A/N Longest chapter yet, and maybe a little too "storybook," but I couldn't help myself. I think everything else so far could conceivably happen in JF's world, but this chapter probably would not. Still, I like it, so here it is. Who doesn't love a little bit of happy, fluffy Chelsie?

I've also re-posted Chapter 17 because I forgot one small detail that I wanted to include. It's minor, so you won't really miss anything if you don't go back and read the new version, but if you fancy a story about a certain butler, a young Lady Mary running away from home, a sixpence, and a kiss, then by all means, check it out!

And I would be remiss if I didn't include my standard thank you to all my reviewers, because you really do make me very happy when I read your comments. Please, please, please keep it up!

Chapter 18

Elsie was in a fairy tale. She had never cared for such stories when she was younger, dismissing them as the fanciful products of an overly romantic view of the world and far too unrealistic, but now she was living in one. She had found her true love and was looking forward to spending the rest of her life with him. It couldn't be more perfect.

Earlier that day, she and Charles had told the Earl and the Countess of their plan to be married, and the younger couple had been genuinely delighted for them. His Lordship had seemed genuinely surprised, but her Ladyship had claimed that she had been aware of their regard for each other for such a long time that she only wondered how it hadn't happened sooner. His Lordship would have given them a cottage, but he had been pleased that they wished to remain in the house. They had agreed upon a room, and her Ladyship had promised that it would be prepared in time for the wedding. After having explained their eagerness to move things along quickly, the butler and housekeeper had also been granted the afternoon off to go into the village to see Mr. Travis.

At luncheon, they had announced their intentions to the staff. Everyone had been thrilled for them. The other servants had offered their congratulations, the women crowding around Elsie and embracing her tearfully, and the men shaking Charles's hand joyously and patting him on the back.

Their meeting with the vicar had also gone well. He had been genuinely happy for them, and he could see no reason that they shouldn't be married in just over two weeks, allowing three Sundays for the banns to be read, beginning the very next day.

While they had been away in the village that afternoon, the family and the staff had conspired to arrange a surprise for the happy couple. Upon their return, the two had been told that Lady Mary had requested an early dinner for the family, which had allowed the servants to eat earlier also. A private dinner was being arranged for the butler and housekeeper in Elsie's sitting room. Anna had whisked Elsie away to her bedroom to get her ready, and Mr. Bates had ushered Charles into his bedroom to make him presentable. The couple had protested mightily upon being informed that Anna had been commissioned to serve as Elsie's lady's maid, and Mr. Bates had been pressed into service as Mr. Carson's valet, but they had not prevailed. In the end, Elsie had insisted on dressing herself, doffing her black housekeeper's attire and donning her favorite Sunday skirt and blouse instead, but she did allow Anna to arrange her hair and apply a bit of color to her face. She was sure that Charles had dressed himself as well, probably allowing Mr. Bates only to brush some imaginary lint from his jacket and perhaps to adjust his already straight tie.

As she now made her way down to her parlor, she did indeed feel like a princess in one of those story books, on her way to the ball to meet her prince. When she arrived, Charles was already waiting for her. He greeted her with a radiant smile and kiss on the cheek.

"You look especially lovely this evening," he told her.

"Thank you," she said, blushing. "You look rather dashing yourself."

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to tell you how beautiful you are. I should have told you ages ago," he lamented.

"No apologies tonight, and no regrets," she said, pressing a finger to his lips to silence him. "We've loved each other for so long, Charles, and now, finally, we've a date with the vicar. I'd say that's reason to celebrate, not cause for remorse."

"Of course you're right, Love. You usually are," he conceded.

"Though you rarely admit it," she pointed out.

"I'll try to do better," Charles promised as he kissed her hand and led her farther into the room.

It was then that Elsie first noticed the transformation that had been wrought in her sitting room. There were candles and flowers everywhere, a bottle of champagne, and a fire blazing in the hearth. Her small table had been moved towards the center of the room and held place settings for two. A phonograph had also been set up on her desk.

"What's all this?" she asked, eyes wide with wonder.

"It would seem the staff were very busy while we were out this afternoon," he replied.

"I would venture a guess that your Lady Mary may have had something to do with arranging this, too," she surmised.

"Perhaps," said Charles.

Then he went to the table, opened the champagne, poured two glasses, and handed her one.

Lifting his glass in a toast, he said, "To my beautiful Elsie, who has made this surly, old butler the happiest man on earth."

"To my surly, old butler, who has made this dour, old housekeeper feel like a giddy, young schoolgirl," she offered, raising her glass.

They touched glasses, and Charles leaned in to steal a kiss before they began to sip their drinks.

Just then, Mr. Barrow arrived at the door, announcing, "Dinner is served," and directing Alfred and James, who were each carrying a tray of food.

Not entirely comfortable about being served, Elsie and Charles both began to object vociferously. In the face of their protests, Mr. Barrow disappeared, only to return a moment later with an angry Mrs. Patmore.

"Now, listen here! Daisy and Ivy and I have been working all afternoon preparing a special dinner for you, and if it's not served properly, it spoils the effect. So the two of you are going to sit yourselves right down at that table, and let these nice young men take care of you, and like it or not, you're going to enjoy yourselves!" ordered the cook in a tone that brooked no disagreement.

Charles pulled out Elsie's chair for her, and duly chastened, the pair obediently took their seats.

Dinner truly was a special treat, a meal more suited for the upstairs lot than for a housekeeper and butler. Mrs. Patmore and the girls really had gone to great lengths. The atmosphere was pleasant, if a bit formal, with two footmen and an under-butler bringing and clearing away dishes, refilling glasses, and sometimes just standing by at attention.

When they had finished the main meal, Mrs. Patmore herself brought in the dessert, set two plates on the table, and said, "Since you've behaved yourself all day, Mr. Carson, and managed to restrain yourself until now, I've saved you the best piece."

"The treacle tart! I'd nearly forgotten!" cried Charles, causing Elsie to smirk at him.

"Well, you have had some other things on your mind today," Mrs. Patmore acknowledged.

"Mrs. Patmore," Charles began cautiously, "I'm feeling quite full at the moment. Your dinner was superb, and I enjoyed it immensely, but I'm not sure I have room for the tart just now. Would you be terribly put out if Mrs. Hughes and I had our dessert a little later on?"

"Oh, I'm quite sure you'll be having your dessert later on, but I'll leave the tart, as well. All right, then. You two lovebirds enjoy the rest of your evening," said the cook.

"Thank you, Mrs. Patmore. Everything was wonderful," Elsie said sincerely.

"Yes," echoed Charles. "Quite wonderful indeed. You've really outdone yourself."

"Well, it's not every day that the butler proposes to the housekeeper, she accepts, and I find the two of them kissing like young lovers – and in broad daylight, no less! As a matter of fact, to my recollection, this is the first time it's happened. I just thought we ought to mark the occasion," she pointed out sensibly. Then turning to Mr. Barrow, Alfred, and James, she said, "All right, lads. Come on, then. Gather up the rest of these items, and let's leave them to it."

Everyone said good night, and Elsie and Charles were left alone. Charles walked over to the phonograph and started up a record. He returned to Elsie, held his hand out to her, and inquired politely, "Mrs. Hughes, may I have this dance?"

"Certainly, Mr. Carson. I'd be delighted," she answered, barely able to contain her excitement.

In all their years together, Elsie had never danced with Charles. Although they were sometimes compelled to attend local fairs and village dances to supervise the young maids and footmen, neither ever participated in the actual dancing. Of course, they were required to open the Servants' Ball with Lord and Lady Grantham. Occasionally, during the ball, one of the other men of the family, maybe Mr. Branson or - God rest him - Mr. Matthew, would ask Elsie to dance, or it would be "suggested" that Charles ask one of the other ladies, perhaps Mrs. Crawley or one of the young ladies. But they had never danced with each other - until tonight.

She took his hand, and he led her to the middle of the floor. She placed her hand on his shoulder, and he positioned his hand on the small of her back. Her sitting room was rather a small area for a proper dance, but they made do.

Charles was a marvelous dancer. He led her effortlessly around the cramped space as if the two of them had been dancing with each other for years. They moved together perfectly, and it felt natural. As they danced, Charles drew her nearer, and she smiled up at him and rested her head on his chest. Elsie was content in his arms.

Charles leaned down and whispered to her, "I have been in love with you since your third day at Downton."

"My third day?" she asked, curious.

"Yes, your third day. The day you arrived, I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. You earned my admiration as soon as I set eyes on you. Your second day was particularly trying, if I remember correctly. One catastrophe followed another, yet you managed them all commendably. I thought you were the most capable housekeeper I would ever have the good fortune to meet, and by the end of the second day, you had garnered my respect. But your third day here … " he recalled dreamily, "well, that was the day I surrendered my heart to you."

"I had just reprimanded a new footman," he went on, "and he had taken it badly. You brought him here into your parlor and comforted him. Your door was open, and I heard the whole exchange. You managed to console him without belittling me. You defended my actions, yet you encouraged him and sent him away greatly relieved. A kind word, a gentle touch, and a caring smile made all the difference for him. After witnessing that, how could I help but love such a thoughtful, compassionate soul? If I hadn't been so afraid of losing you entirely, I would have told you then and there."

"Charles," began Elsie with tears in her eyes, "it may interest you to know that that was the very day you won my heart, as well. I seem to recall that the dressing down you gave that poor footman involved a malfunctioning collar stud. You may have been a bit harsh with him at first, but you were very lenient later on. I saw you take him aside. You helped him fix his collar and taught him to fasten it properly. You even gave the lad a set of your own studs to wear that evening."

"Of course, I had thought you were exceedingly handsome, and I had known how efficiently you ran the house, so I held you in high esteem from the start. But it wasn't until I saw you with that young man that I lost my heart. I knew then that underneath that gruff exterior, there was a kind and loving man," she finished fondly.

The music stopped, but neither made any move to sit down. Instead, Elsie slid her arms around Charles's neck, and he held his arms around her waist. He gazed at her lovingly, and the devotion evident in his look brought fresh tears to her eyes. She stretched up to kiss him, and he let her lips explore his before he reciprocated. When he did, his touch was so reverent that Elsie thought she might cry again. Charles kissed her as if she were some delicate, precious treasure that he feared damaging, and he made her feel loved and cherished.

"Elsie?" asked Charles, resting his cheek against hers and speaking softly into her ear. "What you said earlier, about the effect my kisses have on you … Did you really mean it?"

She pulled her head back to look at him.

"Of course I did! You make me quite dizzy," she assured him. "Why do you ask? Do you not believe me?"

He shifted uncomfortably and cast his eyes down.

"It's just that … well … never having done it before … I only wondered … if I were doing it properly," he said.

"Well," Elsie replied with a chuckle, "never having done it before, myself, I wouldn't know!"

"Never?" he asked, surprised. "Not even … your Mr. Burns?"

"No, Charles," she answered seriously. "Not even Mr. Burns." Then she added playfully, "What kind of girl do you think I am, going around kissing every man who asks me to marry him? I make it a practice to kiss only the man I'm going to marry."

Charles looked relieved and smiled to hear that.

"Oh, Charles. I don't know whether we're doing it 'properly,' but honestly, I don't care. It makes me very, very happy, and if you're happy, too, then nothing else matters," Elsie concluded.

"I am happy," he confirmed. "Happier than I ever thought I could be. A day ago, I feared I had destroyed our friendship, and tonight I am secure in the knowledge that my best friend and true love will soon be my wife." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and said, "Now, didn't you just say something about practicing kissing the man you're going to marry?"

"That's not exactly what I said, Dear," she laughed, "but I won't argue."

After many blissful minutes of "practicing," Charles addressed another issue.

"Elsie, Love," he said, "after all this activity, I find I've developed quite an appetite again. I think we've waited long enough. Would you care to help me finish off the treacle tart?"

As they tucked into the delicious pastry, Elsie had to agree that Charles was right: nothing ever tasted so good as something you'd been looking forward to all day.