A/N: In which Carson waggles his eyebrows. Why? He just feels like an eyebrow waggler to me. Hope you enjoy!

She bustles around the cottage, inspecting the bedroom and bath, ensuring that the kitchen is as spotless as the left it after their breakfast, checking and re-checking the windows, the back door.

He watches her, amused and touched. "It's time, Elsie."

She looks up, startled. "It can't be. We've at least another fifteen minutes."

He pulls his pocket watch out to show her. "No, my dear, our train leaves at 10:15; we'd do well to leave right now. Where is your bag?"

"It's right by the door where I left it," she says, a bit sharpish. She's a bundle of nerves and there's no reason for it.

"I see it. Have you got the tickets?"

"They're right here in my handbag, Charles. Honestly, you'd think this was the first time I'd ever been on a train."

"Well, it's the first time I've ever been on a train with you." That catches her up short, he thinks smugly. "Come along, then, Elsie. Wouldn't want to be late." He ushers her out the door with a gentle nudge at the small of her back. He can do these kinds of things now without compunction. He takes a very great pleasure in pulling her arm through his as they walk through the village or guiding her along with a hand at her elbow. He even takes her hand in church from time to time. Another unexpected delight in being married.

*CE*

They're seated on the train now with a compartment to themselves. She's settling in, sorting out her handbag, fidgeting. He puts a hand over hers and squeezes gently. She looks up at him and smiles weakly.

"Surely you're not nervous, Elsie?" He leans in, whispers warmly in her ear. "Afraid I won't pass muster with your sister and her husband?"

She stiffens; she never did take being teased very well. "Certainly not, Charles. I only hope they'll meet with your standards."

Not this again. Every time he thought they'd sorted it out, it came up again. She wasn't going to be convinced until he actually met Moira and Donal. There's a nephew, too, if he's not mistaken. Tavey, is it? He has a wife. And quite possibly children. He sighs, takes her hand to his lips and presses them gently to her skin. She smiles a real smile now, a true one, and he's pleased. "You look lovely in green; it suits you." She looks away, flustered.

"And my hat, Mr. Carson, do you approve of my hat?" she says after a few moments.

Ah good, she's in a happy enough frame of mind to tease him a bit. "Indeed I do, Mrs. Carson. Very flattering. These new styles are very flattering indeed. But best of all," he leans over quickly and busses her cheek.

"Charles!" She flushes prettily and looks around to be sure no one has seen. She looks back at him sternly. "You oughtn't to be doing things like that, not in public." He grins, not the least bit deterred. "And," she continues, poking him in the shoulder firmly, "there's to be no…no affection of any sort while we're visiting. The house is quite small and," she trails off here, her nerve gone.

"You're worried I can't control myself around you? I'll be a perfect gentleman."

"See that you are." She settles herself more firmly in her seat.

"Of course, when we get home…" He glances at her out of the corner of his eye. She's fighting back a smile. "When we get home, it will be a different matter entirely."

"Well, we won't be home for several days."

"All the more time for me to plan our reunion when we do return." She turns quickly to look at him and he waggles his eyebrows lasciviously at her. She cannot contain her laughter now.

"Well, I shall look forward to it."

"As will I, Elsie. As will I."