Heads Up! Please, make sure you didn't miss the previous chapter! It was posted about an hour ago.

Aka, if you don't remember any recent jokes about Theda Bara, it's very likely you accidentally missed the previous chapter – Chapter 25: An Idea.

And, now, to the story!

Warning: My cricket knowledge is still at the same level it was when I did this episode for Time and Time Again.

Spoilers for Episode 8.

She had knocked on his door with the full intention of conveying some sort of message. Something about, well, all right. Truth be told, Elsie had no real message to convey. She simply wanted an excuse to see him.

"Yes, Mrs. Carson?"

The housekeeper looked up at her man as she stood in the doorway. She opened her mouth to make up some sort of excuse, only there was a noise in the hall.

"Mrs. Patmore, what do you think about it?"

Elsie found herself sending a prayer toward Mrs. Patmore as the cook tried to dodge Mr. Moseley's question with a neutral response, "I think some people just have a feel for it."

"Oh, there's absolutely no question that some people have a feel for it." At Mr. Moseley's declaration, Elsie shared a knowing look with her man. She was well aware of Charles' opinion when it came to this particular subject.

Mr. Moseley continued with an assertive air, "I think cricket's like anything else,"

"Mrs. Carson, I do believe we're above eavesdropping,"

"Quite right, Mr. Carson." Yet the door remained cracked open. As her man quirked an eyebrow, she explained, "Well now, we can't help it if they're loud enough to be heard, now can we?"

He shot her a look, but didn't counter her point. Rather, "Well, just be careful to shut the door on your way out. We wouldn't want to encourage him."

What did Charlie think would happen? Did he suspect that Mr. Moseley would storm the pantry if she left the door open?

She would have snorted if they were truly alone.

As it was, Elsie looked upward in an effort to regain her strength. Shortly after that, she settled for shutting the door and muttering, "Mr. Carson, I doubt he needs any cause for encouragement."

"Indeed," The butler intoned, "Right. What was it you wanted?"

"Oh, I can hardly remember," She had no trouble offering this white lie, smiling at his exasperation. "Well now, I suppose I should leave you to it."

"Just make sure to close the door firmly on your way out," He instructed, glancing in the direction of the kitchens. Mr. Moseley's voice was faint but audible, much to Elsie's amusement. "As I've already said, it would not bode well to encourage him,"

This time, she decided it was worth it to roll her eyes. Truly, what could Mr. Moseley do with an opened door?

Yes, well, apparently, her man had been right to be concerned.

Something Elsie would discover only an hour later.

"Mrs. Carson," Joseph Moseley stood in the doorway, his head tilted as he pondered one of life's greatest questions: "What do you think of cricket?"

She ought to scold him for failing to pay attention to his job. After all, did he really have the time for such questions? He may be Mr. Matthew's valet –– instead of, say, a footman –– but surely there was something for him to do?

As it was, Elsie was more amused than frustrated. No doubt, that amusement was one of many signs that she was going soft. "I'm sorry, Mr. Moseley, but I've never formed an opinion on cricket."

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Although his Lordship was known for being quite passionate about the subject, Charles could prove just as competitive.

The honour of Downton, after all, was in question.

"Really, Mrs. Carson?" My, my. She thought such a remark would quell Mr. Moseley's enthusiasm. It seemed to have done the reverse. "Well, personally,"

Elsie gave a tight smile as she humoured the valet. Her eye twitched as she heard a distinct cough from across the wall. It seemed her dear husband could hear every word. Worst still, he was in no mood to help her.

Although a wall separated their rooms, he could very easily concoct an excuse to visit her and pull her away from Mr. Moseley's interrogation. But given the lack of footsteps in the pantry, he was satisfied with listening in on this torture.

Naturally, retaliation was in order.

But first, to shoo Mr. Moseley away.

_._

"I assume I can count on you, Mr. Moseley." Charles looked up from his paper, inwardly rolling his eyes at the thought. Although it had been amusing to listen to the man talk Elsie's ear off earlier, Mr. Moseley's participation in the game was entirely different.

"Oh, I'll say," The valet peppered his answer with far too much enthusiasm to be considered an accurate judge of character, "There's not much I don't know about cricket."'

Right.

It was one thing to talk of cricket; it was quite another to participate. "You make me quite nervous."

Mr. Moseley's face fell as Elsie's twitched. But Charles could not share in her mirth. He could only stare at his list and inform Mr. Crawley's valet, "So, with you, me, James, Thomas, Alfred, both you hall boys, that makes seven from down here."

Mr. Bates chimed in, "I can't play, Mr. Carson, but I can keep score."

As I was hoping. Keeping score did count for something. "Good! Very good. So, with his Lordship, Mr. Crawley, and Mr. Branson, we're already eleven."

This was encouraging. It wasn't inspiring, not exactly. But it was encouraging.

"And given my ability," Mr. Moseley commented, crossing his arms with a proud grin, "I'd say we've got this well in hand."

"Well," Charles ignored the urge to utter a scathing remark. With his wife eyeing him from her seat, he knew better than to be that harsh. A dry comment would suffice. "I'm sure your confidence is meant to be appreciated, Mr. Moseley."

Before any histrionics could break out, Ivy was asking Mr. Moseley a question and saving them all from a headache. Charles observed the table, going back to his list of names soon thereafter.

They had a chance. Not a great chance, but something decent.

He hoped.

Yes, well, with nothing left––"Mr. Carson, I know you're a busy man, but I wanted to make sure you understood the importance of technique when it comes to this sort of thing."

Charles took to his feet, "I'm afraid, Mr. Moseley, I must speak with Mrs. Carson at once,"

There was no real emergency. He simply had no interest in humouring the man, not at a time like this. And given that his wife would understand the importance of his not snapping at Mr. Moseley––

"Actually," Elsie, what are you doing? But his wife was, indeed, stepping out of the fray, "I'm afraid I have something I must attend to, Mr. Carson. Something of the utmost importance."

You most certainly do not.

But he was given no chance to speak up. Already, she was stating, "Mr. Moseley, don't be afraid to share all the wisdom you have: I'm sure Mr. Carson would deeply appreciate any and all of your insight."

Elsie abandoned him on that note, the minx.

_._

It had been a delightful day after she'd gotten her revenge on Charlie. The night, on the other hand, had proven to be a different matter.

Case in point, it'd been a long time since she'd been woken in the middle of the night –– something she never cared for. But seeing as how it was a rarity, she felt pressed to find out what had woken her.

At first, Elsie wondered if it was the patter of rain overhead or a boom of thunder. In seconds she realised the truth: the storm had little to do with it.

Rather, it was her husband that had woken her up.

Not that he knew it, of course.

"No, no, that is not how you––" Charlie was swiping at the air, mumbling something in his sleep. "Mr. Moseley, do not––" The man groaned, taken aback by whatever happened in his dream.

Elsie rolled her eyes and bit back a smile, reaching out a hand to rub his back. Charlie only talked in his sleep when he was truly distressed. Thankfully, he rarely moved about in his sleep. That was only during the most distressing of times.

Regardless, she knew what worked when it came to calming him down. Gently rubbing his back tended to work wonders. Only, this time, her ministrations had little impact on the situation: "Oh, why did we allow Mr. Branson to participate? Why were we that desperate?"

Elsie didn't bother hiding her snort, pressing her lips against the top of his head. She breathed in the smell of him, smiling against the strands. Charles turned in his sleep, easing. Her smile broadened, the woman waiting for his breath to even out.

"Mrs. Carson," Wasn't he supposed to be asleep by now? Daft man. "Elsie, we're down six and out of men. It's exceptionally generous for you to offer this, but I'm afraid you can't step in now."

He dreamt of her playing cricket? Now, that was an absurd idea.

But it did amuse her to hear that he would dream of such a thing. Which was why she was leaning in, indulging in the thought, "Why not?"

"Well," He had been poised to answer but instead shifted in his spot, distracted by something, "Well, if his Lordship says it's fine, who am I to argue?"

Elsie chortled, bestowing him with another kiss. "I suppose I can give it a go,"

Charlie nodded, eyes remaining shut as he beamed, "You mean we can give it a go,"

"Of course," She snuggled against him, tickled. She wouldn't say a word about his talking in his sleep, not when she knew it would only embarrass him. It wasn't as though Charles actually remembered the things he said in his sleep.

Still, if she spent the majority of the real match sending him knowing looks… well, he would be none the wiser.

_._

It was a lovely day for cricket, yet Charles was too distracted to appreciate the weather. His dear wife insisted on sending him looks he didn't understand, prompting the man to ruminate on the matter whilst the game proceeded. Not to mention, for some reason her attire distracted him. He couldn't pin down a reason why, only that he found himself concentrating more so on her than the game.

All of this was almost distracting enough to take his attention off Mr. Moseley–– no, that wasn't quite right.

Nothing would serve to truly take his mind off Mr. Moseley, not even Elsie.

The butler surveyed the pitch, suspecting it would not serve him well to fixate on Mr. Moseley. Nor would it help matters if he were to study the score.

Though, as it was, they were doing well enough he felt they had given the village a proper challenge.

Then again, considering they were still down–– "Mr. Carson, I don't suppose you'd care to step out of the sun?"

His heart lifted alongside his head as he turned to his wife, beaming at the woman. It then occurred to Charles that they were at a break in the game, that it was time to step away. Perhaps, Elsie had been right to tell him to step into a shadier patch.

He followed her and she tried her best to distract him from the battle before him. But short of a kiss in front of the entire house, nothing would truly distract him. Not even her quip to step in as a last-minute player.

Well, now that he thought about it––"Charlie, I do believe they're getting ready to give it another go,"

Charles looked back at his wife once again, unable to keep from sighing. Not because of his nickname. Rather, because he really hadn't wanted to step away just yet.

Her hand brushed up against his, almost taking his attention away. But he could see his team in the distance, readying themselves for what was to come. And the honour of Downton overtook his thoughts, dimming his excitement. "Right. Best get to it then."

And so they carried on.

Eventually, it was his turn to bowl. This was typically a time-honoured tradition for the man, however, Charles barely registered the feel of the leather in his hands. His ensuing movements may have been well-rehearsed, but they lacked his usual finesse.

Instead, he was threatening to falter. He found his gaze drifting toward her.

But her eyes were pushing him to carry through with this and treat it as though he were polishing the silver. Her smile dared him to act as though this was the grandest show of the year.

For her, he could do that.

Breathing into the habits he'd built up over the years, Charles hurled the ball forward. He watched Dr. Clarkson lean in and adjust his positioning, the doctor returning fire as the ball was shot back into the field.

Normally, by now, his heart would demand his eyes follow the ball. As it happened, he found a far more captivating sight. She was studying the path of the ball, biting down hard on her lip and curling her fingers with anticipation.

Moseley shrieked nonsense into the air along with the rest of them, but the butler couldn't catch a thing. Everything was a blur of sound as Charles continued to observe his wife. Only out of respect to today's battle did he swivel toward one Tom Branson, watching the man make a one-handed catch.

In another time, in another place, Charles might have lectured the former chauffeur left and right for such a clumsy display. Catching with only one hand was a risky move, to say the least.

As it was, he was simply happy the game was over.

Charles turned back as a soft cheer reached his ears. She was far more enthused than he anticipated, her lips curved brilliantly as her eyes glowed with delight.

"Mr. Carson," Mr. Moseley tried to steal his attention with talk of Branson's technique. He remained perfectly indifferent, managing to feign interest for as long as it took to get away.

And then he was approaching her, once again caught off-guard by her appearance. It was her top in particular that had driven him to distraction, though he couldn't think of why.

Oh.

Everything finally made sense.

Her top, though not exactly bridal, hinted of white. The coloring alone was enough to remind him of a conversation he'd overheard. A happenstance conversation, one that was held between two women. A conversation that had discussed, of all things, renewing one's vows.

Right.

Charles knew that now was not the time to broach the subject.

Nevertheless, he certainly wanted to and would be doing just that the moment he could...

Today's Inspiration: Honestly? Mr. Moseley's love of cricket was once again the main inspiration for today's update. That, and re-reading T&TA's segment for this (Chapter 23: "Of Scoffs and Smiles.")

Time and Time Again Fans: I'm in the process of polishing up the finale for that, it will definitely be attended to! For right now, I am simply focusing on wrapping up this beautiful series.

Author's Note: Right then! Come back in two days and you shall find the conclusion piece for this series :) Moreover, if you have any requests for additional bonus pieces, let me know! I'm mapping out some fix-it snippets and am happy to take requests.

Annnndddd, finally, this last week has shown me how much I love writing (especially writing for this fandom). With that in mind, keep an eye out for a new piece called "Just One More Minute." I wanted to hold off until ATAP and T&TA were officially complete, but I feel compelled to just post it.

As for the summary of the new story?

"Elsie," Charles didn't want to push these boundaries. Going from the status of formerly engaged to good friends did make things tricky, "I really have no desire to put you in an awkward position. But I was wondering if you might be willing to consider the possibility of––" [Of a happy life together, the three of them, as it was meant to be.]

In any case, I truly hope you are doing well, that you enjoyed today's updates, and that you get a kick out of what's to come! 'Till next time.