A/N This is a belated birthday fic for Chelsie Dagger. I'm certain her birthday was in no way ruined by the fact that I didn't have this finished two days ago; in fact, her day was likely far better without it. Still, here it is.
The idea arose when ladyjanesfelsham on tumblr said she was surprised that we didn't see some of the honeymoon in Scarborough, just so Fellowes could throw more interruptions at our favorite beleaguered couple. So thank you, ladyjanesfelsham, for the prompt.
Chelsie Dagger, happy belated birthday to you, my friend! Enjoy!
16th May, 1925; Scarborough, North Yorkshire
"Elsie … my love … my dearest darling … " Charles breathed as he kissed his bride and held her close. His words were punctuated by loving nips and nibbles to her cheeks, chin, jaw, throat, neck, ears … any spot he could access. "I've waited so long for this, for you to be my wife. To have you in my arms … to hold you … to kiss you … to be alone with you … with no one else about … and no interruptions."
As if fate couldn't resist the chance to inject a little irony into the Carsons' honeymoon, there was a rapping at the door of their hotel room.
Charles groaned pitiably. "What can that possibly be? We've been here barely five minutes. The porter has only just left!"
Elsie chuckled softly. "Oh, Charles! It's all right. I'm sure it can't be anything serious. We'll just answer the door, see what the trouble is, and send the person away. And then we'll pick up right where we left off." She kissed him quickly and extricated herself from his embrace.
When she answered the door, she found the same young man who had just carried their bags and escorted them to their room – and who had left them only five minutes ago. He was holding a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am, sir. I'm sorry to disturb you," he apologized. "Lord and Lady Grantham asked that this be waiting for you in your room upon your arrival, but since you arrived a bit earlier than we'd expected, it wasn't quite ready. Mr. Finley asked me to bring it up now. He sends his apologies."
"Oh, no apology is necessary," Elsie assured him. "Thank you very much."
The boy handed her the bottle and left.
"Well, this is very nice!" Elsie remarked as she set down the bucket on the table.
"Indeed. All except for the timing!" Charles grumbled. "Now. Where were we?" Disregarding the champagne, he tugged her gingerly but insistently back into his arms and resumed his attentions. He had managed only a few kisses to her neck when another knock sounded at the door.
"What now?!" he growled, loudly enough to be heard in the corridor outside. He reluctantly released his wife and yanked open the door. "Yes?" he demanded of the porter, who stood there cowering.
"Begging your pardon again, sir, ma'am ... I'm very sorry to interrupt." The poor chap seemed positively petrified at the sight of the towering, angry man before him and looked to the kinder-looking woman in the room for help.
"It's all right, lad," she soothed. "What is it?"
"It's only that when you registered, Mr. Finley forgot to inquire whether you'd be coming down to the dining room for breakfast tomorrow morning or if you'd prefer to have a tray brought up to the room," he said meekly.
"Please tell Mr. Finley a tray would be very nice. Thank you," stated Elsie evenly.
"And he also wished to know when our maid come should to your room. Would you prefer early morning or later in the afternoon?" the lad soldiered on bravely.
"Any time after lunch would be fine," she responded.
He nodded and turned to leave as quickly as he could, and Charles practically slammed the door in his wake.
"Charles!" Elsie scolded gently. "I'm flattered that you're so eager to be alone with me, but there's no need to be quite so hard on the lad. He's only doing his job. And he's doing it admirably, I might add. If he were one of your footmen, you'd be proud of him."
"If he were one of my charges, I might indeed be proud. However, he is not. Right now, he is the reason I've hardly been able to kiss my wife on our wedding night."
"Well, he's gone now, and you have a chance to remedy the situation with your wife, who, I assure you, is just as eager as her husband – though perhaps a bit more patient and a tad less irritable."
And giving evidence of the eagerness of which she'd just spoken, Elsie approached him, slid her arms up his chest, over his shoulders, and around his neck, and kissed him soundly. As her tongue slid across his lips, she pushed his jacket from his shoulders, laid it across a chair, and began to loosen his collar and tie. Charles, in turn, relieved her of her coat and carefully removed her hat, placing both on the chair with his suit coat. While he examined her dress to ascertain the best way to begin to undo it, she removed his tie, collar, and studs completely, then divested him of his waistcoat. Before he was able to make a start at peeling away his wife's garments, yet another knock interrupted their amorous activities.
"We might as well have done this in my pantry or your sitting room! With all these interruptions, it's as if we were back at Downton!" groused Charles impatiently.
He stalked angrily to the door and flung it open unceremoniously, not caring that he was clothed in only his shirtsleeves and trousers. When he saw the unfortunate porter standing there again, he didn't speak but instead waited for the young man to make known the latest crisis.
"Pardon me again. I'm ever so sorry to bother you, but there's been an urgent telephone call for you, Mr. Carson." When Charles just looked at the lad in incomprehension and disbelief, the boy went on to explain. "It was a Mr. Barrow on the line. He said there was no need for you to come to the telephone, but I'm to ask where you keep the key to the silver pantry, and then I'm to ring him back to tell him what you've said."
"It's in the key cupboard, right next to the wine cellar key!" Charles bellowed.
The poor boy shrank back in visible terror, and Elsie interceded.
Coming to the door, she asked gently, "What's your name, lad?"
"It's F-f-f-fred, m-m-ma'am," he stammered.
"Well, Fred, you're very diligent and conscientious in your work. I commend you," said she, and the young man smiled proudly at her compliment. "It's only that my husband and I have had quite a long, busy day and a tiring journey, and we're eager to go to bed now. I'm sure we can trust you to make certain we're not disturbed again."
"Yes, Mrs. Carson. Of course," he replied.
"Very good. Now, please ring Mr. Barrow back and inform him where the key is. Tell him also that if anything else comes up, he'll just need to figure it out on his own," Elsie instructed firmly but politely.
"Yes, ma'am. I'll do that," Fred acknowledged.
"My wife and I expect to spend the rest of our evening undisturbed. Be certain that no one troubles us again unless the hotel is on fire," Charles added, pulling a few coins from his pocket and giving them to Fred. "And I'll give you twice that tomorrow morning if you succeed in that task."
"Yes, sir. I understand. Thank you, sir." And the porter disappeared.
As soon as the newlyweds were alone again, Charles slumped down on the bed and heaved a deep sigh. "This is hardly how I imagined our wedding night," he lamented. "It hasn't been terribly romantic, has it?"
"I think it's been incredibly romantic," Elsie argued as she sat down next to him and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm here on my honeymoon, with my handsome, charming husband – my husband! – who makes me very, very happy."
She kissed him again, lowered his braces from his shoulders, and unbuttoned his shirt. Then she took off his cuff links, pulled his shirttails from his trousers, and removed his shirt, leaving him in only his vest. But before she could go any further and before he could reciprocate the undressing, someone tapped quietly on the door. He grimaced and muttered something under his breath.
Taking stock of his disheveled, semi-naked state, he told Elsie, "I'm afraid you'll need to answer that, love. You're presentable, but I'm hardly in a state to be seen. I'll just tuck myself away over here." Charles pulled his shirt back on and went to the corner of the room, where he was shielded from view by an armoire.
"Hello?" called a woman's voice quietly through the closed door.
"Just a moment," called Elsie as she crossed the room. "Yes?" she said when she answered the door.
"Here you are, ma'am: the extra pillows and blanket you requested," the young maid announced, holding out two pillows and a blanket to Elsie.
"But we don't require either, and we didn't ask for them," Elsie said, now growing annoyed herself.
"But someone came down to the front desk to ask for them. I was told to bring them up to you … " The girl trailed off as she apprehended the situation. "Oh, I apologize. I must have the wrong room."
"Yes, I believe you do. In future, you should take more care so as not to inconvenience your guests," Elsie told her firmly but patiently, as if speaking to one of her own maids.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm awfully sorry to have troubled you. I'll leave you to it, then." And the girl turned on her heel and scampered off.
Elsie closed the door and spun back around to Charles, who was already putting his clothes back on.
"What are you doing, Charles?" she asked.
"This is unacceptable. We're leaving," he stated flatly.
"What do you mean, 'We're leaving'? Where do you think we can go at this hour?" she demanded.
"Don't worry. I've got a plan." He finished dressing and pulled a small bag out of his larger one. "Put in here only what you'll need for tonight and tomorrow morning. Take just the essentials."
She had no idea what he intended to do, but she trusted him and did as he directed.
Ten minutes later, having walked the short distance from the Grand Hotel, they stood at the reception desk in the lobby of the Crown Hotel.
"Hello and welcome to the Crown. My name is Mr. Lloyd," said the man behind the counter. "How may I help you?"
"Good evening, Mr. Lloyd. I am Mr. … Smith – John Smith," Charles lied, less than persuasively. "My wife and I are in a bit of a predicament, and we find ourselves in need of lodging for the night. I realize it's rather late and we have no reservation, but have you any vacancy to accommodate us?"
"Certainly, Mr. Smith," replied Mr. Lloyd. "You would be most welcome. I'll have Stephen show you to your room. Just sign the register, please."
Charles signed his pseudonym in the guest register book while Mr. Lloyd took a key from a hook and handed it to a young man, presumably Stephen.
"How long will you be staying with us, Mrs. Smith?" Mr. Lloyd asked Elsie as Charles handed Stephen their bag and had a few words with the chap.
"That depends somewhat," Elsie said. She lowered her voice. "You see, my husband suffers from a … condition. Because of his … affliction, he requires peace and quiet and plenty of rest. If he remains unperturbed tonight, he might be inclined to stay for a few more days. But if he finds himself disturbed at all, he'll want to leave first thing in the morning."
"Say no more, Mrs. Smith. I understand," the man assured her.
Just then, Charles returned to stand next to Elsie and told Mr. Lloyd, "And just to be perfectly clear … We don't want anything at all to eat or drink. We don't need any extra pillows or blankets. There is no need for anyone to bring anything up to us, and we don't wish for a maid to make up our room. We have everything we require, and we will come down to you should a need arise. We are not expecting any visitors, and we will not be taking any telephone calls. We wish to be left to ourselves!" Charles took a banknote and set it on the counter, looking pointedly at Mr. Lloyd, whose eyes widened.
"Right you are, sir. Thank you. I'll see to it," promised Mr. Lloyd. "Good night to you both."
Stephen showed the couple to their room, set down their bag, and left as quickly as he could.
As soon as Charles and Elsie were alone, she began to laugh. "Charles! What's gotten into you? First we sneaked out of the Grand and didn't even tell them we were leaving. And now we're registered here under a false name? And Smith, no less? Really, Charles! Could you not think of something better than Smith?"
"I admit it's not very original … But I'm not very creative and not very good at subterfuge," he confessed, as if his wife were not already well aware.
"Clearly!" she agreed.
"I want it to seem as if we're still at the Grand; that's why I said we should leave some of our things there and not check out," explained Charles. "We can go back to get them tomorrow if we decide to stay here longer. But if no one knows we're here, then no one can disturb us. No intrusive deliveries of gifts from the family, no urgent telephone calls with questions from our staff. We won't be interrupted in the middle of … well … everything we haven't yet got to."
"All right, then. I admit it's a sensible plan," she allowed as she stepped closer and rested her hands on his chest. She raised herself up on her toes to whisper her next words seductively in his ear. "Now … before someone interferes again … tell me about … 'everything we haven't yet got to.'"
"It would be my pleasure," he rumbled, drawing her closer and kissing her fiercely. When she was breathless, he continued, "You see, first there's this … " He tickled the tip of his nose across her lips teasingly. "Then there's this … " He nibbled softly on her earlobe and breathed heavily in her ear. "Also this … " He ran his tongue slowly from the hollow of her throat up to her chin.
"What about this?" she asked, running her hands over his chest and shoulders and pressing her body insistently against his.
"Oh, yes. That, too," he said.
"And this?" she murmured as she buried her fingers in his hair and kissed him again, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth.
"Oh, I do like that!" he told her when he could speak again.
For the next several minutes, there was no more talking as they stripped away each other's clothes and slipped into the bed. When they were finally lying together, Elsie revealed, "I'm almost afraid to go any further, thinking there's going to be a knock at the door at any moment."
"It's late enough now that there's no possible reason anyone should be about in the corridors. And no one and nothing on Earth is going to stop us from doing this now," Charles assured her as he positioned himself above her, looked intensely into her eyes, and kissed her.
And he was correct: no one and nothing stopped them. They remained blessedly unmolested during the entire night and enjoyed every single peaceful, quiet moment.
When morning came, the couple lay tangled in the sheets and tangled with each other. When they heard a rapping at the door, they ignored it, choosing instead to distract themselves with other pursuits.
A/N The Grand Hotel and the Crown Hotel (now the Crown Spa Hotel) were both real places in Scarborough in the 1920's, and both are still there today, according to my research.
Reviews would be lovely, and I'm sure Chelsie Dagger would love any belated birthday wishes. Thanks for reading!