A/N Well, I managed to squeak out another chapter. I'm not sure whether to end it here or try to continue. I don't know if I can continue; I'm out of ideas at the moment, but maybe at some point, fresh inspiration will strike. I'd love to know what you think, so please leave a review with any comments (whether you like it or hate it), suggestions, ideas, advice ... anything. Thanks for reading and for all the reviews so far.

Also, for anyone who's following "Small Advances," look for another chapter later today. And if you're not, please check it out and tell me what you think! Thanks!

Chapter 3

Charles was able to muddle through the days preceding the funeral only because of Mrs. Hughes's unwavering support. Every time he thought he couldn't go on, she graced him with a look, a touch, a word, a smile that reminded him that life was still worth living. He was able to endure the funeral itself only because Mrs. Hughes was right beside him, holding his hand – and his heart.

After the funeral, Lady Mary did indeed seek him out, just as Mrs. Hughes had predicted she would. She said only, "Oh, Carson!" and collapsed onto his chest, sobbing with such intensity that he could barely contain his own emotion. He didn't speak. He couldn't. He simply held her, patting and rubbing her back gently. At the same time his heart was breaking for her, he derived a certain satisfaction from being able to comfort her and tremendous gratification at being the one person she turned to in her time of need.

He managed to plod through the rest of that day, though how he did so, he couldn't say. Later that evening, after the others had all retired, he went to Mrs. Hughes's sitting room. He entered without knocking, without speaking. She was standing at her desk sorting some papers. He approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, clasping his hands at her stomach. He rested his chin on her shoulder and his cheek against hers.

As soon as he had her firmly in his embrace, sobs began to wrack his body. She turned in his arms and began to caress his face, to stroke his hair, to place soothing kisses on his cheeks, his forehead, his chin. She didn't say anything. He didn't want her to. He just needed to feel her touch. Charles had never thought that he would crave the corporal intimacy he had long ago forsaken, but he had been wrong. No one had held him or touched him like this since he was a boy, and he had forgotten how good it felt. Soon, her calming attentions had the desired effect, and he found himself able to speak – needing to speak.

"Elsie … " he began, using her Christian name. "You probably think me ridiculous for going to pieces like this, but it's not what you might think. Yes, I'm heartbroken for Lady Mary. I can only imagine what she's going through, losing the love of her life. But I thank God that I can only imagine it, because there was a time I feared I might have had to endure it myself." He paused before continuing, "You see, I knew. When you thought you might have been ill … I knew. I know you think I'm oblivious to many things, and I may be, but never when it comes to you. I notice everything about you. You could never have kept it from me. Why did you even try?"

His tears began afresh, and so did hers.

"Oh, Charles! I didn't tell you because I wanted to spare you the grief that I had gone through. During the war, when you had your attack and collapsed, and then again, when you suffered from the Spanish Flu … It was the worst fear I have ever felt. I couldn't eat or sleep or think or even breathe properly until you were well again. The thought that I might have lost you …" Elsie trailed off, weeping, before continuing. "So then, when I thought I might have been dying … Well, I was by no means certain that your feelings for me ran as deep as mine for you, but I hoped that they might. And if you did return even the smallest part of my love for you, then you would suffer as I did. I wanted to spare you that pain – at least until I found out whether I really was ill. I didn't want you to face the same torment. As it turned out, I was perfectly well, and you needed not have borne the anguish."

"But I did bear it, Elsie!" he told her. "I bore it loving you so much it hurt and yet thinking you didn't care for me enough even to tell me. I bore it having no proper place and no right to share your sorrow but every desire to do so. You've supported me, always, and I wanted to comfort you the same way. I wanted to hold you, to dry your tears. You've been my solace, and I wanted to be yours."

"I'm so sorry, Charles! I never intended to hurt you. I just didn't want to burden you. I hoped that all would be well and that you would never need know. You must believe that I tried to keep it from you because I do love you!" she cried.

They both stood there, breathing heavily, shoulders heaving, after such an emotional exchange. When the tears subsided and they both resumed more normal breathing, Charles sighed wearily and spoke.

"That was hardly the way I had intended to declare my love for you, but there it is," he said plainly.

"It wasn't quite what I had imagined, either," she remarked.

"Shall we try it again, then?" he asked.

"Perhaps we should," she agreed.

Charles stood looking into her eyes and reached up to brush his fingers over her face. He traced her eyebrows, her nose, her cheekbone, her jawbone, her lips. Elsie ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.

"Let me love you, Elsie," he said quietly, his face so close it was nearly touching hers. "Properly, I mean. I want to share your joy and suffer your pain. Will you let me? Please?"

She didn't answer with words. Smiling through her tears, she placed a slow, soft kiss to his lips. Charles returned her smile and kissed her back just as tenderly.