A/N: I love reviews – thank you! Julian Fellowes refuses to get back to me, so I still own nothing.

He shuffled up the sidewalk and keyed the code at the entrance. The door unlocked and he went in. He climbed the stairs, thinking Elsie would like it better if he did that, rather than using the elevator. He'd lost a lot of weight since his surgery, but he didn't want to risk his health. Especially now.

Robert's office was dark. He rolled his eyes, thinking Robert would do better to just tell Cora the truth. If he wanted to go to a bar and watch football, so be it. But why tell his wife he was going to the office? He hoped it was just Rob blowing off steam, and not a repeat of the Jane Moorsum saga.

He sent a quick text.

Charles Carson to Robert Crawley, December 27th, 12:48 pm

I'm at the office. Will be here awhile. I went by your house, C said you were here

Walking into his corner office, he turned on the light. He ignored the files sitting on the floor and chairs, the papers on his desk. He went over to the window where the bookshelf full of pictures rested.

They were all there – every attorney, every staffer, every law clerk who had walked these halls over the last thirty years. If he had included those people before he became managing partner, there would be far too many for the shelves. As it was, he could barely remember some of the faces in the older pictures. Violet would remember; she remembered everyone.

He saw Jane in one of the pictures. She was in a group that included most of the attorneys in the city office now. It had been his decision not to fire her, or to insist she resign; she was too good of a lawyer to replace. Instead, he had offered her a position in the city office. Still with the firm, but away from Robert. She had gladly accepted. At the Christmas party a couple of weeks ago, she had told him her son Freddie was doing well at his private high school.

The picture of Elsie was one of the largest on the shelves. It sat in the middle, right next to the picture of him, Robert and John. He picked it up and held the frame in his hands, a smile blooming across his face at the sight of her. It had been taken five years ago, in the summer. She looked directly into the camera. She wore simple capris and a white polo shirt, that dazzling smile on her face, the sun catching the auburn streaks in her hair.

Taking a closer look, she wasn't looking directly at the photographer, he mused. The man had been hired to take candid shots, so it wasn't a posed picture. Mary and Anna were in the background, chatting with someone who was cut off. Elsie had been looking at something else behind the photographer. He could tell by where her eyes were. He would have to ask her sometime if she remembered what had caught her attention.

His heart leapt as he thought about putting a new picture on the shelf – one of him and Elsie together. Or should it go on his desk? A larger one on the shelf, and a smaller one for the desk. He nodded to himself, satisfied with the plan.

His phone buzzed.

Robert Crawley to Charles Carson, December 27th, 12:56 pm

I'll be there in a few minutes. I'm close enough to walk. You didn't tell C that I wasn't at the office, did you?

He snorted. Sometimes Robert acted like a schoolboy.

CC to RC

Of course not. Just tell me you were watching football, or something else equally harmless.

RC to CC

Nothing to worry about.

CC to RC

There had better not be.

He put the phone down on his desk and sank into his chair. While he was here, he thought he should at least do something constructive, even though he had planned on coming in during the week.

It was bound to be strange for the staff. Everyone knew about the engagement by now. He suddenly shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He hadn't thought about it before. It was one thing to have their professional lives here, and their private lives away from work. But come Monday, tomorrow, everyone would look at them differently. He ran fingers through the curl on his forehead. Elsie loved untidying his hair.

She would be fine, he knew. She was a consummate professional, hardly ever letting her personal affairs interfere with the job. He, on the other hand…

He gulped, thinking about her sitting on the other side of the wall. Bent over her laptop, her head tilted as she held the phone against her ear, her neck curved at an angle.

It had been curved at that angle, precisely that angle when he kissed her neck earlier, before she left to go visit Beryl. Like that day last summer when he'd gone to join her in the city office. He'd planned on doing some work, told himself that he could read easily, sitting in her office as she finished a project. He'd been unable to concentrate at all. Finally, he had gotten up to stand behind her as she sat at her desk. He had only meant to give her a kiss on the cheek. Somehow it had escalated to her back against the door, her legs wrapped around his, his hands holding her firm behind, both of their cries echoing through the empty office.

He wiped sweat from his brow. That incident was an anomaly. When the office was occupied, it was different. Somehow it was bearable, possible to work in the same building, sometimes even in the same room as her. As long as no one knew except themselves.

But how in the hell was he supposed to be professional when everyone, from the college kids in the file room to Robert, knew they were engaged? He was the managing partner, for Pete's sake. If he couldn't hold it together, how could he expect everyone else to?

"You're far away. I wonder who's on your mind."

His head shot up. Robert leaned in the doorway, a bemused smile on his face.

"I'd enjoy your discomfort, but I don't want to risk not getting an invitation to your wedding. Congratulations," he said, extending his hand.

"Thank you for that," Charles said, shaking his hand. "And of course you'll be invited, the whole family will." He paused. "Although I have to say we haven't made any plans yet, not even a date."

"Well, if you want my advice, let Mrs. Hughes do most of the planning, and for God's sake don't contradict her," Robert sat down on the other side of Charles's desk. "It just occurred to me – is she going to change her name? That would take some getting used to. For everyone, but especially for Mama. Mr. and Mrs. Carson?"

Mrs. Carson…the thought made him speechless with joy.

"That smile should be illegal. I take it she will change her name then?"

Charles's smile faded. "I don't know. I haven't asked her about it yet." Worry swept over him. There suddenly seemed to be so many things he had not thought of. They had spoken before the engagement about moving in together, but as no one then knew of their relationship, that idea had been set aside.

"As long as you do ask her. If I've learned anything about nearly thirty-five years of marriage, never assume your wife thinks the same as you do." There was a long pause. Robert leaned his head against the back of the tall chair. "It came as quite a surprise to all of us, you know. About your engagement." He raised his eyebrows. "To be honest, Carson, I'm rather impressed."

"Impressed? About what?" He was curious. "Was it so out of character?" Robert leaned forward and grabbed a mint off the desk.

"For most men, no. Coming from you…yes. And then there is your choice of bride." He popped the mint into his mouth. "Upon further reflection, Mrs. Hughes is the natural choice in my mind. But then I've had a closer view of your relationship than most people we know."

"What did your mother think?" Charles could not resist the question, twirling a pen. Robert laughed.

"She was rendered speechless for a full minute. Well done. You and Mrs. Hughes were the talk of Christmas Day at our house. I hope you don't mind, but Mama told Matthew."

Charles shook his head. "I don't mind. Everyone would be told eventually. Just because he's abroad shouldn't mean he's kept in the dark."

"Can I ask you something?" Robert suddenly seemed nervous. "Mary said the most extraordinary thing. She said you and Mrs. Hughes had been seeing each other since last January. Is this true? You've been together nearly a full year?"

"I…" Charles hesitated. If at all possible, he wanted to keep the details private. On the other hand, how realistic was that now? "Not a full year, but close to it."

Robert's eyes widened. He shook his head. "Well, you know that I have the bad habit of missing what's in front of my nose." He sighed, slapping his hands on his knees before standing again. "At least this is a much more pleasant surprise than when Tom told me he and Sybil were dating." He headed for the door. "I'd best get some work done while I'm here."

"That's a good idea," Charles said. "You'll be in at least a few days this week, I trust?"

"Yes, although Cora and I planned to take the grandchildren sledding on Tuesday."

"Be careful," Charles cautioned as he pulled a pile of scribbled notes across his desk. "You don't want to accidently fly into a tree."

"Oh, you know Cora. I'll be so bundled up I won't be able to walk." He stopped, put a couple of fingers on Charles's desk. "I probably shouldn't interfere, but I think you should talk to Mary."

Charles looked up from his notes. "I did. Thursday night, after Elsie and I got engaged."

Robert shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, well…you know Mary. I get the impression she's upset. Because she didn't know about you and Mrs. Hughes before."

Swinging the chair around, Charles raised his eyebrows. "We've always been close, but I don't see how that is any of her business. Or yours."

"I know that, but I'm telling you, you shouldn't expect the welcoming committee from her tomorrow," Robert said, an edge in his voice. "My friend, please don't misunderstand me. I am very happy for you, as is Cora. I believe Mary is as well. But you know as well as I do she likes to come first. She won't relinquish that title easily, even when it comes to you."

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"Mmmmm," Charles murmured. He took a sip of his merlot. "Yes, that spot just in the back of my head-that's it." He sighed, his eyes closed. "You're a darling, thank you." Elsie massaged the back of his neck, leaning over him from her position on the couch. He leaned against it as he sat on the floor. "Do you think," he rumbled, "I should have told Mary that we were in a relationship earlier? To cushion the blow?"

Elsie huffed under her breath as she kneaded the tight muscles. She rolled her eyes, glad he couldn't see her expression. "Absolutely not," she said. "You were one hundred percent right when you told Robert it was none of her business." She felt a pang of guilt thinking of Anna. "Anyway, we're past that stage now," she amended, patting his back. "Too late to go back. You should take her to lunch this week. Make her feel special."

She bit her tongue to keep from saying anything else. He got so worked up, worrying about what Mary Crawley would think. She told herself it was natural, that it was good he had a strong, paternal-like relationship with his goddaughter. But isn't it past time that you stopped treating her like a child? She's thirty-three years old, for goodness' sake! So stop encouraging him, her inner voice scolded. "All I'm saying is to be honest with her," she said, choosing her words carefully. He turned around, looking up.

"Is that what you were with Anna? Honest? And she understood you," he grabbed her hand as she pulled him onto the couch.

"Yes, I was honest," she said quietly, handing him his glass. "What else could I be? I do care about what she thinks. Just as you care about what Mary thinks," The difference between the two being that Anna doesn't believe the world owes her anything.

"I know you think I indulge her," he grumbled, putting an arm around her. "And I know there's some truth in that. She's had me wrapped around her little finger since she was tiny." He drank the last of the merlot. "I just need to get her used to the fact that there's another woman who has me wrapped up." He kissed her cheek. "A woman that I love very…very…very...much." Each word was punctuated by a kiss, each one traveling lower than the last.

Elsie melted at his touch. "And one that loves you back," she whispered, her fingers sliding into his hair. She pulled his face up to hers and kissed him, losing herself in the feel of his mouth on hers. He sat sideways, his hands trailing down her thighs, his long fingers sliding underneath them.

The mantle clock struck half-past ten. They both sighed, leaning their foreheads against each other.

"I have to go, love," he whispered. "I don't have any suitable clothes here."

"I know."

Neither of them moved.

"What are we going to do tomorrow?" he asked. It almost sounded like a whine. He pulled her closer for another searing kiss, his tongue caressing hers, making her gasp. Her hands grasped his shoulders tighter. "I won't be able to think straight, knowing you're next door. The only reason I got any work done today-" he kissed her nose- "is because you weren't there."

"We shall carry on as usual," she breathed, even though she had no idea how. They got up slowly. He grabbed his keys from the counter while she brought his coat from the closet. "It won't always be like this."

He slipped into his coat, nodding. He went to kiss her goodnight, stopping only when the clock struck a quarter to eleven.

"I love you, Charlie," she whispered as she opened the door to the hallway. "Text me when you get home." She shivered, feeling the loss of him already.

"I love you. I'll let you know when I get in. Good night." She watched him go down the stairs to the garage before going back into the condo. She leaned against the front door, running a hand through her hair. Tomorrow, into the lion's den.

This was going to be harder than she thought.