Idea got from Ian McEwan's On Chesil Beach. A oneshot, but you know what I'm like; I will write more if you want me to. Or perhaps even if you don't.
On Scarborough Beach
1902
They were here at last. The sense of relief was nearly tangible in the cold air of the approaching evening, the kinder climbs of summer almost completely gone as September drew ever closer. It was not the long separate train rides from Downton that made this moment seem as if had been ever in the making; and the long months of separation during the London season had almost been wiped from their minds in the three weeks that they had been reunited. What had built them up to this state of such palpable apprehension was the forty minute wedding ceremony that they had only recently broken free from. Their wedding.
It rather surprised Charles Carson just how much the space of forty minutes- compared to the two recent months apart- had changed how he felt. Of course, it had not completely changed, he still loved her as fiercely walking along Scarborough beach as he had done when he'd whispered this plan to her barely over a week ago. But now there was an odd sense of permanence to it, to them, as their marriage stretched like eternity before them. A wondrous, happy eternity that he'd never before conceived of. This thought in his head, he reached down and took his wife's hand gently. She had been looking out at the sea, at the solitary boats on the horizon, but at the feeling of his skin on hers Elsie turned to him, smiled her understanding, and squeezed his large hand quickly. They continued along the beach in silence.
The evening was cloudy, and so darkness was drawing in more quickly. Because of this they had decided to go straight back to the boarding house where they had taken lodging for the night straight away. Elsie seemed recently to have been moving through varying phases of the same emotion: nervousness. That wasn't to say that she didn't want to be here with him. First she worried terribly that they would be caught out- probably by that tiresome new lady's maid-, it would be revealed that they were not in fact visiting their respective families but running away together, albeit with the intention of coming back straight away. Now, physically removed from the embodiments of this anxiety, she felt such practical considerations slip away from her. What bothered her now was something far less forgettable; the halting barrier of her inexperience at the sort of thing she was walking head-long into. It would be wrong to say that was scared. Apprehensive was a much better word for it.
Her head faced more forwards now that she was holding his hand, even leaning in towards him a little. Their new togetherness, their inseparability was evident. He wanted very much to know if she was as happy as he was, but didn't want to be so blunt as to ask.
"Elsie. I love you."
Another kind of bluntness, then. But her little hand tightened for a second on his again, and he knew another brief smile accompanied it. It was comforting against the slight chill of the air.
"I love you too, Charles."
They walked on, a fraction faster, not impatiently, more as if their respective nerves were driving each of them to walk more quickly.
Of course, he desired her, but she could sense that she was nervous.
Of course, she was a little apprehensive, but not to the point of terror. She was more than willing to learn.
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