A/N: Hello, my dears, did you miss me? I know *I* missed you…

I dedicate this story to The Loganites Of Tumblr, and to my dear friend Esther who had expressed an interest in reading about 'Elsie Hughes, the chief terrorist of Downton', and thus fuelled my desire to write a crack fic. I hope you enjoy it!

Prologue, or: The Linen Cupboard Musings

Elsie Hughes had always thought of herself as a person of strong character, showing a remarkable endurance when faced with life's many unpleasant surprises. She would bravely encounter any problem life put on her path, and deal with it with professionalism and grace, rarely letting her private feelings surface and cloud her sound judgment.

This did not mean, however, that she was as cold and unfeeling a person as some of her staff seemed to perceive her for. On the contrary, she had feelings, and whole lot of them—she simply chose to hide them away behind a carefully sculpted mask of propriety and decorum.

Or, to be more exact: she used to hide them away, until about two months ago, when one Charles Carson, her best friend and trusted co-worker as well as the man she'd loved for many years, literally swept her off her feet in a small, cosy inn in York, and showed her exactly what good might come from letting one's true nature take over for a moment. Or an hour. Or possibly the whole night.

She would have lied if she said she did not enjoy the change in their relationship, for enjoyed it she did, and she would never go back to the way things were before those wonderful days they'd spent away from Downton, drinking wine and talking and doing other things—things she would from now on associate only with Charles, for no other man could possibly be like him. After having feared to disclose her feelings to him, the way he responded when she finally did made her happier than she ever were, and there was nothing more she could have possibly wanted.

Well… almost nothing.

For there was still one thing that kept her awake at night (at least on the nights she spent alone, and those were considerably fewer than the ones she didn't), or make her bite her lip in frustration as she stared off into space while sitting in her parlour, pretending to sort out the linen rota.

Despite everything that happened to them in York—and everything that continued to happen after they came back to Downton—Elsie wasn't entirely sure what to make of the whole situation.

What was going on with them?, she wondered for what felt like a hundredth time, while flipping absentmindedly through the tablecloths and sheet in the linen cupboard. They acted like a couple of love-struck children, bumping each other's knees under the table during meals, spending every evening either in his pantry or her parlour, sneaking out to meet behind the bicycle shed on the lazy afternoons when most of the staff had gone to the village… If she'd caught one of her maids doing so, she would have to let her go immediately: it was the most improper behaviour, especially in a household like this!

Of course, if she knew that said maid and her 'gentleman caller' really loved each other, took caution not to cause the other any harm or grief, and intended to marry as soon as they'd sorted everything out, she would have probably bent the rules a little, in hope to see the girl happily settled.

And this was where her troubles really began.

Charles had yet to express any inclination towards making an honest woman out of her, as it was.

Initially, she didn't expect him to; after all, there was so much at stake: their respective jobs, their position, the loss of everything they'd worked for during their years in Downton… She believed it best if their liaison remained a secret to the family and the staff, and did not push the matter.

Her resolve began to break after but a week of tiptoeing through the quiet corridors at night, stealing kisses in the wine cellar, and giving Charles many a warning glare when his hand wandered over to her tight under the table. And the reason for that had been given to Elsie by no other person than Lady Mary Crawley herself.

"This is wonderful, Mrs. Hughes," the woman in question said with awe, brushing the newly finished piece of lace with her fingertips. "You're much too good to me. And I'm afraid we've wasted many of your talents, keeping you here as merely a housekeeper…" She realized her words came out wrong even before Elsie raised an eyebrow at her, and hurriedly added: "That is to say, you must know we respect you very much, and couldn't imagine how this house could possibly function without you! It's just that—I hope you don't regret staying with us, when you clearly could have accomplished so much elsewhere."

Elsie thought this sentiment uncharacteristically kind for Lady Mary, and gave the younger woman a genuine smile in response. "I don't milady," she answered, carefully rearranging the lace pieces and wrapping them in thin paper. "I believe I was very lucky to get a job at Downton—and I'm happy to have stayed here all this time."

Lady Mary nodded, visibly relieved, and went over to her vanity table, idly rearranging some earrings and necklaces. "What about your trip to York? I trust it proved satisfactory?" she asked innocently, not meeting Elsie's eyes.

The housekeeper could feel the proverbial ice beneath her feet grow thin, and carefully measured her reply: "I must say it did, milady. I managed to get some beautiful designs from the lacemaker you'd recommended, and Mr. Carson seemed quite pleased with the wine merchant's offer…"

"Mrs. Hughes," Lady Mary interrupted, turning around and fixing Elsie with a level look, "you know very well this isn't what I'm asking. What's more important, you know that having you get some new ideas for my wedding dress was not my only purpose when I'd arranged for you to go on that trip. So no more avoiding of the subject, please."

Elsie swallowed and felt her cheeks grow hot as she unsuccessfully tried to hide her blush. "And what subject would that be, milady?" she asked, letting the slightest tinge of happiness seep into her voice as her mouth curved into a smile.

"Mrs. Hughes!" Lady Mary clasped a hand against her mouth to stifle a giggle, her eyes sparkling with mischief and joy. Elsie had a hard time suppressing an eye-roll. Honestly, the girl was positively vibrating with cheekiness! Was that what happened to a person when they got engaged? "I hope you know how glad I am. You both deserve this, probably more than anyone."

"I must say I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, milady," Elsie stated matter-of-factly, while her eyes betrayed her true feelings and conveyed a great—and unexpected—gratitude for the other woman. "And I do dare to hope that this matter, whatever it may be, remains private?..."

"Certainly," Lady Mary nodded, sitting gracefully down on her bed. "Although I do not believe anyone in this house would be of a different opinion. Mama and Granny have probably been waiting for Carson to announce his wishes to change his marital status since the moment you arrived at Downton; and Papa would never oppose…"

"With all due respect, Lady Mary," Elsie could feel the control over the conversation slip through her fingers, and made a desperate attempt to reclaim it, "I do not believe things are quite at that stage…"

"Oh, but they will be! Surely they will!" Lady Mary beamed at her, and for once in her life Elsie couldn't find an ounce of any bad feelings for the young woman in her heart. The way she seemed to be completely enthralled by the possibility of Elsie being in a romantic relationship with Charles was… endearing, for the lack of a better word. And yet… she still had troubles believing in the things she was hearing.

Lady Mary could clearly see her hesitation, for she stood up and raised her hands, dismissing any counterarguments in advance. "Trust me, Mrs. Hughes. Carson will be asking for your hand in marriage before the month is over. And rest assured—nobody is going to have anything against the two of you staying here after you have been married. I believe some members of the staff firmly believe you already are."

That certainly did not help the matter, since it left Elsie wondering which members of the staff would that be—and how she could make sure their beliefs did not reach anybody else's ears.

It's been almost two months since that conversation took place—and nothing has changed during that time. They were still sneaking through the dark corridors and quietly knocking at the other's door; still spending too much time around that damned bicycle shed; still thrilled to spend every moment they could together—not necessarily (though preferably) in a state of undress, but simply being closeto one another, talking, working side by side, sipping on wine and tea.

Elsie could easily imagine herself doing this, and just this, until the end of her life.

And she gradually came to realize that she wouldn't have opposed to doing so while being married to Charles.

The problem was—Lady Mary was wrong. Time flew, and he never once mentioned marriage.

The fact itself did not trouble Elsie that much. After all, she'd leapt into this relationship without thinking about marrying Charles: it was more than enough for her to know that, being the man he was, he would love and cherish her each and every day whether or not they'd actually wed. She was the woman in his life, the only woman, and the thought itself was enough to keep her happy. Especially since they both had to consider the possibility of losing their jobs, et caetera, et caetera…

Only now she knew they wouldn't have lost their jobs, or anything else they'd feared for. Not if Lady Mary had anything to say about it. Or, for that matter, Her Ladyship. Or the Dowager Countess. Sometimes it seemed to Elsie that all the Crawley women had as soft a spot for Charles in their respective hearts as she did.

So, there it was: they could marry if they wished to. And Elsie certainly did. Not for propriety or anything like that, but for the small things—being able to straighten Charles' crooked tie in front of the servants and not having been stared at; sharing a room with him for a whole night on their rare days off; not having to wash motor oil off her dress every other week…

Being a 'Mrs.' instead of being called that.

More than once she contemplated asking Charles about it. She wouldn't tell him anything about what Lady Mary had said, of course not; but perhaps she could find out what his views on the matter were, and slip in a hint or two: assure him that each and every change brought on by their marriage would be a positive one… And yet, despite all the closeness that had developed between them, she couldn't bring herself to do so. After all, who was she to state her feelings so boldly? It would be as if she was asking him to marry her!... Asking? Ordering him to do so, more like!

Elsie sighed and rubbed at her temple, fighting an impending headache. She loved Charles, she really did—but she couldn't, and wouldn't, force him to make such a serious declaration, however much she might have wanted to.

Was it wrong of her to want to marry the man she'd loved for so long? Shouldn't she be happy with knowing what his feelings towards her were, and with all the wonderful ways in which he constantly reminded her of them? Would changing her name to his and wearing a band of gold change everything that significantly?

The answer was simple: yes, it would.

She wanted to be Elsie Carson. To be able to address Charles as 'her husband'. It was as simple as that.

And if one Charles Carson needed 'some help' with realizing that, then help he would get.

In fact, Elsie thought as a sudden idea flashed through her mind, she knew a perfect way to bring this matter to his attention, without incriminating herself as being the one behind it.

Shutting the cupboard door with a new boost of energy, Elsie allowed herself a triumphant smirk as she replaced the key at her waist and headed upstairs.

She had a wedding dress fitting to attend.

TBC…