Sorry for the delay, I was away at the weekend and I'm just catching up with things.

It was still raining when they woke. Or rather when Elsie woke. Alone in their bed for a second she had a slight sense of déjà vu, then she heard him clattering around in the kitchen.

She slipped out of bed, over to the bathroom, and then back to the warmth of the duvet. The rain was coming down heavily and it pounded the roof in an absorbing rhythm. She lay back, eyes closed, allowing it to lull her.

The creak of the bedroom door being pushed open roused her and she spoke without opening her eyes, "We have to do something about that squeak."

"We will."

"What's this?" She said, opening her eyes and noting the tray in his hands, a light smile already creeping onto her face as she sat up.

"Breakfast, you're married now, you deserve it."

She sat back, plumping the pillows behind her before he put it onto her lap. "Goodness breakfast in bed, I've served rather a few of these over the years, I never thought I'd be the recipient."

"Time's change."

"They do, where's yours?"

"I must eat downstairs." He said formally.

"Oh Charles don't, come eat with me, I don't want to be alone."

"I'm joking; I couldn't carry two trays at once."

She'd started tucking into her porridge by the time he returned upstairs, he'd even remembered a drizzle of honey of top of hers and the tea was good and strong.

"Dismal start to the day," he commented as he ate, his tray resting on his long legs.

"Oh I don't know, it's started out quite nicely thank you, better than yesterday when I woke."

"Don't mention yesterday, I'm none too fond of arguing with you."

She laughed, "You make good porridge Mr Carson."

"A man of many talents Mrs Hughes."

"That you are…"

"Are you being vulgar?"

"Never." She paused, sipping her tea. "What shall we do after breakfast?"

He glanced over at her face, "Whatever are you insinuating?"

"Nothing. I just asked…"

"I know what you meant," he teased, "and you'll wear me out."

"Soon enough we'll be back at work and you'll have to go weeks 'without' as we leave the house early and come back too late and too exhausted for more than a sherry and a peck on the cheek."

"Don't upset me."

"Well then, don't act coy."

"Coy?" He grinned putting his tray on the floor. "You know if I have to go weeks without I'll be in a bad mood and just about ready to ravish you."

She giggled, "Oh goodness, how very caveman of you." She watched as he moved her own tray over to the sideboard and deliberately sprawled back in the bed, stretching. "You don't need to ravish me now though do you because I have plans."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I plan to lie here for many hours and do nothing but enjoy being a lady of leisure."

"It is already 8:30 Mrs Hughes," he said sternly, hands on hips, stood by the bottom of the bed watching her.

"Come back to bed Mr Carson and remind me why I'm Mrs Carson."

He didn't take any more convincing.

He sat up in bed watching her at the dressing table, she brushed out her wavy dark hair and expertly pinned it into place. She moved quickly, deftly, a task she'd carried out many times over the years.

"You do that so well."

"Practice. I don't even think about it now."

She glanced in the mirror, past her own reflection to his, content as he leant back against the headboard. "Do you plan to get up?"

"I thought the plan was to avoid that and be lazy. Or have you moved on from that particular plan now you've had your way with me?"

"My way!" She laughed, mock scandalised at his suggestion. "I'm going to ignore your comment Charles and do something useful." She got up from the dressing table, hanging her robe and straightening the chair. He'd taken his book from the bedside table and began to read.

"I'll do this," he said, "as it's raining and there's nothing useful I can do."

"Nothing at all." She said gently leaning over to kiss his forehead, "But oil the squeaky door later."

"Yes," he nodded focussed on his book. "You look beautiful."

"Flatterer. Enjoy your book."

"I will."

"What's that delightful smell?" he asked coming into the kitchen over an hour later. He was still in his pyjamas, quite out of character as it was already past lunch.

"Lemon sponge," she proudly said bending to peer at the oven. "Do you think its burning?"

"How would I know?" He asked.

"How would I know?" She replied.

They both laughed at the absurdity of it, two middle-aged companions neither with a clue on the basics of life. She took the chance and removed it from the oven, placing it on the table and resting the back of her hand on top of it, testing, "I hope it's cooked inside."

"It smells good, when can we have some?"

"When it's cool, and I made lemon curd too." She said in a sing-song voice, almost dancing to the side where it stood cooling in the pan. "I feel quite the little lady today."

He chuckled, "I'm glad to see you in such a positive mood."

"I am, I feel rather good, I can't think why."

"Neither can I." He smirked, "And despite the rain too."

"Yes, despite that."

He stood by the window watching it fall, "I fear for my seeds…"

She hadn't the heart to tell him he'd planted at the wrong time of year and it was unlikely any would grow, she prayed they would, at least a few, just to keep his spirits up. Besides when they got back to Downton she doubted there'd be much time for plants and baking cakes. Best make the most of it. Their next break may well be Christmas, if they were lucky.

"What shall we do with our day?" He asked sitting at the table and pouring tea. "It doesn't really seem the weather for a walk."

"No, are you planning to get dressed at any point today?"

"Is that purely a rhetorical question…" He smiled, "I rather like the idea of being decadent and lazy."

"And sitting around in pyjamas is just that?"

"To me yes. It reminds me of being a child with a cold, you were lucky enough to stay home from school and lie around in your pyjamas watching your mother carry out household tasks."

"I never got to stay home from school," she pointed out, "the farm was always too busy. It was either work at school or work at home."

"You must have been clever though, at school I mean."

"I suppose so, in a way, I never found it particularly challenging, more a stepping stone to where I wanted to go next."

"Mmm..." he mused, "I'd like cream on my cake."

"Oh Charles. It's a good job we're not retiring yet, you'd be the size of a house before a month was out!"

"Would you still love me?"

"That depends."

"On?"

"Whether I'd grown bored of baking for you!"

He laughed again, the house was filled with joy today (and home baking) and he revelled in it. "Let's play a game."

"A game," she said incredulously, "as in a children's game?"

"No, I mean cards, something like that. Perfect for a rainy day."

"I don't know many card games."

"I'll teach you, it will be fun."

"As long as you tell me all the rules and not the ones you think I need to know."

"I can see you're going to win."

"Shall we be really scandalous and bet?"

"What should we bet? All my worldly goods are yours now."

"I'll bet… Hmm… I'll bet my attentions."

He raised his eyebrows, "If I lose I get none but if I win I get more of your attention?"

She flung her arms wide, "As much as I can give. But if I win, I get all of your attention –," She pointed at him.

"You already have it."

She held her hand up, "Ahh, wait, and…"

"There's an and?"

"Of course. And… along with your attention I get the services of a high-class butler at my beck and call."

He sucked in a tight breath as if contemplating, "But I only get your attention?"

"What more could you possibly want?"

"A fair point."

"So…" she moved to him, resting her hands gently on his chest, "do we have a deal?"

He stared at her face, so relaxed and joyful, and held out his hand, "A deal." They shook on it.

By 2p.m he'd taught her the basics and, as expected, she was already five pegs ahead of him (pegs being the only thing in the house they could think to bet with) and he'd had two slices of cake and was contemplating cutting a third.

"It's your move."

"We should have played Chess."

"We don't have a board…" She lifted her foot under the table, deftly lifting the bottom of his pyjama trousers with her toes and tickling his skin.

"Don't distract."

"Don't procrastinate."

"Hmm," he chewed his lip before laying cards down. "There."

"Charles, goodness," she dropped her cards quickly, "Anyone would think you were debating world peace not a game of cards with your wife."

"There's a lot riding on this."

"Yes. Pride." She said bluntly, watching as he stared at the cards in his hand again. Frustrated she got up, shaking her head as he drew his cards into his chest. She stretched her arms above her head, moved to the window and rubbed her lower back as she gazed out at the garden. Rain soaked and fresh. It fell lightly now, in fact it might clear soon and they could take a walk.

She was surprised, when she turned back to face him, to find herself crying. It was unnerving, she usually only cried when things got really bad, when she was exhausted or had lost somebody. She cried over William. She cried over Lady Sybil. She didn't just cry.

"Elsie…" he said gently when he looked up at her. "What in heaven's name is wrong?"

She shook her head, "Nothing." And quickly wiped her face, "Nothing." She shrugged.

He put his cards down and moved to hold her, gathering her into his embrace, resting his chin on her head, "You don't just cry."

"I know," she wrapped her arms around him, "I'm happy."

"You're sure."

She chuckled through her tears, hiccupping as she kissed his chest, "I've never been happier."

He pulled back enough to see her face, to wipe her face with his thumbs, "Neither have I. I'm incredibly lucky."

"We are." She took a deep breath. "Better now. I don't know where that came from."

"Perhaps you were overcome at having made such a wonderful cake."

"Oh, get away with you… it was rather wonderful though wasn't it. And it didn't sink."

He kissed her forehead, rubbed her back.

"Are you going to take your move then, I think it's drying up and we could go for a walk, get some fresh air."

"I'll have to get dressed."

"That you will." She fiddled with the tie on his robe, "Just think I have this secret now, of Mr Carson sitting in the parlour playing card games in his pyjamas."

He raised an eyebrow, "You're already winning at cards, you have enough of a hold over me."

An hour later Elsie sat on her couch watching Charles finish up making dinner, a stew (one of the few things he felt comfortable enough putting together) and celebrating her success. A pocket-full of pegs. And a butler at her beck-and-call.

"Come along Mr Carson, I have places I have to be."

He grumbled and shook his head, "If I don't get the seasoning right."

She chuckled, "If you don't get the seasoning right!" She teased, mocking his imperious tone. She stood up, carefully moving over to him, "If you don't hurry up we'll be eating at dawn."

"Don't fuss me," he waved his hand at her as she got closer, "you'll put me off."

"Will I indeed." She stood behind him watching as he attempted to chop herbs and drop them into the mixture, teasingly running her hand up his back and then sliding her arms around his middle until she was hugging him.

"You're a constant distraction."

She kissed his back, "Ask me to stop."

He grumbled again, stirring the pot and sliding on the lid, "I can't."

She smiled, resting her head against him. He was warm and smelt of cologne, musky and heady.

"I do have to put this in the oven though if it's going to be ready for when we return."

"Oh well then," she removed her arms from him, "we have to get priorities right." She laughed, giving him room to open the oven door. "Do you think it safe to leave it cooking whilst we go out?"

"My mother always left a stew in the oven during Sunday service."

"Yes. But this is your cooking, not hers."

He shut the door, wiping his hands on a cloth and standing back to look at her, "If you weren't so high in my affections…"

"How high?"

"Don't wheedle." He threw the cloth onto the table, "Come and kiss me."

She held her hand up, "Ah, I believe the orders are mine to give now, not yours. I may allow you to kiss me later, if the dinner goes well."

"Don't be mean to me, I rely on you to remind me I'm human."

She bit her lip, "Kind words my good man, but I have a role to uphold don't I."

He took a step forward, "Elsie."

"Yes." She jutted her chin up, resisting the urge to smile.

He took another step closer, whispering, "Elsie."

This time she did smile, "Don't forget Charles I know how to pronounce a simple two letter word."

He raised his eyebrows at her dig, that was years ago, too many years ago. "Harsh."

She shook her head chuckling, "Well go on then, only a quick kiss mind, I am a very busy and important woman after all."

"A very enticing, wonderful woman."

She rested her hands on his shoulders allowing him to pull her close and kiss her, gently at first, then deeply, holding her ever closer.

"My, my," she whispered by his lips, "so butlers do take liberties."

They walked the path from the cottage along to the house, standing at the edge of the park and looking back at the imposing building. The rain had ceased but a heavy dullness hung in the air, almost purple as the sun started to set.

She hugged her arm tighter through his, "See, it's still standing."

"As grand as ever."

"Miss it?"

He rubbed her hand that held his arm, "Not in the ways I thought I might. And I'll be back soon but somehow…" He trailed off.

She left him for a second then squeezed his arm, "Somehow?"

"Whatever I found in that house to fill the emptiness in me, I no longer need it and I don't think it's going to be as difficult as I once imagined - retiring I mean. I'm not saying it's simply 'a job' to me now, it's just that I have my family." He rubbed her hand again, at the place where her fingers curled around his arm. "Who could have foreseen that I'd find the place I've longed for in you?"

She felt her eyes prick with tears as she looked up at him, his face solemnly set on the house, she wondered if he even realised what he'd just confessed to her.

"Shall we walk on," he finally said, "before it gets dark?"

She nodded, feeling rather emotional as they headed past the house and through the gardens, empty with the family away in London. She slid her hand down his arm and held his hand, bringing it up to kiss the back of it as they walked.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"You wouldn't understand, but it doesn't matter."

"Showing affection in public Mrs Hughes."

"Don't worry, nobody's about to see us." She patted his arm, "We best walk quickly, I don't want my dinner ruined."

She made love to him that night. It was the first time she could claim she'd entirely taken the lead. And despite the fact her winnings were to have him fawn over her (which she had to admit he had since the moment they'd married) she felt rather expressive in her feelings for him and he certainly didn't object to her attentions.

She kept the room dark, just a candle flickering on the side table by the bed, and when he'd emerged from the bathroom across the hall she stacked the pillows up for him to lean against.

"Do you have plans?" He asked as he untied his robe, a light smile playing across his face.

She sat expectantly, her hands resting atop of the bed sheets as she sat forward waiting for him, "I might. I don't think you'll be needing those." She waved her hand at his pyjamas, shocked now by her own forthrightness - there was a time she would never have dared use his first name, now she was calling him naked to bed. She smiled, her cheeks reddening, "Sorry."

"Why?" He began to unbutton his pyjama shirt. "You're my wife; I rather enjoy this side of you..."

She tilted her head to one side, rubbing her knees and giggling, "Really? I would never have guessed."

He laughed, "And the fact it's just for me," he hung his top over the back of the chair, "makes it even more alluring."

"Well, there's certainly never been anyone else."

He lifted the sheets and crawled into bed beside her, kissing her bare shoulder as he did so.

"And never likely to be," she added softly.

She tilted her head back allowing him access to her neck, her throat, delicate, tantalising kisses. His strong hands were easing her back against the pillows as he made to move above her.

"Mmm..." she mumbled against his lips, her hands on his chest, "Don't."

"Why?" He asked crestfallen. "Why..." He was kissing her chest now, his hand sliding up her thigh.

She caught hold of his impatient fingers, "Charles." She insisted, moving herself forward, turning in the bed until she faced him.

His hands fell to her hips and he sat back against the plumped up pillows. She was leaning forward, against him, he thought of their rendezvous in the hall days ago and caught on to what she intended - to what she wanted. Sensing her shyness he pulled her body to his, urging her onto his knee. At first awkward and clumsy as she fell against his chest and their mouths met in a flustered mesh of want and need. And then she parted her legs, sitting in his lap, allowing his fingers to push up the bottom of her nightdress.

"I love you so much," he said reverently, tracing the delicate pale skin with his fingertips, "So very much."

She kissed him hard and full, pouring all of her emotions into the kiss, "Don't ever stop."

Time moved as slowly as their bodies. Her nightdress removed, their hands completing the task together. The candle melted and flickered. She found her body moving of its own accord, in rhythm with his, his hand splayed at the base of her spine holding her firm, her head thrown back as his mouth and tongue worshipped her breasts. She waited, taking it slowly, enjoying every tiny fragment of joy as it moved through her body - her aged body that she thought would never know how to love like this.

When he was groaning and impatient, his kisses frantic, she lifted herself up slightly, one hand resting against the headboard of the bed as she moved to position herself better. They were still clumsy at times, it would take years to know each other in their entirety, but eagerness and affection made up for it and soon she slid down on top of him, both groaning in bliss at the completeness.

Foreheads resting together she moved gently, delicate, unmeasured. Slowly increasing the pressure and speed, then slowing again to draw him back. Her fingernails were digging into his shoulders, his hands tight against her hips. She wondered if all couples felt like this, it couldn't be unique, but lord she questioned how on earth it could exist like this elsewhere. And each and every time they did this she found herself falling further, deeper in love, new depths of intimacies opening within her.

He was calling her name and she thought how wonderful it sounded to hear his voice like that, almost musical as she brought him this pleasure. His hands were on her back now, supporting her as they moved quicker, driving ever forward together. Her orgasm seemed to fill her completely, somewhere in the depths of her belly spreading out until every fibre shook, her arms and legs tingling with it, and it took several moments before she could stop herself shaking, her chin resting on his head as he held her, their eyes closed, his lips moving still upon her skin.

When she had she calmed a little she sat back, unwilling to separate their bodies quite yet.

"That was..." her voice cracked.

He kissed her mouth, his tongue finding hers; she didn't need to finish her sentence, he'd done it for her.

"I lost at cards today," he said after, her head on his chest, her body laid on top of his, almost wrapped around him as they reclined back against the pile of soft, welcoming pillows.

"I know," she mumbled sleepily, "but I enjoyed my stew."

He rubbed her back chuckling, "I'll cook every day if this is my reward."

"Mmm…"

He kissed her head, "I love you."

"I know that too." She yawned, "But that door still squeaks."

He smiled, wrapping the sheets around them, "I'll look at it tomorrow. Milady."

"Mind you do."

Hope you're still enjoying... leave me a review if you feel so inclined! :-)