A/N: Rounding the final bend on my first fic. Thank you for all the reviews! I started this chapter while visiting my friends who were my spark while tuning in to S6 in January 2016. I was staying in their son's room which doubles as their guest room. His name is Charles and if that wasn't enough to make me chuckle, among the books in his reading pile was one, "The Curmudeon's Guide to Getting Ahead!" Is that kismet?
As the honeymooners blissfully lingered in the bath, quiet conversation, tender kisses and caresses continued - until housekeeping knocked. They had not put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door to their room. Fortunately, Elsie had left the door open to the en suite and she was able to call out to the maid and ask her to come back later.
Hearing the door of their room close behind the woman, Elsie looked back from the door to over her shoulder only to see the mortified look on her husband's face while Elsie herself couldn't help but laugh at their nearly been found together.
Noticing Charles was not laughing, she teased him, "You old booby," and reached up to pull his lips down to hers. Her fingertips contacted the right side of his chin. "Charles?"
"Hmmmm?"
"How did you ever get that scar? You've had it as long as I've known you."
"A bicycle accident when I was a lad," he explained as he ran his own fingers over the scar now. "I was unsteady. If only someone had been alongside me...reaching out their hand," he teased, nudging her with his hip. Noticing how wrinkled the pads of his fingers were, he then held out his hand for Elsie to see. "Elsie, as much as I hate to leave the confines of this tub that we've been sharing, it seems like it's time we best remove ourselves."
"Oh, I suppose so. That's a shame, I have rather enjoyed my time here in the bare arms of my handsome husband, the fine and wonderful Charles Edward Carson." There she was again, rolling her Rs.
"Oh, off with you before I roll something else of yours!" he joshed.
Grinning, Elsie stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around her bosom before holding one up for Charles to step into. She helped dry his arms and chest before handing him the towel to finish the job. He slipped on his dressing gown while she remained simply in her towel for the walk to the dressing alcove.
She hung up her gowns in the wardrobe before opening the dresser drawer and stepping into a clean pair of knickers, then unwrapping herself from the towel and putting on her shift. All this she managed perfectly well beside Charles who was also getting dressed in the tight confines of the alcove. But as she began to put on her corset, Charles's eyes were caught by the SILVER metal eyelets as she tightened the laces. He could not help but stare as her body's form was increasingly tamed within.
"Charles, what's got you?" She continued lacing.
"I, I don't know, just you I suppose. And your corset."
He still hadn't looked away, fascinated that he was. "Well, get used to it. Every morning and at night the reverse." He frowned which stopped her progress. "Would you like to help?"
He looked up hopefully and stepped closer, "Show me what to do."
And so she showed him, the bodice becoming tighter and tighter as Charles continued lacing up his wife.
"It must hurt too?"
"Well, it's no picnic. What pain we women don't go through for you men."
His eyes shot up to hers in a look of alarm.
"Charles, I'm sorry. That was unkind."
"Elsie, you know I don't want to hurt you, for you to be in pain, ever. My God when you were in the midst of your cancer scare, I was beside myself with worry. And now you tell me that in our intimacy, I - "
"Shh, shh now," she attempted to calm him by grasping his hands. "I know, Charles, I know. Some things are just the way they are, though."
"But aren't there alternatives?"
"Alternatives? Alternatives to what?"
"Well, alternatives to this for example," he lifted one of the laces.
"Yes, there certainly are alternatives but those things cost money and I am so used to my corset it's second nature."
"Elsie, we have money."
"Yes, so I am beginning to comprehend as of late, even more so on this honeymoon of ours."
"The honeymoon is temporary, Elsie, but if you would be more comfortable in some other undergarments, I'd rather you have them. It's not an indulgence for one to be more comfortable."
"Well, I'll think about it but I don't know how I feel about going into the shop in the village or even in Ripon for that matter and trying on some alternatives as you call them."
"What about here?"
"What do you mean, Charles?"
"I mean, why not shop for...alternatives...here, in Scarborough?"
"Oh Charles, why all the fuss?"
"Well, I think...I think you might like them. And I might like them as well," he muttered with a blush.
"Oh, you wicked man, you!" She gave him a little swat on the arm before giving his braces a little tug. "But Charles, shopping for undergarments on our honeymoon? Let's make the most of this day, the last day before we head home to Downton. We 'll go downstairs and eat breakfast as we did yesterday, then there is some other shopping I would like to do. I would like to find a little something as THANKS for Beryl and the others who so kindly helped us with our wedding preparations. And especially with the space in that extra suitcase we have along with us to fill up," she smirked and looked up to where Charles had placed the case atop the wardrobe. She continued, "Of course, It's too bad I have two nightgowns and two dressing gowns to now carry back. You like the new ones, yes, Charles?"
"Very much so," he confirmed as he checked his tie and coat in the looking glass.
"The ones I packed originally are more pragmatic but hardly worn. Since I don't need two of each, I suppose I will just box up my old ones when we return to Downton and send them to Becky. They're perfectly good and we are close to the same size and she might as well - " a small gasp of shock escaped her lips and her hand flew up to her mouth while her eyes opened wide. She looked up at the looking glass and Charles's own suddenly confused reflection.
Turning around, he asked, "Elsie, now what's wrong?"
Not addressing him per se, she continued to be lost in her own thoughts, eyes flitting to and fro. She seemed to be replaying something in her mind. "Oh...oh."
"Elsie! What is it, love?"
Swallowing hard, she looked him in the eye. "I just...I just realized who gifted me - us - the gowns."
His intrigue was made clear by his raised eyebrows and lower voice, "I'm listening..."
"No, I am afraid you might get upset."
"Elsie," she was dragging out the reveal and he dragged out her name with growing impatience. "Tell me, please."
"Mrs. Crawley."
"I beg your pardon."
"Mrs. Crawley," she repeated, sheepishly.
His brow furrowing, "Mrs. Crawley? Mrs. Isobel Crawley? That Mrs. Crawley?"
She nodded, silently, though biting her lip.
"You believe Mrs. Crawley gifted you the gowns?"
"Us. I believe she gifted us."
He was feeling an uncomfortable pressure building in his chest and with it a shortness of breath. "Why...why do you believe Mrs. Crawley gifted us the gowns?" His collar was starting to feel tight.
"In the past, she has given me some of her old clothing - we too are about the same size. A couple of times when items didn't fit me, but I knew they would fit Becky, she has kindly given me those as well. Charles, Mrs. Crawley knows my size. She could afford those lovely gowns, the case, and she's been kind to me and fond of you. And, recently, after our engagement she and I talked about..." She trailed off. She feared she had already said too much.
Expecting more, bending to hear clearly, he inquired, "Elsie? What did you recently talk about with Mrs. Crawley?"
She shook her head in DENIAL; she didn't want to say any more, she knew he wouldn't want to hear any more.
"Elsie, what is it that you are not telling me?"
She looked to the ceiling. He really isn't going to like this, she thought.
"For the love of God, Elsie, please!" She bit her lip again, harder, and tears began to well in her eyes. Realizing that came out harsher than he wished, Charles in turn grabbed her gently but securely by the shoulders and lowered his eyes to be even with hers, encouraging her to answer him. "Please," he pleaded, moderating his tone.
"Prophylactics."
He turned his head again slightly, as if that would help him with what he thought he heard. After a moment he began to repeat her. "Prophyl - Elsie, I'm sorry, I am not following you at all."
Rolling her eyes she sighed, "Sheaths. Mrs. Crawley suggested we could try sheaths."
"Sheaths?" He stood erect again. "But sheaths are for the prevention of - "
"And...they might help us. Reduce the friction, I suppose."
"Sheaths?" He was letting the word sink in. "Sheaths."
"I knew you wouldn't like it."
"You spoke with Mrs. Crawley, about...our...and our using...sheaths?" Charles looked at her in disbelief. He was beginning to comprehend what he was hearing. Though there was hardly room to do so in the dressing alcove what with the both of them in there, Charles began to pace, in small circles, his palms seeming to squeeze his temples together, fingers digging into his scalp. "Let me make sure I have this straight, Elsie. First, you speak with Dr. Clarkson about our impending marital relations. Then it seems you speak with Mrs. Crawley about the same, AND sheaths no less. Is that correct?"
She rolled her eyes, "Yes, Charles."
He could feel his heart pounding, his blood pressure rising. He took a deep breath and continued to pace, there was no disguising the fury rising within him due to this new KNOWLEDGE. Seeing his distress, Elsie reached out for his hand. "Charles, dear?"
He shook her hand loose surprising her and stepped to the door of their room. "I'm sorry, Elsie, I need some fresh air, now!" And with that he was out the door bolting down the hallway to the stairs. Racing down them as he did made for quite a clatter.
"Good morning, Mr. Carson," Mr. Nathan greeted him cheerfully from the reception desk but Charles returned the pleasantry with a grunt before pushing through the front door. He bolted out and crossed over to the fountain, a passing vehicle nearly hitting him so lost was Charles in his own little world.
Elsie searched briefly for their room key but not finding it, raced down the stairs herself pausing briefly to inquire of the manager, "Mr. Nathan, have you seen my husband?" He pointed out the front door with a confused look on his face. "Mr. Nathan, our room is not locked, but I simply must go find him."
Elsie raced out the front door herself, spotting Charles 30 paces to the right, nearly doubled over, leaning against the fountain, taking big breaths through his mouth. Oh no, was her thought as she ran toward him, he 's going to have a heart attack and die on our honeymoon!