It was frosty for March. He found her sitting on a bench by the village pond. Her expression was glassy; he hoped that it was due to tiredness rather than anything else. She was wearing the clothes that Mrs Crawley had given her; in what felt like another life. A fleeting notion of satisfaction passed over him: he had been right, she looked beautiful in them. She turned as she heard him approach her and smiled a little when she saw it was him.

"Her Ladyship was kind enough to give me the day off," he told her by way of explaining his presence in the village, as he accepted the seat that she offered him.

She nodded.

"Me too."

There was no denying that last night had been something of a hectic one. Lady Mary had, for reasons best known to herself, gone into her sister's room last night to find that the bed had not been slept in. She had gone and told Anna about it straight away and Anna, not wanting to wake either Mr Carson or Mrs Hughes, had gone straight to Lady Grantham. Of course, upon finding Lady Sybil to be nowhere in the house, Anna had had to come and wake her anyway. She had thrown on her usual dress over her nightgown and gone to see what was to be done. Minutes after she had hurriedly descended the stairs, Charles had followed her- somehow immaculately attired.

The scene downstairs had not been a pleasant one. Lady Grantham was sitting on a sofa in the library- Lady Edith holding her hand and trying to keep her calm. His Lordship was pacing tersely back and forth in his dressing gown and Lady Mary sat on the window sill, her head resting on Mrs Crawley's shoulder. Lady Sybil had not been seen since before dinner.

The telephone call arrived at around two o'clock in the morning- "a beastly hour for such a machine to be in operation, anyway!" Lady Violet had said, having arrived to give her opinion at breakfast time. Lady Sybil had not, as Lady Grantham had feared, been kidnapped or, as Lady Violet had feared, arrested. The latter, on hearing this had decided that so long as Sybil was not in police custody, nothing could be too far wrong and settled to eat some toast. However, the next piece of news that she had received caused such furore that Miss O'Brien was immediately sent running for the smelling salts. The fact of the matter was, and there was no avoiding it however much they tried, Lady Sybil had eloped. Mr Branson had recently left his post as Lord Grantham's chauffeur to work for an MP in Manchester. The post office boy, upon delivering the morning papers, confirmed that he had seen Lady Sybil getting on the evening train to Manchester last night. Charles delivered this news to the family at breakfast.

"Did the foolish boy not think to stop her?" Lady Violet had wanted to know.

Charles had replied, as tactfully as he could, that the boy hadn't then been sure if it indeed was Lady Sybil on account of her having much shorter hair than the last time he had seen her. This did not help matters much as far as the Dowager Countess's nerves were concerned. However, once breakfast was over, most of the family had somewhat reconciled themselves with the idea. Her Ladyship conceded that so long as her daughter was happy she would be content herself and only wished that she had waited until after this season before making hasty decisions. Mrs Crawley fully supported the young pair and Lady Edith almost seemed to find the whole thing almost funny. Even Lady Violet drew some comfort from the fact that the couple intended to get married that very day. Her Ladyship had telephoned the place where Sybil said she was residing- which turned out to be a tavern owned by Mr Branson's cousin- and she, along with Mrs Crawley and her daughters had set out for Manchester that morning. Lady Violet's forgiveness did not extend to wanting to go all of the way to Manchester just to wish them well. After their late-night activity, most of the servants had been given the day off to recuperate.

Charles wondered how his Lordship was bearing up, he had looked distinctly weary as he said goodbye to his wife.

"They all know about us, you know."

This statement shook him out of his revive.

"How?" he wanted to know.

Elsie gave him a stern look.

"Because Anna saw you, of course. She'd have had to be blind not to!"

There was quiet for a moment.

"Does it really bother you?" he wanted to know.

"Of course it does!" she told him, "It's not just... it's not just that. It was the way... it was almost as if she found it normal! Like she was expecting it, like they all think we've been in each other's beds all of this time. Is that what people think of us, Charles?"

He sighed, he had not bargained for this. He shook his head.

"I'd like to think not," he told her, "But it doesn't really matter to me if they do. I have you."

To his dismay she laughed harshly and rolled her eyes. He had never seen her do that before.

"Are you ashamed of us, Elsie?"

Something in his tone seemed to bring her back to reality. Her expression softened considerably.

"Of course I'm not," her voice was genuine, "I'm sorry, it's just nothing like this has ever really happened to me, not like this anyway."

He put his arm around her and kissed her on the forehead.

"It's al-right," he told her.

They stayed sitting next to each other on the bench for a long while.

"Charles?"

"Mm?"

"Will you go for a walk with me?"

"I'll follow you to the ends of the earth."

She took that as a "yes". They got up and took each other's hands.

"Let's go this way," he nudged her down a lane that lead off the the main street.

Although she had said she was not ashamed of them, he knew that she despised the idea of being gossiped about. Most of the staff were likely to be in the village and they would be decidedly safer without bumping into any of them. This way there was only a field with two horses in it, and their gossip couldn't do much harm. Elsie, evidently still able to read him like a book, smiled at this gesture. They walked over the damp grass to the top of a small hill, looking back over at the house. They both stood there for a moment, facing each other but not physically touching, looking over at the theatre in which most of their lives took place. Then he turned back to look at her, still surveying the house, almost looking a little sadly at it. She felt his eyes on her and turned back to him. A look of embarrassment briefly flickered in her face, betrayed by her slightly chewing her lip as she was so prone to do.

"It's our lives, isn't it?" she said, "I didn't even realise it until just now. Almost our whole lives are lived within someone else's walls and we don't even question it."

She turned to him.

"Mine was," he conceded, "But it's you now."

They kissed, not chastely as they had done before, but passionately, arms pressing them close, hearts racing. Eventually, they broke apart, breathing heavily, fingers entwined. Not wanting the moment to go, he took her into his arms held her tightly.

"It's you," he repeated, "It's you."

Now it's the Christmas holidays I actually have time to write things! A couple more chapters left. What did you think of this one- too soppy? Please review!