Now it was time for Elsie the Plotter to have a sleepless night. She was so hopeful that the one person for whom he really would do anything might persuade her Charles of the value of his being included in the fundraising effort.

When she returned from the farm, Elsie had told Charles they were to have a guest for tea the next day. She told him a day ahead in order to make sure he wasn't toiling in the garden then. Only she refused to tell him whom to expect, just "a special someone." In fact, she didn't anticipate Lady Mary to actually stay for tea, it was just the pretense.

Charles was both surprised and delighted by the arrival of Lady Mary at their doorstep. She strode into the cottage and Elsie left the two of them be. There was no beating around the bush, "Carson, I need your help."

"Anything at all, M'lady," Mary could see the pride of being needed in her old butler.

"Mama and Isobel and others, namely Downton Cottage Hospital, have a lot riding on the success of their calendar for fundraising." Charles shoulders drooped, he hadn't expected this turn. Of course, Elsie must have set Lady Mary up for it. But when he inquired as such, Mary corrected him. "No, this was my idea, after hearing you've refused up until now."

"That's correct, M'lady."

"But why Carson, aren't Downton Hospital's patients worthy of your charity?" Elsie was eavesdropping from the kitchen.

"They are M'lady, in other forms."

"But haven't you yourself been returned to good health over the years, thanks to the care of Dr. Clarkson, the head physician at the Hospital?"

"Indeed, I have M'lady."

"And wasn't Mrs. Carson – then Mrs. Hughes – deemed cancer-free by Dr. Clarkson?" His breath hitched in the parlour, as did Elsie's in the kitchen. She couldn't hear her husband's silent head nodding response.

"Then won't you please, for me and for Mrs. Carson, and my dearly-departed granny, God rest her soul, do this little something for a good, charitable cause, Carson? I understand Lady Rose has a time slot reserved for you, just after breakfast at the Abbey."

Elsie had tiptoed back into the parlour by then, catching Charles' eye as he was trapped in his own words. Turning his attention back to Lady Mary then he gave a half smile and nodding, he assured her, "I'll be there in the morning, M'Lady. Don't you worry."

'Praise be to heaven!' Elsie thought. The Minx comes through, yet again! And without a sip of tea, she bid her farewell.

"I'm proud of you my man," Elsie walked over to Charles, put her hands around his neck and pulled him down for a tender kiss, earning a loving embrace from her husband.

Still holding her against his chest, Charles voiced his concerns, "But what will I wear? I understood the whole premise to be men only in their shorts…and as you know, there's no room for shorts under my Lycra."

"Don't you worry, darling. If you'll pardon the pun, I've got you covered. I'll be right back and show you!"

Indeed, whilst Charles went out to the shed, measuring up his bicycle, his ever-resourceful wife went upstairs and fished out a gift that she'd planned to give her husband later in the summer for his birthday. When Charles returned, Elsie had him open the package, explaining to his astounded eyes, "I ordered these from that shop in Argyll I am on the mailing list for. I couldn't resist." She was nibbling that lip again.

These were a pair of Tartan print shorts that delivered the style and show that Charles Carson always insisted upon, and celebrated his devotion to his Scottish lass.

"Now, what say we figure out a pose for you, Mr. Carson?"