A/N: I am absolutely floored by your incredibly supportive responses! To my guest reviewers, thank you! And, to any and all reviewers I haven't been able to properly respond to, I plan on doing so this weekend :)

Now, as a heads up, I'm going to bring in characters from various series/seasons together :) So, this will be less about following the canon of who's upstairs/downstairs only during Series 5, for example, and more about just having fun with a lot of lovely people. And, for those not used to my style, we do a lot of jumping between multiple perspectives. And, no worries, if that sounds a little confusing I promise it should make sense by the end of this chapter.

And, now, allow me to give you the second chapter :)

_._

It was with a sense of dread that Charles Carson next returned to the school. While Martha Levinson was not inaccurate in regards to running out of time - Mrs. Butte had fallen severely ill only just five days before the start of term, after all - she was inaccurate in the belief that he could not be consulted on the matter of hiring her replacement. Even if, just as she said, he had been out of the country on official school business until two days ago. And he was still somewhat recovering from jet lag, as well as all these ghastly changes.

Unfortunately, there truly was nothing he could about it. The only thing he could do is ensure that Mrs. Hughes was informed of the established structure for the chorale studies of Downton Academy. That it was impressed upon this woman, a woman whom he had never interviewed let alone met, just how important her job is. How vital it is that she help to enrich the lives of their charges. How necessary it would be for her to truly transcend the possibilities when it came to choral sounds.

At the imminent task looming before him, Charles Carson only had one thought:

God help us all.

_._

"Can't believe they actually hired her without Mr. Carson!"

"Believe what you want, Mrs. Bird," Mrs. Patmore said, fully focused taking in the sight of one of her favorite rooms in the building: her band room. "But, I'll have you know that Elsie Hughes is not only a wonderful friend, but a more than worthy substitute for Mrs. Butte."

Mrs. Bird snorted at this.

"Mrs. Patmore, Isobel Crawley would be a better substitute by far and that woman cannot carry a tune for the life of her."

_._

Now, she may have already been hired, but that meant there was no need for bad manners.

"I just wanted to say thank you for allowing me this opportunity, Mrs. Crawley,"

"Nonsense," The woman before her put a stop to the gratitude, "It is Downton who will be allowed an opportunity, Mrs. Hughes." The choral teacher smiled at this, grateful nevertheless.

"Well, I truly cannot wait to start the semester. Once again, thank you."

Isobel returned the smile warmly, quite confident she had made the right selection.

Now, it's just a matter of convincing my fellow colleagues as such, the woman thought to herself as the new choir teacher took her leave.

Though, in all honesty, Isobel had no doubt that they would all be just as taken with Mrs. Hughes as she was.

_._

"I heard Mrs. Butte got fired!" Sarah O'Brien scoffed at this.

"Where did you ever get that stupid idea? She's just ill."

"Well," Daisy responded hotly, choosing not to reveal her source, "If she's 'just ill', why didn't she just take a sick day then?"

O'Brien resisted the urge to throttle her fellow singer. Instead, she dramatically heaved out a sigh and walked away in search for some tolerable company, preferably in the form of Thomas.

_._

It wasn't not even 8 o'clock and he's already heard the rumors involving the choral studies and Mrs. Butte fly about. And while his fellow colleagues knew better than to pester him about such matters, that didn't mean he didn't catch the whiffs of indecorous gossip scattered about by both students and fellow staff members.

Worse still, there definitely wasn't even time for him to run away and enjoy a simple cup of tea far away from it all. As much as he'd like to pretend like this was all some awful nightmare, there certainly wasn't time for bemoaning the situation. In short, the choir director only had one thing he could do to reduce the distress that was sure to come:

Hum the this semester's selection of songs and hope this was in fact a dream that would be ending shortly.

_._

"But, who do you think would replace her?" Mary rolled her eyes at Edith's insistent question.

"I don't think we'll really know until we get to class, Edith." Thank heavens for Sybil and her patience. Had she not stepped in, Mary probably would've said something far too harsh for a Monday morning.

"Does it really matter who replaces her? It's only for a semester, it's certainly not permanent." Though I wish it were - Mrs. Butte has the worst taste in music I've ever encountered.

"There's no need to get so snippy, Mary." Ah yes, 'poor me. I'm Edith Crawley and I make such a big issue out of things.'

"Oh, really-"

"Edith, Mary, please," Really, it was a testament to Sybil's nature that she still tolerated their bickering after all this time.

_._

Somewhere along the way to his sanctuary, Charles found himself straying from the concert selection and into holiday music in general. The traditional choral selection aside, "I Heard the Bells", "White Christmas" were beautiful pieces that also stole his heart away if he were to be honest. However, there was one piece in particular that captivated his attention as he took to the stairs.

"Led by the light

Of faith serenely beaming,"

Four flights of stairs seemed far less impossible to climb when there was such a tranquil song to quietly hum to one's self.

"With glowing hearts,

By his cradle we stand-"

"You have a lovely voice." A slight laugh. "Hum, technically."

He froze.

"Was that 'O Holy Night'?"

The unfamiliar voice had brought his attention away from whatever had been bothering him. And now he was awkwardly swiveling towards the stranger on the stairs.

Charles couldn't help but remain stopped in his tracks, still surprised that someone had not only interrupted him mid-song - something that hadn't occurred in at least a decade - but they even complimented his voice.

Well something that hasn't happened quite possibly in decades - and you still haven't actually responded!

"You have a nice voice yourself," Mr. Carson expressed without thinking, absolutely flustered and only making it worse. "Rather, what I really meant was that - well, that... well, yes, that was 'O Holy Night'." It seemed that the choir director was struggling with eloquence within this surreal moment. "And, thank you."

"You're welcome." There was a hint of a playful look in those watching eyes, but it was a look that he absolutely missed: it seemed Mr. Carson was unable to properly take note of anything currently.

Fortunately, he had somewhat of a reason as to why:

See, oddly enough, the woman before him struck him in way he never thought possible. She wasn't the photoshopped stuff of magazines he was always confiscating from the students. Rather, there was a lighthearted air about her that he couldn't help but be drawn to. There was a hint of humor tucked away in the serious stare she currently displayed. Her hair was neatly pinned back in a professional manner, but it was not with the apathy of a stern and uncaring person. Rather, it was with gentle consideration and a fascinating kindness.

Now, even though he did indeed have a reason, it didn't really help matters - his reaction and the woman as a whole did little more than confuse him.

"Mr. Carson I presume?" She held out a hand for him to shake, but he startled once more at her unexpected knowledge. The woman tilted her head a moment, a smile threatening to break free of the professional demeanor, before she finally explained herself:

"It's on your lanyard."

He glanced down, realized she was quite correct, and settled for staring at the lanyard in lieu of a more graceful action.

"Oh."

That's when he realized that the stranger still had her hand out, waiting patiently. He immediately went to shake it, surprised at how confident and firm her handshake was. Luckily, the confidence even managed to instill some of his own within these murky social waters.

They stand there in silence for another minute before he realized two things:

1) He had no idea as to whose hand he was still holding.

2) He was still holding her hand.

"Where's your lanyard?" Charles can't help but ask as he quickly drops the grip. Quite frankly, he knows he could've phrased that question more eloquently. But, just as frankly, he's shocked that a faculty member would forego such a vital rule.

"Oh, I didn't know we had to wear them already." She paused, looking at his own lanyard before meeting his gaze once more.

"Really?"

"'Really. I confess I hold a fair amount of ignorance when it comes to Downton Academy's rules involving identification." Now, he couldn't tell if she was teasing him or not. But he did catch a hint of something quite fascinating in that tone.

Nevertheless, rules are rules for a reason - especially in such a prestigious institution as Downton Academy.

"Well, that will have to change if you intend on to stay on the staff." Perhaps not the kindest thing to say, Charles, the berating thought comes forth, and forces him to continue. "In any case, as a member of this staff you must set the example for the students. And, since these particular example is to wear your lanyard as a form of identification, you must wear your lanyard as a form of identification."

The woman nodded, politely taking in this information and still not retrieving her lanyard from inside her purse. It was then that he realized they were still awkwardly stopped on the stairs. Immediately, Mr. Carson bade her goodbye via a curt nod before picking up the pace once again. He simply had to focus on getting back to his domain before the school day officially begun, instead the somehow charming ineptitudes of first-time staff members.

"Should I attach my keys to it, then?" Charles had jumped at the sound of her voice, having not anticipated she'd still be following him. Doesn't she have somewhere else to be, somewhere that's not stuck with me? "So, as to make sure my identity is clear?"

Okay, now he knew she was absolutely being cheeky. He also felt he was missing the joke, but he also felt that to admit as such would make him look even more foolish.

So, Mr. Carson settled for the best option: retreating behind walls of propriety and neutrality.

"You must do as you feel is best, Mrs.-?" For she had to be a Mrs., as the simple gold ring on that particular finger indicated.

"Hughes." She said, seeming to be enjoying herself. "Elsie Hughes."

His jaw dropped rather unwillingly.

"You're Elsie Hughes?" Her eyes twinkled just a bit at his disbelief, and it horrifying perfect time. For, as they came to yet another stop, it just so happen to be right outside the main choir room: Room 402.

"I do believe that is what I just said, Mr. Carson, yes."

This woman, both polite and lovely and possibly somewhat sarcastic, was Elsie Hughes. This woman before him was going to be his colleague for the next sixteen weeks.

… Charles Carson had no idea how he truly felt about that.