Mary and Tony walked the last block to Grantham House reluctantly. A fine evening had been had, but they had run out of respectable things to do and it was time to return home. Rose and Lord Something or Other, as Mary thought of him, walked almost a hundred yards in front of them. Mary had decided to give up trying to remember the names of all the men with whom Rose became infatuated. She had long since decided to ignore the names of those who were infatuated with Rose.

Charles had been obliged to leave them early to attend to a family matter. Tony was trying to take not so subtle advantage of the absence of his rival. It had been his suggestion that they walk home rather than hire a cab. Rose had thought that jolly clever and had skipped off with Lord Something or Other in tow.

"I hope your family will be staying for the remainder of the Season."

"Grandmama is going home on Tuesday. But the rest of us are staying for at least one more month."

"Does the Dowager not enjoy the Season?"

"I think things move too quickly in London for her liking, but what bothers her most is that she is not the grand dame of everything. It is difficult to stand out. And often when you do, it is for reasons you would rather others forgot.

"I remember when she presented me. Looking at all the other girls waiting their turn to be presented, she shook her head and whispered to me, 'Too many stars, not enough sky.'"

Tony laughed appreciatively at this. Lady Violet Crawley certainly had a way with words. "She's perfectly correct. That describes the Season exactly. Though some stars do burn more brightly than others."

Before Mary could remind him he had promised not to compliment her so much anymore, Tony was distracted by something.

"I say, isn't that your butler?"

"What? Where?" Mary looked up the block towards Grantham House.

"There," Tony laughed and pointed toward the park, "dancing with that woman in the park."

Now it was Mary's turn to laugh. The very idea of Carson dancing with a woman in the park was ludicrous. But she glanced in the direction he had indicated. "Goodness, that certainly does look like him." She admitted in shock. Poor Mrs. Hughes, Mary thought vaguely, but then she recognized the other silhouette in the moonlight. Hmm. I stand corrected. Good for them. Mary thought she heard music coming from the park.

As they watched, the couple, unaware that they were being observed, kissed each other deeply as they danced out of the moonlight and into the shadows.

Though she was curious and wished to continue to watch for the couple in the park, Mary forced herself to respect their privacy. She turned away and continued beside Tony.

"I must ask you to keep this to yourself, Tony."

"If you wish, but it is an odd way for servants to be carrying on." He was still chuckling.

Mary bit her tongue to keep from pointing out that he was hardly one to talk about the 'carryings on' of one's servants. After all, he still did not know all the details of that matter.

-00-

They'd danced back into the dark cover of the trees, where dancing had given way to kissing again. Elsie's legs felt weak. She felt sure that if he hadn't been holding her up, she would have slumped contentedly to the ground. He seemed to sense her grow heavy in his arms and ceased the leg liquefying ministrations of his lips. She regained her balance, but almost lost it again when he released her and began to remove his coat.

"Do you know one of the things I like best about this park?" He asked, standing before her in his shirtsleeves and vest as he had on the beach.

"What?"

"We aren't likely to be interrupted." His voice was deeper than normal, making the words sound very suggestive.

"Charles!"

Elsie blushed so deeply, she was sure he could feel the heat of her cheeks in the darkness. What exactly is he proposing? Thankfully, before Elsie could throw pride and propriety to the wind, he spread his coat upon the grass and indicated that she should sit. "I'm not sure how long I can hold you up, love. Perhaps we should sit so we can concentrate properly on each other."

Laughing to herself she sat down quickly.

"If I had my way, I'd keep you in a tower, far away from anyone who might ever interrupt us or take you away from me." He said, lowering himself to the ground.

She giggled at this romantic confession. It was so unlike her butler, but so like her Charles. "Wouldn't I get lonely in that tower?"

"Why should you be lonely, love? I'd be locked in there with you."

"I like when you call me 'love.'" She wrapped her arms around him as soon as he settled by her side.

"It's always been you, love." He began to concentrate on the spot behind her ear and along her neck.

Trying to regain her composure, Elsie attempted to tease him. "That is a sweet thing to say, Charles, and people often do, but that is nonsense. You cannot have loved me always because we have not known each other always."

"Who's to say?" He had moved to the other ear and the other side of her neck.

"I say, you daft man. I've not known you forever, though I wish I had."

The nibbling on her ear stopped as he whispered, "But I've always known you, Elsie. Time didn't start for me until I met you."

Really, lass, who can argue with that? Her head finally admitted. She took his face in her hands and pulled his lips to hers as she reclined back onto his coat. His body followed hers, covering her and protecting her. He braced his weight with his arms placed either side of her. Though he loomed over her, he was the vulnerable one with his soft underbelly exposed. Her hands unbuttoned his vest and began to roam his chest in tight circles.

He grunted as he pulled her closely to him with one hand and rolled over onto his back. "You must stop that, Elsie."

"Why? Are you ticklish?"

"I used to be, but no one has been bold or foolish enough to find out since I was a boy."

Elsie settled on her side to lie facing him as he lay on his back still. She brushed his hair back from his face, picturing that young boy who had grown through so much to become the man she loved.

"Tell me something happy from your childhood, Charles." She prompted. "There must be something."

He put his arm up to allow her to nestle closer to him then wrapped it around her. Elsie lay her head upon his chest. "There are a few. I can remember visiting my grandfather and riding the horses."

"Before you were seven? Is that even safe?"

"Well they were only ponies, but I thought they were horses at the time. That's what my grandfather told me, anyway. My grandfather was a large, imposing man of few words. All the staff who worked for him were near terrified of him, but he was kind beneath it and always had a smile for me."

"He sounds rather like someone I know." Elsie kissed him lightly on the cheek in case he had any doubts who she meant.

"Humph, I'm a puppy dog compared to my grandfather. No one is terrified of me." He felt her shake her head as it returned to his chest. When she did not contradict him verbally, he decided to claim a victory and move on. "Almost every memory of my mother before I went into service is good; a little bittersweet, but still good."

"Such as?"

"I used to help her with the laundry."

"That's a happy memory? I used to help my mother too, but it doesn't count as a very pleasant memory."

"But my mother made a game of it. She would fill the wash tub with linens and soapy water. I would take off my shoes and socks and roll my short pants up as high as they would go. Then, she would place me in the tub. I would stomp around in the sudsy water as she hummed a marching tune. Sometimes she would give me a broom handle to hold like a gun as I marched around the tub. I thought it was a jolly game. I had no idea that I was helping cut her work in half."

Elsie closed her eyes and could see little Charlie Carson marching his way through the laundry, simultaneously splashing and serious. She remembered how he, as a grown man, had splashed purposefully through the surf to retrieve her hat. She traced a lazy circle on his stomach with one finger.

"I used to help her at the inn as well. While she changed the bedding, I would shake out the curtains, check the drawers, straighten the desk and chairs and trim the candle wicks. I had rather an eye for details even then." Beneath her head, his chest swelled with pride.

"I'm sure you did." She chuckled, still tracing her finger round and round his torso.

"But my true gift was for pillow cases."

"Pillow cases?" This startled her so much that she sat up to look down at him.

"I could change a pillow case like that." He snapped his fingers between them, smiling broadly. "Even when the pillow was as large as I was. Sometimes the pillow would block me entirely from view. I'm sure all she could see were the tops of my feet and my hands."

Elsie laughed at this picture too. She sat there, on his coat watching him fondly reminisce. He sat up to face her, telling the story with animated gestures.

"If we were almost done for the day or ahead of schedule, she would cry out, 'Goodness! That pillow has eaten Charlie! Whatever shall I do?' Then, she would grab hold of me, the pillow still pressed between us, and throw me on the bed.

"She'd say, 'I shall have to tickle this pillow until it spits Charlie out again.' And she would do precisely that. She would tickle me until I was screaming and crying with laughter. Then she would gather me in her arms and swing me about the room as though she'd just saved me."

Charles was still smiling, but, for the first time tonight, tears glistened in his eyes and wetted his cheeks. Memories of joy had done what the distant shadows of pain could not. "I was probably no older than five at the time. I have not thought of that in years. I have not thought of her properly in years."

Elsie moved closer to him and wrapped him in her arms. He leaned his head gratefully against her shoulder. "I pushed everything about her out of my mind because of how things ended. But there were good times too."

"You said that you could not attend the funeral, but did you ever visit her grave?"

"No. I know the churchyard where she is buried, but I doubt there is a headstone."

"The church would have records."

"Yes. You are right, as always. Do you never get tired of being right?" He teased, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand in a very un-Carson gesture.

"I never tire of being told that I am right." Elsie admitted.

He laughed at this, but took her hand earnestly. "I owe you so much, Elsie. You've given me back my memories of my mother. I can never repay that."

"You might be able to, if you just answer a simple question."

"What is that?"

"Are you still ticklish?"

"I told you…ELSIE!" His voice jumped as Elsie reached underneath his vest and began to tickle his sides with her nails and fingers. Apparently, the answer is 'yes', she thought as tears of laughter replaced his tears of nostalgia.

-00-

When Elsie had allowed him to recover his breath, Charles lay on his back looking up through the leaves. Elsie was snuggled once more beside him. "Elsie, love, we've spent tonight talking all about me. When we return to Downton, I would rather hear more about my favorite subject; you. There is still so much I don't know about you."

"My life has not been nearly as eventful as yours. It may be very boring in comparison."

"I want this relationship to work both ways, Elsie. I want you to feel you can share the low points in your life as well as the high."

She understood exactly what he was referring to. "I promise we will talk about my lowest point when we return to Downton."

"We can talk about it whenever you wish. But I want to know it all. Most of all, I want to hear about the sprightly lass who ran across the hills of Argyll looking for trees to climb."

Elsie laughed and swatted at him playfully.

"They do have hills in Argyll, do they not?" He asked, placing one hand over where she had hit his chest in a broad gesture of defensiveness.

"They have." She admitted laughingly.

"And trees?" His hand moved to her chin.

"Of course." He began to tilt her face towards him.

"And were you not a sprightly lass?" He kissed her forehead and continued to gently guide her head by her chin.

"I was." Her eyes met his. A spark seemed to pass between them in the warm night. The heat and the tingling of their first kiss still smoldered deep in the core of her body. "I still am."

"Then, as I said, I look forward to hearing the stories about the sprightly lass who ran across the hills of Argyll looking for trees to climb." Her lips were almost to his now. She only had a split second to tease him.

"Don't make me tickle you again." She threatened jokingly.

"Do as you will," he said before kissing her. As they lay, entangled on his coat, their laughter mingled together in a harmony, his deep and rumbling; hers light and sweet. Even their laughs belonged together.

TBC...


A/N "Too many stars, not enough sky" is a quote from the Tori Amos song, 'Waitress' on 'Under the Pink'. I am still not sure what it means in the context of the song, but it was too good a line not to use. Since Violet or Beryl get all the good lines, I gave this one to Violet (via Mary).

These two work and can be so tender and perfect beyond the walls of Grantham House and Downton Abbey, I hope you've enjoyed it because it's back to Grantham House next chapter.

If you want the traditional 'happy ending' you should probably stop here.

If you, like me, enjoy the roller coaster, then stick with me. We're going back to the angsty stuff now. Not too angsty, but...You Have Been Warned;)