A/N: This was inspired by an interview before the fifth season with Jim Carter and Phyllis Logan. They were asked about their school days, and their answers sparked the idea for this fic. I don't intend to make it any longer than just a one-shot.
They might be a little OOC in this, but I had to keep telling myself they are in school – that is, late teens. And as a modern AU, that also entails some flexibility.
I hope you enjoy this! Blame my migraine yesterday on why this Valentine's Day themed story is late!
Charles winced when he saw the main hall.
Pink. And red. And hearts.
Everywhere.
Damn girls. They always do this on Valentine's Day.
Since Alice broke his heart, he'd done his best to forget the opposite sex existed. His (former) best mate, Charlie Grigg, and the pretty brunette had been an item since October. The worst part was finding out they'd been going behind his back since the end of the previous year.
And then all the students finding out on social media by the next morning.
It would have been better if Downton had stayed an all-boys' school.
And resisted the twenty-first century.
He strode through the hall as quickly as possible on the way to breakfast. Eating a mound of fried eggs, sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms and a stack of toast did not improve his mood. Philip Tapsell, seventh-year prefect, would not shut up about his younger peer, Robert Crawley.
"He lets the sixth years run riot! Ever since that American exchange student arrived in September, he's lost his mind!"
Not this. Again.
Charles sighed, biting into a slice of bacon. He glanced at the prefect next to Philip.
Richard Clarkson shook his head, exasperation written all over his face. "Robert never was a great one for rules. You knew that! Why you let it bother you now, I have no idea!" Philip turned to the Scot with a snarl.
"Because I take being a prefect seriously, unlike you! And Carson, I'm surprised you haven't taken Crawley to task, you've been a great Head Boy-"
Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Charles swallowed the bacon in his mouth. "Don't suck up to me Philip, you know it doesn't work. And insinuating Richard doesn't take being prefect seriously is an insult, both to him and to Downton. Who was it that got a Special Award last term? It certainly wasn't you."
Philip turned red in anger, but fortunately stopped talking. Richard gave Charles a grateful smile, which he returned. The previous term, a fifth year named Spratt had collapsed with an epileptic fit in the dining hall. While other students panicked, it was Clarkson who turned him on his side, and shouted for someone to call for the nurse and an ambulance. Philip had been about as useful as Spratt's uneaten chicken curry.
Finishing his breakfast, Charles got up.
"I'm heading to the library," he said. Thankfully, Philip didn't move. Richard dropped his fork on the table and followed him. The two headed out of the dining hall and up the stairs.
"To tell you the truth, I'm jealous of Robert," the blond boy ran a hand through his hair. "He's mad in love with Cora Levinson, and she's smitten with him. I hate how Philip runs her down just because she's American. It's not her fault her father's done business with Donald Trump." He sighed. "It would be nice to have a date for the dance tonight. For once. Instead of standing along the wall like an idiot." He sucked in his breath as they reached the top of the stairs and turned down a long corridor. "Sorry, I didn't mean that."
"No offense taken," Charles said automatically. It didn't hurt much anymore, but he was not looking forward to the dance at all. "I'd love to skip it, but I can't." A rueful smile spread across his face. "Sometimes being head boy is not all that it's cracked up to be." He nudged Richard, grinning. "Just think. After graduation, you'll be finished here, and you can pursue Nurse Crawley to your heart's content."
"What?" Richard skidded to a halt. "I don't-she isn't…I-what?"
"You don't have to pretend with me," Charles turned to him. "You like her. Really like her." He glanced up and down the corridor to make sure no one was there. He lowered his voice anyway. "And she likes you. I saw her after we won the cricket last year, she had eyes for no one but you."
Richard backed against the wall, his eyes blazing. He poked a finger into Charles's chest. "I swear, if you're lying to me-"
"I wouldn't. Not about this," Charles knew better than most about hoping the girl of his dreams would notice him. He had spent the better part of three years pining for Alice.
What a waste.
But it doesn't have to be like that for Richard. It won't be.
"Even if you're right," Richard looked off in the distance, "Nothing's going to happen. It's not like…like she'd wait for me to finish school, then university, then after. She'd be insane to. For a student?"
"Not a student," Charles said, straightening his blazer, wiping a piece of lint off his tie. "For you. You never know what could happen-"
He was cut off by a door flying open. A loud, familiar voice rang into the corridor.
"Absolutely disgraceful, you know very well you're not allowed in there! And smoking!-"
A quieter voice murmured something.
"Don't try to take the blame for this again Miss Smith, I know very well it wasn't your idea to play canasta in the sixth year common room-"
Two girls stumbled out the door, followed by a third. Charles recognized one as Anna Smith, a slender fifth year. She looked ashamed of herself. Phyllis Baxter, on the other hand, fought a smile, trying not to laugh. Charles raised his eyebrows at the third, his friend Beryl Patmore. She shrugged, seemingly unconcerned.
They all flinched when the headmistress's voice was heard again.
"This is your third infraction this term, Miss Hughes! You're fortunate I'm not expelling you right now! What will your parents say?"
The three girls hurried past the two boys, who were trying to disappear into the wall. A split second later, Headmistress Violet Crawley emerged, her face like thunder. One hand gripped the ear of a flame-haired fifth year girl.
She was familiar to Charles. Her white blouse was untucked on one side beneath her Downton sweater and the top two buttons were undone, the faint whiff of cigarette smoke following her.
"Ow-" she complained, as the headmistress marched her down the corridor. "Do you have to pinch my ear, you'll pull out my earring-"
For her cheek, she got another yank. "Not another word out of you," fumed Violet. "It's bad enough you cause trouble on your own without dragging your friends into it!"
As they passed the boys, Richard kept his eyes on the floor, hoping the headmistress would say nothing to them.
But Charles couldn't help watching them pass. Miss Hughes, Elsie, that was her name. A fifth year Scottish girl who the maths professor praised. The same girl who had led a parade of streaking students across the pitch during halftime of the football match against Loxley. The girl who, according to the female prefects, stayed up all night with a fourth year girl. She convinced a suicidal Ethel Parks to go to counseling.
The girl who heckled him during his end-of-term speech last year. Yelling at him to speak his mind, not what he thought the administration wanted to hear.
The girl who found him outside crying in the rain after he found out about Alice and Charlie. She got him to come back inside. He could still feel her hand on his arm.
"Are you all right, Carson?"
She hadn't laughed, only listened as he told her how much it hurt. Alice's cheating, Grigg's betrayal. The whole school knowing about it. About how hard his parents worked, and how proud they were of him. How scared he was of disappointing them.
He had often wondered since why she listened. Why she bothered to sit in the rain with him.
But she hadn't laughed at him.
Her head was bent at an angle as she struggled to keep up with the headmistress. But she caught him watching her. To his surprise, a smile curved on her lips, her dark blue eyes twinkling.
They had a conversation without words.
Why did you do it?
Because I could.
You're a troublemaker.
I know.
She winked at him, making him gasp. He stifled it. It was like she was daring him.
Join me, won't you?
He swore she strutted down the corridor, her skirt swaying from side to side. He tugged on his collar.
It felt very warm.
"Let's go," Richard said, making him jump. They half-walked, half-ran the rest of the way to the library.
Of all people to witness her shame, it would have to be him.
Him.
Head Boy Charles Carson.
Oh, she had brazened it out. He probably had no idea how badly she felt – mostly for Anna and the others. And the guilt over the phone call Mam and Da would get. It wasn't as if they didn't have enough to worry about. The last specialist who had seen Becky had not been optimistic about her prognosis.
Why did you do it, Els?
It started out as just a bit of fun. A lark. She knew she shouldn't have, but sometimes she couldn't help herself. Life was too short to play by the rules all the time.
The frustrating thing was, Charles didn't play by the rules all the time. She knew he didn't agree with everything at school; he was nothing like that complete arse Philip Tapsell.
He had defended Robert Crawley more than once, keeping the prefect from losing his position. He was the one who got two players booted off the cricket team. Alex Green and Dick Carlisle had been accused of sexual harassment by several girls. Charles had defended his decision as captain, even in the face of (literally) screaming opposition from alumni.
It was one of the proudest moments she could remember when he argued that treatment of fellow students was more important than winning matches.
Then he capped it by leading the team to victory anyway.
Charles had also defended his teammate, Tommy Barrow, against homophobia. It was the only time Elsie had ever seen him in a fistfight – which he won. Handily.
She heard Larry Merton still had a scar on the side of his face.
But he could be such a prat about such little things! Being late to assemblies or meals, getting caught out of bed after hours, defying the dress code. Playing music too loud in the corridors.
It's not my fault he objected to "Uptown Funk" – the girls were just blowing off steam after our win in the debate over refugees!
It was Charles who had convinced the headmistress to double the penalty against smoking. The new regulation had gone into effect just that year.
It's partially his fault she's threatened to expel me.
Violet steered her through the double doors into the main office. Her friends sat in the chairs just inside. The twentysomething nurse, a distant relative of the headmistress, raised her eyebrows as Elsie's ear was finally relinquished.
"Back again, Elsie?"
Rubbing her sore ear, she nodded. Isobel folded her hands on her desk.
"You know, if you stopped smoking, you wouldn't get into so much trouble."
"I highly doubt that," snapped Violet. She pointed to her office, and Elsie went in, sinking into a chair. The school secretary, Miss O'Brien, called back.
"Headmistress? Young Bryant's father is on the phone. He insists on speaking to you."
Violet turned to Elsie. "Stay there until I get back." She swept out of her office, muttering under her breath. "What does he want now, his son's an arrogant little…the apple doesn't fall far from the tree…"
Elsie sank back against the chair, letting out a breath. Noticing her blouse was untucked, she put it back in its proper position and did up the buttons. She bit her lip in embarrassment.
Charles saw you like that. Blouse half out, a right mess.
Of course he looked immaculate.
Her blush deepened when she looked up at one of the pictures on the wall. The Head Boy and Girl, and all the prefects. It was a candid shot that had been taken outside, near the entrance gates in the autumn. Charles was laughing, a wide smile on his face.
He was tall and broad. More like a man than a boy. The buttons on his blazer shone as if he had polished them, his trousers were perfectly creased. The only thing out of place was an errant black curl, which fell across his forehead.
Her heartrate increased.
His voice…did he have any idea the effect it had? Not just on her, but on half the girls at school. And it wasn't because she loved cricket that she'd gone to nearly every match the previous year. Him in the cricket whites…
She'd had a massive crush on him since – well, almost since her first day at Downton. Not that she ever expected anything to happen. He'd been chasing after Alice Neal, the theater diva, for years.
Even if he hadn't gone after her, why would he go for you?
He was the Head Boy, good student and athlete. Every parent's dream. She was the troublemaker, the one who didn't live by the rules, but was determined to live and let live.
Elsie clenched her fists, thinking of Alice. That bitch had callously cheated on Charles – with his best friend, no less! – and broken his heart without a second thought.
She didn't deserve him.
A smirk crossed her lips. No one would ever find out, she'd never even told Beryl. Alice never noticed her hairbrush had been switched. But the humiliation the conceited girl felt when everyone found out she had head lice was well earned.
Looking at her hands in her lap, she felt a twinge of guilt. It wasn't nice, Mam would say if she knew. After all, what was Alice to her? Or Charles?
I was there at his lowest point.
She remembered it vividly. A cold, rainy day at the end of October, she had slipped outside for a smoke. And she had seen him on the bleachers by the football pitch. His head down, clothes water-logged. Crying.
She had wanted to lean his head on her shoulder, put her arms around him. Carry his hurt. But she didn't know him, not really. They had barely spoken before then. So instead, she listened. Listened as he told her about Grigg. About Alice. About making his parents proud.
It had surprised her to hear they were working class. Like her family.
"I guess I'm just a poser, Hughes. Making myself out to be more than I really am."
Elsie had tried to assure him that wasn't true. She had more success getting him back inside. It made her angry to know he felt he didn't deserve Alice, that Grigg was somehow justified in what he'd done!
"Well, Miss Hughes, here we are again."
Violet seated herself across from the schoolgirl. Her expression reflected more disappointment than anger, something that made guilt flare up in Elsie again. She concentrated her gaze on her fingernails.
"I don't understand you, Elsie," the headmistress removed her glasses, tapping them the desk. "You are not the most diligent student, but you certainly have a keen mind. But you spend much more time causing trouble than anything else! It's one thing if you do it on your own, but when you involve your friends…"
"It's not their fault," Elsie said quickly. "It was my idea. Please don't punish them too badly."
A slight smile appeared on Violet's face. "You'll be happy to know I'm letting them off with warnings. Both Miss Patmore and Miss Smith have exceptional records, and as Miss Baxter is a sixth year herself, I have no reason to punish her." She leaned back in her chair. "As you know, the Valentine's Day dance is tonight."
Elsie felt a lump in her throat. I should have known. Sitting up in my room while everyone has fun.
"You have permission to go," the headmistress said, making Elsie's head snap up in shock, "but you will be confined to the punch table. No dancing. The planning committee will be overjoyed, I'm sure, to know someone else will be taking their place. Also," she continued, "you will receive detention after classes for the next two weeks."
Swallowing, Elsie nodded. It would not be fun watching everyone else, but at least she would be there.
"Would you mind telling me before you leave, Miss Hughes, why you persist in giving me headaches?"
For all her prickly nature, Elsie knew the headmistress had a soft heart. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I don't do it on purpose. I just…want to live a little. While I can."
Violet smiled. "Most people I know lose that joie de vivre after they get old." She put her glasses back on. "I think you are one of the rare people that will keep it." She raised her eyebrows slightly. "It is admirable, but if you could try to find some ways of enjoying life that do not involve me dragging you into my office, I would be very pleased. So would my head."
Elsie managed a small smile. "I'll try, Headmistress."
Really try. She's not that bad.
Charles shuffled his feet as he stood in the corner of the hall. The dance was in full swing. Bass thumped through the loudspeakers, and the floor was crowded.
His friends and teammates were all out there. Richard was dancing with Beryl at the moment. Robert, of course, was with Cora. The two were dancing so close together Charles was a little surprised someone hadn't separated them yet. He wondered if he should do it, but…well, he really didn't want to get in between them.
When he looked away, his eyes fell on Grigg and Alice. Hands all over each other.
It did surprise him a little that they were still together – Charlie had always been the type to flit from girl to girl. Maybe he had changed.
Or maybe he and Alice are just using each other. For their own reasons.
That would not surprise him, either.
Tommy, he saw, was dancing with his friend Anna Smith. Her date, the football captain John Bates, was deep in conversation with Billy Mason.
Jimmy Kent, Tommy's date, was over by the punch table, talking to Elsie Hughes.
Charles did a double-take.
He'd seen her there all evening, of course, but right when he looked again, Jimmy had made her laugh. Her eyes sparkled, and she threw her head back, obviously tickled. The glittering lights above them danced across her bare shoulders. Her purple strapless dress perfectly conformed to her body.
He had not realized until that moment that she had so many…curves.
Quickly looking away, he loosened his collar, tugged at his tie. It occurred to him that maybe he should – ask her out. Or something.
Gritting his teeth, he chafed at the obvious restriction. I can't even ask her to dance!
He felt himself smile as he saw her tapping her fingers on the table in front of her, the subtle movement of her feet that he couldn't see. She wishes she could dance, too.
Go and talk to her.
What would I say? Does she even know…of course she knows who you are! You're Head Boy!
She probably thinks you're a posh wannabe. Or a sap. Last autumn…
To still his swirling mind, and to get away from the loudspeakers, he started walking the perimeter of the room again.
It wasn't as bad as she thought it would be.
Sure, she would have preferred to dance, but at least she could hear the music and watch the dancers. And occasionally talk to people when they came over.
There was one person she wished had stayed a little longer.
You're being ridiculous.
Of course he was exceptionally handsome, wearing a grey suit and a patterned tie. He'd unbuttoned the top button of his shirt a couple hours in, leaving the tie in a loose knot.
She wondered if he had hair on his chest. Grabbing a napkin, she fanned herself. It was warm, even in the huge room.
He'd come over exactly once, only to get a glass of punch from her. He'd barely danced with anyone – Beryl a couple of times, at least until her boyfriend Billy took over, then Phyllis once. Cora, the American girl, once. Elsie thought Charles and Robert must have been best friends because Robert didn't let anyone else get a chance to dance with his pretty girlfriend.
At long last, Nurse Isobel told her she'd watch the table for the rest of the evening. By then it was an hour until midnight.
She ran to her room and grabbed her coat, her lighter and several cigarettes from her hiding place. Beryl wouldn't care if she opened the window, but she needed more air than their small room provided.
She only hoped the place where she wanted to go was still secret. It had been a while since she had last gone there.
Climbing a forgotten staircase at the end of the science wing, she held her phone up for light. To her delight, the piece of cardboard she'd slipped into the old keyhole was still there. The door groaned when she opened it.
A moment later, she was on the roof.
The wind was cold. But she had discovered that near one of the large vents was a perfect place to sit in winter. Also, it created a sort of shade from the glaring floodlight. She lit the tip of her cigarette and inhaled, feeling herself relax. When she blew out, the smoke streamed away, like from a train.
Lights from the hall were visible on the main lawn. At some point during the evening, the upper windows had been opened, because she could clearly hear, if only from a distance, the music still playing.
"I should have known someone else would find this place."
She leaped to her feet, almost dropping her cigarette. The rush of blood pounded in her ears.
Charles Carson's eyes were wide. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
Her fright made her snap. "Well, you did. What now? I suppose you'll go and tattle to the headmistress on me." She took another drag. If she was going to get in trouble for the second time in the same day, she might as well finish it.
He studied his shoes, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I-I wasn't going to tell anyone. You're already in trouble, and…I was just surprised to see someone else here. In all the times I've come up here, I've never seen anyone else. I thought I was the only one who knew about the staircase from the lab."
Elsie felt a little ashamed of herself. And curious. Of all she thought she knew about him, she would not have guessed he'd be the type to let someone off. "Oh. Um…sorry." She shook her head, looking away. "It's been a rough day."
It surprised her that he would know about this place. That he would come up on the roof.
It didn't seem to fit his persona.
He nodded. "May I sit down?"
The question made her laugh. She gestured next to the vent. "Neither one of us are supposed to be up here. And you ask me for permission?"
Sitting down, his long legs stretched out, he grinned. "Habit, I guess." His smile faded as he watched her. "You shouldn't smoke, you know."
"I've heard that before, you know." She exhaled again. "How often do you come up here, then?"
"Mmmm," he leaned back, the air from the vent turning his curls wide. "Twice a month, maybe. Sometimes more. Depends if I'm having a rough day or week."
"Are you having a rough day?"
Looking off in the distance, he didn't seem to hear the question until he answered her. She had to lean closer to hear him.
"Valentine's Day…is not the best day for me."
She felt a stab of anger thinking of Alice and Charlie Grigg.
"You're better off without her," she said.
He nodded. "I know that, I do." Scratching his nose, he sighed. "But the 14th of February is not a good day if you're alone." Looking up at her, he tilted his head. "I'm sure your date was disappointed, not being able to dance with you."
She felt her face get warm. "I…I didn't have a date. Not this year."
Charles blinked rapidly. "You didn't have a date? I thought that fifth year, Burns, asked you."
The thought that the Head Boy knew the details of her social life made Elsie's heart skip several beats. "Joe. He did…but I said no." She hardly knew why she was telling him this. "We were together last year, but…well, that was last year. I'm not the same girl anymore." She forced herself to look at him. "I'm surprised you didn't have a date."
"Oh…well…" he rubbed the back of his neck. "There wasn't anyone I could ask, really, not even as a friend. And the girls who did ask me…well, I just wasn't interested." He smiled. "Billy Mason offered to go with me as friends. I might have taken him up on the offer, but he and Beryl finally got together, so I let him off the hook."
She laughed, sitting down next to him. "Took them long enough, didn't it?"
They chatted about their friends and their long, drawn-out journey to each other. Conversation slipped easily from Beryl and Billy to the debates coming up, to abusing Philip Tapsell. The cricket team's prospects. She found herself telling him about Becky, something she had never really done, not even with her friends. He listened intently, asking intelligent questions. But he did not pry. She respected that.
When she finished her cigarette, Elsie was tempted to take out another.
Instead, she fished a mint out of the package in her coat pocket. "Would you like one?"
"Sure, thanks." He held out his hand, and she dropped it onto his large palm. They sat quietly for a moment. "I'm glad the vent's off, that was loud."
"Mmm-hmm," she agreed. "We can almost hear the music now." He checked his phone.
"Almost midnight, only a few minutes to go." She was looking out at the night sky, her coat bunched up around her. He thought of earlier in the dance hall.
Ask her to dance. Ask her!
She'll laugh at you.
No she won't.
He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, she smiled, leaning forward. "I love this song!" Getting up, she spun in a circle next to the vent. Her hair was down, and it whipped in her face, but she didn't seem to care.
"We were victims of the night
The chemical, physical kryptonite
Helpless to the bass and the fading light
Oh we were bound to be together
Bound to get together
She took my arm
I don't how it happened
We took the floor, and she said…"
Almost not knowing he did it, he stood up. "Will you dance with me?"
"What?" she asked, still lost in the beat. She came to a stop when she saw his face.
Oh my god, he's serious.
"Are you holding back?" he asked, smiling. Her eyes glinted as she raised an eyebrow.
"I guess this is when I tell you to shut up and dance with me."
"Skip the rude words, but I'd like to. If you want," he hesitated, wondering if she was only playing with him.
She would never hurt you. Not like Alice.
Elsie gently took his hand. "Of course, I'll dance with you," she muttered, biting her tongue to keep from teasing him further. He put one hand on her left shoulder and the other on her waist. She sucked in her breath.
God, I thought you'd never ask.
She let him lead, which surprised him. "Who taught you to dance?"
"My Da," her eyes glittered like the stars. "I love it. He's very liberal, but he says it's important for me to know how."
"In case you should ever dance with a gentleman," Charles teased. He'd danced with many girls before, but not one had ever fit in his arms like Elsie. Even wearing her coat over her dress, she was gorgeous.
The hand at her waist slipped imperceptibly lower. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he brought it back up to its proper place.
"But you're not," she murmured, both rather shocked at him as well as half-pleased. "A gentleman, that is." If any other boy had dared do that, she would have slapped them. Hard.
As it was, she enjoyed it. Although she did have her limits.
"Fortunately," his voice was barely above that of a whisper. Somehow she was even closer to him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his back. Before he could think, or lose his nerve, he dipped his head.
He kissed her lips.
She knew he was going to kiss her. The way his eyes had flickered down, how close they were standing. She thought she was prepared.
But oh, the way it felt with his lips against hers. Sliding her hands up, she felt the hair at the nape of his neck. He broke away for an instant.
Before he kissed her again.
Her knees felt weak. It was a good thing his arms were all the way around her, because she didn't think she would be able to stand without them.
He is a good kisser. A really. good. kisser.
Nothing had ever come close to the way it felt kissing her. When she hummed as he kissed her the second time, he thought he would lose his mind. It took all the self-control he had to keep his hands on her back. Their lips opened, and he slipped the very tip of his tongue between her teeth. She moaned.
That's enough. Don't push her too far.
They broke apart, foreheads together, breathing hard.
"Wow," he panted. His head was spinning, and the rest of him felt as though he'd swallowed several liters of fizzy drink. "Wow. Wowwww...I'm sorry."
"For what?" Her hands were still clasped around his neck. If she let go, she was sure she'd fall over. "Wow," she swallowed, taking a breath. "That was…fantastic." She felt as though there were bubbles inside her, popping away.
"I'm glad…you think…so," he gasped, still trying to get his breath back. And not to notice the way her chest rose and fell. "I'm sorry it took me this long to kiss you. I never thanked you after last autumn, and-"
Elsie covered his lips with two of her fingers. "It was worth the wait, Charles," she murmured, her breath staccato. "No apology is needed." She thought she would explode from sheer joy.
His heart almost stopped beating. "Say it again."
"Say what?" she looked up, confused.
"My name," he closed his eyes, pressed his lips against her forehead. "My god, the way you say my name…"
"Um…Charles," she said, feeling slightly self-conscious. It disappeared when he kissed her again. That time, her knees really did give out, and he caught her.
"Sorry," she giggled, beaming. She leaned against him, stretching her arms as far around him as she could. The rumble of his laughter vibrated in her ear. "Do you know what your voice does to me? Makes me collapse in a puddle."
He pulled back to look her. "I thought it was the kissing, Elsie," he kept his expression formal, but he wagged his eyebrows at her. They both laughed. She touched his face.
"That too."
A distant sound almost like rain distracted them from the activity several minutes later.
"What's that?" she asked as he rubbed her back, his chin on her head. She had forgotten that anything else existed.
"I think the dance is over," he said, fumbling for his phone. The artificial light reflected into his face, and she realized the sound was applause, coming from the open windows below. "12:01. It's the 15th of February, and Valentine's Day is over. Damn," he swore softly, putting it back in his pocket.
"What?" she asked, her arms around him.
He brought one of her hands to his lips and kissed it, relishing the look on her face. Her eyes almost rolled back in her head at the sensation. He kissed her hand again. "I meant to wish you a Happy Valentine's Day," he said softly. "Also, unfortunately, I have to go. I have to do the rounds, report to the headmistress. If I don't, she'll be suspicious."
"Oh," she frowned, her heart sinking. "Right. Well," she gave him a small smile, "I'll forgive you for not wishing me a Happy Valentine's Day. You had a good excuse. And so did I."
He grinned back at her. "That you did."
"I suppose I should go too," she went to button up her coat. Out of habit, she bit her lip. "When…when will I see you again?"
She kicked herself for sounding like the typical schoolgirl, but didn't know what else to say. If she could have kept the night from ending, she would have.
He tilted his head back, looking up at the sky, thinking furiously. A cloud uncovered the half-moon. He wanted to spend more time with her. More than anything. "Wait ten minutes after I leave, then come down the staircase. I'll be waiting for you. If you go now, you might get caught." He smiled. "Don't worry, I won't give you away."
After the last half hour, she believed him.
She waited twelve minutes before slipping downstairs. The lights in the science wing were dim, but the familiar outline of the Head Boy leaning against a wall was visible. Hand in hand, they walked through the school.
Neither walked that fast. She thought he was taking her the long way round to the girls' dormitory. The second time they passed the library, she was sure of it.
"It's almost like you don't want to say good night," she whispered. They hadn't seen anyone, but occasionally they had heard footsteps, and once, down a long corridor, they had seen a couple secluded in the semi-darkness, wrapped around each other. Elsie wasn't sure, but they looked suspiciously like John and Anna.
"I don't," Charles whispered, squeezing her hand. He stopped close to the wide doorway of the then-deserted hall, the red light of the Exit sign the only light. Taking her other hand, he pulled her closer.
"Part of me can't believe this has happened," he said. "That it's not all a dream. That…you like me."
"I can't either," she whispered, ghosting her hands up his arms. "You're the Head Boy. Cricket captain, do well on all your exams, loyal to your friends. Any girl would call herself lucky to be with you, and you picked me."
"You," he whispered the rumble of his voice making her shiver, "Elsie Hughes, fifth year, well-known troublemaker. Sexy. Someone with a kind heart, and a fiery temper."
He kissed her again. Slowly, ardently. She gripped his arms, feeling a different kind of fire.
"Have I mentioned," she gasped, "that you are a damn good kisser?"
The shot to his ego caused his smile to split his face. "You see I strive to have high standards in everything."
"Thank God," she whispered.
Eventually, they kept walking. It was so easy to talk about anything. Everything. He confessed that there had been an ulterior motive when he had gone to Headmistress Crawley, and convinced her to double the penalty when students were caught smoking.
"I was thinking of you, you see," he said. "My grandfather smoked a pipe for years. He was diagnosed with lung cancer two years ago. I just…didn't want that to happen to you. Eventually."
"Charles," she shook her head, squeezing his hand, "anyone else would have just told me to stop, not gone to the administration and changed the rules!"
"You didn't strike me as the type to listen if someone told you to not do something." That brought her up short.
She gave him a rueful smile. "Maybe you're right. I should try again, I have tried to quit before," she said. "Anna nags me about it a lot."
"Whatever you need, I'll help you the best I can," he said, sliding his arm around her waist. He knew he was going overboard, thinking about his grandfather, but he couldn't help it. Smoking's just bad, there are so many things it affects.
He wondered what she would look like in what his mother called middle age. He was sure Elsie would look beautiful, no matter how old she was.
He wondered what he'd look like. Like my father, probably.
She stifled a yawn against the back of her hand when they passed by the auditorium. "I'm sorry, but I'm dead on my feet," she said.
"No wonder, it's half four," he showed her his phone. He doubted as tired as he was that he would be able to sleep at all.
Walking her up to the doors of the girls' dormitory, both let out a breath in relief when they saw someone had left them slightly ajar.
"Emilia's a nice Head Girl," Charles said, smiling. "Then again, she's got a boyfriend, too…"
"Is that what you are?" she asked. Maybe it was her directness, or her fatigue. Either way, Elsie was not willing to leave the night's progress to chance.
"Your boyfriend?" he looked at the floor. All the insecurity that Alice had left him with seemed to come back. He took a deep breath, and a leap of faith. "I…I'd like that. If you would." His mates would probably laugh, call him old-fashioned. He didn't believe in hooking up. And Elsie deserved better than one night of snogging.
He wanted more than that, too.
"Are you sure?" she didn't want to keep after him, but six hours previously, her greatest hope was that he'd come by the punch table again.
"I have never been so sure," he whispered, pulling her close again.
Tears came to her eyes. "Well, Charles, if you want me for your girlfriend, you can have me."
They kissed for nearly another half an hour before finally pulling apart for the last time. "Good night, Elsie," he whispered into her hair. "Or good morning."
"Both," she sighed, drawing his arms from around her. "Good night, good morning, Charles."
He waited by the door until she was safely inside. She turned back once more, a brilliant smile on her face, blowing him a kiss.
Walking on air back to the boys' dorm, he slept for two hours until his alarm went off, his dreams all of Elsie.
After Valentine's Day, there were a number of surprising – and not so surprising - things that rocked the student population at Downton.
Joseph Molesley, Exhibit A of "nice guys finish last", asked Phyllis Baxter out. She agreed, and the two were seen everywhere together.
Alice Neal was caught with Dick Carlisle after hours in the dressing rooms. She and Charlie Grigg promptly broke up, only to get back together a few weeks later. They broke up again for good just before graduation.
Tommy Barrow was elected King of the Valentine's Day dance. Refusing to dance with Alice (who had been elected Queen), he instead danced with Jimmy Kent. To raucous applause.
A red rose was left tied to Nurse Crawley's office chair. No one ever confessed to it, but she wore a smile for the rest of term.
On graduation morning, Richard Clarkson found a white carnation in a vase outside his door. With it was a two-word note: I'll wait.
Charles Carson, seemed to change personalities. He because much more lax regarding lesser rules, and was observed to blatantly ignore some flagrant violations. He did, however, turn in several students who found an unused staircase in the science wing.
Many thought his new girlfriend would have had a greater influence on him.
Elsie Hughes, after two attempts, successfully stopped smoking. She still managed to get sent to detention several times, including once for flashing the Head Boy during an assembly.
Every time, Charles would be waiting for her afterward when she got out.
After the school year ended, workers went to the roof to clean the vent. They found an empty Iphone box with crumpled wrapping paper inside it, and a graduation program. One of the workers accidently stepped on a glass bottle, also empty. It was labeled Cabernet Bosche, Freemark Abbey, Napa Valley, 1999. Red lipstick prints were just visible around its rim. A tiny rectangular note was stuck to the bottom.
I thought we should live a little, don't you think?
For my beautiful girl. Love, C
