Christmas Eve, 1991

Bond Street bustles with activity as smartly dressed pedestrians wrapped snugly in their jackets, gloves, and scarves meander along the pavement admiring the Christmas displays. Young couples are snuggled together exchanging glances of affection as they and pop in and out of the shops completing their last minute shopping and as they meet up with friends. Tourists from far and wide shuffle their packages of souvenirs from one hand to the other and gape open-mouthed at the scenery as they experience their first visit to the Big Smoke. It seems that everyone is enjoying a bit of Christmas cheer in preparation for the festivities that tomorrow will bring.

Charles is among those walking the pavement and though he is still a Yorkshireman at heart, he enjoys the rush of the people and the bustling of the city. He's never at the last minute buying gifts and he has Elsie's true gift stashed away in his brief case, but he's hit upon just the right idea in which to disguise it. Granted, the gift that he has purchased is something chosen from the heart, something that will impact and change the rest of their lives together, but Elsie is a woman after all and Charles figures that he ought to purchase a little something that she can show off to Beryl and the girls until she can show them the real gift that he purchased.

Weaving his way through the crowds and past those window shopping, he steps up to an antiques shop and slips inside. He and the owner have known each other since university and Charles knows that Nicholas can be trusted to have found just the item that suits what he is looking for. As a salesperson completes a transaction with another customer, Charles peruses a glass case with some platinum and diamond bracelets. They are gorgeous, but none of them suit Elsie. The estate pieces that he's eyeing more suit Cora Crawley or perhaps Rosamund Painswick when she is in attendance at some high society function. Though Elsie may not be a farm girl anymore, her heart still lies deep in the Scottish countryside and not encrusted in the pageantry of the English upper crust. It isn't long before George, the young man in a smartly tailored dark suit, approaches asking Charles how he might help.

"Mr. Norton has something set aside for me. I'm expected," Charles replies to the man's inquiry.

"You must be Mr. Carson," he replies with a curious nod of the head. "If you'll excuse me one moment, I'll be right back."

As the young man retreats to a door near the rear of the store and presses a buzzer, the door opens and he slips inside; older woman takes his place in the showroom. She and Charles exchange pleasantries; they've known one another for years as casual acquaintances when Charles has purchased items in the past. Showcases gleam resplendent with exquisite pieces and Charles and Eileen discuss how Nick and his brothers bought rings, bracelets, broaches, and silver pieces at auction or purchased them privately from old families throughout England. While each piece is stunning, Charles knows that each one of them represents the crumbling of the old way of life, of the old families who sold off the old manor houses and their jewelry and silver bit by bit when they could no longer afford to keep it. He's thankful that the Crawley's have managed to secure Downton Abbey for the foreseeable future, though he wonders how much longer investments, corporate events, weddings, and wealthy overnight guests can sustain it.

After a few moments, George returns wearing white gloves and holding an equally pristine white box. Placing the box down before Charles, he carefully lifts the top to reveal and gleaming silver, inscribed box. Carefully lifting the silver snuff box, he places it on the counter for Charles to inspect. Charles openly and unreservedly admires it; his old mate Nicholas certainly knew exactly what to purchase for Charles's fiery Scottish bride-to-be. He knows that the engraving of the peasant woman at full stance holding a dagger and thistle with the inscription Tremblez Tyrans, will appeal to her sense of independence and national pride.

"That's quite perfect," Charles beams.

Charles is dressed in his black trousers, his braces hanging about his hip as he stands in front of the bathroom mirror. Gripping the straight razor one hand he pulls his face taught with the other. The scraping of the razor's sharp blade against stiff whiskers breaks the silence. Feelings of apprehension lie just underneath the surface as he thinks of the evening ahead. It will be the first year in some time that he has attended the Crawley Christmas party. Alice never wanted to attend, always finding some excuse to be abroad for an important interview or some sort. Charles soon tired of making explanations decided to return home a little early to Downton to visit his parents at Christmas. He wonders now if Alice and Charlie Grigg spent Christmas tucked away somewhere; perhaps a cozy bed and breakfast in the countryside or a beachfront villa in the Mediterranean.

He knows that it's no use now to think on such matters; that he is with Elsie and he's happier than any man has a right to be. As he tidies up his shaving things and puts them away, the woman of his affections slips past him and begins to put the final touches on her makeup.

"You look wonderful. You'll be the most beautiful woman at the party tonight," Charles murmurs in Elsie's ear as he snuggles up behind her.

"Oh Charles, you're hardly impartial" she observes dryly as she feels the heat from his bare chest against her back and shoulders. His chin rests on her shoulder while one hand is firm along her hip and the other glides along her slip-clad thigh.

"Elsie, I love you very much. You know that, don't you?"

"What's brought this on?" she asks as she arches her neck and turns so that her lips brush against his.

"Nothing. I just don't think that I say it often enough."

At this, she kisses him sweetly. They've done nothing more than kiss and cuddle in the weeks since her surgery; she's not felt up to anything more than that and Charles has worried endlessly that he would hurt her; that he would get caught up in the moment and brush his fingertips against her still healing breast. If there is one lesson that Elsie's learned throughout her medical scare, through her surgery, and her recovery is that her love for this man and his love for her is the most profound thing that she knows. The tender sincerity of his voice, the kindness in his eyes, and the simple ways that he's shown her that he loves her gives Elsie the security that their bond goes much deeper than just the physical expression of their love.

"I know Charles. I love you too," she answers against his lips. She lingers just a moment and kisses him again before she turns to finish her task. She's enjoying this new domesticity, having Charles around more than just in the evenings or for the occasional breakfast on the weekends. She's beginning to feel the anxious pull to make this arrangement permanent sooner rather than later; she's not sure that she wants to wait until April to become Mrs. Charles Carson.

The ballroom of Grantham House bustles with activity as the friends and family of the Crawleys have gathered in celebration of the Christmas season. Elsie and Charles take in all of the decorations from the garland along the mantle above the fireplace, to the large Christmas tree with twinkling lights, to the all of the tables with every variety of food that Beryl Mason and her staff have prepared. The Crawley parties always maintain the old ways with Beryl's male staff impeccably dressed mirroring the footmen of old, dressed in tails and white tie, quietly moving among the guests with silver trays serving champagne and cocktails and collecting empty glasses with a minimum of fuss. Alfred Nugent, the very tall, very serious looking young man who Beryl has hired to stand in for would-be butler, stands ramrod straight in the corner of the room, surveying it with an eagle eye making positive that everything goes exactly according to plan. And while Charles delights in the tradition of it all, Elsie is astonished that people actually live this way. Though she's amassed a respectable amount of money herself over the years from the sale of her books and now the sale of the rights to Queen and Country, she cannot imagine ever having the money to pull off a celebration the likes of this and even if she did, the thrift of her father still resides somewhere deep in her heart.

"Hello beautiful," a familiar voice beckons behind her as a hand comes to rest around her waist. Elsie and Charles both turn to find Thomas flashing a toothy grin.

"You're such a charmer. And a liar," Elsie teases as she reaches up to kiss his cheek.

"It isn't a lie if it's true."

"Hello Thomas," Charles says cordially as he extends his hand in greeting. "How are you?"

"Couldn't be better," Thomas replies as he takes a sip of champagne. "Quite a party isn't it?"

"It is indeed," Charles replies as he surveys the crowd finding many familiar faces including a few that he'd rather not encounter on such a joyous night as Christmas Eve. In addition to family and friends, Cora Crawley's guest list includes certain employees as well as various notable figures of London society. Charles scans the room and almost immediately his eyes focus on the den of vipers, Sarah O'Brien, Richard Carlisle, and Vera Bates Green, gathered near the fireplace. Their smirking smiles are enough to give away their self-serving motives straight away. No doubt that Sarah's column on Sunday will be filed juicy tidbits of party gossip and Vera's Daily Mail column will have salacious headlines to draw in the masses. Charles still smarts over the coverage of the whole business between Grigg, Alice, and himself that managed to slip through the cracks in the form of blind items, even though Rosamund called in favors with Richard Carlisle.

"Who's that nice looking blonde over there speaking with Sarah O'Brien?" Thomas asks with a twinkle in his eye.

"Oh no," Charles huffs indignantly. "Surely not him." Elsie stifles laughter behind a grin when she hears Charles grumble further when she sees the young man acknowledge them with a nod of the head and begin to walk toward them.

"Now, Charles I hope that you will not show an example of rudeness." Elsie's admonishment is not so much a statement as a command and the tone of her voice lets Charles know that she'll have none of the acrimonious behavior that usually transpires between her man and the youngster in question.

"Hello Charlie," Jimmy Kent declares mischievously as he claps Charles on the shoulder. Charles grumbles out something that remotely sounds like a muted "Hello" as Jimmy quickly moves to kiss Elsie's cheek.

"I may just give you a run for your money with this one," he says, honey virtually dripping from his lips as he flashes Elsie his most brilliant smile. "You look particularly stunning tonight Elsie."

"Oh, Jimmy. You're certainly a flirt," Elsie replies as she catches Charles out of the corner of her eye, his eyebrows arched in indignation and lips locked firmly in a downward frown of consternation. Elsie knows that young Mr. Kent must remind Charles of the gregarious and flirtatious Charlie Grigg. Beside her, she hears Thomas clear his throat and she realizes that this is her cue make introductions.

"Jimmy, I would like to introduce you to my very good friend, Thomas Barrow."