A/N: Thanks to brenna-louise for input and proofreading - and the song! xx

Enjoy, everyone! The song is "A Sign of the Times," by Petula Clark, and is on my Spotify "Chelsie Potpourri" playlist.

It's a sign of the times

That your love for me is getting so much stronger

It's a sign of the times

And I know that I won't have to wait much longer

You've changed a lot somehow

From the one I used to know

For when you hold me now

I feel like you never want to let me go

I'll never understand

The way you treated me

But when I hold your hand

I know you couldn't be the way you used to be ...

Elsie accompanied Charles on his final walk-through of the house before heading up for the night. She had initially declined the invitation to join him, but after a few minutes she was glad she had changed her mind. She found it comforting watching him move about the house, checking everything in that meticulous way that he had. It was both Mr. Carson and her Charlie – something she never thought she'd see outside of hospital, his pantry, or her sitting room. And when he closed the library doors behind them, he reached out and took her hands in his, placing the gentlest of kisses to the inside of her left wrist. The warmth from the gesture went right down to the center of her body, and she was grateful for the relative darkness of the corridor so that her deep flush would not be so evident.

Their potential future together, the thing she'd desired for so very many years, had gone from seemingly impossible to frightfully intense in a matter of hours, and Elsie wasn't sure what to do with that. The last time they'd been in that situation … Well, she thought. You were younger then, and … shapelier. Try as she might, she couldn't get that niggling feeling out of the back of her mind that now, older and not nearly as daring as she'd been then, he would somehow find her inadequate, a poor substitute for the woman he'd known so intimately in London.

But when she looked in his eyes as his lips met her other wrist, she felt over twenty years younger in the blink of an eye, and it scared the daylights out of her. She couldn't afford to lose her job now, not after working her whole life to get where she was. Anna and John Bates had been extraordinarily lucky that their relationship and marriage had been supported by the family, but Elsie harbored no assumptions that the Crawleys would be that generous again, certainly not with their heads of staff.

"Charlie," she warned softly, unable to mask the desire in her voice, "not here. Not … not now."

He sighed. "I know." But soon, I hope.

He kept her left hand in his right, though, and they made their way through the rest of the house in silence.

As they approached the servants' stairs, Elsie unclipped her chatelaine to open the door that separated the women's and men's quarters. She removed her hand from his and smiled at him, then turned to reach the door and place the key in the lock. She heard him approach, sensed him moving impossibly nearer to her, and she gasped when she could feel his body directly behind hers, the heat from it encompassing her.

"I can't bear to leave you," he whispered in her ear. "I am sorry if I am overwhelming you, but you should know."

She took a deep breath, not daring to turn lest she lose complete control over herself. "I do," she whispered back. "I do know, Charlie."

He backed away, brushing his hand over her hip as he did so, and turned to walk to his room. Elsie turned the key and opened the door, passing through it quickly and locking it behind her. She watched through the window as Charles made his way down the corridor, and her heart felt as though it were fluttering between her chest and her stomach when he turned to smile at her … and sent her a wink before ducking through his bedroom door.

Oh, Elsie, she thought as she floated into her own room. Whatever are you going to do about THIS?

oOoOoOoOoOo

Charles woke before dawn, lying in bed and reflecting on the past few days. He felt like a new man, which was ironic as it really just meant he felt like his old self. Turning on his side, he settled into a comfortable position and let his thoughts wander, hoping but not really expecting to fall asleep again.

He thought of Elsie, of Daisy, and of where they all might be headed. He was pleased to find that he no longer dreaded Daisy's decision, and knew that was because he and Elsie seemed to be in a more promising place now. The barely-tempered passion between them last night was proof enough of what was to come, provided that she allowed it to unfold. He wanted her, he knew that - he wanted it all - but he knew that even if he only ever had Elsie, he'd be happier than he had any right to be. A relationship with Daisy on top of that? He'd be overjoyed.

Call today and make that appointment, Charlie old boy. Get all the paperwork signed for the purchase of that house, and then move forward with the rest.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Morning came too quickly, and Elsie woke to the knock on her door. The maid's knock wasn't often necessary as Elsie was often already downstairs by six o'clock, but she'd slept surprisingly deeply and had woken with no memories of any dreaming, either. That surprised her; after weeks of tossing and turning and worrying, her mind seemed to have settled at last. It was the best sleep she'd had in ages, and she felt ready to tackle the day.

As she dressed, she allowed hope to flutter inside of her heart. Their nearly-silent walk through the house last night only confirmed what Elsie had already suspected: she and Charles were becoming impossibly closer to something powerful, if only she would allow it. She'd made her decision on that score as she'd drifted off to sleep: she'd determined that he need only ask and she'd be his forever. And if Daisy decided to be part of their life together, Elsie's joy would know no bounds. Finally, finally, they could be the family they always should have been.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Daisy added the finishing touches to the servants' breakfast. She didn't notice that she was humming until Mrs. Patmore commented on it.

"Something making you particularly happy today?" Beryl asked her.

"Yes, actually," Daisy replied, smiling at her. She looked around to be sure no one else was in the kitchen, then added quietly, "and I hope it involves you."

Beryl stopped dead in her tracks, trying to make her heart start beating again. "Then you've decided how to … proceed with it all?" she managed.

Daisy nodded. "Yes, I have. I'd like to talk to you all together, but that's nearly impossible around here." She nodded to one of the maids who passed through the kitchen. "Perhaps you and I could chat after luncheon?"

Beryl nodded. "That should be fine." She looked up from what she was doing, saw Daisy's brilliant smile, and returned it in kind.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Elsie met Charles at the bottom of the stairs, quite by accident, although she couldn't help but wonder if he'd been waiting for her.

"Mr. Carson," she nodded with a shy smile, "good morning."

They fell into step side-by-side. "Good morning, Mrs. Hughes. Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby, actually. I'm quite thankful. You?"

This is innane, he thought.

"Fairly well once I managed to get there," he answered quietly. "I was rather wound up in the beginning ..."

Elsie couldn't contain her blush and she turned her head sideways to look at him, incredulous. As they passed into the servants' hall he just smiled innocently, one eyebrow raised. With a huff and a bemused shake of her head, she made her way to her seat.

She looked around the table, and saw Thomas Barrow giving her a rather smug look. Elsie dropped her eyes to the bowl of porridge in front of her, and surreptitiously moved her legs far away from Charles, striking up a conversation with Anna instead.

Oh, no.

oOoOoOoOoOo

"Mr. Carson? Might I have a moment?" Beryl asked, knocking on the half-open pantry door.

"Of course," he replied graciously, capping his pen as he did so. The afternoon had been relatively calm, and he had some free time. "Please, have a seat. What can I help you with?"

Beryl was agitated, he could tell. Her eyes darted around the room, and she was wringing her hands.

"Mrs. Patmore?" he asked quietly. "Are you alright?"

She took a deep breath as she sat, and looked up at him. He was shocked to see that her eyes were watery. It gave him pause, and he rose from the chair at his desk, pulling another over to sit alongside her in front of the fire. They both faced the flames, gathering courage for the conversation ahead.

"Beryl?"

His use of her first name drew her out of her fog. "Why? Why did you never tell me? After all this time … you never said a word. I can understand her not wanting to discuss it … but you?"

He placed his hands on his knees and sighed deeply. "I don't know," he answered weakly. Then, after a pause, "No, that's not true. I do know."

He looked at his friend, his oldest friend in the world, he realized. He smiled sadly as he attempted an explanation.

"I was ashamed. I had such a chance for happiness – true happiness – and I threw it all away. I did exactly what we always tell them not to do," he said, waving his hand in the general direction of the servants' hall, indicating the younger staff. "I lost control, I let my emotions guide me instead of my mind. And, when it came down to it, I made the wrong choice. The coward's choice."

"Yes, you did," she agreed. "And I understand that."

"What?"

She nodded. "I do. I know you, Charles Carson. You don't shirk responsibility lightly. You would never have sent Mrs. Hughes away if you had the slightest thought that marriage would have been the best option. I'm sure you had your reasons to think she'd be fine. The farm, perhaps?"

"Yes," he answered quietly. "I thought she'd just go home, leave the child there …"

"Daisy, Mr. Carson. Not 'the child.' Daisy. No sense in pretending that we don't all know."

He sighed. "No, I suppose not."

"Why didn't she leave Daisy with her Mam? That's the one thing I don't understand."

He looked her in the eyes. "I know, and I am afraid I will not be the one to divulge that information. But there were … reasons, and it was not possible. I didn't know then what I know now. Suffice to say, if I did, we would not be having this conversation."

Beryl nodded. "Alright," she said slowly. "But why bring her here?"

"Who, Daisy? Because of the –"

"No, not Daisy! Mrs. Hughes. Why bring her here after all of that? What made her even want to come?"

"I was selfish, Mrs. Patmore. I am selfish. I'd sent her away, and regretted it every day. But then we needed a new head housemaid, and I knew she was unhappy with the position she held when I'd met her. We'd discussed it when … well. We'd discussed it," he said sheepishly. "She was in need of a better position in a bigger house. I knew her well enough to know she'd be more than capable of being both a head housemaid and, eventually, housekeeper and … well, I missed her."

"I am sure you did. And so she accepted, despite everything, obviously." Beryl shook her head, trying to put herself in Elsie's position, and finding herself unable to wrap her mind around the choice to come to Downton at all. "I just can't understand why."

"Because she missed him, too," came Elsie's voice from the doorway. "Despite all that had happened."

Beryl's head flew around to face Elsie. "Oh," she gasped. "Mrs. Hughes, I'm …"

"Don't, please," Elsie said, closing the door firmly behind her and making her way into the room. "Don't apologize. I'm the one who should be asking your forgiveness."

Charles rose from his chair to offer it to Elsie, who squeezed his arm briefly and shot him a grateful smile as she passed in front of him to sit. He had no idea how long she'd been at the door, but figured she'd heard enough.

"I never meant to deceive you," Elsie told Beryl. "It was just never the right time to tell you. We didn't even get on when I first arrived!"

Beryl chuckled. "Well, that's the truth!"

Elsie looked up at Charles, but continued to address the cook. "It certainly wouldn't have done to spill our secret here. Besides," she said, turning her gaze to Beryl, "Mr. Carson was different. More … reserved, certainly. He didn't think it would be wise for anyone to know we weren't total strangers the day I arrived here, and I agreed at the time.

"We didn't anticipate how much we would butt heads. We'd clearly both been in service for years, but not together. We are more alike than we are unalike, I think. It was … different. And, after a while, it was so different that it wasn't so hard to try and forget, to pretend we didn't have any sort of past together."

Beryl nodded slowly, understanding creeping in.

"I am truly sorry that we didn't tell you when Daisy first came to Downton. I hadn't known how truly awful that home had been – didn't even know she'd been sent there at first and, when I did hear from that awful woman, she asked that I not come and find Daisy. Told me she was happy there. Only toward the end did I suspect the truth. Once I did," she said, looking at Charles again, "I knew we had to get her out of there."

"The nerve of the woman," he muttered, shaking his head, "after all these years."

"What do you mean?" Beryl asked.

"She wrote to the Dowager, attempted to blackmail her, demanded money to keep quiet about the secret that would bring 'shame to the house of Grantham,'" Elsie scoffed. "Imagine how well that went."

"The DOWAGER knows? The Dowager Countess of Grantham?!"

Charles laughed. "Not only does she know, she had the vile woman arrested."

"Well, I'll be," Beryl mused, awestruck. "But surely if she knows …"

"She will say nothing," Charles answered swiftly.

"Dr. Clarkson also knows," Elsie said quietly, looking at Beryl. "I had to tell him, when I thought I had cancer. When he examined me …"

"Ah … of course," Beryl nodded. "He could tell you'd borne a child."

"Yes. He didn't know about Charlie, though, not until later," Elsie replied, not realizing she'd dropped his familiar name until she saw the smirk on her friend's face. "Until the accident, when I was sent to London. I had to tell Dr. Gill, the London doctor, in case any of our story came to light. He had to know the truth, to determine the facts from imaginings, in order to be of any assistance whatsoever, and so did Dr. Clarkson. It would have been foolish not to let them in," she finished.

"Not once I woke up and started speaking … asking for my daughter and my wife, no less," Charles added. "And I knew I wasn't making it all up, but I just didn't know how to explain it."

Beryl took Elsie's hand. "I've no idea how you did it all these years," she said, shaking her head. "How you stayed back, let her find her own way."

"You took such good care of her, you know. You didn't need me," Elsie whispered. "I knew she was in good hands. I think she might prefer it stay that way."

"What? Oh! Have you not seen her today?" Beryl exclaimed. "Have you not spoken? I assumed you had, that she'd managed to speak with you both."

Charles and Elsie stared at her, neither daring to hope. "About what, exactly?" Charles asked hesitantly.

Beryl took a deep breath. "Daisy wants to get to know you better. She wants … well, more parents, I think, in a way. Something more, anyhow, than what she has now, with Mr. Mason and myself. I think she wants the openness, but realizes that could be … dangerous," she finished weakly, her eyes begging them to understand. "She would never jeopardize your jobs."

"No, I don't expect she would," Elsie answered honestly. "And it's very kind of her to think of that."

She looked up at Charles, who laid his hand on her shoulder. "Now what?" he asked.

"Now we find Daisy and have a nice, long talk," Elsie said with a sigh. "And let her know that we want more as well – in whatever way she is willing to give it."

He nodded, then turned his attention back to Beryl. She got up from her seat abruptly, suddenly having realized how long they'd been shut away in the pantry.

"I should go back," she said. She took a moment to gaze at Elsie and Charles. "Thank you for being so honest with me," she added. "I know it can't have been easy." She moved toward the door, then turned back and faced her friends.

"You know that you seem … different … now, don't you? Closer, more at ease with one another."

She stopped talking, and smiled as her brain reached the inevitable conclusion. "But you aren't different, are you? Perhaps you're the same as you always were, only now it shows?"

"Perhaps," Charles rumbled, as he took Elsie's hand in his and gazed into her deep, blue eyes. "Perhaps what you're seeing is who we truly are – how we were truly meant to be."

"Well," Beryl replied, suddenly feeling very out of place, "you can't be any clearer than that."

Her friends didn't seem as though they'd heard her at all. She exited the room quietly and closed the door tightly behind her.

Well, I'll be, she thought. At last.

"We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike." ~Maya Angelou

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