A/N: Major fluff alert. In some ways, this is more embarrassing than the M-rated chapters. I sincerely hope your teeth don't rot out.

She's read through the letter he brought in from the afternoon's post. Read and re-read, must be a dozen times, and now she's biting her lip. He noticed it was from Scotland, recognized the handwriting as her sister's. He's hesitant to ask; if it's bad news, she'll tell him in her own time, he supposes. Or should he inquire now that they are married? She had said she no longer had to keep so many things private. It's situations like these that irritate him, frustrate him. He knew how to attend the family, he was able to anticipate their wants before they formed the thought themselves. It was so easy with them. They only ever wanted things. But with Elsie, his Elsie, whom he knows more thoroughly, more intimately, he is perplexed, unsure. It's maddening. She shifts in her chair, worrying her bottom lip. She can never know the effect that has on him, that such a seemingly insignificant sign of her vulnerability makes him weak in the knees. She catches him staring at her in the firelight and smiles, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes.

"Everything alright?"

"Hm?"

"Your letter. I noticed you received a letter today and I was merely inquiring as to whether the news is good or bad." Oh he hates it when he goes all stiff and formal like this, but he can't seem to help it. He feels apart from her, distant, and the cause of it is this damned letter. He had wanted her sister at the wedding, but Elsie refused to wait. "No time," she had said in that perfunctory way of hers which effectively silenced all further discussion. He'd seen letters pass between them for 15-odd years now. Nothing alarming in either amount or frequency; certainly more personal correspondence than he received, but then he'd been an only child. All his relatives were dead and any old friends or acquaintances lost through the years; he was not exaggerating when he claimed the Crawleys were the only family he'd got. At least officially. At least until she came into his life. Her secrecy was an irritant. For heaven sake's, man, she's only just gotten the letter. Give it time.

"Oh," and she sounds as though she's just come back from a great distance, "oh, yes, the letter. Good news, mostly." And she turns her face back toward the fire, staring intently at the flames.

He notices she is holding the letter so tightly that she's crumpling the edges.

"Mostly?" She's thrown him a line, wittingly or no, and he's bound to take it. He's like a dog with a bone; he's got to dig this out.

"There always seems to be something amiss on the farm, at least where my sister's concerned." She smiles ruefully. "There's always something."

"Well that doesn't sound too serious."

"Nooo…it's the rest of her letter." She trails off again, ill at ease.

"The rest?"

"Well, we've been married over three months now," and she gives him a small, shy smile, "and my sister is wondering when we'll ever get up to Scotland for a visit."

All this fuss and bother over whether to visit her family? Is that all? You daft man, getting all churned up over nothing. "Well, yes, I can see why she would want us to come. Baby sister and all," he teases. "Wants to be sure this husband actually exists."

She smirks at him, then starts in on her bloody lower lip again. Whatever could be the matter? Could she not want her sister to meet him? Could she be embarrassed by him in some way? That wouldn't be possible, would it?

"You don't want to go?" he asks tentatively, carefully.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind seeing the home place again, Charles. It would be lovely, in fact, but…"

"But what? Surely you're not concerned about the cost? I'm sure we could make the trip very economically." He sighs, relieved. She always was one to fret over the practical matters of life.

"No, no. I know we could afford the trip. It's just…"

"Just what?" Now they are back to the beginning and he nearly groans aloud with frustration.

"Well, Charles, you know I was a farm girl, nothing very grand, and it's been so long since I've been back, no telling what the farm is like now. I've had descriptions over the years, and if I know my sister, she's made some improvements, but…"

"But what, Elsie? Spit it out! Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?"

Her head snaps up. "What on earth are you talking about? It's you who might be embarrassed… or worse," she says darkly. "Oh, this is ridiculous." She gets up and takes a turn around the room. "You're very grand, Mr. Carson, and my family is very…not." She's wringing her hands now, another sure sign of distress. "What if you came to regret connecting yourself to…" He rises immediately and gathers her in a fierce hug.

"Elisabeth Mary Carson, are you as daft as a brush? When have you ever had betters the whole of your life? Certainly not I. Besides, I'm not Mr. Carson anymore." He pushes away from her so he can see her face. "I'm only a jumped-up stable boy desperately in love with a beautiful lass the next farm over." He kisses, takes her lower lip in his mouth and nibbles it gently. She pulls away from him and tilts her head in that blastedly charming way she has.

"I take it this means you'll accompany me to Scotland?"

"With pleasure, my dear girl. With pleasure." And his heart rises as he listens to her laughter.