A/N: This is a continuation of Ch 7, so please go and read that first if you've not already done so! My thanks to the person who sent me the ideas for Charles and Elsie's gifts to one another - I cannot find that message anywhere now but I did write it down and use it! :) The song is the same - hit up Spotify or YouTube and find "Glorious" by Melissa Etheridge.

Many, many thanks to brenna-louise who is beta-reading this story for me. Without her keeping me on track there would have been weird food, misnamed alcoholic beverages, and an Elsie who'd be receiving no gifts because I forgot to type them. xx


I have heard the angels sweetly singing o'er the plain
And I've heard the mountains echoing their sweet refrain
They sing love … it's glorious.


As everyone filed out of the church, Charles heard a voice calling his name.

"Good evening, Milady – Happy Christmas. And to you, Master George," he said, offering his hand to the little boy. He was amused to see George take his hand and shake it formally, the little boy trying to maintain his composure even though it was Christmas Eve.

"Happy Christmas to you, and to Mrs. Carson," she replied. "Are you all set for your celebrations tomorrow?"

"Oh, yes, I believe we have everything in hand. A little more baking this evening, however – Scottish shortbread, I believe."

"My, my, Carson, you're becoming quite domestic in your retirement!" Sensing his unease, she quickly added, "I don't mean to offend you, Carson – retirement and marriage clearly suit you. I don't think I've ever seen you so happy in all my life," she said with a sincere smile.

Charles stood tall and tried very hard not to puff out his chest at the compliment. "Thank you, Milady … it does suit me quite well, I'll be the first to admit, and it wasn't long ago that I thought I'd never say those words." He then tilted his head toward little George and gave Mary a pointed look, patting his overcoat pocket. "May I?"

"Of course, but it wasn't necessary, Carson," she answered. She squatted down next to her son as Charles reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a toy soldier.

George's eyes lit up with happiness. "Thank you very much, Mr. Carson!" he exclaimed, then turned to look into his mother's face. "Look, Mama – a new soldier!"

Mary looked up at Carson fondly, then smiled and nodded at him. "Thank you, indeed, Carson. He'll be sleeping with that tonight, I think."

Charles laughed. "Well, Christmas is for children, after all."

Another look passed between them as he held his hand out to Mary, offering his assistance as she stood once again next to George. This was a different look, one that spoke volumes without any words needing to be spoken. She gave him a soft smile, remembering Christmases past where she'd steal down to his pantry to tell him all about the gifts Father Christmas had left for her under the tree, not wanting to sound immature in front of her younger sisters but excited nevertheless. "It is, indeed," she finally whispered. "And for those with whom they choose to share it, I think, as well."

Mary looked past Charles's shoulder and saw Elsie approaching with Anna, John and Brenna. Brenna was fast asleep in her father's arms, a look of utter peace on her face. "Happy Christmas, Milady," Elsie greeted her.

"Mrs. Carson! Look at what Mr. Carson gave me!" came George's excited voice.

She bent down and examined the soldier, pretending as though she'd never laid eyes on it before. "My, my, that looks like quite a good soldier, indeed!"

George raised his eyes up to Elsie, and said more quietly, "My Papa was a soldier, Mrs. Carson. Did you know?"

Elsie noticed Mary stiffen as she listened to the conversation, but said smoothly, "Yes, I did know that, and a finer soldier there never was. You should always be so very proud of him." She stood again, ruffled George's hair with her hand, and caught Mary's glance.

Thank you, mouthed the younger woman. Elsie just nodded in reply, then felt Charles's hand at the small of her back.

"We should be returning," he murmured in her ear. She nodded, turning to kiss Anna and John on the cheek. "We'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Anna answered.

Mary walked over to Charles and placed a kiss to his cheek, then squeezed Elsie's hand in an uncharacteristic display of affection. "I wish you both the happiest of Christmases. Somehow," she continued, glancing at Brenna, "I do believe it will be."

oOoOoOoOoOo

"How about now?" Charles asked his wife, his arm aching from beating the mixture in the bowl.

Elsie peered at it and nodded. "That should be mixed well enough – thank you, Charles. Just turn it out onto the flour and press it flat," she said, indicating with her finger where she meant.

The kitchen was a complete tip, dishes everywhere, as Elsie and Charles finished with the last of the baking. Tomorrow's meal was prepared and ready for the oven – all they'd need would be to get the dish into the oven early in the morning. She moved the ducks and vegetables into the refrigerator, shuffling around a few other items in order to accommodate the size of the pan. "It'll be a miracle if we eat even half of this, Charles," she tutted. "Whatever were you thinking?"

He reached behind him and swatted her backside playfully, deciding not to mention the bit of floury handprint that now graced her bottom. "I was thinking that we were making an intimate dinner for the two of us for Christmas, followed by a supper that was feeding a party of eight." Then he furrowed his brow, and added, "I do hope it's enough …"

"You've got to be kidding me," muttered Elsie. "How much does one man plan to eat?"

"I heard that, you know. I am standing right here."

Shortbread in the oven, Charles maneuvered himself around his wife in order to rinse his hands in the sink. "I'll clean up in here if you want to get the rest of the gifts under the tree."

She nodded, grateful to remove her apron and wash her hands at last. "Thank you, that would be wonderful. I've only to wrap Beryl's and then we're all set." She headed off to get the required wrapping and ribbon, then headed to the parlour to finish the task. After tying the last bow, Elsie placed the gift under the tree and then stood back to admire the pile of packages, each lovingly tied and tagged and awaiting their recipients. The package for Charles was certainly the largest of the bunch, though, a fact that he kept harping on. Technically, Elsie thought with a smirk, it IS one gift … it's just got multiple parts …

Charles quietly made his way to his wife, seeing her lost in thought. Ha – I know that look. That's the 'Elsie Carson, Plotter' look. "Something amiss, darling?" he purred in her ear, reaching around her with a glass of port.

"Nothing whatsoever," she replied, turning to kiss his cheek. "I was just admiring the whole image."

"I presume you've not snooped …?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, my dear," she answered with a sigh, leaning back against his chest.

They stood silently for a bit, each taking some time to appreciate all they'd done to make their first Christmas together perfect. Charles looked at Elsie and could immediately tell from the look on her face that she was running through her mental checklist; he knew her so well he could see it in his own mind, as if it had been written in her delicate cursive: table from the Abbey … check. Enough chairs? Yes … Gifts under the tree? All there … Duck for roast, duck for stew, pies, cheeses, pudding …

"What?" Elsie's voice startled her husband from his imaginings, and he smiled at her.

"Everything is in hand, yes?"

She chuckled softly. "I do believe so. Thank you – this looks perfect. It was so nice to be able to do this together, for us."

Charles wrapped his arms around her, being careful not to spill the wine out onto the floor. "The shortbread should be finished. I'll set it out to cool and bank the fires. Should we then take these glasses up to bed, darling?"

She looked up at him with a smirk and raised her eyebrows to match his own. "I thought you'd never ask."

oOoOoOoOoOo

Charles rose at the crack of dawn, rolled over, and simply enjoyed watching his wife sleep. He loved how calm her face was as she was dreaming, a tiny smile sometimes curling the edges of her soft mouth. Occasionally she would mutter things as she dreamed throughout the night – often in Gaelic, which he found quite interesting – but as the hours went on she would calm, seemingly sleeping more deeply as the sun began to rise. He thought it so strange, remembering how they'd both been up before the knock when employed at the Abbey. Retirement definitely changed us, he thought for the hundredth time.

Somehow managing to get out of bed without waking Elsie, Charles donned his dressing gown and tiptoed downstairs to get their meal in the oven. He placed some food in the cat's dish and got a fire going in the parlour, then crept back up to the bedroom where he shed the dressing gown once again and crawled back into bed next to his wife. He cuddled up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist, smiling as she reached for it in her sleep, curling her own arm around his. Minutes later, content and warm, he fell asleep once again.

oOoOoOoOoOo

"Happy Christmas!" Beryl blew into the cottage as though she were being carried in on the breath of a storm. "It smells wonderful in here!"

"Thank you – high praise, coming from you," said Elsie, giving her friend a kiss on the cheek. "Let me take your coat and hat, and you can get settled in." She leaned in and added in a whisper, "Charles is in the parlour – with the whisky." She winked.

"Ah, the man's a keeper, Elsie Carson – I did always try to tell you," Beryl answered.

"You said no such thing!" Elsie chided. "But yes … he is." She blushed, and Beryl let out a cackle as she turned to head into the next room.

"I'll leave that for now, Mrs. Carson, but once I've had some of that fine drink, well, anything's possible!"

Elsie shook her head. "You behave yourself, Mrs. Patmore! It's Christmas … pretend it's your gift to us all!"

Beryl's laughter carried across the house as Elsie turned to Daisy and gave the young woman a brief hug. "Daisy, I'm so glad you could join us. How is Mr. Mason?"

"He's not been well, Mrs. Carson, but he's on the mend. He had a bout with a rather nasty cold this week and asked me not to come by," she answered sadly.

Elsie reached out and patted Daisy's hand. "Well, you're always more than welcome here. I'm sorry he's ill but I would be lying if I said we weren't happy to see you."

"Thank you for inviting me," said Daisy. "Can I help you with anything in the kitchen?"

Elsie shook her head. "No, I think we've got it all in hand for now, but thank you."

"Alright. Anna said to tell you they'd be arriving just after us, and Mrs. Crawley was heading out at the same time we were ... I'm surprised she's not here yet, now that I think about it, seeing as how we walked ..."

"Oh," Elsie deflected, walking Daisy into the parlour, "I think she had a stop to make first, but she'll be here eventually." Elsie was well aware that Isobel and Richard had been keeping their – relationship, that's what it is, really – a secret from everyone at the big house, but she was certain that Isobel would be bringing him along as requested.

Daisy nodded, heading over to place a kiss on Charles's cheek. "Happy Christmas, Mr. Carson."

Charles blushed from his neck to the roots of his hair. "Thank you, Daisy, and I wish you the same. Please, make yourself comfortable," he said, indicating the chair opposite where Beryl had sat. He handed Daisy a glass of wine and she nodded her thanks, but headed to the tree instead of sitting by the fireside.

"Ohhh, these are lovely," she murmured. "Mrs. Patmore, look …"

Daisy had never seen a proper Christmas tree aside from the one at the Abbey, and she was quite moved by the beauty of the Carsons' ornaments. With nothing needing doing at the moment, Charles sent his wife a smile and a wink across the room, then joined their friends at the tree. "Do you see this one here? This was …"

Elsie headed out of the room, smiling as the sound of his voice trailed off the further away she got. She arranged some biscuits on a platter, and then heard a knock at the kitchen door just before it burst open.

"Oh, Anna! It's freezing out there – come in quickly, girl!" Anna tumbled in along with a gust of snow, followed closely by John and Brenna. The little girl's eyes were sleepy, her cheeks rosy, her hair glistening with snowflakes that were becoming little droplets of water along her brow.

"The snow came out of nowhere," John said quietly. He nodded his head toward the back of the cottage, where Brenna's room was located. "May I?" he asked, lifting Brenna slightly.

"Of course," replied Elsie. "The fire is already going in there, so she should be quite comfortable."

"She refused to nap today," complained Anna, "and was quite fussy on the way here. We don't mean to let her sleep long, though, or you'll never get her down later tonight. Are you sure you don't mind keeping her over?"

"Not at all! You know we love having her," Elsie answered, "and with you having tomorrow off … well … I'm sure you wouldn't mind a bit of time alone." She gave Anna a pointed look and a smile, then turned away before they were both suitably embarrassed. "Head on through, please. Charles is explaining the history of all the ornaments on the tree, and I don't think you've missed much."

Anna looked in and smiled fondly at the scene before her: Charles stood by the tree, holding up something that looked like a toy soldier ornament, explaining its history to Beryl and Daisy as the ladies had looks of awe on their faces. Anna heard him say the word 'William,' as she turned back to face Elsie. "He looks like he's truly in his element tonight. I always used to think that when he was working, but here it's really true. He looks so happy – thanks to you, no doubt."

Elsie smiled at her dear girl. "Thank you … it goes both ways." She sighed. "I never thought we'd have this," she continued, her ears picking up on John's voice soothing Brenna into a nap. "But I don't have to tell you that, now do I?"

Anna just shook her head, and both ladies headed into the parlour to join the others.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Anna, John, Beryl and Daisy were settling in comfortably with their drinks as another knock sounded on the door.

"Oh, that'll be Isobel, no doubt," said Charles. Elsie made to answer the knock but Charles held out a hand to stop her. "No, go and eat. I'll get it." He kissed her temple and headed to answer the door as she turned around, having completely missed the twinkle in his eye and the look he sent to the others over her head: Don't say a thing.

Elsie made her way to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on the cheese board, and she was rinsing her hands at the sink when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Happy Christmas, Mrs. Carson," came a quiet voice from just behind her.

Elsie whipped around, her jaw hitting the floor. "Tom?!" She wrapped him in her arms, then let him go as she felt another tap somewhere around her waist. "And Miss Sybbie!" she exclaimed, cupping the girl's cheek in her hand.

"Happy Christmas, Mrs. Carson!" she shouted, clearly filled with glee that they'd surprised her.

"But how- ? When- ?" Elsie shook her head.

"We planned it last month. I knew we'd be coming back to visit the family, and Mary cooked this up with your husband weeks ago. We'll be here two months, actually. We were hoping to surprise you – none of us thought it would work, mind you, keeping a secret from the 'Secret Keeper.'"

Elsie just shook her head in astonishment, unable to believe that the Bransons were standing in her home. She turned to find Charles and noticed that everyone had crept over to the kitchen door … and then it dawned on her.

"Wait," she said, tears spilling from her brilliant blue eyes as she turned her gaze in turn to her husband and then Beryl, Daisy, John and Anna – and Isobel and Richard, who'd evidently arrived in the same car as the Bransons. "You all must have known if they were at the house!"

"Oh, we've known since they arrived last Wednesday!" Beryl shrieked.

"It was all I could do not to say anything at church last night," Anna added softly. "Thank goodness Brenna isn't speaking yet, because she was so taken with Miss Sybbie that I think they'll be great friends someday."

"I do hope so," added Tom. "So – Happy Christmas."

Elsie felt Charles lay his hand on her shoulder, and she turned to gaze into his eyes. He bent over and whispered in her ear, "I thought, for this first Christmas anyhow, you should really have all your chicks under one roof."

She had no words in response, so she settled for shaking her head and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "We've no gifts for them," she muttered.

"He insisted that we should not, Elsie – he made a point of insisting, twice I might add. He said being able to spend Christmas here was all the gift he needed. And Miss Sybbie is taken care of, have no fear," he murmured.

"Oh, you darling man … thank you for arranging this." And with another kiss on the cheek, she turned back to face their waiting guests.

oOoOoOoOoOo

After about an hour, the sounds of chatter and catching up with one another died down as everyone tucked into the fabulous dinner that Elsie and Charles had put together. They'd set the extra table and chairs borrowed from the Abbey up against their own, making an L-shaped dining area that took up almost their entire kitchen. They had set the food up as a buffet on the counter, despite Charles's protestations that Isobel, Richard and Tom should never be asked to serve themselves; he'd also been quite bothered by the thought that members of the family would be supping on such a simple meal. Elsie had shushed him a few times and, when that didn't work, she simply ignored him. She managed to keep the peace tonight by asking Daisy to help her fill dishes as everyone made their way through.

In addition to the fabulous stew there was a cold meats plate, assorted cheeses (well-paired with the wines Charles had chosen from his private collection), kidney pie, fruits, nuts, and a multitude of biscuits to be served after the Christmas pudding. It was nothing like what Tom and Isobel had just experienced at the Abbey earlier that day, but they both much preferred the atmosphere at the Carsons' home as it reminded them of life before Downton. They were the outsiders in the family, so to speak, but their friendships with Elsie had fulfilled that part of their lives that they'd been missing for years. Even Beryl was suitably impressed by the meal, knowing how far both of her friends had come in their cooking abilities since leaving the Abbey.

Sybbie finished her meal early and begged her father to let her play on the floor with Brenna, so Anna took her dish into the parlour to supervise. She watched joyfully as Sybbie very patiently fetched the toys Brenna was throwing about and returned them to her, pretending to be a puppy and giving a little "Ruff, ruff!" sound as Brenna squealed in delight. It warmed Anna's heart to see her daughter so easily entertained, and it made her look forward to the day when Brenna would have a younger sibling of her own to play with. She sent up a silent prayer that the day would come sooner rather than later, and caught John's eyes from across the room. He sent her a sweet smile and a wink, and she knew that he had the same thoughts she did.

oOoOoOoOoOo

"Now, let's see … I believe we have a few gifts to pass around," Charles said jovially. With his flushed complexion – due partly to the wine he'd consumed but partly to the added warmth that the large crowd brought to the cottage – he looked as though he could truly play the part of a jolly Father Christmas.

Tom and John had pulled some chairs from the dining table into the parlour so that everyone could gather together. Tom took the opportunity to surreptitiously place a couple of gifts beneath the tree, knowing that no one but John would notice in all the commotion and chatter as supper came to a close. Having done a quick seat-count (sofa … chairs …), they added four chairs from the kitchen, figuring that chances were good neither Sybbie nor Brenna would be sitting anywhere but in someone's lap or on the floor.

Charles made his way into the parlour and pulled one of their armchairs closer to the tree. Brenna had crawled in directly behind him, so he bent down and picked her up, settling her onto his lap as he sat. He beckoned for Sybbie to come over for a "secret," and roped her into climbing underneath the tree and pulling out the gifts, then bringing them to him to check the names on the tag. As everyone else filed in and got comfortable, Tom got his first good look at the tree. His heart sang as his eyes fell upon the little doll ornament – it was the spitting image of Sybbie, and he knew it must have been exactly what Sybil looked like as a child. He peered around the tree and spotted Charles watching him. The older man closed his eyes and gave a soft nod to Tom, an acknowledgement that it was, in fact, Lady Sybil Crawley who'd inspired the ornament's purchase. Tom turned away again, feeling for the first time since he'd arrived that his wife wasn't being spoken of or remembered only in hushed tones, but was being honored by those who had cared about her, in a home that was currently filled with people who'd loved her for who she truly was. The irony of it didn't escape him, either: while it was true that no one had said a word to him about Sybil throughout the entire evening, that one little nod to her on the Carsons' tree spoke volumes.

Once everyone was settled, Sybbie asked Charles if they could begin, and he nodded in reply.

What's he up to now, thought Elsie, watching from the furthest seat back from the tree. But once she saw what the plan was, she was overjoyed: It's all about family and friends … but this bit IS especially for the children. Isobel was next to her, and she caught her friend's soft smile, knowing she, too, was amused by their very own 'Father Christmas.'

Sybbie could read quite well for her age, but the use of everyone's first names was confusing to her. Everyone watched her with joy on their faces as she burrowed under the low branches, emerged with a gift, handed it to Charles, and put her ear up for him to whisper who it was really for.

"This one's for 'Anna and John,'" she whispered, a rather large package in her little hands.

"Ahh … that's Brenna's Mama and Papa," Charles whispered back with a wink. Sybbie nodded quite seriously, then headed over to Anna with her package.

"Thank you, Miss Sybbie," Anna said. "Would you like the ribbon?" Sybbie's eyes lit up as she nodded furiously, plopped down on the floor at her own Papa's feet, and took the shiny ribbon from Anna once she'd untied it from the bundle.

"Thank you," the girl whispered.

"That's going to be one of her favorite 'gifts' of the evening, you watch," murmured Tom, bringing about a chuckle from those directly around him.

"Oh, my," Anna said as she and John peeled away the paper. She looked up and found Elsie across the room. "Thank you ever so much," she said softly.

Inside the package was a new counterpane for their bed. The top fabric was stitched together from six individual pieces, but Elsie had embroidered over the stitches themselves in soft hues of green and yellow, forming a delicate floral pattern that made it appear as though the stitching were never there to begin with. The backing was made of a thicker cotton, perfect for cooler nights in the cottage, and the colors matched the room exactly.

John was rendered speechless as he observed the love that passed between his two favorite women on earth. Never in his entire life had he received a gift such as the one he now held in his hands, not even as a lad when he lived with his mother. This was a gift made by someone who had taken the time to painstakingly create – stitch-by-stitch, quite literally – an item that was priceless. It was truly a labor of love, and he spared a moment to be thankful once again for his place at Downton Abbey, for his friendship of sorts with His Lordship, whose offer of a job all those years ago had brought John to a place where he could learn to experience true friendship, love and, yes, family.

Sybbie, however, cared nothing for the pretty blanket that was now resting in John's lap. She was on her way over to Charles, struggling to carry the large box that had (quite surprisingly) not been touched since Elsie laid it under the tree. Elsie watched in delight as her husband, whose own eyes lit up like those on the tree at the thought of finally being able to tear open Elsie's gift, smiled brightly. She nodded to Richard, who winked at her and smiled, rather excited himself to see the expression that would be on his friend's face as the package was opened. Charles stood and handed Brenna off to Anna, then resumed his seat. He tore off the gift wrap and lifted the top of the box, moved aside the tissue paper, then paused, his eyes widening in disbelief. He looked at Richard, who asked, "Well, Charles? How about it? We could certainly use you, as you well know."

Charles reached into the box and lifted out a cricket bat and a new set of cricket whites. He looked at Elsie, still relatively speechless, and she answered the unasked question:

"It is one gift, technically – it's a cricket ensemble and, before you say one word, Charles Carson, the bat is from Richard and Isobel." She reached over and grasped Isobel's hand, squeezing it in thanks before she wondered if she should not have mentioned them together, aloud, as though they were a true couple. A quick look around the room, however, put her mind at ease, as everyone was quite focused on the new bat that Charles was turning over in his hands. Elsie had fretted that she couldn't have purchased the new uniform and the bat as it would have violated the "one gift rule," but she knew that Charles's own bat was in as dire need of replacing as his old cricket whites, which had become a bit too snug since the relaxation of married and retired life had caught up with him. Richard had come up with the perfect solution, a rather selfish one, he readily admitted.

"You want me to play for the village team?" he finally managed, looking first at Elsie and then at Richard.

Richard cocked his head sideways, scrunching his eyes in a slight grimace, as though what he had to say might not be so well received. "Actually, we'd like you to take charge of the village team. Now that is not to say that we'd expect you to use any 'insider knowledge' about the house team in order to do so but, well, we're really rather awful as it stands, and since you cannot play for the house team any longer …" He trailed off.

Charles thought for a moment, his face breaking into a smile once again. He began to nod, and Elsie and Richard could already see him processing what he knew about each player on the village team – positions played, strengths, weaknesses – and he hummed, "Yes … I think I'd enjoy that very much." He pulled himself from his imaginings and looked once again at his wife and friends. "Thank you," he said softly.

"You're welcome," said Isobel. "The prospect of this year's game just became vastly more interesting!"

Sybbie had been waiting so very patiently that Elsie took pity on the girl. She got up from her seat on the sofa and squatted down so that she was eye-level with Sybbie, whispering, "Let's hand the rest out now and everyone can open them at once. What do you say, hm?" Sybbie squealed and nodded, and fetched the packages for Elsie, who handed them out to everyone else.

Richard received a very nice bottle of wine from Charles, and Isobel cooed over the scarf that Elsie had crocheted for her. Elsie opened the gift from Beryl and Daisy – a lovely ceramic platter that would be both decorative and functional. Beryl gasped in delight at the new apron Elsie had made for her, and Daisy was overcome at the books Charles had purchased for her. At Elsie's prompting, he had chosen a copy of his favorite novel by Dickens and Elsie's favorite book of poetry.

"Thank you both so much for these," said Daisy quietly.

"Well," Elsie replied, "your studies are so very important to you, as we all know, but sometimes it's nice to have something a bit more entertaining to read." She smiled and Daisy nodded.

Charles received a rather expensive bottle of brandy from Richard, a fact that made him rather uncomfortable as he'd already received the cricket bat, and Isobel had gifted Elsie a lovely new fountain pen. When the two women had been shopping, Elsie had splurged on a new stationary set for herself, and had been eyeing the pen but had chosen not to purchase it. Isobel returned the very next morning to get it. Charles opened their gift from Anna and John, which was a simple yet lovely photo frame, a picture of Brenna set inside of it. He passed it around the room, and when it made it back to him he got out of his seat and placed it on the mantle. Just then, Sybbie appeared in front of Elsie once again, handing her a small box.

"This one is from Mr. Carson," Sybbie said quietly, "but Papa and I hid it at the big house until tonight." She giggled at the thought, making everyone else in the room laugh along with her.

"Ahh, I see Mr. Carson isn't the only sneaky one in this house tonight," Elsie replied, reaching out to tickle Sybbie under the chin. Sybbie squealed and ran to Tom's side as Elsie sat back, box in hand. She could feel everyone's eyes upon her and was suddenly shy at opening the box in front of them all.

"Go on," Isobel prompted softly, then added in a whisper only Elsie could hear, "if it were that risqué it would be in a bigger box."

Elsie let out a loud laugh at that, finally tearing open the paper and lifting the box lid. "Oh, Charles," she gasped, "it's lovely."

Inside the box sat a new brooch. It was silver in color, in the shape of a heart, a filigree design covering the surface. It wasn't too showy to wear to church on Sundays but would also dress up any outfit she wore it with. In short, it was perfectly Elsie.

She got up and crossed the parlor and, much to her husband's embarrassment, placed a thank-you kiss to his lips. "Thank you, love," she whispered. "It's perfect." And then what could have been an uncomfortable moment in any home but the Carsons' was lightened by Beryl Patmore's very loud "Awww" and sigh, followed by a roomful of giggling.

Sybbie handed Charles another gift, but it had no tag on it. "Papa said it's for you, Mr. Carson, from him and Aunt Mary."

Charles looked up at the younger man with a furrowed brow, but Tom just said, "Go on, then, open it and see."

Charles tore off the elegant paper and revealed a copy of A Visit from St. Nicholas. Elsie, who was now standing by his shoulder, gasped as she spotted the title, watching her husband as his large fingers delicately traced the lettering and the gold foil that embellished the cover. She squeezed his shoulder lovingly and he looked up at her briefly, each of them sharing in a ghost of a memory from a Christmastime encounter now decades gone by.

"Sybil told me how you used to read it to them," Tom said quietly. "I asked Mary about it, and she purchased it the next day in London. You've a new generation of girls to share it with now, from what I can see."

"Thank you for this," Elsie replied, realizing that Charles was too overcome at the moment to speak. "Please believe me when I say that you've truly no idea what it means to him, to both of us." She bit her lip furiously to keep from crying, and Sybbie held up the last gift to her, yet another with no tag.

"Oh, Miss Sybbie, that one is for you," Charles whispered. "Why not go over with your Papa and open it?"

Sybbie's squeal drew Brenna's attention, and both girls made their way to Tom's lap. "Alright, darling, now open it carefully."

Sybbie took the ribbon off slowly, setting it down with the collection of others that everyone in the room had given to her as the opening of gifts had worn on. She encouraged Brenna to help her tear off the paper, feeling guilty that she'd gotten a gift while Brenna had not. Anna had explained that Brenna had already received a gift last night from the Carsons, but Sybbie was not to be deterred, her Papa having already instilled in her the importance of sharing. As Tom assisted them in opening the box, he pulled out the item that rested on top and handed it to Sybbie, who quietly told Brenna, "You may hold it for now, if you wish." It was a soft, stuffed bunny, one that appeared to be handmade but was quite lovely indeed. Brenna grasped it forcefully and promptly stuffed one of its ears in her mouth. Sybbie then reached in and pulled out the other item: a book.

"The Ve …, Vel …," she tried. "Papa, what does it say?"

"The Velveteen Rabbit," he read to her. He looked up at Charles, who nodded.

"Yes, it's a rather new children's book. Somehow I think Miss Sybbie will enjoy it very much, indeed."

"Thank you," replied Tom. "It was quite thoughtful of you. Sybbie loves animals, and the pictures in this are lovely."

"Papa, may we read it now?" Sybbie begged, receiving a chorus of laughter from everyone gathered.

"How about we pass around some biscuits for everyone first," Elsie said, "and then, if you ask particularly nicely, perhaps Mr. Carson will read it to us all as he picked it out."

"I think that's an excellent idea," replied Charles. He got up and made his way to the kitchen, and Elsie started to follow before turning around and quipping, "We are all quite aware that he's referring to the biscuit portion of that statement, correct?" She headed toward the kitchen once again, jumping away from a playful swat from her husband as the parlour erupted into laughter once more.

As Elsie reached for a platter on which to arrange the biscuits and cakes she and Charles had prepared the day before, he reached out and took her hand.

"Cricket, Elsie? Are you sure? It's quite a large time commitment, to do what Richard is asking."

"Are you truly mad, Charles? You'll love it! It will make you happy, and it gives you a chance to remain a part of the tradition of the game." She faltered for a moment, suddenly second-guessing the entire plan. "You do want to do it, don't you?"

"I must say, I do. I'm quite looking forward to it, but it will put more of the responsibilities for the cottage and for watching Brenna – who will be up and actually running in no time from the looks of things – onto you."

"Oh, hush," she said, reaching up on her tiptoes for a quick kiss. "I may be old, but I'm not that old!"

oOoOoOoOoOo

Tom, Sybbie, Anna, and John left for the Abbey along with Beryl and Daisy, heading back just before midnight approached. Tom had called for cars from the house, insisting on driving everyone back despite the relative mild weather Christmas night. An evening of eating, drinking, and generally making merry with the house full had put everyone into a festive mood, but as the night wore on the long day caught up with all of them. After much conversation and stories about bunnies and Saint Nick, the two youngest among them were falling fast asleep. Elsie had quietly offered to keep Sybbie, but Tom declined, knowing that she'd want to share her new book and toy with George as soon as they woke in the morning.

As Charles closed the door behind the large group, he heard Elsie and Isobel chattering away in the kitchen. It still bothered him that Isobel insisted on helping out whenever she was at the cottage, but he'd long since realized he had lost that particular battle. He filed it away in the part of his brain where he'd put the discomfort of the buffet-style dinner earlier that night.

"A nightcap?" he asked Richard, raising both his eyebrows and the new bottle of brandy. Richard nodded, and reached for the snifters.

"Charles," Elsie called from the kitchen. "Would you gentlemen mind getting this table outside for me? It was lovely to have it tonight, but it's in the way now."

"Of course, be right there." The snifters were placed on the side table as he and Richard headed outside, Richard casting a meaningful glance Elsie's way as he passed her, a glance that was thankfully unnoticed by Isobel.

"We should carry the chairs out as well," Isobel added, and Elsie ever-so-grateful for the woman's task-oriented mind.

As the women brought the extra chairs out, Charles and Richard set them down on the patio next to where they had laid the table. Isobel carried the last one out and handed it to Richard, not noticing that Elsie had rapidly headed back into the cottage, pulling a confused ex-butler with her.

"Elsie?"

"Shhh … trust me," she whispered, pointing through the kitchen window at the scene before them.

Charles watched in awe as Richard took Isobel by the hand, sat her on the chair he'd just rested on the patio, and bent down on one knee in front of her.

"Elsie? Did you KNOW about this?"

She nodded guiltily. "Please don't be cross that I didn't tell you. He mentioned it last week, asked me for guidance in choosing a ring. I think it intimidated him, her being a Crawley and all, not knowing what expectations she may or may not have had. It took a good deal of convincing that the grandiose manner of the family means very little to her. But no one else knew, and he swore me to secrecy."

"Well, I suppose this was quite the secret-keeping Christmas then, wasn't it?" he answered, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "When you mentioned heading up to the Abbey the other day I wasn't sure how to distract you away from it. I was so afraid you'd see Tom there."

Elsie turned sharply and stared at her husband.

"What?" he questioned, confused by her stare.

"'Tom?' That's the first time you've called him that without hesitation, you do realize?"

"Well … yes … perhaps it's time." He pulled her into his side and squeezed her in a sideways hug as they both turned back to peer out the window.

The snow had started to fall, gentle flakes dancing about in the breeze, but it didn't appear that their friends noticed one bit. The miraculous picture took Charles's breath away, eerily reminiscent of a similar proposal several years ago; it was one which he was certain he'd been the only one to witness as he'd happened to glance out the window of the Abbey that night and wonder why Lady Mary was outside without her coat ... and then he'd spotted Matthew and understood. He knew the significance wouldn't be lost on Isobel, either; it was as though Matthew himself had sent down a blessing of happiness to his mother.

When the newly-engaged couple finally made their way back in, it was snowing in earnest and they were quite covered in rapidly-melting snowflakes. "Perhaps you should stay a bit longer, wait out the weather?" Elsie suggested.

Isobel couldn't help the brilliant smile that was on her face, and she nodded in answer. She felt this was the best Christmas she'd had since well before losing Matthew, and she knew that was because this entire evening had so closely resembled what her life had been before ever coming to Downton: a modest home, good friends, simple wants and needs, and joy to share with a man she truly loved. She loved her family at Downton, of course, but that way of life was so complicated despite its apparent simplicity. Concerning herself with what to wear or not to wear, with attending formal dinners even if only three people were in the house at the time, the endless needs of the myriad staff. While that type of lifestyle was changing, it wasn't happening fast enough for Isobel. She turned and sent Richard a brilliant smile, knowing that the choice she'd made was the right one for her, despite whatever the family may think once they found out.

Elsie was thrilled for Isobel, of course, hugging the woman through her own tears, having known for quite a while now that Isobel wanted nothing more than to be Richard Clarkson's wife, that she'd accept in an instant if only he would ask her properly. Charles grasped Richard's hand in a firm handshake and, finally, poured four snifters of brandy.

"A toast," he intoned, "to our dear friends. May the best you've ever seen be the worst you'll ever see. May you always be just as happy as we wish you now to be."

"A Scottish toast?" Richard asked. "Elsie, have you been giving away our secrets?"

She laughed. "Nooo, thank you very much. Have you forgotten, the man was a butler for years, serving half of Britain by the end of it? He picked up quite a bit along the way, I daresay," she said, looking proudly at Charles.

"You'll be my best man, of course," Richard said to Charles, in a tone that brokered no argument. "You must agree."

Charles was touched. "I'd be honored, thank you," he answered. Then, stealing a glance at Elsie, he added, "I think we'll need to continue to stand together to keep an eye on those two!"

oOoOoOoOoOo

An hour and a half later Elsie and Charles were finally tucked into bed, full of food and brandy and, quite honestly, fatigue. The day had been a tremendous success all around, and they just lay there in one another's arms, thankful for all of the blessings in their lives. He smiled and hummed softly, and Elsie turned her head to look up at his face, a silent question in her eyes.

"I was just remembering Miss Sybbie's story," he said softly.

"Were you?"

"I was," he replied seriously, placing a gentle kiss to her lips as she brushed her fingertips across his bare chest.

"Which part?" She nestled her head back down onto his chest, her ear pressed against it so that she could hear his heartbeat and feel his voice when he spoke.

Charles gathered his thoughts for a moment, and then recited the passage from memory.

"Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand … [and] once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

He reached a finger under her chin, tilting her head up once again so that he could see into her eyes.

"You've made me 'Real,' Elsie. This home, our lives, our friends … I have a family now, a proper family, and it's all thanks to you."

"Happy Christmas, love," she whispered, kissing a stray tear from his eyelashes.

"Happy Christmas, Mrs. Carson."


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