Just a little something that needed to come out of my fingertips last night. Was even sappier, but I toned it down...well, I tried to, anyway...
Coming home through the front door, Charles looked about for Elsie, but found no trace of his wife as he made his way to the kitchen. Putting down his large parcel to pull a vase from the cabinet, he caught sight of his wife fighting a strong breeze as she attempted to hang their recently washed sheets on the line. The wind was at her back causing her skirt and blouse to frame her shape so that every curve was pronounced, a vision that quite entranced her husband for several moments before he returned to his task of filling the large vase.
Married for just shy of a year, they had only been living in the house on Brounker Road for a week, but much to his own surprise, Charles had adapted quite quickly to their quiet, and for the time being, wonderfully secluded life. Watching his lovely wife through the window, he smiled as he recalled their early morning conversation of only a few hours before, shared as he had held Elsie's naked body against his within the confines of their large, soft bed.
Slowly running her nails down her husband's arm, Elsie spoke the first intelligible words either of the couple had uttered since their lovemaking. "If we were at Downton, I would be arranging flowers for the breakfast table right about now."
"And what flowers would you choose for today?" her husband asked as he let out a slight shiver in response to her gentle touch.
"Mmmmm….white peonies. White peonies and pink heather are my favorites at this time of year." Rolling onto her back, she yawned before asking, "And you, Mr. Carson? What would you be doing this very minute if we were at Downton?"
Charles stretched out next to her, giving way to her yawn contagion with his own as he answered, "I would most likely be scolding a hall boy for slouching or bristling at Mr. Molesley."
Elsie chuckled as she asked, "Bristling at Mr. Molesley for what?"
"Oh, for being Mr. Molesley, I suppose. Ouch!"
Elsie's playful pinch of his bottom earned her a bite on her earlobe to which she responded by pulling her husband against her so that his head rested against her breast as she playfully scolded, "Settle down now, Mr. Carson, and just let me hold you for a bit."
"I would be quite content to be held like this for the rest of my life, Mrs. Carson."
Elsie bent her head to kiss the top of his, allowing several seconds to pass before she whispered, "Thank you for asking me."
Bending his head back Charles gave her a puzzled look. "For asking you what, Elsie?"
"To be your wife."
Smiling, Charles countered, "It is I who should be thanking you for saying yes."
Elsie's expression was kind, but serious as she spoke. "No, it is because of you that I have this life outside of service, Charles. You have given me this beautiful home, this beautiful life." Her voice became thick with emotion and she quickly wiped a stray tear from her cheek as she continued, "Each day I spend with you is better than the day before. It is truly a gift and I thank you so dearly for it."
While they had certainly grown more comfortable in expressing their affection physically during this first year of their marriage, each had been more reserved in vocalizing their feelings; this exchange being the most honest and emotional they had shared thus far.
Charles returned his head to its resting place on her chest, giving the side of her breast a light kiss as he mustered the courage to open his heart to her.
"You make me a better man, Elsie. I am a better man for loving you. Do you know that?"
She wasn't sure how to answer, Charles confession so unexpected. "Oh, Charles, that isn't true. You have always been a wonderful man."
Shifting to his side, Charles pushed himself up so that his head was now parallel to hers as he reached over and cupped her cheek. "It is absolutely true. I am better for your kindness and your care," he slipped his hand from her cheek to over her heart, "and your love, Elsie." His eyes locked on hers as the words began to tumble from his lips, "How could a man live with someone as giving and wonderful as you and not learn from it? Not be inspired to follow your lead?" Tears now flowed from both of their eyes as Charles continued to speak, "You are, you are…" he shook his head in an effort to organize the litany of adjectives that filled his mind. "You are beautiful and clever and spirited and generous and…"
"Charles…" Elsie placed her fingers against his lips, overwhelmed by his declaration.
Charles, however, would not be quelled, his feelings so strong and passionate he gently pulled her hand from his lips so he could continue. "No, I have to say this, Elsie. What I feel for you is so…so great that it sometimes scares me that I can feel so much. You make me feel so good and important and…worthy. I didn't know I had this capacity to feel and share so much with another person. I didn't know I could love so much. I didn't know how wonderful it would be to be loved in this way."
Quite sure her heart would burst to hear another word from his lips, Elsie rolled over and took Charles' face in her hands, her mouth on his as their shared tears pooled together against the pillow.
Pulling away from his mouth, Elsie continued to kiss his face, moving from his wet cheeks to his temples and onto his forehead as Charles fully wept into her neck.
"Thank you for being mine, Elsie, and for loving me." His words were a choked whisper against her skin.
"I do, I love you, Charles Carson. I love you. I love you. I love you." Her words were the last they shared as their light caresses eventually ceased, their emotionally drained bodies drifting into sleep.
Elsie woke an hour later to find Charles had slipped from the bed, a damp spot on his pillow the only proof that their earlier conversation hadn't been a dream. Quickly dressing and arranging her hair, she fought to keep new tears at bay as she recalled the gorgeous heartfelt words her husband had shared. Smiling unabashedly, she made quick work of stripping the linens from their bed, pausing only once to press her face into Charles' pillow to breathe in the heady mix of scents that were so distinct to her husband.
There was no sign of Charles as she made her way through the house and outside the back door of the kitchen to soak, wash and run the sheets through the mangle. An hour later, she was pink of complexion, her hair windswept, but lovely as she made her back into the house, the clean sheets securely pinned to the line and rapidly drying as they flapped in a strong early summer wind. Opening the back door, she was beginning to call out Charles' name, when her breath was suddenly taken away by the sight of a large and glorious array of white peonies and bright pink heather that now graced their breakfast table.