The feast of Midsummer was held just outside of Downton, on the southern edge of the village next to the river. The king had brought numerous animals for just this purpose. It was generosity not usually seen by the locals, or the many outsiders who were visiting.

Along with innumerable loaves of bread, cheese, and vast quantities of lentil soup, fish and wild birds were also in abundance. But it was the roasted pigs, lambs, and tender beef that many had waited for. Long tables were set out for the king and his family, and for others who were quick enough to reach them. Everyone else spread out along the riverbank.

"I wish you would tell me what's wrong," Edward said in a low voice as they sat at the end of one table.

Thomas wrenched a bone from the quail in front of him, nearly tearing the bird in two. "I don't want to talk about it," he hissed through his teeth. He knew he would tell Edward eventually, but he had not yet figured out how to confront his father about Elsie. And he did not want Edward to get involved. This is about Father and me.

And why he seems more than happy to throw away Mother's memory.

Why didn't Daisy tell me?

"Fine," Edward muttered, his tone indicating otherwise, "but could you at least try not to look so angry? This is supposed to be a happy day."

Thomas tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. Edward sighed.

"I think you had better challenge the competition later. Your face could start a war."

"You should enter, Thomas," Phyllis had gotten up from her seat further down the table. She stood behind him and patted his shoulder. "You did well last Midsummer, and you're stronger now, and faster-"

"And more quick-witted," Edward added, nudging him. "It isn't all brute strength."

"Otherwise your father would win every year," Phyllis laughed. "I will cheer both of you – unless you are in a match against Joseph. Then I make no promises!"

Thomas could not help the smile that appeared on his face. "If I am matched against Joseph, at least it will be a fair fight."

One of the oldest traditions on Midsummer was a wrestling competition. It was held after the sun reached its peak. Many men and boys took part, hoping to claim prizes. To win was held as a high honor. The crowd buzzed in anticipation of the event. Even among those who would not or could not compete, there was much to look forward to. Wagers were made, and coins changed hands.

Among women and girls, some had already staked claims on the best spots to watch, from behind the long hedge.

"Do you think the king will enter?" Jimmy asked those at the other end of the table. "I heard he used to compete when he was younger. But that was a long time ago – and he's a grandfather now." Charles raised an eyebrow.

"Being advanced in years has not held other men back. And the king is younger than I am. Are you saying I should be put out to pasture?"

The apprentices, William, and Albert roared with laughter. Jimmy went red.

"I-I didn't mean-"

"I'm not insulted, James. But you may want to mind your tongue, especially if the old king does enter," Charles's eyes twinkled. "If you ask me, I say there is a good chance of it. He has never shied away from proving himself, whether on the field of battle or in competition."

"Anna, Sybil, what do you think?" Joseph asked. The two young women exchanged glances.

"If the king wants to test his strength, there is nothing to stop him," Anna said. "But I can see Lady Mary trying to keep him from it. She worries about him more now, especially since Matthew died."

"More likely the queen will keep him from competition. If she wants to," Sybil leaned on her hand. "But then – she told us two nights ago that she saw him take part before their marriage. She said it opened her eyes to a different side of him."

"Well, of course!" Ivy giggled. "That's part of the fun, watching behind the hedge. Daisy, we'll have to make sure to get a good place."

"I think you're a little young to watch," Charles said, leaning over to make eye contact with his daughter. She huffed in protest.

"Please, Papa! I don't want to go home with May again! Can't I watch? Please?"

"We'll keep her with us," Anna said quickly. "Sybil and I will look after her. If things get a little…wild, then we'll leave." A smile played on her lips, and her eyes danced.

"Elsie and I will be watching too," Beryl cut in. "She'll be well looked after, your Daisy." Elsie's mouth fell open.

"I never said I'd-"

"Oh hush, you," Beryl frowned, reaching over and pinching her arm. "You are going with me and the others over to that hedge and you're going to watch, even if I have to force you!" she lowered her voice. "You know you want to…"

"This is not a good idea," Elsie groaned, covering her eyes with her hand. A shiver that had nothing to do with a chill ran down her back.

Charles hesitated. "Well, if you're all going…then Daisy can go along as well. I trust that cooler heads will prevail if the competition gets too…heated." His face flushed, and he quickly cleared his throat, turning to talk to Albert. It is not the contest that gets wild, it's the women behind the hedge.

The thought of Elsie watching him was simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. What if he did poorly?

"Thank you, Papa!" Daisy danced with glee, sharing a hug with Ivy.

"I should not go," Elsie whispered fiercely to Beryl. "You know very well what this sort of thing does to me. And if he enters-"

"We will hold you back," her friend put her arm around her. "Sybil and I. But don't lie – I know you are a little curious!"

Despite her uncertainty, Elsie laughed. "Yes, I am. I do not envy you your task." She looked up to see Phyllis returning to her seat next to Joseph. "Are you going to watch?"

The dark-haired woman nodded. "I promised Thomas and Edward I'd cheer them on. And you, most of all," she pressed a light kiss to her husband's cheek. Joseph blushed, but smiled broadly.

"I hope to do well, to please you," he said, kissing her back. "John will be one of the judges again during the matches. He's always fair. He'll make sure I won't be too battered and bruised before the day is out."

Charles talked for a length of time with Albert and William. The young man, Charles was pleased to know, was a farmer.

"He's taught me more about it than I could ever teach him," Albert said, with obvious pride. William blushed.

"I do the best I can."

When his cup was empty, Charles got up to get more wine. There were a number of bearers serving, but they were busy at the king's table. One finally saw him standing patiently and refilled his cup. He was about to return to his seat when a figure came toward him.

"Master Shepherd?"

The short balding man was dressed in a fine tunic. His cloak was a bit stained from travel, but was made of fine material.

Charles held up his cup in greeting. "Blessed Midsummer to you, Master Merchant. I did not expect to see you here!"

"Yes, well, when Mother wrote to me saying my sister and her family would be here, I thought it would be nice to see them," Harold glanced back at the king's table and grinned at Charles. "You know as well as I do when my mother suggests something, it is more like a command. I did not dare refuse."

Sipping his wine, Charles nodded. "Indeed."

"But it is good to be here now," Harold continued. "Mother told me that there are more people here than have come in many years, no doubt because of Robert being here. I've been able to talk with men as far away as Carlisle."

"You are doing well, I take it?" No matter the man's own skill at acquiring gold, Charles privately thought that it did not hurt him that his sister was married to the king. Harold nodded.

"The prize rams you sold me two years ago have done their work, yes. I now own several ships thanks to the trade in wool." The merchant gave Charles a short account of his doings since the last time they met. He asked if the shepherd would be bringing his flock to market at the end of the summer.

"In Staithes?" Charles ran a hand through his hair. "That is a far distance. I confess, I rarely go there. The last time I saw you was the last time I traveled there."

"You should consider it," Harold crossed his arms. "I've rarely seen animals of such quality since. Although it also means I have had to spend or trade less." He frowned, lines appearing between his eyes. "It does surprise me you are not wearing the cloak I traded you then. You remember how reluctant I was to give it to you – don't tell me you lost it!"

"No, no," Charles said quickly, fingering his new one. "This was a gift from my children to wear today."

"How very touching," Harold muttered, still perturbed. "But surely you remember what the oracle said about it?"

"Of course I do," Charles replied. It was plain the man regretted handing it over. It was a fair trade!

"He said it was destined to be worn by someone who dwells in both the divine halls as well as the mortal realm," Harold rubbed the top of his head. "It does not fade or decay. Nothing will ever stain it. As a pious man, I would have thought you would have worn it on the most holy day of the year!"

With difficulty, Charles resisted rolling his eyes. He knew Harold did not believe much that he could not see. Not even hearing words from an oracle would change his mind. Doubtless the merchant was only annoyed that such a valuable possession was no longer his. Charles was devout, yes, but he was skeptical of the oracle's claims. Anyone could tell such a story.

"It is a fine cloak, nothing more. I take good care of it," he said. "And if I choose to wear it, or not, it is none of your concern."

Harold was no longer giving Charles his attention; rather, his gaze was fixed on someone behind him.

Somehow Charles knew who he was looking at without turning around. He looked anyway, just to be sure of himself.

Elsie.

Harold coughed. "You could have told me you gave it to someone else. I would be angry with you for doing so, but not when it was given to someone so worthy of it. Even a shepherdess." He tore his gaze away from her. "Her beauty touches the divine."

"She lost her old cloak in a flood," Charles explained, feeling his face redden. "I gave that one to her simply out of kindness." You could have given her another one. Not your best one.

"And she wears it well. It looks better on her than on you," a familiar voice piped behind them. Martha put a hand on Harold's arm. "Dearest, go talk to Cora. You haven't been in the kingdom for years, and she's missed you. You can talk women and gold all you want later."

Harold opened his mouth to protest, but his mother gestured at him to leave.

"Go," she raised her eyebrows. Before going back to the king's table, Harold spoke again.

"Charles, if you decide to bring the flocks to market, send me word."

Martha steered him toward a path along the river. Charles swallowed the rest of his wine and hurriedly dropped his cup on the table as they passed by. He felt rather nervous. He had every intention of speaking with the matchmaker that day, but now that the moment had come, his mouth felt dry.

"I'm sorry it's been so long," she said, saving him the trouble of speaking first. "First the floods, then this spring. It's as though everyone's caught love fever. I told Violet she needs to tell the goddess to calm down."

Charles suppressed a laugh. "I don't suppose she took that well."

"Of course not. The same accusations about not giving the gods proper respect," she snorted. "I give them plenty – just not in the way she does! But never mind that," she waved her hand. "You wanted me to find a suitable wife for you. You'll be happy to know that even with your many requests, I was able to find several women."

He felt as though his tongue had turned to stone. "Oh? Th-that is good," he stammered.

One was a woman from Loxley who had been engaged, but her betrothed had died before their marriage. Two others were widows, both with children of their own. A third widow lived alone.

Charles listened politely. He knew of each woman, except the one from Loxley. All of them were admirable. If he had heard of any of them before the spring, he might have married one of them.

But he was not the same man as before.

Even though he had changed his mind about Elsie, he wanted to respect the matchmaker for her work. He did not feel much guilt over saying no – after all, she was paid regardless of what he chose to do.

"Is there anyone else?" he asked when she was done.

"One other, though I doubt you would agree to it. She was the youngest of those I found. I haven't had the chance to speak with her yet. But more important," she broke into a smile, "I think someone's caught her eye, and it's not you."

Shrugging, Charles looked out at the river. Several children splashed about. "Well, if she wants someone else, then don't bother telling her about me. If she's young, I doubt she would want me anyway." He turned to her, curious. "What's her name?"

"Anna. She serves my granddaughter-"

He went completely red in embarrassment. "Anna!?" he choked out. "What made you think I would see her as fitting for a wife? I don't…I…" He had never felt such mortification in his life.

"Well, as I said, I doubted you would agree to her," Martha was completely calm. "Do you have an idea how difficult it was to find anyone I thought you would agree to? Yes, she's young, but she gets along well with your children. And she had one of the kindest hearts I know, but she isn't afraid to speak her mind when she has to."

"I know," growled Charles, "but…I cannot. I cannot even think of it. Yes, Daisy and Thomas get along with her, but as a friend." He felt as though he would never be able to look at the young blonde woman again without crumbling of shame. "Please don't tell her about me."

"I won't," Martha said, raising her eyebrows. "As I said, I think she favors someone else now. But what of the other women? Do you want to make any of them an offer?"

This was the moment he had been waiting for. He swallowed, licking his dry lips. "Thank you for your work, but no. I…actually wanted to talk to you. About someone."

"Oh?" She did not seem surprised at all, rubbing her hands together. "Who?"

He closed his eyes briefly. "You will laugh at me, and you have every right to. Elsie."

Martha looked up to the sky, holding her hands up. "Praise be to Eala! I see the goddess has finally gotten through your stubborn skull! I knew you would never give that prized cloak to anyone without reason!"

His face grew warm again, though he did not mind her reaction much. "I would like to make her an offer…that is, if she has not already accepted one." Charles had not forgotten his last conversation with the matchmaker. The thought that he was too late, that Elsie had already accepted someone else, was unbearable.

Please, Beautiful Lady, look upon me with favor. Please grant the desire of my heart.

He had never prayed so hard to the Goddess of Love for anything, whether speaking out loud or not.

The matchmaker looked back at him, her expression inscrutable. "She has not. In fact, it should make you happy to know that nearly all the offers I have received on her behalf have been withdrawn."

The thought of the path being clear to him made him sigh in relief, before another thought crossed his mind. "Why?"

Martha shrugged. "Who knows? Perhaps the other men found other women, perhaps they do not like a woman with red hair. Perhaps they simply changed their minds, as you did."

He stared at her intently. "Is there no other reason?" Why would all of them withdraw their proposals?

She stared back. "If you're suspicious that her character is in doubt for some reason, let me reassure you. I have talked with Elsie myself, and her reputation is beyond dispute. But you would know that better than I do. You are the one who sees her from day to day. No doubt that is why you changed your mind."

"Yes," he said vaguely, still thinking. He could not understand it. But you still have a chance. "Well," he cleared his throat, "I would like to make her an offer. I have not talked with my children specifically about her, but they know I…am fond of her." Daisy knows, or suspects at least. He tried to brush aside the uncomfortable thought about what Thomas would say.

Opening the small pouch that hung on his belt, he held out several gold coins. To his surprise, Martha closed his hand over them, and pushed his hand away. "No," she said softly. "I will not take any gold from you, nor will I make any proposal to Elsie on your behalf." She smiled at his dumbfounded expression. "You are more than capable of wooing her yourself. You don't need me."

"But-but having a matchmaker is the proper way of doing things," he protested. Martha laughed, shaking her head.

"And plenty of people find each other without me," she said. "Proper?" she scoffed. "I was not offended when Joseph asked Phyllis to marry him. I'm only offended when someone comes to me asking for help, then later refuses to pay." She patted his arm. "I know you and Alice were brought together by a matchmaker, but that was when you were barely more than a boy. You're long past those days, I'm sure you will agree. And if the wheelwright can ask the woman he loves without my help, you certainly can."

He opened his mouth to argue again, but she only grinned at him.

"All right," he said, his heart hammering. It occurred to him that Elsie would likely rather hear a proposal from him than from someone else. "Thank you for your help, though it did not go very far."

Martha waved it off. "I was only doing what you asked me," she said. "For your sake, I am glad you came to your senses. I think you've talked to this old lady long enough. Go find Elsie, and may Eala bless you."

She had thought briefly of telling Charles what she had told all the others. That the shepherdess was already betrothed. But in all her years, she had never seen two people so well matched. What will be, will be. If she truly does not want him, let her tell him herself.

Charles hurried back to the table. In dismay, he saw that the merry group of family and friends had gone. Another family had taken it over. He looked frantically in every direction. He was relieved when he glimpsed Edward, who was eating bread and heading in the direction of the marketplace.

"Where did everyone go?" he asked, not wanting to ask about Elsie directly. Edward swallowed and wiped his mouth on his arm.

"Anna, Daisy, Ivy, Sybil, Thomas and I are going to see some acrobats before the competition," he said, pointing in the direction they faced. "Um…I'm not sure where Joseph and Phyllis went. They might be heading to the marketplace, too. I saw Elsie and her friend Beryl going to the river. I think Beryl's husband was going with them. I'm not sure where Alfred and Will-"

"That's enough," Charles said, cutting him off. Edward stopped, looking embarrassed. The older man remembered his manners. "Thank you," he smiled at the young man. "I forgot how many people were sitting at our table. I hope you had enough to eat."

"Oh, yes sir," the young man nodded eagerly.

"Good." Charles laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "Can you make sure my children behave themselves?"

Edward grinned. "I'll try."

A tall man flipped a tiny girl high over his head. She somersaulted twice before landing safely on her feet. The crowd gathered around gasped and applauded.

Daisy was clapping heartily when someone yanked her aside. She cried out in surprise.

"When," Thomas whispered at her ear, "were you going to tell me Father gave Elsie his cloak? After they married?"

"Let go," she said, struggling to break her brother's grip. Ivy turned and tried to pry him off, but he shoved her away.

"This is between us! You wanted to weave a new cloak for him for Midsummer," he turned to Daisy, "did you think I wouldn't find out what happened to his blue one?" Thomas didn't know what hurt more. His father running after another woman, or his sister knowing and not telling him. We tell each other everything.

Or we used to.

"I was going to tell you, but I didn't have the chance," she whispered, twisting against his fingers. "I didn't want to write and tell you that way. I thought you would rather hear it from me directly. Anyway," she rolled her eyes, "they are not getting married! Elsie lost her cloak in the floods. Papa was just being nice. Calm down!"

"Open your eyes," he hissed, "and don't be such a child. He likes her, that's plain."

Daisy wrenched her arm out of Thomas's grip. "I'm not the one acting like a child." Her glare was so much like their father's he almost stepped back. "I like Elsie, too. She risked her life to save Old Sally's lamb, from what Alfred and Jimmy told me. And she's really nice. If you would try to get to know her."

"I have tried," he said, the memory of that day in the meadow coming back again. "She-I can't explain it, Daisy, but she's dangerous-" His sister snorted.

"That's just daft!" She shrugged off remembering Elsie throwing the crook. "If she was angry with you before, then I'm sure it was because you were rude! Papa hasn't been this happy since before Mother died. If you weren't so stuck on yourself, you might think about how other people feel." She put her hands on her hips. "It's a wonder Edward puts up with you."

Thomas wanted to argue with her, but he could see she would not be swayed. His heart sank. He turned and stormed off, not looking where he was going. Only several steps away from the girls, he completely flattened an old man. He jumped up immediately. The man groaned, his stick underneath him.

"Are you all right?" Daisy ran over. She held out her hand while Ivy took the man's other one. They helped him to his feet.

Thomas could not stop himself from staring, and neither could the girls. The man was without doubt the ugliest person they had ever seen. Wizened and hunchbacked, his scraggly beard trailed down his chest. His arms were muscular, but so long they looked disproportionate to the rest of him. His cloak had several holes in it, as though it had been burned.

He brushed himself off, doing it as if he had done it many times before. "Yes, thank you, young missy. And you," he nodded at Ivy. Daisy gave Thomas a pointed glance.

"Um, I am sorry," he said. "I-wasn't looking where I was going." The old man smiled, showing several teeth missing. Thomas fought to keep his disgust from showing.

"Then you had better keep your eyes open, boy," he started to laugh. It quickly turned to a wheezing cough.

"Er – do you want us to get you some wine?" Thomas asked, sharing a worried look with the girls. The man shook his head, pounded his chest.

"No need. I get these coughing fits at times. Comes from a life of working in the smoke and heat of the forge," he sounded downright cheerful.

Ivy and Daisy looked at each other, both clearly thinking the same thing. He's mad.

"There is something you young ones can do for me," he leaned on his stick. "Would you happen to know where the blacksmith is? Fellow named John. I hear he needs some help."

Thomas could not imagine anyone less helpful. The man looked like a strong wind would blow him over, never mind picking up a hammer to strike metal. "I saw him with the king earlier, but I think he's gone to the riverbank. You might find him there."

"Thank you…" the man gestured, evidently asking for his name.

"Thomas," he offered.

"I'm Daisy," his sister stepped forward. "His sister. And this is my friend Ivy," she gestured at her friend, who was still staring at the wrinkled man.

"Thomas and Daisy, brother and sister. And Ivy." The man gave a little bow. "You can call me Old Joe. Or Burns." He fingered his singed cloak. "You can see why."

He hobbled away in the direction of the river, the lad and two girls watching him go.

"I think I've seen him before," Ivy said, breaking the silence. The other two looked at her. "Well, I can't be sure," she frowned. "But several years ago, I remember someone a lot like him coming to Uncle for a burn salve. I don't remember his name. It might have been Burns. He scared me, he was so ugly," she said, raising her eyebrows. "That's why I think it might be him. Have you ever seen someone look like that?"

"No," the other two agreed. The girls drifted back to the acrobats, and Thomas followed them.

"Oh, are you coming back? I thought you were angry," Daisy said. He rolled his eyes.

"I can watch if I like," he snapped. "Besides, Edward's here now." He went to stand next to him.

After what Daisy had said about Elsie, he did not want to be alone. But inside he felt terribly alone.

Father's going to do what he likes. And Daisy seems happy to let him.

Even if you tell Edward, he won't understand. Not really.

A/N: I'm sorry this update took so long! It's another marathon. I intended to introduce one new character, but ended up with two introductions. And an extremely important conversation. No Chelsie, but there's a lot to get through. I will make it up to you all.

At the rate this is going, there might be two more chapters just of Midsummer. I hope I'm not boring you all to death!

Thanks for the reviews, comments, reblogs, etc. I live for feedback, if you have time. Thank you!