Comforting Kisses
"You do realize that if you don't like what I've prepared for our dinner, you're not obligated to eat it." There was no sarcasm or condemnation in his voice, only a true desire to draw her attention back to the meal … or at least him. He'd been watching her push the beef stew around in her bowl for the last five minutes, noting how she never once took a bite of it.
"I'm sorry, Charlie. It's delicious, and I apologize for not saying so earlier. It was nice to come home to a hearty stew and the smell of freshly baked bread." She reached over and patted his hand before clasping her fingers around his and giving them a squeeze.
"I wish I could take credit for the bread. I bought the loaf in the village this morning and Mrs. Beecham suggested warming it in the oven before serving it. She seemed rather surprised and a little impressed that I was planning to cook our meal this evening. And, after sampling the bread, it didn't take much to convince me to buy a second loaf so we could use it for toast in the morning."
Elsie smiled. "She is a kind soul, and I'm glad she was very helpful. And it was lovely of you to think of preparing dinner for us. I'm sure Mrs. Beecham made sure to tell her husband how lucky I am as she prepared their dinner tonight." She patted his hand once more before focusing her attention back to her bowl of stew.
"Care to tell me what's bothering you, love? I can sense something isn't quite right, but I don't want to press you. Did something happen at the house today? If Thomas has said or done something …"
"No, nothing like that. I'm just tired, is all. I'll be fine after this wonderful dinner, some time with you in the sitting room, and a good sleep," she reassured him. "Now, tell me about your day? How was your trip into the village, aside from the stop at the bakery?"
Brushing his worries to the side for a few moments, he gave her a brief synopsis of his entire day, all the while keeping an eye on his weary wife. Despite her praise about their meal, he noticed she wasn't really eating, merely pushing the spoon around in her bowl and occasionally nibbling on a small bite of bread.
"Why don't you finish your stew, and I'll go run you a warm bath. I think you need the sleep more than anything else tonight." He stood and pressed a kiss to the top of her head as she started to protest.
"Really, Charlie, I'm fine. Besides, I was hoping you'd read to me tonight while I darned some of your socks. I've been neglecting those, and they won't mend themselves."
He stood behind her and gently massaged her shoulders, rubbing his thumbs along her shoulder blades. "The socks can wait. You, on the other hand, cannot. Now, you're to eat at least half of your dinner while I nip upstairs to run you a bath. If you'd like, I can add some of those scented beads we bought you in Scarborough."
She shook her head. "Oh no, don't do that. I don't want to waste them. They were rather expensive."
"And we can buy more, or at least some similar ones, when we return to the shore or at a shop in London , Ripon, or Thirsk. I'm sure Scarborough isn't the only place to buy those sorts of things for ladies of leisure." He leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek. "Eat up, and if you're a really good lass, I might read to you while you're in the bath. How's that sound?"
She reached up and patted his hand then brought it to her lips for a quick kiss to his palm. "Sounds like I am a lucky woman to have such an attentive husband. Thank you. Honestly, though, I'm fine. You shouldn't be making such a fuss over me."
"I can and I will because you are my wife and it's my privilege to take care of you. You'd do the same for me." He reached around her and gathered his bowl, spoon, and wine glass to take them to the kitchen. "And don't get any ideas about doing the washing up while I'm upstairs. I'll do that while you get started in your bath." He caught her eyes with his and gave her a knowing look.
She shook her head as he anticipated her plan. "I love you, Mr. Carson, very much."
"It's a good thing you do considering we live together, and I'm heading upstairs to turn down the sheets on our shared bed and to run you a scented bath." He was almost certain he heard her utter something about a cheeky husband as he ascended the stairs.
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Charles was roused from his slumber by the twisting, turning, and moaning coming from Elsie's side of the bed. He ran his hand over his face to clear away the sleepy cobwebs and to better assess the situation. It was the middle of the night, of that he was certain. It was still incredibly dark, and the birds were still sleeping quietly in their nests in the trees just outside the window. Off in the distance, he could hear the occasional hoot from the owl that lived in the birch tree at the edge of their property. But, none of that mattered. What concerned him, and woke him from his dreams, was Elsie.
Gently, he leaned over her and saw that her brow was furrowed, as if she was having a series of bad dreams. Her head lolled from side to side, and her bottom lip was captured by her teeth, something which usually aroused him but now only gave him more cause for concern. Tenderly, he eased her worried lip free and soothed it with his thumb. That was when he noticed how incredibly hot she was to the touch. He pressed his lips to her forehead and immediately knew she was ill. Her twisting and turning in bed must have been a result of her slight fever or the aches her body must be feeling as it tried to rest or wrestle whatever was plaguing her.
As quietly and quickly as he could, Charles rolled onto his side, turned off the alarm clock, and went into the bathroom to wet a cool cloth for Elsie's forehead. When he returned, she was sitting up in bed and drenched in sweat.
"What time is it?" Her voice was thick and hoarse, another indication that she wasn't feeling her best. Even in her sleepiest of moments, he had always found her voice to be soft, soothing, and alluring. This, however, was different. His heart ached to hear the weariness in her voice and to see the exhausted look in her eyes.
"Not nearly time for you to be awake, love." He sat on the edge of the bed and pressed the cool cloth to her forehead, her sigh of appreciation warming his heart just a little. "Here. Hold the cloth to your head and neck. I'll go get you a powder and a glass of water. That might help with your fever and let you rest better."
She gave him no arguments and, when he returned, she did exactly as he instructed. As soon as she finished the glass of water, Charles reached up and brushed the hair back from her face. "Let's get you into a clean nightdress. This one is damp, and I don't want you catching a chill." With love and tenderness, Charles eased the sweaty nightdress from Elsie's flushed body and quickly replaced it with a clean one. Then, while she made a trip to the bathroom, he hurriedly changed the bedsheets and had everything settled again before she returned.
"I would have helped you with that," she said weakly as she eased her way across the room, holding a fresh, cool flannel to her neck, and back to bed. "I'm sorry you're having to take care of me. I should be better by the morning."
He bit back his remark that it was already morning, and that it was his honor and duty to take care of his wife. There would be other times for reminding her of those important details. Now, however, was neither the time nor the place. "It didn't kill me to make the bed, and we'll see how you're feeling in a few hours before we declare you all better. Now, back into bed with you and under the blankets."
Once he was sure she was comfortable, he returned to his side of the bed and slipped beneath the clean sheets. He was suddenly overcome with an urge to wrap Elsie in his arms, protecting her from every harm imaginable. His mind raced back to the days when he'd had the Spanish flu, her tender care of him, the concern written all over her face. And that was before either of them had truly acknowledged that their feelings ran deeper than friendship. His heart sped up and skipped a few beats as he imagined what it would be like if Elsie were to ever catch something so dangerous and deadly … or worse … cancer.
Now wide awake and gripped with worry, Charles rolled onto his side, tucking his hands beneath his cheek on his pillow, and he stared at Elsie in the darkness. He watched as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. He counted her breaths, making sure they were steady, even, and clear of congestion. He checked once, twice, and then a third time to make sure she was secure beneath the blankets. He tried to recall how much of her stew she had actually eaten, how many glasses of water and wine she'd had, and if she'd finished the cup of tea he'd prepared for her while she was in the bath.
"Charlie?" Her eyes were still closed and her voice was so soft he almost didn't hear her.
"Yes, love, what do you need? I'm right here," he said, reaching out his hand to press it against her cheek.
She turned her head and leaned into his touch. "I need you to stop staring at me, close your eyes, and try to get some sleep. I promise I won't slip away in the middle of the night like a fairy. It's a little fever. I believe nanny said Miss Sybbie had one earlier. I must have picked it up from her when we had our little tea party today."
"I'm sorry. I know it's impolite to stare, but I wanted to make sure you were comfortable and sleeping before I allowed myself to go back to sleep. And if you wake again and need something, you must promise to wake me immediately."
She slowly opened her eyes and gave him a weak smile. "I promise. Let's just try to sleep. I need to be up in a few hours for work, and it's a full day tomorrow. Lady Edith has written that she's coming home for a few weeks and Her Ladyship wants to plan a series of parties."
Charles shook his head, completely surprised by his own train of thoughts on the subject. Having a Marchioness in attendance at a dinner party was certainly something worth celebrating, something worth the style and show of a house like Downton. It didn't matter that the lady in question was a member of the Crawley family. Her new title brought with it a certain amount of dignity and honor, and most likely, everyone in the social circles would want to be invited to one of these parties. However, try as he might, he could not muster enough enthusiasm to care about even one of the parties while his wife lay next to him suffering from a sleepless night and fever.
"I have no doubts that you and Her Ladyship will be able to plan several wonderful parties with ease. You could do them in your sleep, though I'd prefer you not try to do that this evening. You need to rest, love. You'll be of no use to anyone if you don't take care of yourself and let me take care of you in the ways that I can."
Elsie was slightly surprised to hear her husband speak so nonchalantly about the parties, the house, and the family they had both served for decades. It was simply another testament of how much he had grown, how settled he was in their married life, and how much he loved her. "I wasn't supposed to tell you, but they want you to supervise all of the events. I don't even know if they've told Thomas … Mr. Barrow … yet. I only found out about it this afternoon."
Charles leaned over and pressed his index finger to Elsie's lips to silence her. "And if they ask, I shall give them my answer then. Right now, I want you to close your eyes, forget about work, and try to sleep. Do you think you can do that, lass?"
She kissed the tip of his finger. "I can try, though it won't be easy. My mind is so full and my head hurts."
He opened his arms to her and gathered her close to him. Despite her protests that he, too, might fall ill, she still snuggled into his embrace. His large hand gently massaged her head and neck as he softly hummed a tune they both loved. They'd danced to it quite often in their little sitting room in front of the fire or in the little garden behind their cottage. Between his deep, rich voice and his soothing fingertips, he had soon soothed Elsie into a peaceful sleep.
He felt her breaths even out and her body relax completely against his, signaling her slumber. Comforted by the fact that she was now resting, Charles allowed himself to drift off into a light sleep, though mindful of Elsie's movements in case she needed something else before daybreak.
When the sun began to peek through the small slit in the curtains, Charles began to stir. Elsie had turned onto her side and Charles was wrapped around her, his hand heavy on her stomach and her hand covering his. He pressed his lips lightly to her cheek, happy to feel them cool to his touch. Carefully, he eased out of bed and pulled the blankets over her a little tighter, secured his pillow behind her back, and then crept downstairs.
It was mid-morning when he finally went back to the bedroom to check on Elsie. She'd curled her entire body around his pillow, and her face wore a mask of absolute contentment. Charles smiled and slipped onto the bed beside her. "Morning sleepyhead," he said softly, brushing his lips against her forehead, cheek, and the tip of her nose.
"Mmm, I didn't hear the alarm," she said with a rather large yawn. She stretched and several loud clicks from her back broke the silence of the room. "What time is it?"
Charles leaned over her and pressed his lips to hers for a slow, soft, warm kiss. "It's almost eleven. I let you sleep in since you had such a rough night. You deserved it, but I didn't want you to sleep the entire day away, or you won't be able to fall asleep tonight."
Her eyes flew open, and she was starting to toss the blankets back from her body. "I'm incredibly late for work, Charlie. Why didn't you wake me? Her Ladyship is going to be incredibly cross with me! You, of all people, should have realized … "
He pushed her back into the bed gently with a hand on her shoulder. "What I realized is that you were ill. I phoned the house this morning and told them you weren't feeling well and would be staying home to rest today. As it happens, Her Ladyship must have caught the same fever from Miss Sybbie because she wasn't feeling well, either. So, you wouldn't have had the meeting today, anyway."
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. That was uncalled for and I apologize. After you took such wonderful care of me, I should have been more appreciative."
He eased onto the bed beside her and opened his arms wide. When she scooted over to him and wrapped her arm around his stomach, he tilted her face up so he could capture her lips with his, letting her know in his own special way that all was forgiven. When he pulled back, she rested her head on his chest and began toying with one of the buttons on his white shirt.
"Am I to stay in bed all day, Mr. Carson or do I get to move about the cottage while I recuperate under your expert care?"
He pretended to give it some serious thought before answering. "I'd like for you to stay in bed, if for no other reason than reassuring myself that you won't try to tidy the cottage, darn socks, or do any number of other taxing chores. However, I'm not foolish enough to think I can tell you what to do under such circumstances. So, the choice is entirely yours."
She laughed and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for that. Perhaps we can reach some sort of compromise." His eyebrows raised, silently asking the question she knew he was dying to verbalize. "I'll stay in bed if you promise to stay with me and read aloud. I could darn your socks while you entertain me with your lovely voice and that new book you wanted me to read."
He smiled and gave her side a little squeeze. "I think that's a fair compromise. I'll give you some time to get sorted while I get your sewing basket from downstairs. I can make us some eggs and toast for lunch, then afterwards, we can curl up with the book and the socks. How's that sound to you, love?"
"Sounds like I'm in wonderful hands and soon to be on the mend." She stretched up and kissed him quickly on the lips. "And a few more of those comforting kisses this afternoon, followed by a cuddle and a nap together, and I'm sure to be right as rain by dinnertime. I love you."
"Don't rush to get well too quickly, Elsie. In my expert opinion, you might need to take off tomorrow, too … Dr. Charlie Carson's orders." He waggled his impressive eyebrows at her and they both burst into a fit of laughter before sharing another one of those healing, comforting kisses.
A/N: For those of you still reading this silly series, thank you so much for sticking with me. I apologize for the serious delay between chapters. My dad passed away in June and my life has been somewhat upside down ever since. This "daddy's girl" has been having a rough time navigating a world without Daddy. I'm so very blessed with wonderful family and friends, both online and in real life, to help me during the darkest of days. I hope to continue with these little snippets, and if you have an idea for one chapter, don't hesitate to reach out to me. Hugs and love to you all! xoxo
