing his thumb over her upper hand. 'You always have done, even if I didn't truly recognise it.'

She shook her head slightly, trying to make sense of it all, and looked up at him through her lashes.

'You asked me to marry you!'. Shock and laughter etched the words. She was still having difficulty taking it all in.

'You said yes!', he responded

'As if I would have answered you in any other way. You didn't really think I would refuse did you?' The rueful smile he gave her answered the question better than words.

'You did doubt!', she gasped. 'And I teased you rather than giving my answer straight away.' She cupped her hand to his cheek, 'I'm so sorry, my love!'

The endearment slipped out so naturally that she forgot she hadn't said it before, but if her words caused such delight to spring into his eyes every time she said it, she thought she'd mention it at every opportunity she got.

'You do love me then?' he said, speaking as quietly as his gravelly voice allowed. Leaning his face into her touch, he went on to grasp her wrist and placed a small, but deeply reverential, kiss to the middle of her palm.

She almost forgot a reply was required, so greatly was she affected, but his eyes had never left hers as he kissed her hand, and somehow the words sprang forth on their own volition.

'I love you so much I can hardly believe it to be possible. It's quite amazing my feelings should have grown even since this morning, but then again, I had fear to contend with too, and now that's gone, there's space to be filled.'

'What were you fearful of?'

She looked down at their joined hands resting on his knee, where they had fallen after his kiss, and knitted her brow as she tried to explain what had been going through her mind.

'I was so pleased you'd bought the house. You deserve it. But it brought the inevitability of your retirement that bit nearer, and when you suggested talking tonight, I felt sure you were going to tell me your decision!'

'You thought I'd leave you here?', he asked, with a touch of incredulity in his voice.

She nodded. 'It would have been like Haxby all over again. Only a hundred times worse.' A single tear slid down her cheek as her voice cracked at the memory.

'Is Haxby when you knew?'

'I honestly couldn't …', she broke off with a laugh, and looked up at him, making the little moué with her lips, which she did whenever she was particularly amused. 'If I'm not careful, I'll start sounding like a Jane Austen novel. In the middle before I knew I'd begun, and everything! I'm not letting you in on all my secrets in one night, Mr Carson!'

'And how are you at keeping secrets?', he asked, his eyes twinkling. He had said it to tease, knowing full well that she was Downton's keeper of the keys in every way, and those keys locked more than actual doors. For the first time that evening, however, a shadow passed over her face.

He started to bluster that he hadn't meant anything by it (missing her quiet 'far better than you know'), but was soon silenced by the press of her hand on his.

'I would normally say I'm quite proficient, Mr Carson', she gave him a half smile, 'But I don't think that even my skills would stand this test.'

He exhaled as he realised he hadn't ruined the quiet happiness of the evening and grasped her hands in gratitude.

'I thought so. I feel the same, and I've been thinking …. I have a proposal for you.'

'Another! My my!' She raised an eyebrow and smiled at him encouragingly, for he was obviously nervous. Even if his face hadn't taken on that same breathless quality it had had before he'd received her full answer, the grip he had on her hands told her as much.

'Well … erm. I've given Mr Barrow the day off from attending to his Lordship. Said I'd do it myself. He's likely to be fragile after this evening. I wondered if I should …. Well. Would you mind if I told him the news then?'

'On Christmas morning?' She looked skeptical and chewed her bottom lip in thought.

'I know it's not the best moment, given our positions, but we've waited so long to acknowledge our feelings, that I don't want to waste another moment. Besides,' he said, his practical side finally making an appearance, 'We can then announce the news to the family and staff at the same time, when presents are given out.'

'But what if he doesn't like the idea?' What if he's so angry that he fires us?'

'I honestly don't think he would do that, and even if he did, we would still need to work our notice. It's not like sacking a footman. But I truly believe he will take the news well, and be glad for us.'

'But what about where we'll live?', she said, jumping up from her seat and pacing around the room. 'What about our plans to retire? We've not even set a date!' She had grown agitated, wringing her hands slightly, and drawing her bottom lip more firmly between her teeth as she paced about, distractedly throwing out all the questions which had occurred to her in the last few hours.

He stood and paced a hand on her shoulder, which stilled her pacing almost immediately. He turned her to him and waited until she raised her eyes to his.

'We'll cross those bridges when we come to them.', he said gently. 'But don't you think it better to have our news in the open, so we can discuss things with the family, rather than presenting them with a fait accompli or ultimatum?'

She drew a great breath, closing her eyes as she did so and held it for a few seconds. As she exhaled, she opened her eyes and found his immediately, smiling up at him.

'Very well. You're very convincing, Mr Carson.'

'I love you. I want to do what's best …. What?'

This last word was uttered in bafflement as he was graced by the most dazzling smile she had yet bestowed on him.

'That's the first time you've properly said it.'

'Is it? How remiss.' He leaned down slightly, looking her square in the eyes. 'I love you Mrs Elsie Hughes.'

'And I love you Mr Charles Carson.'

This declaration brought a natural silence with it, as they stood in the middle of her sitting room, smiling at each other, until a look of determination crossed Mr Carson's face.

'I wonder if …' he started to say, then changed tack and simply said 'excuse me' before he cupped her face in his hands and gently lowered his lips to hers. The touch was brief, fleeting really, before he pulled back. But it was only to make sure that she was happy. He had received no sound of protest and so his lips returned to hers.

For her part, she hadn't expected that he would kiss her tonight and was momentarily flummoxed by the experience. What on earth was she to do with her hands? They wavered in mid air as he pulled back, and then covered his at the base of his neck as he deepened the kiss. She responded gladly, allowing him to deepen the embrace slightly, before he pulled back and stood looking down at her in wonder. He drew his hands away from her face, but took her with him, so they were once again linked, allowing themselves to savour the precious new experience.

'I should retire.', she said eventually, somewhat wistfully. 'And so should you. It's going to be an eventual day tomorrow.'

He nodded, raising his eyebrows at the expectation and released one of her hands so she could open the door. She wasn't able to go through it, given he still held the other, and she pointedly looked down at their entwined fingers before looking back up at him. 'You need to let me go, Mr Carson.'

'Don't you remember, Mrs Hughes? You're stuck with me now.'

He drew the hand he still held to his lips and repeated his earlier actions, kissing first her knuckles, then her palm, before drawing her back to him to place a light, but heartfelt, kiss on her lips, before finally letting himself release her hand.

'Goodnight, Mr Carson' was all she managed to say, before forcing herself to walk down the passage and climb the stairs, knowing he had followed her out of the room and was watching her ascent from the foot of the stairs.

She paused and turned when she reached the top to send him a smile, and then was on her way to bed to prepare for the adventure of tomorrow that the opening of his heart and the giving of his hand had brought about.

A/N: Firstly – thank you all so much for your fab reviews! It's such a boost to know you enjoyed it!

Secondly: The inspiration for the kiss was the deleted scene from Emma Thompson's version of Sense and Sensibility. It's here: watch?v=Np9go267v_A (if ff lets me post a link. Never done that before. If not, it's on my tumblr.)

Thirdly: The third (and I think final) chapter will be a while coming. In 'real life' I'm completing a Masters, and have to make a start on my dissertation. Introduction needs to be sent to my highly demanding supervisor on 6th July, so it's all systems go. I might get some time to write next weekend, but I'm not making any promises. I also need to decide how I go about it all …. I like the idea of only seeing events through both their eyes (a la Jane Austen, who never wrote a scene with just men, because she didn't have first hand experience), so I'm trying to figure out how to go about it all. Bear with me!