A/N: Oh my loves, it's the end of the road for this fic. It's been a lovely journey, hasn't it? In between the gentleness and germs something beautiful bloomed. I truly am so grateful for all your amazing reviews and encouragement.

Thank you, Dee. I think you know how much I appreciate all you have done for me/my fic the past weeks. Thank you.

"We should get back inside, Mr Carson."

She doesn't mean it, not at all. She wants his arms around her waist forever, she wants him to never stop kissing her, but duty calls (his, not hers; she doesn't have to oversee the serving of this afternoon's tea - they are home, finally, and September is being remarkably good to them, giving them the opportunity to sneak off outside now and then).

"Hmm… You're probably right," he admits, but doesn't move. His hands are holding onto her dress, unwilling to let go.

"No, but really, Charles…"

His name falls from her lips so easily, even with his kiss still lingering.

"Elsie, they can wait five minutes…"

When he uses her name she knows he's fighting his impulse to drop her and run. They are still finding their balance. When darkness falls, things are easy. Their evenings have not changed much: they share glasses of wine, cups of tea. They speak of staffing issues, of illegible ledgers (hers - usually).

Sometimes she finds herself in his lap at the mercy of his tender hands and loving kisses.

They speak of the future sometimes, but not much.

At present they are standing in the fading sunlight in the courtyard, kissing and touching like they are a second housemaid and a young footman falling in love for the first time.

Perhaps they are. Perhaps this is the real thing and Alice and Joe were just youthful mistakes - a mistake Elsie saw in time - telling the good, kind farmer she could not live her life on a farm. Alice was the one who held Charles back until he stitched up the wound that was his broken heart.

His lips are on hers and his scent is in her nose. Their tongues dance, her heart is beating swiftly and her hands travel from his arms to his neck where her fingers find purchase in his hair. There's pomade, but she doesn't care; she only cares that he doesn't stop, and he is turning her, manoeuvring her, making her step back once, twice until the wall is at her back and he presses himself against her. His bulk is heavy against her smaller frame and it's unspeakably erotic to find herself under him this way. It's not too far a stretch of her imagination to see herself under him in bed, white sheets under her and on top of him, his hips caught by her thighs, her breasts against his chest. Her thoughts make her heart pound, a rush of something is between her legs, making her flex and tighten the muscles of her sex.

"Mrs Hughes?" A voice calls from the house.

They break away and smile at each other. He lowers his head to hers and whispers in her ear:

"I think it's time you became Mrs Carson… you know… officially."

His sudden words knock all the sense from her - she does not answer him. She watches him leave (she thinks there might be a spring in his step that wasn't there before, a lightness about him because of what he's just said, and her heart is pounding hard) and she catches his smile when he looks over his shoulder.

It's late - most of the staff has gone up for a well-deserved night's rest and her sherry stands untouched on the table.

"Are you sure?" she asks.

"You're one to ask," he volleys back.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Elsie looks at him. He is on his knees in front of her, her hand in his.

"You got us married off a good while ago. I vividly remember it. There was a nurse, the smell of disinfectant in the air…"

Elsie blushes. She isn't used to the tables being turned, to Charles teasing her. It's making her feel warm inside, tingly. The kind of excited she feels when he presses against her as they kiss.

"You are being very cheeky, Mr Carson."

His other hand is on her thigh. She finds it hard to concentrate; his words are going round in her mind and she wonders if he is really serious.

"Then say you will, Mrs Hughes. Say "I do" and be my Mrs Carson forever, not just in the blinding white halls of the hospital."

Elsie swallows hard. Everything inside her is screaming 'yes', but nothing seems to come from her mouth. All she can do is nod, first almost imperceptibly, then rapidly, biting her lip quite hard to refrain from crying.

He gets back on his feet (they both ignore the cracking sound - it's of no consequence) and suddenly she is in his arms, kissing him and he holds her close.

He sits down and she curls up in his lap - as far as her corset allows, tucking herself into his arms and it's all there:

His chest to her back.

His arm around her waist.

His breath in her hair.

It's as wonderful as she's dreamed it would be, with the added loveliness of it being real. Of his heart pounding steadily under her hand, his lips on her forehead. She leans back a bit - curling up means she is unable to breathe thanks to the unyielding steel boning of her corset and he looks puzzled until she kisses him again.

Quite hard, insistent.

"I love you…" he says and a tear falls on her cheek. He kisses it away.

"I love you too," she whispers.

Their kiss lingers, becomes more heated. His fingers dance over the soft skin of her collarbone and start searching for the fastenings of her dress.

And she lets him, all thoughts of chaste and appropriate courtship have left her. She can feel him grow under her - it's the most thrilling feeling. She grabs hold of his collar, wanting to be closer and while they kiss, she lets out the most wanton moan, surprising herself.

The knock on the door surprises her even more.

How clear it must be from the way her dress is creased and the shine in Mr Carson's eyes that Anna has interrupted something. But Elsie is so pleased to see her girl - her happiness clouding her normally so observant personality.

"Anna!" she says, giddy, her spirits almost too high. "I didnae know you were still here!"

Anna's naughty smirk is only making Elsie feel more wonderful.

"So it's official then?" Anna asks and Elsie's smile bursts free and she grabs Anna's hand.

"He's just asked."

"And you've accepted?"

There's the voice of the Butler and Elsie turns to him, not letting go of Anna.

"She did indeed, Mrs Bates."

His formality makes both women laugh and Elsie pulls Anna into a soft cuddle, her hand on the rosy cheek of the Lady's Maid.

"Should you not be off? Mr Bates will be worried."

"He's waiting for me. He always does when it's dark," Anna explains and the words pull Elsie back to grim reality .

"Best not keep him waiting too long, lass," Elsie tenderly pushes a loose lock of hair behind Anna's ear. "Was there anything that you wanted to discuss, something so important it couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

Mr Carson is making himself invisible in the background - he is good at that, but Elsie feels his presence vividly.

"I suppose it could wait until tomorrow, you should be celebrating," Anna says with a soft smile.

"If you've waited all night to talk to me, I'll gladly listen," Elsie says sincerely. Anna's hand is gripping hers tighter.

"Is there anything wrong?" She asks then, worry gripping her again - it seems it's ever present these days.

"Not wrong... And I've wanted to talk to you for a few days now, but I never seem to catch you alone," Anna says with her usual frankness.

"Oh dear, I am sorry. I'll have Mr Carson leave if you want," she offers, throwing Charles a look when he starts protesting.

"No, it's alright. Since you've looked after me so well and we've had our talk and everything and you pretended to be my parents, I just… No, Mr Carson is very welcome to stay..." Anna pauses and Elsie's heart is drumming, she is anticipating the words that come in rapid succession; the sentence falling from Anna's mouth:

"I think I may be expecting."

THE END