A bit of melodramatic silliness that came to me after Charles's story about the sixpence. I wanted it to be a light-hearted fic, but this is what it turned into. I've been holding it back until I could finish Childish Pranks.
Charles's steps were heavy as he made his way around the house checking the doors. It had been a long day for him. He had disappointed Lady Mary. Something he'd never wanted to do. It pained him to leave her at the mercy of that man, but he certainly could never work for such a man. He took pride in his work and part of that was the pride he took in working for such an honourable man as Lord Grantham. He had regretted the decision to leave as soon as he'd made it. He smiled grimly to himself as he thought of his desperate attempts not to make the decision. He'd first put that man off by waiting to hear from Lady Mary, then put Lady Mary off by waiting to hear from Lord Grantham. All the while he'd desperately wanted to hear just two words from someone else, "Don't go." That's all she would have had to say. He supposed he should be satisfied with her admission that she would miss him. That was enough to make him regret his decision acutely and daily.
The truth of the matter, the truth that he had been trying to avoid thinking about was that the prospect of leaving had made him realize that he never wanted to leave Downton. No; he must be honest with himself at least, he didn't want to leave her. He'd reasoned to himself when he reluctantly decided to leave with Lady Mary that he would still be able to see her from time to time, enough to keep up this strained, strange understanding that they had between them. But this was not what he wanted anymore, he didn't want an understanding. He wanted her, pure and simple.
It was dark and quiet in the servants' hall. The only light the hand lamp that he carried with him and a little spilling under her parlor door. As much as he wished to go to her, he turned toward his own pantry instead. Walking over to his desk, he clicked on the electric light and noticed a glint from the middle of his desk. He bent to look at it closer and, with a little bit of confusion, picked it up. Bouncing the coin on his palm, he turned to go to her parlor. He was surprised when instead of calling out to his knock she opened the door herself. Ducking his head so that he could watch her carefully, he said, "I found something interesting on my desk."
"Yes; I know. I put it there," she said shutting the door behind him
"A half-crown, Mrs. Hughes? Whatever for?"
"I told you I thought Lady Mary got the better part of your bargain," she answered as she led him toward her settee
"Well, now, prices have gone up a bit with the war but this is too…" he began hesitantly.
She cut him off, "I've noticed that there's been a bit of rationing as well."
"Rationing?" he asked confused.
She nodded grimly, "Rationing. I thought perhaps I'd give the black market a try."
"Elsie," he said smiling kindly, "you only ever have to ask. You know that. We've always agreed to be there for each other when we were needed."
"I don't want that anymore."
"You don't?" he asked with disappointment evident in his voice.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth and looked away for a moment toward the floor, then she lifted her chin, squared her shoulders and met his eyes, "I don't want to be just a convenient answer for when I'm needed, nor do I want that for you. I want something more."
Taking a half step forward, he wanted to be sure that he understood her correctly, "Something more? Could you expound on that?"
"Charles," she said, lifting her hand to smooth his lapel, "I want you to never even consider leaving again, because you want… you wouldn't want… I don't want to just be a convenience for you, easier than a trip to Ripon. Would you be so cruel as to make me say it all?" she finished, her voice cracking.
Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he drew her against his chest, "No, Elsie, no. You don't have to say it all. I wouldn't want to leave you, ever. I wanted to stay here. I thought that with the way things were, we could still see each other occasionally; enough for what we had."
"But that's not enough anymore for me," she said voice muffled by his chest.
"Then, do you want me, all of me?" he asked pulling her impossibly closer, "Because I want all of you. I want to be able to sit here with you at night, shining my shoes while you're reading your book or holding you or kissing you or whatever it is that people do when they belong to each other. I want to be close to you all the time, not just when you or I feel the need. You've never been just a convenience for me. I thought that was all we could have, perhaps all that you wanted."
"Yes, Charles," she answered sighing against his chest, "I want all of you. I want to have the right to nag you about your health, about over-working. The thought of you not here seems wrong, like part of me would be missing. I want you to stay here at Downton and 'haunt it ever after'," she finished with a smile in her voice.
"Elsie, I would miss Downton," he whispered against her temple, "there's no denying that. But it's you I belong to, not this house, no matter how fine the wine cellar is."
"I don't mind sharing," she smiled up at him, "as long as I have your nights, and perhaps some mornings as well."
"Will you marry me then?"
"And if we have to leave?"
"Then we leave, and belong to each other somewhere else. Pouring out weak tea and serving stale cakes or sandwiches to office workers or groups of ladies doesn't sound too bad."
She punched him lightly on the chest, "Liar. Yes; it does."
"Making love to you every night would make it worth it," he said, then teased, "especially if you let me wake you up in the middle of the night for another go occassionally."
"I don't know that your heart could take it," she said before stretching up to kiss him hungrily.
"We'll soon find out," he answered a little breathlessly, "Tonight."
And they did, that night and many more to come.
Reviews are welcome as always.