FYI, if you have not read the first two stories in this AU, Moving Forward and Moving On, this recap and chapter will have spoilers.

Previously on….Matthew is still dead. Mary is doing a little better. Charles and Elsie are doing A LOT better; they are happily married and living in Hull. He is working for his Uncle Timothy and Cousin Fredrick. She is launching an event planning/ staffing agency with Suzanne Heaton, the wife of Charles' childhood friend, Nathan who is a fisherman. They just finished a successful Burns Supper, during which Charles, who is currently wearing a kilt, bye the bye, has learned that the 740 pounds he thought his father had left him is, in fact, 740 THOUSAND pounds. Elsie does not know this yet. Oh, yeah, and Charles is Robert and Rosamund's half-brother; his father being the previous Earl of Grantham.

Apparently, this AU is the 'angst' one, so be warned. It won't be ALL fluff;)

We rejoin them now at the Burn's Dinner…

January 25th 1922

"Nothing is wrong, exactly. Elsie, love, we need to talk." He took her hand. "But first, I need a whiskey."

Elsie followed him to where the last bottles with the last dregs of whiskey sat unattended. He filled his empty glass. "While you are fortifying yourself, Charles, I should warn you; I've invited Beryl to stop the night with us."

Charles' pour became much heavier than he'd intended. "You what? I thought she was staying with Mrs. Kerr."

"Beryl might have made a comment about the haggis being bland. In any event, her invitation was revoked."

That sounded like Beryl. "I am very sorry for her, but did you know there are these magical places, Elsie, where they will take in people with no place else to go? They are called hotels."

"Beryl hates hotels. She says they are full of strange noises. She was going to leave the festivities early to take the train back tonight. She only agreed to stay so late tonight because she could stay with Mrs. Kerr."

"Then she should not have insulted her hostess." Charles pointed out.

"Well, she cannot undo that, Charles, so your advice is not very helpful. She is on her own, in a town she does not know and she is our friend."

"Need I point out to you that we do not have guest accommodations?"

"We have the couch and plenty of blankets."

"I would feel uncomfortable asking Mrs. Patmore to sleep on our couch."

"As would I. Which is why my lovely husband will be offering to do so." Charles was speechless. He looked at her, making what Elsie considered his indignant 'fish face'; mouth in a small, perfect circle and cheeks puffing in and out. "Unless you think there is room enough in the bed for all three of us?" He downed his glass of whiskey in one, deep drought and filled it again.

Before Charles could recover enough to answer, Beryl bustled up to them, looking sheepishly at Charles. "I am sorry to push in like this, Charles. Though I must say, Elsie has told me so much about your flat that I am anxious to see it. I promise that I will not be a bother. Just give me a blanket and I'll be fine on a couch or settee, or whatever you have."

"Nonsense, Beryl." Charles smiled unconvincingly. "You are to be our guest. You and Elsie shall take the bed. I shall be more than happy to sleep on the couch." Elsie squeezed his hand in thanks.

"Things are winding down now, Beryl. Why don't you fetch your things from the kitchen while I check in with Suzanne?" Gratefully, Beryl dashed off to the kitchen, hoping Mrs. Kerr had not hidden her things, or worse. Before hurrying off to assist Suzanne with the final details of the evening, Elsie remembered something. "Oh, Charles, you never told me what all that business with Mr. Pease was about."

"It will keep until tomorrow." He only hoped the same could be said of him. He stared deeply into his whiskey as if asking it for help before finishing it off.

-00-

It was well past midnight as they climbed up their considerable front steps to reach the flat. Once there, Beryl put up a valiant show of a protest, but Charles' insistence did not waiver, though his patience showed signs of cracking.

"No, Charles, I insist."

"Beryl, really, I insist." His teeth were grinding together as he tried to smile sincerely. They both knew where they would end up sleeping, he thought. Why did they have to go through the motions of fighting about it?

"Fine! It's decided. Thank you, love." Elsie had declared the matter closed before it escalated to incivility.

Glad that was over with, Charles made a pot of tea while Elsie was settling Beryl in. He set a tray with two cups and a small pile of the assorted biscuits that Elsie thought she kept hidden from him behind the flour. He knew the two friends would want to stay up all night gossiping.

He was sitting at the table letting the tea leaves steep when Elsie came out to the kitchen, already wearing her nightgown and robe. Her hair was down in a soft plait. She smiled to see her man sitting there, looking almost natural in his kilt. His eyes were droopy with whiskey and fatigue. She saw the prepared tray. "Charles, this was very thoughtful of you. I am sure Beryl and I will be up into the wee hours chatting."

"Though Fredrick said I can come in a few hours later than usual, I do have to go into work tomorrow. I didn't want to hear you both clanging about in the kitchen trying not to wake me." He deflected her thanks grumpily, before pouting. "I had rather hoped that we would be up into the wee hours for quite another reason."

"We can do that tomorrow evening." She tousled his hair lovingly.

"Elsie, love, I believe you are beginning to take me for granted." He slurred slightly.

"Never, my great man." She kissed his greyed temple as she went to the cupboard to retrieve a small bottle of brandy she kept hidden behind the biscuits she kept hidden behind the flour. Elsie did not think tea would be sufficient for their slumber party. "I want to tell her, love." Elsie said without preamble.

"Tell her?" His muddled brain struggled to understand her.

"About your connection to the family."

"We promised the family we would wait two more weeks."

"But you cannot honestly think Cora will last that long, can you? If Beryl finds out from anyone but us, it will hurt her greatly."

"And I thought Rosamund would be the weak link in our chain of secrecy."

"Usually, I would agree, but not in this case. Rosamund may be the biggest gossip of us, but she has more incentive to keep this silent than any of us. I'll make Beryl swear to keep silent."

"It won't do any good to swear her to secrecy. She's bound to go straight to Anna and Mr. Bates with this. Please, love. Only two more weeks." He held out his hand to her and drew her to stand before him when she took it. "Then we'll be back at Downton. We'll call Anna and Beryl and Bates into Anna's office and tell them before we tell the rest of the staff."

"They are going to find out before that." She frowned down at him.

"You don't know that for certain, but, if you tell Beryl, it is guaranteed that everyone will find out before the agreed upon time. Even if the secret is to be revealed too early, I do not want it coming from us. It affects them more than it does us. And we gave our word. "

"That was very shortsighted of us." Elsie pouted, but she saw his point. "Beryl already suspects something. I suppose I could tell her about the money from your father and our trip to Italy. That might appease her."

"It's funny you should mention that…" He began.

"I hope I'm not interrupting something." Beryl's voice preceded her into the kitchen. Like Elsie, she was wearing her gown and robe. She wore a kerchief over her bristly red hair.

"Unfortunately not." Elsie teased.

Charles rolled his eyes and stood. "If you ladies are done in the bathroom, I'll wash up and turn in now. Congratulations on such a successful evening, love." He kissed his wife. "Good night, Beryl."

"Good night, Charles." Beryl replied, her cheeks ruddier than usual due to the evenings libations and celebration. "You should consider wearing that kilt more often, Charles. It's a damn shame to hide those legs. Don't you agree, Elsie?"

Their giggles followed him down the hallway to the bathroom, where he quickly dressed for bed and washed his teeth.

TBC…

AN/ Seven months after it was promised…here we go. I hope this will carry us until the UK launch date, but I had hoped to start posting this in January, so take all my stated intentions with a few grains (pounds) of salt.

FYI, for those of you who aren't familiar with this AU...Besides Moving Forward and Moving On, there is a series of prequels...Training Wheels (and Epilogue), Never Downton Land and Because I Could Not Stop for Death. This story can stand alone, but will make more sense if you've read these others.

Obligatory call for reviews…It goes without saying that I, like ALL AUTHORS, love reviews, but I don't like to beg. I read them all (I even have a few stitched onto throw pillows) and they do influence the story. I will reply when I can, but if I'm in full writing mode and posting daily, I might not be super consistent.