Good News Travels Fast

A/N: Guys, thanks so much for all of the reviews and PMs. I really love writing this story, and love your responses to it. Quick, informal survey: I am considering addressing some of the complex and interesting intimacy issues between these two, especially since I am DEFINITELY writing about their honeymoon. Should I explore some M scenes? Or keep this firmly in the T category? What are you feeling? TIA, ~ CeeCee

The Last Week of December, 1924

Although there was something that felt deliciously illicit about keeping their engagement a secret, Charles decided a few days after Christmas that he really wanted to tell his lordship before anyone else in the house knew. The part of him that was more honest with himself was that he was bursting with pride and love that this woman would agree to marry him, and he wanted everyone to know. However, his lordship should know first. He would go up before breakfast and see the head of the house in his dressing room, to share the good news.

He was on his way when he supposed he really ought to let Elsie know what he was doing. He doubled back down the stairs and the hall to her office, perfunctorily knocking on her door before opening it.

She was seated at her small table with Mrs. Patmore, both of them giggling over cups of tea and toast with butter and jam. He felt irritated by the sight of them, because he knew what it meant.

"Good morning, Mr. Carson!" She exclaimed, that smile he loved so much beaming up at him. Perhaps he wasn't quite as annoyed as he thought. "Would you care to join us?"

"No, no, take my seat, I must be off, but I am glad we finally got 'round to our cuppa, Mrs. Hughes," the cook stood, clearing away her dishes. When she walked by him, she glanced up, and with great sincerity said, "My congratulations to you both, Mr. Carson."

He shut the door behind her and his annoyance reared its head again.

"You told Mrs. Patmore our news? Without consulting me?" He heard himself, even realized that he nearly forgot to consider her before he headed to discuss the same with his lordship, but it didn't lessen his frustration that the cook knew of his engagement before the lord of the manor did. It simply wasn't appropriate.

She rolled her eyes at him, sipped her tea. Took a bite of her toast. "I suppose I did, technically, but she already knew, in any case." She didn't seem very bothered by his tone.

"But – but – but his lordship doesn't even know yet. I was actually coming here to ensure that you were comfortable that I do so before I did," he sat across from her, raising his eyebrow. Honestly, she didn't look the least bit ashamed of herself, which bothered him all the more. He also noticed she had toast crumbs and a bit of jam on her lips, which made him feel bothered in a decidedly different way. But that was irrelevant, at least for now.

She put her toast down, wiped her mouth with her napkin. "Well, then, I am sorry I didn't consult with you before telling our friend about our engagement. I mean it," her tone was soft, and he was inclined to forgive her. Then she continued, and a bit of steel entered her voice. "But I don't see why his lordship needed to know before she did."

"Because, because, she's the cook, and he's Lord Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham! That's why! There's a way to do these things, Mrs. Hughes, with the proper amount of propriety and respect," he could hear his voice rising in volume and abruptly stopped speaking.

She took a few deep breaths, looked at him. He knew she was angry, and somehow, that made him slightly less so. She folded her hands together, and squeezed them tightly, looking down at them. He reached out, and put his hand over hers.

She looked up, quickly, and he was glad to see a small smile flit on and off her face.

"I'm glad you did that, Mr. Carson. I really am. We're always going to bump against each other on this, you and I. I don't think it will ever change; we're each too set in our ways for that. The best we can do is hope to understand the other's position on it. I told Beryl Patmore that you'd proposed, and I accepted – that we love each other – (oh, how those words made his heart sing!) – mostly because she already knew, as I've said; she's known us too long to not know. But also because she's our friend, she's my friend. It was her, no one else, certainly not anyone upstairs, who went to Dr. Clarkson's with me all that time ago, when I thought I was sick, I thought I might be dying, and she held my hand, and cried for me, and cried with me, when it all turned out alright in the end. I told her first, because she's the person I wanted to share the news with first."

"And you don't think I should tell his lordship before the others, before the staff?" Her words moved him, but he wanted what he wanted – to tell Lord Grantham. It would make their engagement official, as it should be. It would make him proud to share the news with the master of this house.

"You misunderstand me," she shook her head, and placed one of her hands over his, so his larger hand was sandwiched between each of hers. "We each should reveal the news to those who are most important to us; neither of us has to understand the other's choice; we merely have to respect it."

"Then I trust you have no objection if I go and speak to him now, before breakfast?" They both stood at the same time, dropping their hands to their sides.

"Not in the least. I know his lordship will be happy for us. And more importantly, you will be happy to tell him," she smiled again, and this time it lingered on her face. "As I was, to tell Mrs. Patmore."

"I, too, am sorry. I shouldn't have…attacked…you on this quite so harshly," he said. "I know I've said it before, but I don't like when we disagree," he frowned down at her a little. He never liked discord between them, and he felt it even more strongly now.

"I can't say I do, either, but it would be impossible for us to agree on everything all the time," she responded, smiling up at him. "And in any case, it might get a tad boring if we aligned on every single subject, don't you think Mr. Carson?"

"I could never think of you as boring, Mrs. Hughes," he grinned back at her, and relaxed a little. Her eyes were gleaming with the mischief that was always lurking there.

"Nor I you, Mr. Carson. But think of how dull things would be between us if, say, we both wanted to tell Lady Mary first about our engagement. Now, you best be off, breakfast will be ready soon."

oooOOOooo

They were both certain their news would spread quickly both upstairs and down (and, to the village beyond), but they may have underestimated quite how fast, or how much interest it would generate. She got the first dose of new-found attention later that morning.

Mr. Carson had come into the servants' hall breakfast and given her a small smile and nod which she took as confirmation that his lordship now knew his two most senior staff members were now going to be husband and wife. Otherwise, those first few hours had passed quite like the past few days: uneventful except the occasional long glance at or from her new fiancé and a general, pleasant distractedness of body and mind she remembered from decades ago, when lads had begun coming courtin'.

And then she was walking past one of the tack rooms downstairs. Both Bateses' were there, each working on a set of shoes. Mr. Bates glanced up and smiled at her, his eyes crinkling.

"Ah, Mrs. Hughes. I hear congratulations are in order," he grinned as she stopped in the doorway. Anna looked up, smiled at her, then her husband. John Bates always made Elsie Hughes think of a giant, semi-tamed bear. Most of the time, kind, thoughtful, soft and gentle, but don't go poking him with a stick. Not if you valued your life.

"Thank you, Mr. Bates," she suddenly felt a bit exposed. Happy, but shy, nonetheless.

Anna stood and walked over to her, placing a hand on her arm. She leaned over and kissed Elise on the cheek. "We're so happy for you both," Anna's eyes shimmered with tears, and Elsie gave her a brief hug.

"A lot to be happy about this Christmas," John Bates' eyes followed his wife warmly as she returned to her task. "If you ask me, I think a man could do far worse than to find a wife here at Downton." His eyes twinkled.

"John!" Anna gasped, shot him a look. "Mr. Bates, honestly."

His face stayed serene, but his eyes still held mischief. "It's a sound observation, don't you think? Maybe I'll have a conversation with Mr. Molesley later, help him get sorted out."

Anna looked up again and threw her polishing rag at him, as the three of them started laughing.

oooOOOooo

Charles walked into the drawing room in anticipation of tea time, keeping an eye on what Andy as he set everything out. He liked the lad, but wanted to make sure all was up to snuff. The new footman arranged everything to his specifications and left Carson to await the ladies, possibly his lordship and Tom Branson.

Robert Crawley was, in fact, the first to arrive, bounding in with that almost boyish energy he had, even as a man in his late fifties. Carson felt deep affection for the master of Downton, even though he didn't always understand his lordship's progressive tendencies. His humanity and fairness shone through his sense of tradition.

"Ah, Carson!" He came over and slapped his butler heartily on the back. "You'll have to forgive me, but the sight of you brings quite the smile to my face today. Not that I'm not glad to see you under normal circumstances, but I am just so pleased for you both. Good man! I've not seen the lady in question to offer her my congratulations; I'll have to make a point of it," he poured himself some tea.

"Who are we congratulating, and why?" Lady Cora came in, followed closely by Lady Mary. Each woman offered her cheek to Lord Grantham for a kiss. "Edith won't be down until dinner, she's on the phone with London, though Tom said he would be."

"Cora, I've not had the chance to tell you – Carson is getting married!" His lordship clapped his hands together in delight. Carson was getting slightly embarrassed (though secretly rather pleased) by his employer's enthusiasm.

His wife and daughter's reactions to the exclaimed news could not have been more different. Each lady was just about to be seated with her tea. Lady Cora leapt to her feet; Lady Mary plopped down onto the settee, looking like someone who'd been slapped. They both spoke at the same time.

"What?"

"Oh, Carson. What wonderful news!" Lady Grantham was squeezing his arm but Carson was concerned about Lady Mary, who had her hand to her chest. She caught his glance, her dark eyes wide. "Mary, aren't you the least bit pleased?"

"Of…of course I am," Mary stood, walked over, gazed up at him, her eyes searching his face. "I am delighted. What wonderful news, Carson. You must be so happy." A smile landed on her lips, was gone instantly.

"Mary, whatever is the matter? You're acting as if Carson tendered his resignation rather than announced his engagement," Robert Crawley was looking at his daughter in consternation.

"Don't they amount to the same thing when coming from the butler of a great house?" She retorted. Suddenly Carson understood and was deeply moved. Lady Mary thought he was leaving Downton, perhaps retiring, to get married.

Lord Robert started speaking but Cora interjected, "Oh, Mary! I don't think Carson is leaving us, are you Carson? I have a feeling his future bride is here in this house, as we speak."

"Well, now, did someone go and tell you before I was able to you? I thought you were at the Dower House this morning visiting Mama!" Lord Grantham exclaimed, perplexed.

"No, Robert, but unless I am greatly mistaken –"

"You cannot know unless someone has told you –"

"Women pick up on these things, Robert, you must –"

Mary rolled her eyes at her parents' bickering and turned to Carson. He grinned at her, raised an eyebrow. "I am marrying Mrs. Hughes, m'lady." He inclined his head, with another smile.

"Mrs. Hughes! Well, that's wonderful, then!" Mary replied, her eyes lighting up. "As long as we're not losing you, Carson. Lest you break my heart, you know."

"Well I doubt that Carson and Mrs. Hughes are getting married to convenience you, Mary," her mother responded. "I truly am so pleased for you, Carson, you and Mrs. Hughes. If you need anything, anything at all, when it comes to wedding preparation, do not hesitate to let us know." And she turned back to her husband.

"Well, I am very happy for you, Carson, though I suppose you cannot blame me for being glad my champion is staying here at Downton, where you belong. Mrs. Hughes is rather lucky, isn't she?"

"It is I who is lucky, m'lady, and I will endeavor each day to ensure that I earn my good fortune," he raised one eyebrow at her, and her tart expression softened a little.

"Carson, any woman who can cause you to look as you do in this moment deserves any praise you lavish on her," she paused, and continued. "Mrs. Hughes does do things her own way, doesn't she? You must be drawn to us rebels, then, Carson."

"It would seem so, m'lady," he smiled at her, realizing that, while she and Elsie were nearly as different as two women could possibly be, she wasn't wrong.

"Carson, in love. It suits you," she stood on tiptoe, as she had many times when she was a girl, and kissed his cheek lightly. "Congratulations, my champion."

oooOOOooo

She knew the minute she walked into the crowded servants' hall just prior to dinner and the general chatter literally stopped, like a faucet being turned off, that everyone knew. The entire table looked expectantly at her, then at the entryway to the hallway, where Mr. Carson would ostensibly be appearing momentarily.

She sighed, and sat, and ignored all of them. She placed her napkin on her lap and waited, her heart pounding quickly in her chest. Mr. Carson came into the room a few minutes later, and all the chairs scraped back as everyone stood. The silence was deafening as the staff looked from him to her and back again.

"Well? What is the matter with all of you? I feel like the snake charmer at a Turkish bazaar," he sat and began serving himself dinner. A low, murmuring conversation finally started and she whispered to him without looking at him.

"They know."

"What? All of them?" She risked looking up, saw the indignation on his face.

"Good news travels fast," she lilted, trying not to laugh.

He merely raised in eyebrow in response and she realized the table had gone nearly quiet again. Daisy was just coming through from the kitchen with another platter.

"Alright," she shook her head, put her napkin aside. She stood, saw a terrified look cross Charles' face. She lightly placed her hand on his, briefly, then turned to the rest of the table. "Alright, you might as well get it out of your systems now before you all collectively keel over." She sat back down, put her napkin on her lap, and began tucking into her dinner as the whoops and cheers and congratulations began ringing out around her.

She risked a glance at her betrothed and he looked mortified and gratified in equal measure. And though she mourned the loss of their secret, and with it, some of her privacy, she couldn't help but smile at him. These folks, they were their family. And they were delighted for them.

How did she get so lucky?