An overdue prompt chapter for tgrlady, written ages ago and forgotten about (well, I forgot for whom I'd written it but not that I had it still unpublished ... I had changed the quote a bit, but I hope she doesn't mind). Seemed fitting to hold it until today. xxx

CSotA

New Year's Eve, 1924

Downton Abbey is eerily quiet this New Year's Eve. Anna and Mr. Bates are, understandably, at home and celebrating together, and Daisy, Andrew, and Thomas have all been under the weather since pushing through Christmas. A somber tone had descended upon the family upon sending the Bransons off to America* and none of them felt much like celebrating.

And so it is that Elsie finds herself in her office, sitting at her desk and scratching away at a list and re-adding her figures at fifteen minutes to midnight. She'd intended to do it all several days prior, but her thoughts had understandably been otherwise occupied.

"There you are," she murmurs, happily finding her mistake, fixing it, and seeing that everything balances out perfectly at last. Leaning back and stretching as far as her chair will allow, she feels a satisfying pop in her shoulder blade, in the spot that always seems to catch because the infernal corset barely allows her to move.

The door creaks open, and Elsie turns with a smile; she'd heard his footsteps in the corridor but had paid them no mind - a miracle, really, given that the reason she's finally sorting her sums on New Year's Eve and hadn't done so on Boxing Day has very much to do with thoughts of the man now standing before her and very little to do with having been otherwise overly busy.

"I thought I'd bring us a little something," Charles says quietly, holding up the two champagne glasses and bottle.

Elsie rises and joins him by the small table - their table, she thinks of it now, and she wonders fleetingly if she'll be able to bring it to their cottage once they marry. It's not hers, per se, but it's so much a part of their life together that it seems almost poor form not to keep it forever. Not that either of them plan to retire, but still ...

The pop of the cork startles her back to her present surroundings.

She watches as he steadily pours champagne into each glass, lifts one, and hands it to her. He brushes his fingertips deliberately over hers, conveying so many things that he doesn't know precisely how to say, but Elsie understands most of them anyhow and blushes faintly.

"It still feels surreal," she tells him, and he gives her that sweet, boyish half-smile that she adores so much. They both know she means their engagement.

"You said yes," he reminds her, and her laughter is a bit nervous but very light in the quiet of her sitting room.

"I did!"

He picks up his own glass and pops open his pocket watch. "Two minutes," he tells her, and she nods.

"You didn't think I'd accept you," she marvels. "How on Earth you could have worried about that ..."

"To be fair, you admitted that you thought I'd never ask." A truth, and she doesn't deny it now any more than she would have a week ago.

"Well," she breathes, "here we are."

They stand awkwardly for several beats, still so unsure how to navigate the newness of their understanding.

"His Lordship seemed pleased," Charles manages. "And her Ladyship."

"They did. I was pleased we're both being asked to stay on."

"And the cottage," he says, and now his smile is broad. He's proud that they're so very highly valued, so appreciated by the family. It was made very clear to them both that the cottage would be provided free of charge by the estate, including all necessary repairs prior to them moving in once wed, and that any protestations would fall on deaf ears as far as Lord Grantham was concerned.

"That was overly generous," Elsie replies, still uncomfortable with it.

"It's their gift to us," he says simply.

She nods. He's always had a higher opinion of the family's generosity than she has, except for that one time when she was ill ... But she cannot allow her mind to wander there tonight. Not now, when they're thirty seconds from the year in which they'll be married, and in which myriad other new things will be coming her way.

"I know."

He holds out his watch so that she can make out the ticking of the hands.

"Three ... two ... one," she says quietly, and she turns to him. "Happy New Year, Charles."

She sees his eyes widen briefly; it's the first time she's used his Christian name since the time he was ill with Spanish flu and she'd been attempting to bring him around from a deep, dangerous sleep.

He clinks his glass with hers and raises his eyebrows. "Happy New Year. I'm looking forward to this one."

They drink, and Elsie hums approvingly as the bubbles dance across her tongue. And then, before she can stop the words from tumbling from her lips, she hears herself voice them.

"Well, aren't you going to kiss me?"

His breath catches in his throat, and his heart pounds in his chest.

Well, he tells himself. Aren't you, old man?

With one hand still firmly clutching the glass, he lifts the other to her shoulder.

"Would that be all right?"

She looks at him incredulously. "We're going to be married. I think a kiss might just be permissible."

She watches as he leans in, and then her eyes flutter closed. She feels his lips touch hers hesitantly, then he pulls away before kissing her again, a little more assuredly this time, lingering for just a moment before backing away once again.

"It's a long time since I've been kissed like that," she whispers, elated.

"It'll be a year full of new things," he whispers back, and Elsie feels him squeeze her shoulder before allowing his hand to drop. She sees her opportunity and takes it, catching his fingers in hers and brushing her thumb across the back of his hand.

"All of them good, I hope," she adds.

"I have no doubt that they will be."

Neither notices the cook as she stands in the shadows by the kitchen and gives them a sweet smile.

"Happy New Year, my friends," she whispers into the corridor. "It's about time."

The End

*I have no idea precisely when they left, so we're going to assume it was right after Christmas. :-) Maybe I need a rewatch.