Tavey's left the two of them leaning against a fence rail, staring out at the green green grass and the sheep dotting the pasture. It's a rare moment of peace. Charles knows something of farm life, a very little something, but still, it's enough to appreciate the time that Donal is spending with him.

"So, you've been most of your life at the Abbey?"

Charles nods. "Most. I went off as a young lad to find my fortune, only to discover it was right where I left it."

Donal grunts. "I never wanted to leave Argyll. O' course I had everything here a man could want. Knew I was going to marry Moira right from the start. Took a bit to persuade her, but I managed." He laughs heartily and Charles chuckles politely. He wants to give Moira no further excuse to get on her bad side. He feels like he's there already. "You never married, Charles?"

"No , I've not been married before."

"How long did you and Elsie work together?"

"Fifteen years, give or take the odd month."

"She's a fine woman."

"That she is."

They sit in companionable silence for awhile yet, enjoying the warmth of the sun on their faces. Charles feels that Donal has something else he wants to discuss, but he doesn't feel threatened or uneasy. It's plain they all love Elsie dearly, and curiosity is something he understands all too well. He closed his ears to the gossip surrounding his proposal and her acceptance of it during those last few weeks, not wanting to dignify the talk by acknowledging it. (Not to mention the fear, always the fear of revealing how much, how awfully much he cared for Elsie and how desperately he wanted to marry her. It would never do to have them all glimpse the feelings she'd written across his heart.) But here it is different. Here he is with her family, and it's only natural for them to wonder at their courtship and marriage, wonder that it could happen at all, never mind how long it took. And it doesn't bother him that they see how besotted he is by her; it doesn't impinge on his dignity, his standing. Without her he has no standing. He knows that now.

"Moira's a bit, well, she's a bit…leery, if you take my meaning."

"Sorry?" He knew the woman hadn't warmed to him yet, but leery? Leery?

"Well, she was that put out not to be asked to the wedding." Charles starts to interrupt, starts to excuse the oversight, but Donal raises a hand to stop him. "I understand, I do, but feelings is feelings and women are women. And Moira feels more than most. She was right cut up when Els refused Mr. Burns a second time. Thought she was passing up a chance for her own security, like." Charles draws himself up, ready to defend Elsie's decision and himself, if it comes down to it. Donal smiles, a kind smile. "I see now we didn't know the whole story."

"I can assure you there was never any, any… impropriety," he says, fumbling around for the right words.

"I know that, for heaven's sake, man. I know my own sister-in-law. She'd as like box your ears for the suggestion. But. Moira's just trying to find her way in all this, that's all. To us it seemed so sudden like. She'd written about you, of course she had, and talked of you over visits, but nothing that'd give us any cause to wonder." He sighs. "All that palaver to say, don't worry." He claps Charles on the back. "She'll warm up to you soon. We'll give them a tad more time alone and it'll all be sorted. You'll see."

*CE*

The washing up's done, Janet's been sent away and they've finally sat down to tea.

"Well?" Moira gives her that look, that piercing stare that Elsie knows so well. It's one she often used with errant maids, arrogant footmen and obstinate butlers. She takes a sip of her tea.

"Well?"

"You know very well." Moira sits up straighter. "I want to know why you couldn't wait another week or two so's we could come to your wedding. My own sister's wedding and I wasn't invited."

Elsie sets her cup down gently, looks away. She's been preparing for this conversation, but even so. Moira never was one for reason. She feels so much more than Elsie ever did. Was ever allowed to feel, she corrects herself.

"The banns…it only took three weeks."

"I know that. But you could have waited a few days more. What was your hurry?"

She looks away, drops her voice. "I was afraid he might change his mind."

"Elisabeth Hughes, you never were." She reaches out for Elsie's hand. "One look at the man and you can tell he's bewitched by you."

"He is now, I think." And she smiles over the ways they've both been bewitched. "But then…well, I couldn't be absolutely sure, could I? I mean, he never even kissed me. Not once! Not until the wedding."

"You can't mean it!"

Elsie nods her head, tucks her chin in that way she has. "I do mean it. He was very proper, very correct before we were married."

"And now?" asks Moira slyly.

Elsie smothers the grin that threatens. "He's still very proper."

Moira sniffs. "I doubt that. Don't come walking in my house with that…that wiggle and try to tell me that things are very proper, very correct (she's always been an excellent mimic) between you. But what I want to know is, are you happy?" She takes a hard look at Elsie. Elsie lifts her chin defiantly. "Alright, girl, alright. I can see that you are. But is he…"

"Charles," Elsie says sternly.

"Alright, then. Is Charles the reason you refused Joe Burns?"

Elsie is surprised, truly shocked. "Why on earth would you ask that?"

"Because I never could understand why you turned him down flat. Anyone would think you wanted to end up alone, with no one to care for you except those at the big house, those who'd do because they had to, not because they wanted to. But maybe you knew all along, eh? Your letters always have been full of Mr. Carson this and Mr. Carson that."

Elsie feels that white hot flash of anger behind her eyes, pulsing in her neck. She clenches her hands to keep from slapping Moira. She stiffens dangerously in her seat. "How dare you? I made a life for myself at Downton, a good life with people who respected me, people I could respect. Joe was a good man, a fine man, but he wasn't for me. That life wasn't for me. I have more than I ever dreamt of now and you can…"

Moira raises her hands in mock surrender. "There's my girl. I wondered where she'd gone off to. Now I know you'll be just fine."

She can't help it. She laughs and laughs and soon Moira is laughing with her. They're both wiping tears of mirth from their eyes when Charles and Donal enter the room.

"See," Donal says, "I told you everything would be sorted."