In Response to Guest Reviewers: To the guest who called our two goofballs out on their trust issues, kudos to you for getting me to guffaw! I completely agree and promise you there are intentional reasons things are the way they are. Hopefully, by the end of today it'll make sense. But if it doesn't, I still absolutely understand (and will have to keep from guffawing yet again)!

To the guest who speculates on what happened in the lobby and is placing bets, heh, I am pulling an Elsie and biting down on my lip to keep from spoiling a thing! All I will say is that you may or may not be getting answers soon enough...

Author's Note: This week… has not been my week.

Nevertheless! Even though this update is embarrassingly late, I think you're going to enjoy what's to come.

And that more than anything makes up for this week.

Enjoy!

When Allison was told she could receive tutoring, the girl was ashamed she was doing poorly enough to warrant extra academic attention. She then heard it would be with Mr. Carson and he only wished to help her shine even more brightly in school.

When she heard that, she blushed and stammered and fidgeted and happily squeaked out something that resembled consent.

It left Elsie wondering if now was the time to get the whole mess sorted out. After overthinking the matter, the mother was almost ready to tell her daughter the entire truth and put an end to this charade before it exploded.

But then Alice had come up the stairs, having heard a peculiar noise. Turns out, she'd heard Allison's squeak. Naturally, that meant Allison had to explain the situation in a flustered manner, the subject taken out of Elsie's control.

Well, that's all right. We'll simply find a better time to tell her.

Only, a decent opportunity didn't look to be coming. Not when Becky was ringing her up, reminding her sister all about their charity duties on top of her own responsibilities. And then Charlie Grigg was coming home early from the museum, having gotten the night off. And then Charlie and Alice decided to be nosey plotters, managing to get her bairn to agree to some sort of welcome dinner with Mr. Carson.

Without Mr. Carson's consent, no less!

This was why she hadn't wanted to mention a thing to anyone. It would only result in a spiral of interrogations until the details of the past, details she'd spent thirteen years casting out of her mind, came spilling onto the floorboards.

Right. She had an Executive Assistant to update.

One who took to everything rather well, all things considered.

One week, two days, and three hours later, four adults were laughing harder than any of them expected. As for Allison, their little girl was tickled pink. Four of her favourite people––besides Aunt Becky and Mrs. Barnes, of course––were getting along swimmingly.

When the bairn finally departed from Alice's kitchen table, small-talk settled in. They could hear her on the steps. They knew by the creaks when she'd crossed over the threshold and gone to her room. They decided to give her thirty minutes to fall asleep, knowing the tired girl could probably do it in ten.

Forty minutes swept by them.

None of the adults were ready to discuss the elephant in the room.

For over the course of the evening, the truth had crept into sight.

All things considered, Elsie and Charles knew each other exceptionally well. They didn't make one mention of their past yet the pair carried the air of a married couple. More than that, Charles had been excessively gentle with Allison, treating her almost like a father might have. And then, there were little things. Little mannerisms he shared with the girl, habits that were strangely… familial.

It should have been obvious from the start.

As it was, Alice was regretting the fact that she now owed Charlie Grigg twenty quid.

"Right. I should probably get going. Manchester is a bit of a drive or so I've been told."

Alice blinked as Elsie rolled her eyes, the mother scoffing before smiling, all of which was followed by a playful tease, "Oh, I see. Now it's a bit of a drive, is it?"

The man in question did his best not to smile, "Well, the distance has been recently brought to my attention. Several times, in fact."

"I'm sure it has," She muttered, shooting him a look. But this was not a look of irritation. This was a softer sentiment, one that Alice had never seen before.

"Right. Are we getting on with it or not?" At Charlie Grigg's impetuous tone, the happy atmosphere dissipated.

Alice frowned, "Charlie,"

"No, he's quite right." Both Elsie and Charles were quick to concur. They paused, glancing at one another before the mother regained control over the conversation, "We might as well try to get you to bed at a reasonable hour,"

Grigg snorted, mumbling something indecipherable. But before Alice had a chance to elbow him, he was loudly commenting, "It's late. Why don't I walk him to his car?"

The mother straightened up at once, "I doubt that's wise. Surely, I should be the one to do that."

"Actually," The guest of the evening interrupted gently. Alice watched in amazement as Elsie looked to be actually listening to the man. "I know the neighbourhood's perfectly safe, but I don't feel comfortable leaving Allison alone any longer than she has to be."

"I understand." Elsie's sharp tone had eased, another cause for wonderment. "There's only one thing I'd like to ask Charles––privately, mind."

"Of course," Both Charles and Charlie––really, it was a headache navigating those two names––agreed to this request readily enough. With nothing else to be said, Elsie and Charles stepped out of the room to discuss something.

As for Alice and Charlie, they had a private conversation of their own where money was exchanged along with a theory or two. Shortly afterward, it was time for the Cheerful Charlies––a quip Grigg came up with on the spot, daft man––and everyone else to get on with it. But before Elsie could sneak off, Alice had to speak up, "You all right?"

The mother in question paused, taking in a breath. Then, much like Alice anticipated, "I'll have you know I am––quite able to manage this. There's no cause for concern."

That might have been persuasive had Elsie not winced. But she had winced and Alice was worried, "Are you sure?"

"Whatever you think is going between Charles and myself, I can assure you––"

"I was talking about the pain," Alice lied.

Her dear, daft friend and neighbour went on the defensive, swapping out subjects at once, "I'll see a doctor at some point."

"I'm sure you will." Will not, that is. The day you see a doctor is the day––but Elsie was oblivious to Alice's thoughts, distractedly admitting: "If you must know, it's almost funny."

"What is?" Back pain, in Alice's opinion, was hardly a funny topic. Nor was the fact that Allison's father had been in the same room as them. Alice didn't have proof, she probably never would. But she knew she was right.

"Well," Elsie paused, shaking her head. "Never you mind. It doesn't matter. And I'm late enough as is. I did promise I would make sure she wasn't left alone."

Alice harrumphed, opening her mouth to comment. Unfortunately, there was a noise upstairs. It sounded like their little girl had woken up, giving Elsie a real excuse to leave.

Fine. Here was hoping her flatmate's interrogation paid off.

_._

"So, are you going to tell me why you abandoned them?"

Funnily enough, Charles had been expecting this. Truth be told, if Grigg hadn't pieced it together he would have been highly disappointed. And in his opinion, Grigg's disdain was far more appropriate than Elsie's kindness. "I have no intention of excusing my foolish behaviour."

Grigg gave a cold snort, "I'm not asking for an excuse. I'm asking for an explanation."

Once again, that was entirely fair, "I have learnt now that I should have never taken anything for granted. But given how I was the reason Elsie was unhappy––well, when I'd realised she had decided to leave, I accepted the matter without question. I felt I deserved it."

"Hold on a moment. What do you mean, she'd decided to leave?"

Ah. It seemed the man was demanding to be privy to the whole story.

Normally, Charles would have batted any such demands away, putting up a frosty front. But this was an unusual conversation. And, strangely enough, he was tired of avoiding this topic.

He didn't expect to enjoy this confession. But strangely enough, he didn't mind it.

It had to be the late hour, he would later tell himself. The fact that he'd had a long day, a long month even. It had nothing to do with finally sharing this burden that had haunted him all these years.

Minutes after the Executive Assistant started confessing, Charlie Grigg would return to his flat in a taciturn state. He would greet his subdued flatmate and friend, and he would share the few scraps of information he had.

It was then decided that, although they didn't know where all this would lead, it would be best to leave it alone. If need be, they would step in. But until then, it was better to let the formerly engaged couple sort everything out on their own.

Of course, that hadn't stopped the flatmates from wondering why the hel––why on earth, as their dear friend upstairs would say, things had gone the way they had.

Grigg had found out only the barest of details. No names, no real information. But there was a story here. There was something much more than miscommunication.

Well, whatever had happened, that was another conversation for another night.

If only because they were too tired to give it any real thought.

_._

After that first tutoring session, life became easier. Elsie hadn't been able to tell Allison everything, never officially broaching the subject. Charles did not have all the answers he craved.

But they were making do, and things were getting easier.

Then again, tutoring was a bit tricky. Charles didn't want to regurgitate information; he wanted to teach Allison how to learn such knowledge. Did she require notecards? Was it easier to put mathematical formulas to a tune? And when she quietly bemoaned the necessary study techniques, it became a matter of why––why does it matter in the first place?

Luckily, the man had numerous answers on the subject. Ones that his daughter listened to with great admiration, rather willing to hear him out on this.

And so she learnt with even more fervour. And as the girl carried on, her scores picked up. She was receiving better marks in maths than ever before. To the point where little Allison, so very determined to have Mr. Carson stay for longer than normal, put forth an intriguing suggestion:

"I don't suppose you'd care to," Allison bit her lip, studying the clock and wracking her brain for the right solution. Dinner hadn't been discussed, but she knew any meal would be a brief affair. No, they needed to do something different tonight.

The girl spotted the answer in seconds, turning back to her parents, "Take in a film?"

"I'm sorry?"

Allison nearly lost her nerve at the sound of her mother's confusion. But she held her ground, "Well, it is perfectly reasonable, after all."

Elsie studied her daughter, bemused. A movie night. Something that was supposedly perfectly reasonable. Wasn't her bairn much too refined for such a thing? And even if her daughter wasn't much too refined, "Allison, I don't have to remind you that it is a school night, do I?"

"Of course not. But I really don't see why we couldn't order takeaway or have leftovers on the sofa." The girl looked up at the clock once again, "By my calculations, we'd be done long before 9!"

"You want us to eat on the sofa?" It was something both adults questioned. Only, her bemusement revolved around how smart it was. He, on the other hand, was contemplating how wonderfully intimate the affair would be.

"Considering Allison has been doing an exceptional job of late," Charles started, doing his best to sound neutral. Of course, that was a bit difficult given the fact that Elsie was giving him a wry expression, oh so very curious to hear his opinion. "I don't see why she doesn't deserve a reward."

For once, the woman wasn't entirely opposed to the idea. Her daughter had rather taken to maths, much more than anyone ever expected. If Elsie didn't give her something to look forward to, what guarantee did they have that this would remain the case?

The mother inwardly sighed. She knew she was playing with fire. After all, Allison had not been officially told. They all were still pretending that Mr. Carson was only a tutor. Why would a tutor be allowed to linger? It was inappropriate, to say the least.

Elsie looked back at her daughter. She opened her mouth, closing her eyes as pinpricks danced across her body. "Fine. I suppose that's a reasonable trade-off. So long as we finish by 9, mind. Mr. Carson can't stay here all night, you know."

She blushed at the thought and turned away, relieved no one had caught her silly reaction. "But we've already spent enough on food this week, which means takeaway's out. So, it'll have to be leftovers."

"Actually, I can pay for takeaway." Charles effortlessly offered, more than happy to treat the family. He was still recovering from Elsie's reaction to the idea of him spending the night, having unwittingly spotted the whole thing.

The oblivious mother swung back around to face the pair, forcing her mouth to open so she could put an end to his unnecessarily kind offer. However, Allie was already bouncing up and down from the excitement, as much as the dignified lass could, "Really, Mr. Carson?"

He looked directly at her, meaning every word, "I would be delighted."

The girl stopped with a gape, biting back a budding smile and looking down as she murmured, "Thank you, Mr. Carson."

Forty minutes later, takeaway had arrived and the movie was officially selected. Apparently, Chicken Run was a secret favourite. As for why it was a secret? It had something to do with Allison declaring herself far too mature for children's films.

Either way, it would be his first time seeing it. Animation of any kind––whether clay or hand-drawn––rarely appealed to him. And he certainly did not care for that CJI nonsense or whatever it was called. Technology had no right to interfere with so much of the world.

But there wasn't time to critique technology, not when the film was starting. It began with a daring opening scene, surprisingly intense for a children's film. Immediately, he could see the parallels between this and The Great Escape, curious to see what other similarities would arise.

So enraptured with observing the details and comparing the films, Charles didn't realise his hand was on a collision course until it was too late. The volume had proven a bit too loud for him, and it seemed Elsie felt similarly.

The father gave a start at such familiarity brushing up against him, watching her react much the same. It was an accident, but how would it be perceived? Was it too much too soon? He didn't think so, but he didn't want to risk a thing.

Elsie took control of the remote, assuming he was mortified by the supposed lack of decorum. Charles didn't dare to assume her sentiments reflected his. So intent on respecting the other's assumed wish, they missed one very key detail:

Allison had fallen asleep on them.

Elsie went to turn off the film, only he held a hand out. He didn't want to wake their daughter up, suspecting the silence would be more rousing than the familiar sound. That was his only reason for it. He hadn't gotten hooked on the storyline, not in the least.

Her smile widened at this, mirth creeping back into her demeanour. But the mother didn't call him out on his newfound interest. Besides, nine o'clock was still a decent ways away and there wasn't much left to the film.

Mind, once the girl was sound asleep, the atmosphere changed. The laughable distance between them, the fact that their daughter had fallen asleep on them… it was strange. But it was also nice.

And then the film was ending––on a silly romantic note, no less. Elsie found herself looking away and desperately hoping he wasn't offended.

Truth be told, Charles rather liked how it ended. But one look at Elsie and he knew better than to mention that. "Shall I carry her to her room?"

"Oh, she doesn't need such special treatment." Certainly not at her age.

"I'd like to." It would be my first time, after all.

Her eyes studied his. She recognized the facts. And though she oughtn't indulged because they really had done enough of that this evening, "Just don't be surprised if she wakes up and demands to walk on her own. She can be a mite independent when she wants to be."

"Now who does that remind me of?" Already, he was scooping up his daughter's delicate frame, his chest tightening. Allison's head lolled against his shoulder, his little dear mumbling something as she curled up in his hold. But she didn't wake up, and he found it surprisingly easy to carry her.

Elsie had been on the verge of retorting, pivoting back toward him. All words vanished at the sight of the pair. Their little girl was safe and sound in his arms, looking as though she'd belonged there from the start.

The woman followed after them, captivated. She'd known he would make a good father, but she didn't realise how well he would take to the role. It was like he was meant to be here with them, like they deserved to be a family, the three of them.

"I can take it from here, Charles." Because if she didn't, their little girl might very well wake up and realise who had carried her to her room. And that would start off a hailstorm of curiosity she was in no mood to dodge, "You've done enough tonight and you've still got a drive ahead of you."

He released a sigh, regretfully placing Allison on the bed and leaving her behind. He glanced behind him once more, knowing that if he stayed much longer he wouldn't be able to leave.

No, it would be best to get on with it and go through the rest of their Monday tradition.

It had started up after the first tutoring session, the night they'd had dinner with Alice and Grigg. Elsie hadn't been able to walk him to his car, but she had put forth some very important questions. Ones she'd repeated ever since.

And you're sure there's no new business venture that's caught your eye? No trip or conference you'd prefer to take?

Every time, he would reply with the same answer: Nothing's caught my eye except for the life that I've missed. And then he would try to reassure her that, if her life had changed to a point where she wanted nothing to do with him, he would completely understand.

Only, whenever he said that she would roll her eyes and respond with, "Goodnight, Charles. We'll see you next week."

As it happened, tonight was proving to be different in more than one way: "I don't suppose there's a point to asking about your work?"

Charles beamed, "Not particularly, no."

Elsie gave a low chuckle and stared at him for a moment longer than normal, very nearly blushing again. He himself was probably a bit red, having missed that look of hers. The one where she looked to be bursting with joy and delight, all because of him.

"Of course," The man gently teased, "I don't suppose that'll stop you from asking next week?"

That got him a laugh, a proper one. One that conjured up the image of wine glasses and nights spent in the other's arms. The old days. The very beginning of their engagement, not to mention the years prior. His eyes twinkled at the thought, his fondness clear enough to give her pause.

A car horn blared to life down the road, smashing the moment to pieces as tyres screeched around the corner. But Charles didn't mind the interruption. Not when Elsie was glaring at the receding automobile, regret flickering in her eyes.

"Well," she huffed out a hint of something hard to read, turning back, "I suspect you've supposed correctly."

Charles nodded, prepared to keep reminding her of the truth.

Speaking of, they needed to sort out the details with Allison. Given the circumstances, was there a need to keep quiet? Couldn't he be allowed to be more than Mr. Carson?

But these were questions that required patience and not a hint of proddin––

_._

Beryl Mason did not want to be interested in the Executive Assistant's life. She had no desire to hunt him down at the next Crawley Industries function. Obviously, she was only doing this so that Daisy would pipe down about the whole thing, nothing more.

Oh, yes. It was Daisy's fault she was cornering the Executive Assistant. It was for Daisy's sake––who, for the record, was too sick to come to work that day––that the caterer demanded answers to every question that had come to mind. There was no other reason, no other motivation.

Yeah, well… that obviously wasn't true.

The good news was that she wasn't the only one with questions.

As hard as he tried to, Charles Carson couldn't put his curiosity behind him. Just what happened that November day? Why had Elsie referred to all this as his decision? Why couldn't she talk to Allison about it? What was he missing?

Perhaps his curiosity was why he didn't put a stop to the caterer's pestering.

Soon enough, the man allowed himself to be whisked back into the housekeeper's sitting room, resigned to sharing the latest part of the tale.

"But everything's working out! Why are you still––still––you?"

"Because she still hasn't told me the truth." He shook his head, clarifying, "She hasn't lied, she never does. But she hasn't told me about what really happened the day that––you know."

Mrs. Mason scoffed.

Charles sighed, "I know I could just ask her. She did promise to be completely honest. But I really want her to tell me without being prompted. It would feel like chivvying or––worse still––like I bullied her into telling the truth!"

So much for scoffing. Now the caterer was outright scowling, "For the love of––surely you can find out for yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said it happened in the lobby, right?" When the man nodded, "Then shouldn't there be a recording of it? Lord only knows you can't go a block in London without being taped."

Not a bad argument. The Crawleys did prefer to have as many of the facts available as possible, having been one of the first to become invested in CCTV back when it was still an abnormality. Still, it felt disconcerting to go behind Elsie's back like this. To look at the company's recordings without her knowledge sounded highly ill-mannered.

"Now what?"

Charles had no qualms informing the woman of his perspective. He spoke of the bad taste the plan left him, adding, "What if my looking into it makes everything a mess?"

Mrs. Mason went back to scowling, looking upwards as though praying for patience, "The mess's already been made, Mr. Carson. Now it's a matter of cleaning it up."

He remained unconvinced.

"You want to get to the bottom of this, right?"

Charles was slow to nod, unsure of what where she was going with this query.

"Then get your mobile out and ring her up. Tell her that you understand where she's coming from, but you need to know what happened. And since you don't want to force her into sharing anything, you're happy to hunt down the security tape so you both can keep your promise."

Right then. Here he was, trying to figure out how to orchestrate some sort of resolution. And there she was, handing off a solution as though it were a tray of hors d'oeuvres.

Charles retrieved his mobile, finding the appropriate number in seconds. Mrs. Mason watched on in curiosity, surprised he wasn't stepping away to take the call in private. Truth be told, he remained distracted by the simplicity of it all––"Charles? Is everything all right?"

"It is." Oddly enough, it was. "I think I've found a solution for that conversation we need to have."

Elsie's warmth dissipated at once, that blasted wall reappearing as though it were March all over again, "I see."

"Elsie, what if I told you that you didn't have to share a thing?"

"What are you talking about?"

"There should be a recording of the day in question. With your permission, I'd like to view it." Because he wouldn't have it any other way.

"You hardly need my permission. But if you want it that badly, it's yours."

"Thank you." They exchanged a few more comments but this wasn't meant to be a long conversation. Not when he had a new mission at hand.

Charles finished up the call, wondering what he would discover––"You gonna get going or not?"

"I can hardly just leave, Mrs. Mason!" Even if he had been neglecting his duties as Executive Assistant for the last hour, he did have an obligation to return to the corporate affair upstairs.

"Oh, yes, you can. I'll tell them it was a family emergency. Which it is. So go on and get out!" Despite their difference in rank and position, she took it upon herself to single-handedly frogmarch him toward the way out.

"Really, Mrs. Mason––"

"You can thank me later, Mr. Carson." The caterer tartly informed him, nearly shoving him out the back door. "Right now, you need to catch a train!"

Well, who was he to argue?

Author's Note: What if I told you that the next chapter will be up within the hour?