With thanks to chelsiefan. It's been a while, friends. We're going to move along a bit here.

Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains of the Carsons' living room, illuminating the pair of them entwined on the sofa, kissing fervently.

There was still a great newness to the sensations of their bodies pressed together. They were explorers together; mapping new places, exploring an entirely new language: one that was certainly foreign in so many ways but easy and familiar in others. Their physical intimacy was everything their relationship had always been: a well-practiced balance of pushing and pulling, of both good-natured teasing and tender caring.

Elsie delighted in learning what her husband responded to, pushing his buttons as only she could. She found it delightfully easy to rile him up, be it giving him a coy smile, a lingering touch, or murmuring encouragement in his ear. She could hear the hitch in his breath whenever she did something particularly compelling, and it spurned her to be braver, bolder with her actions.

Charles, for his part, felt like a new man – a much younger man, he thought to himself as he lifted up his wife and placed her gently down upon the sofa in a more agreeable position. He was captivated entirely by her, as he had been many times before in his lifetime, but now he was free to let his admiration burst forth. And he certainly did, with tender words and fiery kisses he professed his love and devotion and desire for her over and over.

Several hours and many discarded articles of clothing later, they lay together in their shared bed covered only by a thin cotton sheet. They were well beyond words at that point. They cuddled in comfortable silence, Elsie with her head on her husband's broad chest, Charles with his arms wrapped protectively around her. Elsie found herself wishing they could stay precisely like that, in their little bubble of happiness, forever.

They couldn't, of course. There would be supper to prepare soon and chores to be completed before turning in for the evening. But she would still be with him, and for the first time, Elsie truly believed that might be enough.

Over the next few months Charles redoubled his efforts in making his wife feel useful. Elsie redoubled her efforts in not letting her inner critic get the best of her. Eventually, her crying spells ceased, and her step grew lighter, though it was so gradual she sometimes failed to notice it. Every once in a while, she would catch herself in the middle of laughing at something her husband had said and pause. She'd smile to herself, reflecting that this was in fact her reality instead of the bleaker one she'd once imagined for herself.

Winter turned to spring, and as the snow melted and the days grew longer, Charles and Elsie started to venture out of their cottage with greater frequency. The road had washed out after a great rainstorm, and it took the workmen over three weeks to put it right. Even then, Elsie insisted she and Charles take their now-daily walk together, mud or no. They could easily clean up back at the house, and what did it matter if boots and hemlines got a little dirty? They had a washing tub, and they could afford to live a little. Elsie rid herself of her cane on these walks, preferring to hold onto her husband's elbow and walk half a step behind him. It was easier to navigate holding onto a person, and this afforded them a closeness that they both appreciated. When they went into town, to church or the post office or anywhere else, she took the cane so that she might manage without being beside him every step. Often in narrow spaces there wasn't room to walk two abreast, so they managed. Walking into the shops was still rather strange. Elsie wasn't used to it yet. She always had the uncanny feeling that she was being stared at, and she wasn't entirely wrong.

With spring also came fresh vegetables - both from the stalls in town and from Mrs. Patmore's surplus at the Abbey. Slowly, their menu expanded slightly, as Charles and Elsie learned to cook everything from apple tart to roasted cauliflower. Elsie became skilled at the preparation work: peeling, chopping, slicing, and the lot. Charles was responsible for the stove, minding the temperature and deciding when a dish was finished. Both were designated as taste testers. With time, they had a decent repertoire for themselves, and Elsie felt like she was an integral part of each meal instead of a bystander.

Mrs. Patmore came round for tea once a week, just after the servants' luncheon was served. She filled the Carsons in on all the downstairs gossip. She was ever so proud of Daisy who, as of the beginning of April, had started to study for her exams. The news made Elsie smile and Charles scoff.

"Whatever should she need maths for?" he remarked to Mrs. Patmore one afternoon over tea.

"Well, if she is to take over the farm, she'd like to be ready. Educated and the like," explained the cook.

"She doesn't need algebra to do that!" Charles protested. "And who says she needs to take over the farm? She could replace you one day, when the time comes."

"And what if she doesn't want to?"

Charles let out an exasperated sound and folded his arms. "Why wouldn't she want to? It's a good place for her, very respectable."

Mrs. Patmore opened her mouth to protest, but Elsie beat her to it. "Oh, Charles, there's nothing wrong with her wanting to know a bit more," she interrupted. "I think it's splendid. There's nothing wrong with having options."

"But why should she need 'options'? And surely it's cutting into her work."

"Some," admitted Mrs. Patmore, "but not much. And Mr. Barrow doesn't mind it."

Charles rolled his eyes at that, and Elsie put a comforting hand on her husband's arm.

"How is Mr. Mason faring?" Elsie asked, steering them deftly to a less stressful subject.

"Oh quite well, quite well. Why, he writes me twice a week now!"

"Does he indeed?" said Elsie with a knowing smile.

Mrs. Patmore launched into a detailed description of the man's spring plantings and his plans for the farmhouse. How it made her think she might like to invest in some property of her own if she could find enough capital and how Mr. Mason had offered to help her look at the adverts. Elsie grinned to hear her friend speak so animatedly about the man. There was something brewing there; she'd tell Charles later. Mark her words, there was.

Mrs. Patmore realized she was gushing like a schoolgirl, judging by the smirk on Elsie's face, and the cook blushed a bright, ruddy red colour. "Oh, I can't believe I haven't asked yet," she said, trying to regain her composure. "How are plans for the honeymoon coming along?"

"Quite well," said Charles, puffing his chest out the slightest bit. "I've been seeing to the arrangements."

"Have you now?" said Elsie, turning to her husband in surprise. "I wasn't aware you'd been making any arrangements."

"Erm, well …" Charles squirmed at her disapproval. "That is to say, I've just made a few calls."

"I see," said Elsie, pursing her lips.

"Oh dear, I've said something I shouldn't have," said Mrs. Patmore quickly. "Would you like any more cabbage this week? I've lots to spare."

"I'd rather hear more about these calls," said Elsie, not giving in one bit. "Whom exactly have you called?"

"Oh, a few...establishments, it's good to get a few estimates."

"Very good," agreed Elsie, smiling tightly, "and did you finalize anything?"

"I might have," said Charles defensively. "It is my responsibility as the groom to make such decisions."

"I really ought to be going…" said Mrs. Patmore, trying to remove herself from the situation.

"No, really, Mrs. Patmore, we don't mean to be driving you out," said Elsie, flushing slightly.

"We'll speak no more about it," agreed Charles. There was no need to sort this out in front of their friend. It wouldn't do any of them any good.

"Well, actually, bringing it up does remind me - Elsie - Anna mentioned going clothing shopping in Ripon next Thursday afternoon, and she asked me to invite you to go along with her. You might get something new for...um, your...trip?" Mrs. Patmore winced at bringing up the honeymoon so soon after she'd resolved to avoid the very subject, fearing she'd hurtled headlong right back into dangerous waters.

Elsie smiled, amused by Mrs. Patmore's tendency to stick her foot in her mouth at such moments. "Charles has given me a lovely dress already," said Elsie, knowing she'd mentioned this to her friend many months prior. "I can't think of anything new I might require."

"Well," said Mrs. Patmore, "you never know, do you! And I'm sure Anna wouldn't mind the company."

"I know precious little about shopping for clothes," said Elsie. "But it would make a nice trip, I suppose."

"I'll tell her it's settled then," said Mrs. Patmore. "Now I really must be off, or Daisy will be left making the entire supper without me. Not that she couldn't manage, of course."

"Very well," said Elsie. "It was good of you to come. And tell Anna thank you for the invitation."

"Goodbye to both of you," Mrs. Patmore said, hurrying out the door before she accidentally brought up the honeymoon a third time.

"And good luck, Charles!" she muttered under her breath.

The Carsons usually ate their supper in peace and quiet, but not that evening. That evening Elsie was in full-on interrogation mode about their honeymoon plans.

"You still won't tell me what we're going to do once we're there, Charles." He'd refused to give a single detail of their trip beyond "London" and "likely the morning train."

Charles swallowed his bite of quiche. "Oh, you know, the usual things," he said vaguely. "Walk about the city. Seeing the sights."

"Oh, well, of course, if we're seeing the sights," responded Elsie with exasperation.

"I didn't mean it like that," said Charles defensively. "I just...I wanted it to be a surprise, I suppose. I thought you'd enjoy that."

Elsie leaned back in her chair. "I do like surprises," she conceded. Particularly his surprises, which were always planned in such meticulous detail and executed with a romantic flourish that never failed to delight her. She softened her expression, reaching for his hand to squeeze it to reassure him that she wasn't truly angry. "I don't mean to be cross, Charles." He squeezed her hand back, and she continued in a carefully measured tone. "I appreciate that you wanted to do something nice for me - for us - but I wish you'd let me help."

"I didn't want to burden you with the details and logistics and -" Charles stopped abruptly, realizing fully what he'd just said.

Elsie raised her eyebrows at him with a hint of amusement. She squared her shoulders, looking every bit the Downton Abbey housekeeper.

"... And of course, you like sorting out details and logistics," Charles finished, with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Elsie. Why didn't I think of that?"

"It's all right," said Elsie kindly. "You were trying to be generous, and I do appreciate that. I'm asking you now if you'd be amenable to letting me help with our plans."

Charles inhaled deeply, surveying his wife's tender expression. He'd bruised her feelings, or grazed them at the very least, but it was not the end of the world. He exhaled deeply, relieved that there was a simple solution at hand.

"Of course." he said warmly. "I've already made plans for our days in London for the second week of June, and I do think you'll enjoy them. What if you were in charge of the plans for our time by the seaside? We've five whole days and nothing sorted but the inn where we're staying, and I'm sure we could still cancel if you don't think it agreeable."

"I'd like that," she agreed, smiling at him. "Very much indeed."

Energized by his wife's enthusiasm, Charles became more animated. "We'll do anything you decide, and if you need help making arrangements you can get Mrs. Patmore or Anna or someone to help you to keep it a surprise from me. Then we'll both be able to surprise each other."

Elsie nodded, her mind already buzzing with possibilities. Charles watched her, and with a sharp pain, he realized that he recognized the look on her face. The way her mouth turned up ever so slightly when she was sorting out the world in her head. He'd missed seeing her like this, and it made his heart clench.

"Elsie," he rumbled. "I owe you a better apology."

"Sorry?" She was miles away on a beach in Brighton.

"For not asking you to help from the beginning. I truly am sorry. I wasn't thinking."

He meant it, poor man, with all his heart, and his wife heard so clearly his contrition. "Charles, you already said-"

He held up his hand to stop her. "No, no," he insisted. "I know enough to know when I'm in the wrong. My darling, your organizational skills are like those of no one else I know, and I'd be more than happy to have you make arrangements. It was terribly inconsiderate for me to think otherwise, and I'm sorry for it. I don't want you to be cross with me."

Elsie reached across the dining room table in search of his hand. "I'm not cross with you, Charles, certainly not anymore," she reassured him.

"Good," said Charles. "I don't like it when we're at odds."

Elsie sighed. Oh, Charles, how very uncomfortable he was with conflict. "Neither do I, Charles, but it's bound to happen. No two people on Earth agree about everything. You and I are not exactly alike. And thank goodness for that! It keeps life interesting."

"We have had some spectacular disagreements over the years ..." he allowed.

"Yes," said Elsie firmly. "And we've always resolved them. And that was even before we were married!"

"I don't quite see how being married makes being at odds somehow easier to manage," said Charles, puzzled. Surely, since they were married, he was to be held to a higher standard. A butler might be difficult in a way a husband might not, as far as he was concerned.

Elsie stood, walking to her husband and clasping both of his hands in hers. She wanted him to truly hear her. "What I meant was that neither of us is going anywhere, Charles. I'm certainly not, and I know you aren't either. We'll work through things because we want to, because we have to. I don't know if it's going to be easier than before, but that's not the point. No matter how cross I get, that will never change the fact that I love you."

Her speech brought a tear to his eye, which he blinked away hastily. "Of course," he said thickly.

Elsie sensed the great swell of emotion in her husband and was keen to bring a smile to his face. "Besides," she said cupping his cheek, "I can think of another advantage to arguing now that we're married."

"Oh?"

She ran a finger across his lower lip, before leaning down to kiss him softly. "Reconciling is far, far sweeter," she murmured against his lips.

She tasted of tea and apple tart. The slightest hint of a smirk appeared at the corners of her mouth and Charles grinned. He snatched up her fingers in his great hands and pulled her down onto his lap. "Right you are, my dear," he agreed. "Right you are."

TBC