"Will you be going, Mr. Carson?"

Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes were making their way back from Sunday morning church when they noticed the candy red and white fabric announcing the arrival of the traveling fair.

"Have you known me to attend the fair before, Mrs. Hughes?"

"No. But I had hoped you might allow yourself a little fun for once, Mr. Carson."

Mr. Carson bristled at the idea. "I will quite happily remain at the house while you and the others attend the fair."

Mrs. Hughes stopped, "The fair lasts more than one day, Mr. Carson. I could certainly stay home one evening so you may go."

Mr. Carson turned back to her, "No, no. I have better things to spend my money on, Mrs. Hughes."

Disappointed, Mrs. Hughes shook her head and quickened her step to meet him, "Suit yourself."

In truth, Mr. Carson did desire to attend the fair, but only if Mrs. Hughes was on his arm. Knowing that one of them should be in residence while the other was out, he dismissed any idea of going.

The servant's hall bristled with excitement as word of the fair spread. Mr. Carson was forced to shush them before announcing, "Anyone wanting to go to the fair will need permission from either myself or Mrs. Hughes and it would be best not to have the entire staff out of the house at one time. However, we will try to accommodate everyone who wishes to attend."

Mrs. Patmore stood in the doorway stirring a salad dressing. "Will Daisy and I have a chance to go, Mr. Carson?"

Mr. Carson inhaled deeply through his nose, "Of course, Mrs. Patmore. You and Daisy will need to decide which evening you would like to attend. I would like to have at least one of you in the house at all times."

"Excuse me." The entire staff leaped to attention and Mrs. Patmore almost dropped her bowl as Lord Grantham joined her in the doorway.

"Carson, I am sorry to interrupt, but Lady Grantham and I had a discussion on the way home from church in regards to the fair, and we would like to invite the entire staff to attend together on Friday evening. You all work very hard throughout the week and we thought it only appropriate that you should all enjoy the opportunity to attend the fair. Lady Grantham will give you more details, Mrs. Hughes. "

Mrs. Hughes was quick with a, "Thank you, milord."

Mr. Carson nodded, "Very good, milord." He waited until Lord Grantham had returned upstairs before issuing the warning, "Lord and Lady Grantham are being exceedingly generous. Please remember that we are representatives of this house and this family. Your behavior at the fair should reflect this at all times."

"So much for a good time." Mr. Barrow mumbled under his breath. Mrs. Hughes gave him a reproachful look which only elicited a smirk into his coffee cup.

The meal finished, the servants rose to begin further preparations for the family's Sunday luncheon.

Mrs. Hughes put her hand on Mr. Carson's arm. "Looks like you will be attending your first fair, Mr. Carson. Don't worry, "she smiled,"I will make sure you don't have too much fun." He could only muster a dismayed "humph." He watched her walk away and was forced to bite the side of his mouth to keep a smile at bay.

The week crept by as the staff looked forward to Friday night. Lady Grantham had met with Mrs. Hughes to assure her that the family would be dining with Mrs. Crawley that evening and then joining the staff at the fair, along with Nanny and the children.

With Lady Grantham's consent, Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore decided to make even more of the event by planning a picnic meal that the staff could enjoy just outside the fairgrounds. The menu consisting of sandwiches wrapped in wax paper and drinks in glass bottles, there would be little clean up involved.

Mrs. Hughes failed to ignite any outward signs of enthusiasm about the fair in Mr. Carson. He remained stoic whenever the topic was raised. He had agreed to accompany Mrs. Hughes, but insisted they would attend only in order to keep an eye on the staff.

On Thursday evening, he approached the kitchen in search of Mrs. Patmore when he overheard the voices of Mrs. Hughes and the cook coming from the parlor.

"But you won't have any fun," Mrs. Patmore insisted.

"Oh, I don't know. I suppose trying to get him to have fun will be my fun."

"You have an odd idea of what fun is, if you ask me."

Mrs. Hughes laughed, "You never know, Mrs. Patmore. Perhaps the fair will bring out a side of Mr. Carson we have never seen."

"We have both known Mr. Carson for almost twenty years, Mrs. Hughes. That man has as many sides as a pancake lying on the floor."

"Now, now…" Both Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Hughes were giggling.

Mr. Carson looked around to make sure no one had seen him and quickly made his way upstairs. He knew the staff thought him stiff and serious, but to hear Mrs. Patmore carry on and Mrs. Hughes giggle with her was more than he could bear. He avoided both of them the rest of the evening.

Given his abrupt departure, Mr. Carson failed to hear what Mrs. Hughes had proceeded to say to Mrs. Patmore. "What about our day at the seaside? He rolled up his pants and waded out into the water with me. He even held my hand."

Mrs. Patmore considered this for a moment. "That's true. I suppose if anyone could show him how to have fun it would be you." Mrs. Patmore conceded.

Mrs. Hughes blushed, unable to deny it.

Early the next morning, Mrs. Hughes was making her way to the servant's hall when she was stopped by Mr. Mosley.

"Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Carson asked me to tell you that he wasn't feeling well and is going to stay in bed."

"Is he all right, Mr. Mosley? Should I call Dr. Clarkson?"

"I asked him about calling the doctor, but he said it was just a head cold and that he would be fine. I thought I would take him some porridge and hot tea."

"Thank you, Mr. Mosley. And please keep me informed as to his condition throughout the day."

Mr. Mosley nodded and made his way towards the kitchen. Mr. Carson sick? The last time he had been ill, it had taken a temperature of 103, as well as the intervention of both Lady Mary and Dr. Clarkson to keep him in bed.

Mrs. Hughes gritted her teeth, "If he is doing this to avoid going to that bloody fair…"

Lunchtime came and a pacing Mr. Carson barely made it back under the covers as Mr. Mosley knocked and entered with a tray of soup and a pitcher of water.

"Thank you, Mr. Mosley."

"Is there anything else I can get you? Mrs. Hughes asked again if you would like her to call Dr. Clarkson."

Mr. Carson summoned a not very convincing cough and shook his head no. "The soup will be help enough, Mr. Mosley."

"Would you like me to stay this evening?" It was a kind offer, but not genuine. Mr. Mosley was desperate to accompany Mrs. Baxter to the fair.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Mosley. I am sure I will be fast asleep by the time you all head to the fair. No need for my cold to keep you from having a nice evening. Just keep an eye on things for me. Let me know if anyone acts at all out of line."

Mr. Mosley's smile was filled with relief. "Yes, Mr. Carson. I will." Mr. Mosley practically danced out of the room.

Mr. Carson felt guilty. He was letting the family down by not policing the staff at the fair, but convinced himself that Mrs. Hughes could certainly do that. She didn't need a boring old pancake spoiling her fun. He picked up the book from his bedside, but not even Sherlock Holmes could alleviate his bad mood.

Mrs. Patmore packed the last of the sandwiches into the basket. "Are you sure I can't change your mind?"

Mrs. Hughes handed a basket of fresh fruit to Mr. Mosley and a basket of muffins to Daisy. "No, no. I will be fine. It will be nice to have a quiet house to myself. I have some letters to write and if Mr. Carson needs anything…"

Mrs. Patmore whispered, "I don't think he is really sick. I think he is just determined not to go to this silly fair."

Mrs. Hughes smiled at her. "I know he is stubborn, but I don't think he is that stubborn."

"He would give many a mule a run for his money, Mrs. Hughes."

Mrs. Hughes couldn't fight a smile. "Oh, be off with you. Have a wonderful time and bring me back a candied apple."

Mrs. Patmore patted her on the arm with her free hand and made her way towards the back door. Mrs. Hughes followed and waved to the few members of staff who hadn't yet boarded the wagon bound for the village. She shut the door and let out a sigh.

She laid a tray with two bowls of soup, a small teapot, lemon, two cups and saucers, two muffins, a glass of orange juice, a Beecham's powder, a stack of clean handkerchiefs and the day's paper. She had stopped to rest twice on her way up to the men's floor. She stopped again to catch her breath outside of Mr. Carson's room. She heard a shuffle and the bed springs squeak as she knocked on the door.

Mr. Carson slumped down under the blankets and closed his eyes as Mrs. Hughes managed to open the door while balancing the heavy tray.

Noticing his eyes flutter, she set the tray on the table next to the bed. "Good evening, Mr. Carson. I thought I would join you for dinner seeing as we are the only two in the house."

Mr. Carson rubbed his eyes and pushed himself up a little in the bed.

"This is most kind, Mrs. Hughes, but why didn't you go to the fair with the others?"

"And leave you alone when you are sick? I couldn't do that Mr. Carson." She began to look around the room. "Where are your handkerchiefs?"

"My what?" Mr. Carson glanced around.

"You have a cold. I thought you would have some soiled handkerchiefs that would need laundering. I brought you a stack of new."

"I…." Mr. Carson glanced around the bed nervously, "…Mr. Mosley must have taken them."

She eyed him suspiciously and picked up his water glass. "I brought you a Beecham's powder. Would you like it now or after dinner?"

"Oh, after is fine."

"Very well. I thought I could rub some camphor on the bottoms of your feet if you would like. It is so helpful in clearing out a stuffed nose and chest."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to trouble you."

Mr. Carson watched as she began to straighten things that didn't need to be straightened around his room. "You actually don't sound all that congested. You haven't coughed or sneezed since I have been here. Hopefully the day in bed has given you some much needed rest."

"Oh, yes. I will be right as rain tomorrow." He faked a little cough.

Mrs. Hughes spun and faced him. "Mr. Carson, I have been a housekeeper for half my life. I know when a member of my staff is pretending to be ill to get out of work, but I have never known someone pretend to be ill to get out of having fun!"

He felt like the time when he was five years old and his mother had caught him in their pantry eating the cookies she had made for a church picnic.

He slouched back down so that his blanket obscured his mouth. "I thought it was unfair for you to be saddled with me when you could be having a good time."

"Pull down your blanket, I can't understand you." While bewildered at his deception, Mrs. Hughes couldn't help but notice how sweet and very childlike Mr. Carson looked with a lock of hair resting on his forehead, his covers pulled up so high she could only make out his downcast eyes and the red and white ticking of his pajama collar around his ears.

He stretched his chin over the edge of the blankets. "I didn't want you to be stuck with me because I don't know how to have fun."

"That is ridiculous."

"Mrs. Patmore certainly thinks it is true."

"What?"

"I was looking for her last night and I overheard the two of you talking and laughing. She said I was a pancake."

Mrs. Hughes bit her bottom lip.

"You are laughing now!" Mr. Carson rolled over and faced the wall.

"I am not laughing, Mr. Carson. And you are not a pancake." It took all of her might not to giggle. "Mr. Carson."

"Go away."

"Mr. Carson…" Mrs. Hughes pulled a chair close to his bedside and rested her elbows on the bed, her face in her hands. "Mr. Carson, I didn't go to the fair this evening because the only reason I wanted to go at all was to go with you."

Mr. Carson remained staring at the wall. "You are just saying that."

"What do I have to gain from saying that?" She felt him shift slightly in the bed, but he still refused to turn over and face her.

"Do you know the last really good day I had, Mr. Carson? The seaside. The day at the seaside, wading through the water and holding your hand."

He shifted slightly so that she could make out his profile.

"I thought you had enjoyed the day as much as I had, but I guess I was wrong."

His shift to face her was so abrupt, he would have rolled into her had she not jerked back.

He looked at her seriously, "It was one of the best days of my life, Mrs. Hughes." He slid his arm out from under the blanket and took her hand.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"Days are what we make them, Mr. Carson. I would like to have more good days. With you."

He studied her face. "I would like that very much, Mrs. Hughes."

She gave him a warm smile. "I'm sorry you overheard Mrs. Patmore being unkind, and I am sorry that I laughed. I am not sure how much you heard, but I did defend you."

"Apparently I missed that part of the conversation."

"Would you like to get up? No one else is in the house. There are sandwiches downstairs." She turned her head to look at the tray, "The soup is probably cold by now."

"I'll get dressed."

"Don't bother, Mr. Carson."

"But I feel a fool in my pajamas."

"Well, what if I feel a fool with you and change into my dressing gown?"

He couldn't help but chuckle, "Very well, Mrs. Hughes."

She grinned. "Very well. And you get to carry the tray down. I almost dropped the silly thing three times." He smiled and squeezed her hand.

They met in the kitchen, both in sleeping attire, dressing gown and slippers. Mrs. Hughes had even taken her hair down and worked it into her nightly braid.

"I am sorry I was dishonest today."

"We will say nothing more of it. What would you say to a glass of wine to go with our roast beef sandwiches, Mr. Carson? "

"Wonderful idea, Mrs. Hughes." Mr. Carson went to his pantry and returned with two glasses and a bottle of red.

"I will share my candied apple with you when Mrs. Patmore brings it back."

"I'm afraid we might be forced out of this Garden of Eden if I did."

Mrs. Hughes laughed. "I think that makes Mrs. Patmore the devil disguised as the serpent."

Mr. Carson laughed as he poured her glass of wine, "I think I'd rather be a pancake than the devil."

"Adam, would you like to move our Garden of Eden to my parlor?"

"That would be lovely, Eve." He smiled at her as they gathered their plates and wine.

"So, Mrs. Hughes, these good days…"

Mrs. Hughes looked up from her muffin and swallowed. "Yes, Mr. Carson?"

"Did you have something in mind?"

"Well…" She wasn't sure where he was going with this line of inquiry. "I suppose we would have to talk to Lord and Lady Grantham about taking some of our half days at the same time."

'I see." Mr. Carson examined the remnants at the bottom of his wine glass.

"And…perhaps we could try to set aside some time on nice days to maybe take walks together…"

"Yes…"

"And…" Mrs. Hughes was flustered. "Well, what do you think?"

Mr. Carson set his wine glass on the table and looked into Mrs. Hughes eyes. "I think we should retire, get married and buy a cottage so we can have all the good days we want."

Mrs. Hughes mouth dropped open.

"Do you have any strong opinions about that?"

She had to blink a few times. "Did you just ask me to marry you, Mr. Carson?"

He smiled at her. "I promise to do it properly, down on my knee and with a ring at some point, but yes, I suppose I did."

"Just like that?"

"Oh never just like that."

"Do you mean to say you have been thinking about marrying me before now?"

"Only since 1913. It was around this time of year. You met Joe Burns at the fair and he asked you to marry him. We sat at this very table and you began to tell me of his proposal, and I suddenly thought, 'You can't marry him. I love you too much. You can't leave me."

Mrs. Hughes was dumbfounded. He had known he loved her for ten years? "All this time?"

"All this time."

She remained in at state of shock.

He leaned towards her, "I still don't know what you think of the idea."

Mrs. Hughes shakily stood up and crossed to the fireplace. She paced for nearly a minute before she took a deep breath, "I had only been at Downton for a few months when one day I walked past the nursery to find you singing and dancing with the young ladies. You must remember? "

Mr. Carson nodded and smiled at the memory.

"Lady Mary and Lady Edith were twirling around you and Lady Sybil was standing on your feet as you held her hands. I remember you were singing "There are Fairies at the Bottom of My Garden." It was as if I were seeing a different person wearing your clothes. I knew you to be firm, but fair in how you ran the house, but seeing you with the young ladies, I could see how kind and loving you could also be.' She looked down at her clasped hands for a moment before she mustered the courage to look him in the eye. "Not a day has gone by when I haven't looked at you and seen that man dancing in the nursery. I have loved you every day and every night since then." Tears began to slide down her cheeks and her voice trembled as she told him, "I can think of nothing more I want than to be your wife."

Mr. Carson jumped out of his chair and took her in his arms. He pulled his head back to look her. She smiled through her tears. He used the sleeve of his dressing gown to dry her cheeks. Tipping her chin up with his fingers, he bent down and gently kissed her lips.

Standing on her tip toes, she placed her arms around his neck, "This is much more fun than any old fair."

He laughed and ran his hands down her back. Seeing her out of the strict confines of her corset was a treat, but touching her soft curves was pure joy.

"Kiss me again, Charles," she whispered. He took her face in both of his hands and began by taking her bottom lip between his lips. She opened her mouth as an invitation to deepen the kiss. He moved one hand behind her neck as the other swept down the side of her back to her waist. He tasted the wine and sweet muffin as his tongue began to gently dart into her mouth. She returned the kiss enthusiastically, the fingers of one hand caressing his neck, the other running through his hair.

He moved to her cheek and then to her ear, grazing her sensitive ear lobe with his teeth. She gasped at this new sensation.

He pulled her to him tightly and she was suddenly and keenly aware of the growing excitement below his waist. The dressing gown couldn't hide the fact that he had a substantial erection.

She shocked herself by not wanting to let go of him. Her instinct was, instead, to push her hips against him. She moved her hands to his chest and forced some space between the two of them.

"Elsie?"

"Charles, there is nothing I want more than to continue what we are doing, but we have to stop."

He knew in an instant that she must have felt his erection. He was mortified.

"I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean…you aren't…"

"Charles Carson, I quite frankly would go to bed with you this very minute, but that is not possible. The others will be back any moment and we just…well; we cannot until we are married. Do you agree?"

He was still embarrassed but her frank acknowledgement of wanting him as much as he wanted her was a relief and did nothing to curb his excitement. "You are right."

She smiled at him with tenderness and inhaled deeply, "I don't mean to be indelicate, but when do you want to tell the family about retiring?"

The realization that he wouldn't die in harness was new to him. "I don't know."

A small frown crossed her face. "I was hoping you would say tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"And that we would have the banns read as soon as possible."

Charles couldn't help but smile. Elsie Hughes was nothing if not a determined woman.

"Tomorrow it is. We may be married before the month is out."

She threw he arms around his neck. "Are you sure this is what you want? Are you really sure?"

"You. I want you." He kissed her soundly. The kissing would have continued had they not heard the sounds of the wagon pulling up on the gravel out back.

"You must get to your room!"

He quickly kissed her forehead before hurrying out the door. She had just gathered the plates and wine glasses and crossed to the kitchen when Mrs. Patmore bounded through door.

"Already in your nightgown?"

Mrs. Patmore had obviously had more to drink than the bottled lemonade they had packed for the picnic.

"Oh yes. Just clearing up before bed."

"Brought you a candied apple." She swayed a little as she dug in her basket. "I am so kind, I even brought one back for the patient. How is Mr. Carson?"

Mrs. Hughes smiled as she rinsed the wine glasses. "I think he will be right as rain tomorrow, Mrs. Patmore. Right as rain."

The cook gave her a curious look but was distracted by having to peel the paper off the candied apples.

"Thank you for the apple, Mrs. Patmore. Mr. Mosley can deliver Mr. Carson's. Was everyone well behaved?"

Mrs. Patmore peered into the sink. "Why are you washing two wine glasses?"

"Shhhh…." Let everyone get to bed and I will tell you."

Mrs. Patmore giggled with excitement.

Mr. Mosley had delivered the candied apple to a "sleeping" Mr. Carson, the family had been attended to and all of the staff, with the exception of the housekeeper and the cook, had gone to their rooms for the night.

Mrs. Hughes carried her cup of tea into the parlor, leaving the door ajar. Mrs. Patmore sipped a glass of water.

"How was the fair?"

"How was the fair?! It was a fair. We ate, we drank, we threw hoops…who cares about the fair! Why were you washing two wine glasses?"

Mrs. Hughes took a deep breath, "Well, after you left, I took up a tray to Mr. Carson." Mrs. Patmore nodded. "And found him to be not at all sick."

"I knew it!"

"Wait." Mrs. Hughes interrupted what was certain to be a tirade about Mr. Carson. "So I asked him why he would do such a thing and he said it was because he knew I would have a better time without him because he heard you call him a pancake."

Mrs. Patmore let out a squeak and covered her mouth.

"Don't laugh. He was very angry. It hurt his feelings."

"I'm sorry."

"Anyway, in an effort to make things right, I told him that the last good day I had had was with him at the seaside and that was why I especially wanted to go with him to the fair. "

Mrs. Patmore smiled as she nodded this time.

"That didn't do the trick, so I told him I thought he had enjoyed the day as well, but obviously that wasn't the case. He quickly assured me that it was "one of the best days of his life."

"Oh!" Mrs. Patmore cooed.

"We then agreed that we would both like to have more good days like the one at the seaside."

"And…?"

"And I talked him into joining me for sandwiches downstairs because our soup had gotten cold. He wanted to dress for dinner, but I insisted on putting on my dressing gown so he wouldn't feel foolish."

"And that is why you were dressed as you were when we came in. But where was Mr. Carson?"

"Patience, Mrs. Patmore."

Mrs. Patmore put her hand over her mouth to demonstrate that she would stop interrupting.

"So we had sandwiches and wine and we sat in here to eat and he asked me how I thought we could have more good days."

"Yes?" Mrs. Patmore was practically bouncing in her seat.

"And I said we could ask the family to let us occasionally take our half days together and maybe we could take walks when the weather is nice."

Mrs. Patmore looked disappointed. "Well, all right."

"And he said…" Suddenly the parlor door opened and Mr. Carson walked in.

"And I said why don't we just retire, buy a cottage and get married and have all the good days we want."

Mrs. Patmore squealed, jumped up and threw her arms around Mr. Carson. "Oh, Mr. Carson, you aren't a pancake!"

Mrs. Hughes smiled and took a sip of her tea. "Well, if you are, you are my pancake."