Decisions

**Written in response to ChelsieFan71's Tumblr response for Downton Abbey Series 7 scenes. Hope you'll enjoy and consider leaving a review, if you're so inclined!

C&E&C&E&C&E&C&E

"Charlie, please stop fussing and come join me," she pleaded for the third time since supper.

"Almost done, love. I need to get the pot cleaned or else it will be harder to wash in the morning. I should be asking you to do this since it's your fault I was so distracted in the first place," he teased as he stood at the kitchen sink, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and soap suds covering his forearms.

"My fault? You're the one with the roaming hands," she called back from the sitting room, a hint of laughter in her voice. "I don't seem to recall you objecting to my joining you in the kitchen while you were cooking supper."

"And miss a chance to gaze at my beautiful wife, clad only in her new nightgown and robe, hair plaited already for the night, and all before six o'clock in the evening? I'd have been a fool to miss that opportunity."

Elsie rose from her seat on the couch and made her way to the doorway at the kitchen. "Well, you're certainly missing a golden opportunity now. I've asked you three times to join me and you're more worried about that old cooking pot. I should let you cuddle with it tonight instead of me," she said as she pretended to pout.

Charles tossed his dishtowel at her and laughed as she caught it easily before sending it straight back to him. "Fair enough, love. Now, would my bride like wine, brandy, or perhaps a hot rum toddy to round out her evening?"

Elsie locked eyes with Charles and slowly closed the distance between them. "I only want my husband to join me in the other room. I've missed you terribly this week, and I want nothing more than to curl up with you and simply share some time together. Please," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a soft, warm kiss.

His arms encircled her waist, and he pulled her flush against him as he deepened the kiss, silently telling her how very much he had missed her, too. When the kiss ended, he brushed his lips against the side of her throat in a ghostlike whisper. "Let me go upstairs and change into my pajamas. I won't be long," he said patting her hip then stepping out of her embrace and heading quickly for the stairs.

When Charles returned, Elsie was sitting in their living room, the lamps turned off and the only light in the room was coming from the fire heating the small area. There was still a slight nip in the air, though the position of the couch to the fireplace ensured that they were toasty enough on these chilly evenings.

He stood on the bottom step and took a moment to simply appreciate his life and the woman with whom he shared it. Because of her, he had more than he had ever dreamed possible. Years ago, he had told her he thought he would die at Downton Abbey and haunt its halls for eternity, for that was how his future seemed mapped. But, then she had slowly crept into his heart, sweeping away the cobwebs and showing him that he had an overabundance of love residing there if only he would share it with her.

He saw her now, sitting in their living room, on their couch, perfectly contended and happy. It made his heart skip a beat to know that he had been the one she had chosen to marry. She could have accepted Joe Burns … twice … but she had declined his offers of home and marriage. Yet, he bumbled his way through a proposal and she accepted immediately and with a twinkle in her eyes and a witty comment on her lips. He chuckled as he walked up behind her, the proposal evening still fresh in his memory. He leaned over her shoulder and nuzzled the side of her neck softly.

"Told you I'd be back," he whispered into her ear.

"So you did, Mr. Carson, though I thought you had gotten lost. Took quite some time to change into nightclothes." She whipped her head around so quickly that she almost bumped his head with hers. "Is your hand bothering you this evening? I could rub it for you or put some liniment on it."

He smiled sweetly at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "No, sweetheart. It's not bothering me. In fact, I haven't had a bad spell in a few days, but thank you for the offer." He sat down beside her and took her hand in his. "It's getting better, well, at least it's not flaring up as it was months ago. I suppose you and Dr. Clarkson were right. The more I stressed about it and worried, the more it trembled," he said bringing her hand to his lips.

"Charlie, that's wonderful. I know you worry about going down the path that your father and grandfather did, but from what you've said, they both lived long and productive lives after their careers were over. I've no doubts that you will thrive, too, and you have something that they didn't have."

He quirked an eyebrow at her as he tried to think of what she might mean.

"You, my love, have me! And, I'll not sit by and watch you worry yourself over it or give up, either. I'm sure your mother and grandmother did much the same for their men, too, but you're mine, and I will do whatever I can in my power to make you happy."

"You already do, Elsie, so very happy," he said, resting his head on her shoulder.

She rested her head on his for a moment then shifted. "You worked hard on our dinner tonight. Why don't you stretch out and put your head in my lap. Please?"

While they both knew he wasn't likely to fit completely, he did as she requested, letting his feet dangle over the edge of the couch towards the heat of the fire. With his head resting in her lap, he closed his eyes and gave himself over completely to her touch.

As her fingertips began to lightly rake through his silvery hair and across his forehead, they both could feel the entire world ebbing away, leaving only them and their little cottage in its wake. Occasionally, she would use the back of her hand to caress his cheeks or trace the outline of his lips with her fingertips. She would lightly massage his scalp or use her index finger to smooth over his impressive eyebrows. Other times, she would apply just the right amount of pressure to his temples to elicit a moan of approval. When her hand slipped into the opening at the top of his shirt to lightly scratch his chest, he hummed his appreciation, his body responding happily to her touch but warring with his mind for control. He wanted to indulge her, give her time to explore and touch, but there was something about her mood that unsettled him enough to break the silence with a question.

"What's troubling you tonight, Elsie? I'm not complaining about you doting on me, but I feel like something is amiss."

She moved her hand until it was over his heart and her free hand clasped his tightly. "I've been thinking seriously about something that will affect both of us, and I'm not sure how you'll feel about it."

His eyes opened and he looked up into her concerned face. "Why don't you tell me what it is, and we can discuss whatever's troubling you? Isn't that what you're always trying to get me to do … open up and share things with you?"

"Hmm, you do pay attention to me … sometimes!" she teased and they both shared a soft laugh. She leaned forward and kissed his lips though the angle was a bit awkward for both of them. "I don't want to go to church in the morning," she said very honestly, as if that made all the sense in the world.

His eyebrows raised and then his brow furrowed. "And why not? You always enjoy singing the hymns and chatting with some of the women from the village. Has one of them said something to offend you or has something else happened of which I'm not aware? Or are you not feeling well?"

The concern in his voice was evident and Elsie knew she had to work quickly to alleviate his fears. "No, nothing like that at all. I just … well, I just don't want to go," she answered, as if that explained everything in crystal clear detail.

Charles sat up and gathered her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. "I'm not following you, Elsie. Are you just simply tired? No one could blame you since you're having to do your job and probably Thomas's, too."

"Now, don't go down that road, please. He's doing the best he can. After all, he has some rather impressive shoes to fill and a legend to live up to at that house. He's no Charlie Carson, but he's learned from him and that's a head above most butlers in this country."

"You flatter me, but you're also avoiding my question," he said, giving her side a little tickle which earned him a little laugh. "Would you feel more comfortable telling me when we're upstairs? We could retire early for the night, cuddle up, and talk for as long as you want about anything on your mind."

She nodded and quickly wiped away the lone tear before it escaped too far down her cheek. She uncurled herself from his embrace and after watching him bank the fire, she took his hands in hers and led him up the stairs and into their bedroom. Once they were both settled in their bed, her head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around her tightly, she let out a deep sigh and began to explain.

"I enjoy my work. I always have. It's provided Becky and me with a life outside of the workhouse. It's put food in my mouth, a roof over my head, clothes on my back, friends, and something of a family life once I left my own home. But, lately, I'm finding myself more and more distracted."

Charles smiled and was beginning to see where this was leading, or so he thought. His hands smoothed up and down her back, and he occasionally acknowledged that he was intently listening with a nod of his head or a hum of understanding. "And why are you so distracted, Mrs. Hughes?" He chose to use that title as a way of adding levity into their conversation as well as out of respect for her title at the house.

"You, my dear husband. You. Our cottage here. The other house. The flowers I want to plant in the Spring. The curtains I want to make for the windows. Everything. I go to work and take care of the Crawley's magnificent house, and all the while, I'm dreaming of my own home, my husband, and all the things I want to do and share with you," she said softly and with a gentle shrug of her shoulder.

He tilted her head back and kissed her softly on the lips. "I would like nothing more than for you to be by my side every day. I think of hundreds of little things to tell you when you're not here. Walking through the village without you by my side is certainly no walk in the park, either. You know how I dislike all that idle prattle the women try to engage me in," he said with a mild shudder as he thought of Mrs. Wigan. The last time Charles had gone to the post office, he had declared it to be his last. Elsie could buy her own stamps!

Elsie giggled softly, knowing exactly why her husband had shivered beneath her. "You need someone to protect you from the lecherous attentions of the postmistress?"

"That's not funny, Elsie Carson! You know what that woman's like. And you know I'd never …"

"Yes, darling. I know. You'd never … with her or anyone else. I've no fears or worries about that at all. You're my curmudgeon and I won't let any of those women forget it."

"So, getting back to this church business. You say you don't want to go but I'm sensing that it's a bigger issue than just church in the morning. Am I right?"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering. "I don't even know if we can afford it, Charlie. With Becky's costs and the renovations on the Brouncker Road house, would we even have enough to buy food?"

Charles shifted his body until he was eye to eye with Elsie while still holding her in his embrace. "I've told you before, we have more than enough money. We wouldn't be able to travel the country for weeks or months on end, but the family would give you a retirement sum, plus the house is paid for. We can live here, make the renovations slowly on the other house until it's ready for us to open it, plant a garden and grow some of our own food, and we'd have more than enough for Becky's needs and our own."

"It all seems so simple, Charlie, but I've lived so close to the edge for so long, it's hard to believe otherwise. I trust you," she added quickly, "and I know you've made sound investments over the years, but … "

"In the morning, we'll sit down to a nice, hearty breakfast and afterwards, I'll show you all of the ledgers I have. We'll take them out to the garden and go over them one by one. I'll prove to you, Elsie that you don't have to work if you decide you're ready to retire."

"And what about missing church tomorrow? You didn't seem too keen on that."

"One Sunday or two won't hurt us, will it? Sounds like what you need is a day in your own home and doing the things that you want to do. So, that's exactly what we'll plan for tomorrow. And when you're ready … and only then … you can make the decision about retirement. But, don't think I won't do everything in my power to convince you that spending your days with me will be much more entertaining than in your office at Downton. After all, the butler of this house is very intimately aware of what makes you happy, and he's not afraid to prove it."

Elsie slipped her leg over his and curled herself deeper into his side. "Care to show me just how persuasive this butler can be?" She began deftly unfastening the buttons on his pajama shirt while moving against him.

"It would be my pleasure to pleasure you, Mrs. Carson," he said, rolling her onto her back and brushing his lips against her ear. "I'm your husband, and I love you. Trust me to take care of you, in all ways."

She moaned as his hands slipped beneath her gown and slipped it from her body as his lips and tongue left a heated trail across her chest. Her last coherent thought was how quickly she might turn in her notice so she could start being a proper wife to this amazing man she called husband.

TBC …maybe …