Author's Note: Thank you for your patience with updates. It has been a time, to say the least.

Today's update is for a dear uncle of mine. He was always a proponent of doing what you want, and his passing has reminded me that writing is something I love.

Warning: Fluff is all you're getting out of this one. Fluff with a healthy dose of shenanigans.

Technical Spoilers (Not Really) for Series 3, Episode 7.

It was silly to admit it, but every time Elsie eyed the piano she was reminded of that night. The one wherein they had waltzed around the table. That night had brought her a step away from her grief of 1902, reminding the woman that she wanted to live a little.

Which was why when inspiration struck at the servants' table, she wasn't entirely opposed….

_._

"They're showing a film tonight: 'Way Down East.'"

The housekeeper refrained from scoffing at Alfred's comment, knowing full well where this was headed.

As expected, he carried on with his plea, going so far as to describe the plot of the film: "It's about a wronged woman who survives in the wilderness through her own wits and courage."

Well, now. That sounded surprisingly interesting.

"Blimey," Miss O'Brien was quick to quip, showing no favouritism toward her nephew. Not now, at any rate. "They've stolen my story."

"Lillian Gish is in it." Not Theda Bara? But that was a private joke from what felt like another life. It was certainly not appropriate for this discussion.

"I like her." Ivy confessed, fiddling away with the tea.

"There's a late showing tonight, at half-past ten for local servants." Is there now? And what makes you so certain Mr. Carson would allow you to go to such a thing? Then again, given the butler's endearing scheme from the other night, she wouldn't be surprised if he consented to this. "What about it?"

Ivy held off from a real response, "Are you going, Jimmy?"

Elsie felt a twinge of sympathy for Alfred. Yet that twinge faded as Jimmy declared, "It sounds a bit soppy, to be honest."

Well! She personally liked the idea of the film. Not the idea of Ivy going with Alfred alone, mind. But the idea of stepping away from their world for a few moments.

"Well, I'm not going with Alfred on my own. My mum wouldn't like it."

Quite right. "She would not, and nor would I." Elsie looked up at the lot of them, making her decision at once: "You may go if Madge or Alice will go with you, but not otherwise." My, my. She had to be getting soft. This sort of thing would not have been allowed when she was a housemaid, that was a fact.

"All right. If Mrs. Patmore agrees." That would have been the end of it, only Ivy had one final declaration to tell Alfred: "Straight there and back, mind."

Straight there and back, mind, a head housemaid once informed a butler. Not for a film, of course. But they had their own little adventures back then.

The chatter of the table brought her back to reality. But Elsie couldn't keep from wondering something. A harmless little scheme was coming to mind, and she needed all the time she could to think it through.

_._

How had he done it? How had he managed to give his permission without so much of a hesitation? Oh. Right. It was because she'd been staring at him ever so fondly when he'd been asked. One look at those blue eyes and he was reminded of their own nights together back before they were married.

Yes, well, at least their subordinates had the foresight to ask permission well in-advance. Given the improbability of obtaining official permission, Charles and Elsie had decided to take a much more discreet approach when it came to such matters.

"Are you still here?" Leave it to Mrs. Patmore to rouse him out of his thoughts.

Right. That question was his cue to reinforce his authority. "Perhaps Alfred no longer wants to go to the pictures. He may want to ponder his mistakes instead."

"Of course they're going!" Charles inwardly rolled his eyes, well aware of the facts. He had no real intention of torturing Alfred, not forever. He simply wished to enjoy the opportunity before him.

Fortunately, there remained an opportunity. It was Ivy who proved that, Ivy who turned his way and timidly checked, "Are we?"

Charles glanced at the kitchen maid before sharing a look with his wife. She wasted no time sending him a look of disbelief, almost daring him to contradict her. He knew better. "Yes, you can go. I will not withdraw my permission."

Elsie had settled down with a smile. That did not keep the butler from reminding his charge, "But as you walk, you might contemplate what it is to waste a chance when it is given."

Right. Those words of wisdom clearly went over the lad's head–– that didn't matter. For Elsie was standing. Elsie was leaning in and acting as though they hadn't kept their marriage a secret for nearly two decades. Charles was so taken aback, he almost forgot to listen as she spoke, "I suppose you never wasted a chance."

Oh, very funny. He was roaring with laughter on the inside, truly. Straightening up, shooting his wife a terribly knowing look, "Well, if I did, I learned from it and that's all I'm asking from him."

"That, and some ritual humiliation." Really now? Did she have to be so audacious? And with the others so close at hand? Then again, it was a relief to see signs of life from her. She was returning to her normal self, and for that he couldn't be happier.

All of this was only a confirmation to persist in his endeavour from the other night. If waltzing could help his wife lift her spirits, who knows what else could work?

Perhaps a film, Charles thought with a small smile. Not that he was particularly interested in any films these days. Still, the idea invoked contentment. If they could manage it –– and that was a genuine question in this affair –– it would certainly prove to be a lovely change of pace.

Taking in a film together was never something in the works, not for them. Their courtship, not to mention their engagement and subsequent marriage, had been filled with quiet moments. Moments stolen away in the corners of their little world. Nothing like strolling down a street arm-in-arm, sitting side-by-side in public.

That would have never been a possibility, not when everything was to remain a secret.

Right. The more Charles thought about it, the more he liked the sound of it. Taking in a film would not be happening tonight, that much was certain. And it could be difficult to pull this off, given their respective positions.

Still, he was determined to cling to the merit of this plan, if nothing else. All that was left to wonder was rather simple:

Would she be interested in such a thing?

_._

All right. It was time to stop beating about the bush and get on with it. They had settled in for an evening drink and though the downstairs was not empty, they weren't likely to be interrupted. In short, this was as good as it was going to get.

"Charles," Elsie was all too happy to use her accent to her advantage, accentuating the consonants of his Christian name. She also knew better than to call him Charlie. Not when she was going to be as bold as to suggest taking in a film of all things.

Who knew if her curmudgeon could stand it?

"Yes, Elsie?" Not Mrs. Carson. Good. Sometimes when she teased him in front of the staff, he clung to indignation. She hadn't thought she had pushed her luck too far tonight, but she never pretended to assume.

Elsie looked up at her man, glancing back down at once. There was such sincerity in his eyes she needed a moment. Truth be told, she nearly blushed at how much adoration she saw. It was almost amusing that he'd rendered her speechless. As it was, she was desperate to clear her throat and find the right words.

Charles looked up at his wife, savouring the sight of her flustered air. Given the fact that she'd made him agog in front of the staff, he felt this was an amusing example of turnabout being fair play.

But in all seriousness, whatever household affair she'd been on the brink of discussing, he wanted to set it aside. Although the downstairs wasn't exactly empty, they didn't have to cater to the whims of the house. Not after all the ordeals they'd gone through.

The incident with Carlisle may have been over and done with for quite some time, but the scars lingered. And he didn't dare to forget the whole cancer scare. No, with all the burdens they'd had to shoulder, he was wholly uninterested in discussing their jobs. Not when there was a chance to live a little.

"Now that you mention it," Charles spoke up after a time, taking his wife out of her misery. She had yet to mention a thing, but he was content to pretend otherwise. "There is something I wanted to discuss with you,"

Elsie cleared her throat once more, in no mood for conversations about the house, "Actually, I've something I'd like to discuss with you, if that's all right,"

Charles inwardly sighed, but he knew better than to argue the point, "All right. What's on your mind?"

"Well, you see," Elsie mentally released a breath. Charlie could be such a taskmaster, determined to accomplish every chore he could. It would be nice to remind him that he needn't work so hard. "Now, I'm not saying you ought to have gone back on your word, only,"

Elsie, what are you talking about? What word could he go back on?

Charles stared at his wonderful wife, waiting for an explanation.

Luckily, the woman was ready to speak, "Only, it occurred to me that we've no idea what this 'Way Down East' is about. You can't take back your permission, not when they've already left. But, well,"

Why were the words escaping her? Why had her plan deserted her? When had she reverted to the cunning of a schoolgirl? This wasn't how she had intended to go on about the matter.

The woman wanted to roll her eyes at her silliness, looking away as she played with her glass, "Well, I don't suppose there's any harm in it –– watching the film, that is. To make sure it's an appropriate selection for the staff."

Silence. Stupid silence.

Great. Now she'd gone and upset him. Undoubtedly, it was one thing for their subordinates to take in a film. As for themselves, Elsie should've known that was impossible. Who would be left in charge if the butler and the housekeeper stepped out for the night? Who would maintain strict standards in their stead? Thomas?

She kept her gaze fixed on her glass, barely remembering to keep from biting her lip. Surely it was only a matter of time before he gently let her down with reminders of propriety and standards. Their secret may be out, but that did not mean they could go about cavorting, of all things.

"Right." His timbre gave nothing away. She made sure not to scoff at her silly antics, embarrassed. At least the conversation would be over soon.

He rumbled out a chuckle, her eyes widening at the sound. Her gaze lifted, studying the countenance before her. The man looked to be stupefied, but not upset. What on earth? "Charlie?"

Charles' heart warmed at the sound of the nickname, his eyes twinkling with mirth, "You see, that's what I wanted to mention. Only," Another chuckle escaped him, "Your reasoning was much more thought out. I didn't have a reason why, to be honest."

Elsie huffed out her disbelief, a smile playing with the edges of her lips, "Really now?"

"Really."

Author's Note: You may be saying, "But it was so short! And you've been gone for so long!" and I quite agree.

Which is why I'd like to invite you to come back in an hour or so, after which the piece for Episode 8 be posted. After that, come back tomorrow for the Series 3 "CS"/Episode 9.

And, yes. I am sidestepping Thomas's story in favor of Chelsie fluff. In this world, Thomas doesn't actually do anything worth getting in trouble. Is that a cop-out? Probably. Am I tired of angst and unfortunate things happening? Yes.

In any case, I hope you enjoyed this and I look forward to posting the next update in just an hour! 'Till then.