She was sitting in his pantry, uninvited but welcome as usual, the first traceable starting place where this all began. Her legs were crossed on his armchair and she was using it a king of island, sewing resting on her lap. She looked up as he walked in and smiled. To his dismay she looked exhausted, but it was a Sunday evening and he imagined that he didn't look much better himself. At least she looked genuinely happy, that was an improvement.

"What are you doing?" she sounded amused.

That was rather a good point; he realised he was standing stock still, just looking at her. To say something highly witty, he thought, would be in order just now.

"Wondering."

Clearly, he wasn't capable of wit at the moment.

"Wondering what?"

"Wondering how on earth I'm going to demand that you get into bed as soon as possible without it sounding like a proposition."

"Ah."

There was a pause.

"I'd rather have a proposal, if it's all the same to you, but I'm open to negotiations."

His mouth fell open: it was far too much of a coincidence. So too was the glint in her eye and the way, it seemed, that she was fighting back a giggle, probably at his expression.

"How did you...-?"

"Charles my dear, I would have thought you would have learned by now that the only way to keep a secret in this house is to project it from the rooftops. Then people will think it's not worth passing around. Sometimes I would swear that the walls have mouths."

He was still dumbstruck.

"I believe," she continued, hoping that he would recover the power of speech fairly soon, "That His Lordship told Her Ladyship of your intentions. Her Ladyship was at the time being waited on by Miss O'Brien, who told Mrs Patmore. She then told most of the kitchen staff, one of whom- probably Daisy- told Anna, who then told the young ladies. Mrs Crawley informs me that Lady Mary hurried excitedly into her room to convey the news to her. This morning I was congratulated, much to my confusion, by Mrs Crawley upon my engagement."

"So the whole house knew?" he asked.

She nodded grimly.

"I'm afraid so."

There was a pause.

"It also seems," she continued with an air of the mildest unease, "That somewhere along the line, one party took it upon themselves to make my answer for me. Daisy, I expect."

"You obviously don't want to. You would be foolish if you did, after the proposal that I've failed to give you. I'll wait, Elsie, it doesn't matter, I'll wait until you're ready."

"What are you talking about, you ridiculous man?"

Deadly silence. He hoped he hadn't misunderstood her, he charged himself to remain calm but his mind was whirring nineteen to the dozen. Did that mean she...?

"What?"

"You're going to have to prescribe me a fool, Charles Carson. I accept."

He could hardly believe his ears.

"Are you sure?" he asked, "It's not too soon?"

"I would have accepted you nearly every day for the past decade," she told him, "Admittedly, I would have asked you if you were drunk first but I still would have."

"What do you mean "nearly" every day?" he asked.

She smiled up at him.

"You know you can be right tyrant sometimes."

"Such as when?"

" Such as the time William had a tear in his jacket shoulder. Such as the time Thomas put out the wrong glasses for dinner. Such as the time when Anna was new and she accidentally went up the stairs to the men's rooms. Your own behaviour on that front hasn't exactly been exemplary of late."

"I didn't hear you complaining at the time," he told her, "And as I recall it was you who gave her such a mighty scolding."

"Details."

They were holding hands now, she had stood to meet him.

"I don't have a ring," he confessed.

"I'm not marrying the ring, I'm marrying you."

True enough.

"Charles?"

He looked away from her hands and at her face. Her eyes were shining. He doubted that it was just the light.

"Yes?"

"When can we get married?"

"Whenever you like."

"How soon?"

"Tomorrow, for me. As soon as the vicar will take us."

"You're certainly keen," she remarked.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Me too."

There was another pause.

"Charles?"

"Yes, my dear."

"Aren't you supposed to kiss me?"

"I'm not sure, I've never done this before."

He suddenly realised what he'd said and waited for a sharp clap in the face. Instead she laughed bitterly.

"Good Lord, Charles! Are you trying to make this engagement the shortest on record?"

"I'm sorry,"he told her, "I didn't think."

She nodded.

"I know. It's all right."

"I'm sorry," he apologised stupidly.

"Charles," she said barely above a whisper, "You must believe me when I tell you it wasn't like this before."

"I do."

"I didn't even have to think about accepting you."

She held him tightly to her for a moment.

"Good," he told the top of her head.

"I'm never letting you go, you know."

"Good."

They remained like that for a long while.

"Charles. Now kiss me."

End.

Thank you for reading! Happy Christmas!