Finally it is April 30th and the day before the prologue. I'm glad y'all are enjoying this, and I enjoy all your speculation on how it's going to turn out.

It amazed Charles that no one else could see the difference between Elsie and himself, but apparently no one did because George, the other valet, spoke to him about mundane things and he could hear the soft tones of Elsie's voice beside him as she spoke to others at the table. For some reason, he thought they both should look radically different today. He certainly felt radically different. His future no longer held the prospect of being a single man, continuing as a valet or perhaps a butler, and someday retiring alone to a little cottage at Downton. Now, he was looking forward to being a husband with a woman that he adored to share his life with him, perhaps even children one day, although that thought made him reach for his tea to quench his suddenly dry mouth. He had no idea what he was qualified to do, a factory worker or perhaps a clerk. The best plan would likely be to save enough money to own and open his, their, he corrected himself, own shop. That would be safe. No worries about being out of work with little mouths to feed. His mouth went dry again, and he took another quick swallow of his tea. Elsie glanced over at his quick movement and smiled at him. All his worries fled at her smile, and he returned it with earnest. Unfortunately, a glance at the head of the table told him that the one person he would not have wanted to notice had. He gave Mr. Stevens a short nod and bent back to his porridge, nudging Elsie's foot under the table. Elsie responded by dropping her hand to his leg and giving it a gentle squeeze, causing a slight pause in the journey of the spoon from his bowl to his mouth. Not wanting to be outdone, he shifted his leg so that his knee lay against hers and rubbed her thigh lightly. He heard the very slight rise in her voice as she was speaking to the maid beside her, but a quick glance told him that no one else had. His attack started to backfire, however, when he realized that the feeling of her strong leg against his was likely affecting him more than her. Making a tactical retreat, he pulled away from her and straightened in his chair.

Turning his attention back to his porridge, he glimpsed the bandage on his left hand and was struck by a possible way to get Elsie alone again. Clearing his throat, he said in a low voice, "Miss Hughes, since you were so kind to treat my injury yesterday, I was wondering if…"

He was interrupted by a deep voice from the head of the table, "Mr. Crawley, you should probably have Mrs. Reynolds look at your burn from yesterday. You certainly wouldn't want to get an infection."

Managing not to growl in frustration, he said, "That would be very kind. If she has the time, of course?" he added with a quick glance in the housekeeper's direction.

Mrs. Reynolds agreed readily, "Certainly, come to my sitting room as soon as you've seen to Lord Downton."

Elsie nudged his knee under the table, obviously guessing what he'd planned. After a few more moments, he chanced a glance at her and saw that she was biting back a smile. Frustrating woman.

Deciding any further attempt at breakfast was useless, he rose to prepare a small tray for Lord Downton. He was going to have a horrible headache this morning, and Charles's plans involved his employer being in a good mood. With a minimum of cajoling, he managed to wheedle a glass of juice and a cup of coffee out of one of the kitchen maids. The thought struck him to blend the two in a noxious mixture to discourage further overindulgence. He dismissed it quickly though, in favor of putting Master Robert in the best humor possible.

Starting up the stairs with his tray, he was not at all surprised to hear a soft burr behind him, "Did you enjoy your little chat with Molly, Mr. Carson?"

"Is that her name?" he tossed back over his shoulder, "I did but not as much as I enjoyed my breakfast."

"Was the porridge that good?" she teased.

"The company was that good," he paused on the landing to Lord Downton's floor and turned to face her so that he could speak quietly, "So good in fact that I dread leaving tomorrow."

Her smile faded just a little, but she answered him seriously, "You should let tomorrow worry about tomorrow, Mr. Carson, but in truth, I am not looking forward to it either."

Smiling down at her reassuringly, he shook his head and said, "Meet me on the bench after luncheon if I don't see you before."

She nodded, and he pushed through the door to deliver his cure to Lord Downton.

The juice, coffee, and small piece of bread did seem to help Master Robert's headache and mood but not quite enough for Charles to be willing to chance his question. He decided to wait until tonight when he would dress him for the village party.

Lingering behind after Lord Downton left, he spent a little time packing while he waited for his maid to appear. He couldn't tarry too long, not with Mrs. Reynolds waiting to tend to his hand, but he also couldn't bear missing out on the chance for a quick kiss. Just as he was prepared to give up, the door opened, and Elsie entered breathlessly with a smile for him.

"I tried to hurry," she said, stepping into his waiting arms, "Mrs. Reynolds will be looking for you. If you keep her waiting too long, she'll be suspicious."

Charles cut her off with a deep and satisfying kiss, stepping away before he could be overwhelmed, "Let her suspect. We've done nothing wrong. Well, except for me dragging you into that empty shed, and you dragging me into that empty bedroom, and, of course, we've kissed in here once or twice, and in the kitchen…" He trailed off, "Perhaps it would be best to conceal ourselves a bit longer. You are an insatiable woman."

She scoffed, "Said the pot to the kettle. Go on with you, my love, and I'll see you after luncheon."

He stopped short and was back to her in one stride, "Do you mean that?"

"That you're the pot calling the kettle black? Of course you are," she said with a small laugh.

"No, the next part. The bit about love," he asked watching her seriously.

"Charles, do you think I behave like this with every valet who comes to this house?" she asked quietly, "I've never felt this way before, but yes, I believe that it is."

Grasping her hips, he drew her against him, "I hope that you don't behave this way with every valet, or any other man for that matter. My love," he smiled, "I rather like the sound of that. Would you mind very much if I told you that I believe I may love you as well?"

She grasped the back of his neck and drew him to her for a deep kiss. She fell back on her heels after a moment and he chuckled, a little breathless now himself, "I suppose that you wouldn't."

"Not at all," she answered and then pushed him toward the door, "You need to hurry. It wouldn't do to get caught."

"Here I've known you for a bare three days, and you're already bossing me about," he said as he grasped the doorknob, "Are all Scottish women so commanding?"

"Only with the troublesome Yorkshire men," she smiled, and he walked through the door and directly into Mr. Stevens.

Thankfully, he had enough presence of mind to shut the door firmly behind him before catching Mr. Stevens' arm to hold him upright, taking care to not injure his jacket this time, "Mr. Stevens, sir, you must think me the clumsiest of men."

"What I think or do not think is of little relevance, Mr. Crawley," the butler said stiffly, "You will soon be gone, and I doubt we'll see you again."

Charles nodded respectfully, "That remains to be seen, sir. Life can take one down many paths."

Charles started toward the stairs, expecting the butler to follow. When he realized that he hadn't, he turned around to see him looking at the bedroom door intently. There was no way that Charles was going to let that man enter a bedroom with his Elsie in it.

"Sir, was there something you needed from Lord Downton's room?" he asked, watching him carefully, "I should be happy to fetch it for you if you'd like."

The butler turned toward him with a scowl which was quickly replaced by a resigned grimace, "No, Mr. Crawley. There is nothing that I need. You should be getting down to Mrs. Reynolds's sitting room. She can't wait for you forever."

Charles nodded and waited while the butler turned and started down the corridor in the opposite direction. He watched him disappear around the corner before stepping onto the stairs.

Entering Mrs. Reynolds's sitting room after a respectful knock, he was struck by how similar this was to his mother's room at Downton, yet just enough dissimilar to be disconcerting.

"Come in, lad," Mrs. Reynolds said, rising to lift the box Elsie had used yesterday from a shelf, "Sit there, and I'll have a look at that hand."

He sat down obediently in the chair she indicated and laid his hand on the table. She looked at the bandage appraisingly before beginning to cut it off.

"Well, our Bess did a fine job with this," she said with a smile, "She's a good girl that one."

Charles agreed wholeheartedly with this sentiment but curtailed his enthusiasm, "Her help was certainly appreciated."

The housekeeper kept her attention on his wound, and he winced as she cleaned it with carbolic acid. "She'll make a fine housekeeper one day."

He grunted in response, and she looked up at him sharply, "You don't agree?"

He winced again and said, "I am sure that Miss Hughes will be successful at anything she does, but perhaps she might like to keep her own house someday."

"Perhaps," the housekeeper agreed and paused while she searched through her box for the ointment that Elsie had used. She looked at him sharply again.

"I knew your father as well, you know."

"You did?" he asked with a little bit of surprise, "After he and my mother were married?"

"No; I knew him before I knew your mother," she said and bent to apply ointment to his hand, "You're a bit like him, I believe."

"How so?" Charles asked, curious now.

"He was quite a one for the ladies, Eddie was," she said and then added with a fond smile, "Until he met Grace, that is. I don't think he even knew another woman existed once he'd met her."

"That's certainly good to hear," Charles said, "I've always admired my Da. And my mother, of course," he added hastily.

The housekeeper was wrapping his hand now, and Charles was content to watch her work, remembering how it had felt to have Elsie hold his hand in this same way yesterday.

She tied the bandage off and asked, "Are you fond of cards, Mr. Crawley?"

Charles knew what she was asking, the one thing that he did not admire about his father. His mouth set in a tight line, he tried to make his voice light, "I have never played cards, or dice either; seemed like a bit of a waste to me."

She met his eyes and nodded shortly, "There. That will do you then. You should be very careful, Mr. Crawley. I'd not like to see you or anyone else hurt."

"No, ma'am," he answered quietly, "I would never wish to hurt her."

She gave him a genuine smile, "Then I doubt that you ever will."

Charles rose and thanked her for her help before starting toward the stairs.

This trip kept getting more interesting.

Reviews are welcome as always.