I's been ages since I've posted something, but this is a little birthday gift for my wonderful beta kouw. I hope you'll have a wonderful birthday with lots of gifts that are a lot more special than this one!

Charles Carson took a deep breath as he stepped out of their little cottage. He allowed the crisp, clean air to flow into his lungs before he exhaled again slowly.

It was a glorious morning and the sun felt wonderful as it warmed his face. Somewhere near a blackbird clamoured – probably because one of the stray cats constantly roaming the area had gotten too close to its nest.

He began to leisurely stroll along the little path. Originally without a clear goal to his wanderings, his legs soon led him along a way he had trotted upon countless times. With every step he took, his shoulders relaxed a little more.

What a couple of days it had been. First there had been a fierce early spring storm which had damaged their roof (the one they had replaced only a few years ago; the repair cost still causing his stomach to clench) and then there had been urgent knocking on their door in the middle of the night four days ago. When he had opened the door cautiously, a dishevelled John Bates had pressed little Grace Bates into his arms before stammering something about early labour and his wife being in hospital.

It had been Elsie who had calmly reassured the distraught man that they'd be more than happy to look after Grace and who had then relieved her husband of the fussing child, soothing the little girl until she had fallen asleep.

His darling wife, who had still been fast asleep when he had left the cottage. He couldn't begrudge her the little lie-in. Not after she had spent the last four days looking after him and little Grace while making regular trips to the hospital where Anna Bates was kept under watch to prevent another bout of early labour.

Anna had finally been released from hospital yesterday with the stern order to cease work immediately and to spend as much time as possible with her feet up. Thankfully both Lady Mary, her husband and her parents had long planned on taking a trip to France this week and his Lordship had graciously forgone his need for a valet. Lady Mary had already been prepared to rely on Miss Baxter's services for the trip as well as for the time when Anna was delivered from her second child.

When the Abbey came into view on the horizon, he couldn't help the small smile that broke out on his face. No matter how long it has been since his retirement, seeing the proud and imposing building still filled him with pride.

He entered through the servant's entrance and was momentarily surprised by the quietness that met him. However, he well remembered those few days of welcomed reprieve when the family decided to spend some time at other estates or abroad. With only Lady Edith in residence, the servants had considerably less to do during the day (he hoped they used the time to get some thorough cleaning done, but it was not his place to worry about these things anymore).

The former Butler made his way to the kitchen where he met Downton's esteemed cook.

"Mr. Carson, how lovely to see you," Mrs. Patmore greeted him with a broad grin – she didn't look at all surprised to see him. "Gave it away, did she? She's really losing her touch."

"Who gave what away?" Mr. Carson asked, his forehead creased with confusion as he watched the Cook bustling round the kitchen, clearing away the remnants of breakfast.

"Your wife. I can't believe she slipped up and told you about her surprise," Mrs. Patmore explained jovially as she walked to the store cupboard. She returned moments later, carrying an enormous basket. Charles, ever the gentleman, instantly stepped up to her and relieved her of her heavy burden.

"I'm afraid I don't follow. What kind of surprise?" he put the basket on the countertop, resisting the temptation to peek inside.

"Well for your… oh God," Beryl Patmore broke off her amused rambling with a start, her eyes wide. "Don't tell me you forgot!"

"Forgot what? For Heaven's sake Mrs. Patmore, would you finally tell me what you are talking about?"

"It's your anniversary. Your wife ordered all your favourite cakes and dishes to surprise you. I thought she had slipped up and told you to fetch them," the Cook explained coldly, obviously disappointed that the former Butler could have forgotten about the day he had married her closest friend.

Charles stared at Mrs. Patmore in horror while the Cook's words slowly sunk in.

It was true. Their fourth wedding anniversary and he had simply forgotten it.

"You must help me, Mrs. Patmore," he stammered.

"How? It's Saturday. By the time you've reached any stores that might offer something even remotely close to what your wife deserves for putting up with you will be closed!" she knew it was an unkind thing to do, but she couldn't help adding to his guilty conscience.

"I will think of something. You must keep her busy. When she comes to pick up the basket, you must distract her so that she doesn't notice that I'm still out and about."

"And how on Earth am I supposed to do that?" Mrs. Patmore cried. She hurried after Mr. Carson, who was hastily making his way back towards the servant's entry.

"Make something up, pretend to be having a lumbago," he shouted and raced through the door, leaving a disgruntled Mrs. Patmore in his wake.

Mrs. Patmore's words proved to be prophetic as he hurried from one store to the next in Ripon. The only establishments still open were tea shops and seeing as his wife had already ordered his favourite foods for their anniversary, bringing more cakes and pastries seemed pointless.

He had seen a lovely, understated silver necklace the last time he had been in Ripon. He had vowed to buy it for their anniversary the next time he was in town – when his wife wasn't there with him and he stood at least the slightest chance that she didn't immediately spot his secret.

But then the whole fiasco with the roof had happened and even if the store had still been open, he wouldn't have had the money to buy the necklace. With a deep, dejected sigh he acknowledged the sad truth that he wouldn't manage to find a gift for his wife and made his way back to Downton.

By the time he finally arrived back at their cottage, it was considerably later than he had planned – and he had nothing more to show for his day's efforts than a flimsy bunch of wildflowers, which he had picked on his way back from the bus stop.

"Elsie?" he called out when he entered the cottage and was startled when his wife shot out of their kitchen, her coat and hat in hands.

"Where on Earth have you been?" she demanded angrily, her lips tightly drawn, her face pale.

"I left you a note," he replied feebly.

"Saying you were taking a short walk and would be back for lunch. Do you know what time it is?"

"I'm sorry, I just…," he broke off, not quite sure how to continue.

Her stern expression softened when she noticed his slumped shoulders and downcast eyes.

"Come now, it's not as bad as that. I was simply worried," she soothed but he didn't perk up. If anything, he looked even more dejected.

"It's not that… I … Elsie you know that I love you, don't you?" he asked. His brown eyes gazed imploringly into her blue ones.

"Of course I do. Charles, what is it? You're beginning to have me worried."

He took a step closer to her and produced the little bunch of wildflowers from behind his bowler. "I know you deserve so much more and I had planned so much more but with everything that has happened in the last couple of days I simply… that is to say it slipped my…. not that I could ever forget how happy you've made me that day… ." he exhaled loudly in frustration before pushing the wildflowers towards her. "Happy anniversary, my love."

She stared at the flowers with wide eyes and with every second that passed without a reaction from her, he felt worse. Of course she'd be angry. Or worse – disappointed.

Then she suddenly reached out and took the flowers from him, bringing them to her face and inhaling their sweet spring scent. "They are lovely, thank you." She worried her lower lip for a moment before looking up at him again. "I'm so sorry, my dear, but I…. with Grace here and the roof… I forgot," she admitted sheepishly.

"What do you mean, you forgot?" he asked in confusion.

She hastened to make amends for her mistake. "Charles, I hope you know how happy you make me. This marriage has been more than I had ever thought it could be and I didn't mean to hurt you. I love you."

"But Mrs. Patmore said you had ordered a cake," he stammered, still not quite sure what was going on.

"I did a fortnight ago, but I forgot to pick it up. It has completely slipped my mind. I'm so sorry."

He couldn't help it, he started laughing – a deep, full belly laugh that brought tears to his eyes.

"Charles?"

"I'm so sorry, my dear," he replied and wiped at his eyes before launching into the story of how he had spent the afternoon, of his panic when Mrs. Patmore had informed him about his wife's planned surprise, of how he had frantically tried to find a gift for her but how all the stores had of course been closed. By the time he had finished, husband and wife were laughing together.

He opened his arms and she immediately stepped into his embrace, inhaling his unique scent as he cradled her closer to him.

"What a pair we are," she chuckled and felt his quiet laughter rumble through his chest.

"The best, me thinks."

She looked up in amusement and happily accepted a brief kiss before bringing her hand up to his cheek and caressing his face lovingly. "The very best," she said gently before their lips met for another – much longer kiss.