I'm sorry to keep dragging this day and night out, but quite a bit is going on. Only one more chapter after this one will be devoted to this night and then we'll have a minor time jump (weeks, not years).
Disclaimer: I do not own, rent, lease, or in other way have rights to these characters. I earn nothing from writing but sore fingers.
Elsie lay in her bed with Charles's last letter on her knees. It had taken a cup of warmed milk and a bath, but she felt that her nerves were soothed enough to attempt sleep now. She still couldn't quite believe all that had happened today. Charles loved her. She had guessed that, tried to ignore it, tried to put him off, but he did love her. And not only loved her, but he was devoted to her. She should have known to expect that from him. He was not a man who did things half-heartedly. And he was a man, not some infatuated boy. Her fingers lifted to her lips, remembering the feel of his fingers and lips against them. No, he was most certainly not a boy. A momentary flash of concern welled up at the thought that he likely had a man's appetites as well. She quickly squashed it down, however, as something to worry about another day.
Putting the letter on the table by her bed before blowing out the candle, she slid under the blankets and pulled them up to her chin, still not sure if she would be able to sleep. As she started to dose, a loud banging noise from downstairs startled her fully awake. At first, she calmed her nerves by convincing herself it was just the storm, but then the banging grew louder and more regular. She realized that it was someone knocking on the back door, loudly. Her nerves flared into full on panic as the thought occurred to her that Joe had found her. He was here ready to demand that she come back to the farm. She lit the candle with shaking hands and then looked wildly around her room for something, anything that she could use as a weapon. When she saw nothing and the banging continued, she decided that she would try to find something downstairs. She would have to open the door before either the neighbors complained or he burst it down.
As she crept down the stairs, she realized that she had a ready supply of weapons by the front door; the umbrellas. If she remembered correctly there was one with a particularly heavy handle. She stole quietly and quickly into the front room to grab the largest, heaviest umbrella she could find. Walking through the kitchen to the back door, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever she might find there. If it were Joe, she intended to hit him as hard as she could and then run for Mrs. Johnstone's house. Surely Mr. Johnstone would help to protect her. She raised the umbrella behind her with one hand and after another pause for courage and a quick prayer, jerked the door open.
Charles nearly stumbled through the door, face terrified when he saw the umbrella, and he lifted his arm to ward off the blow. She dropped her umbrella to the ground, "Charles, what on earth are you doing? You scared me near to death."
"I scared you?" he asked incredulously, "When I'm the one about to be brained by an umbrella?"
She let him through the door and took his dripping coat from him to hang on the hook. "You should be at least halfway to Downton by now."
He leaned heavily against the doorframe and grimaced, "I missed my bus."
She swallowed quickly and turned away to hide her disquiet, wondering if he would expect to stay here. "I see. Let me fetch the towel so you can dry off. I can re-light the stove and…"
Hearing a loud groan behind her and a heavy shuffling noise, she turned to see that he'd pushed himself off the door frame and was limping across the room, wincing with every step.
She was back to him in an instant, urging him to lean on her, "Charles for heaven's sake. What's wrong?"
"I turned my ankle," he bit his lip and grimaced as he tried to hold his weight off her, "when I was running for the blasted bus."
"And you walked all the way back here?" she asked, incredulous.
"Correction, I limped all the way back here," he said, "And I used the orphan umbrella," he indicated it with a jerk of his head, "as a cane, which would explain why I'm soaked to the skin."
He turned his head to smile down at her and his face burned crimson, "Um, Elsie, do you realize you're only wearing your nightdress?"
His voice sounded strange and when she looked down, she realized why. Her nightdress was well-worn and the room was cold. Little was left to the imagination. With a gasp, she pushed away from him and grabbed the first thing she could think of, her coat. Pulling it around her, she turned back to see that he had sunk into a chair at the table and was looking at everything but her.
Her eyes were drawn to the way his white shirt clung to his chest and his shivering frame, and she stepped back to his side to push sodden curls away from his face before cupping his cheeks in her hands. Pressing her lips to his forehead, she said, "You're nearly frozen. I'll make you some tea. I suppose it would be best if you got out of those wet things, but I doubt I have anything that would fit you."
"I should hope not. I doubt I'd look good in a dress," he grunted with a half smile, "No, Elsie, I only came back here first because I left my package. My purchases today were a pair of pyjamas and, um, other personal items." His eyebrows lifted, "Lucky thing since it seems I'll be stuck in Ripon overnight. I'll just take them and find a rooming house. I'm sorry that I disturbed you from your bed."
She chewed her bottom lip as she saw him shivering again. A blast of wind drove rain against the window and made her decision for her. "Stay here."
His head snapped up, and his eyes popped wide, "Elsie, that wouldn't be proper. You can't have a man stay…"
"Oh for heaven's sake Charles, I'm madly in love with a man who is not my husband. There's nothing proper about any of this. As cold as you are already, if you go out in that you'll probably catch pneumonia. I'll not find my love only to lose him the same day."
"Madly in love?" he asked, smile stretching his lips before he was overtaken by an almighty sneeze.
"That was impressive," she said, matching his smile but a little worried, "We need to get you warm."
He tapped the side of his nose, "Big nose, big sneeze. How do you propose to warm me, my love?"
"Do you think you could make it up the stairs?"
He had started to sneeze again but surprise stopped it, "To your bedroom?"
She blushed when she heard the squeak in his voice. "To the bathing room. You could warm up in a hot bath while I make tea. There's a fire up there already."
"I see," he said, clearing his throat, "That would make sense, and I suppose it would be proper if you stayed down here until I'm fully dressed."
"In dry pyjamas buttoned to the chin," she said seriously, fingers brushing his neck above his collar.
He shuddered and nodded, "To the chin. And then what?"
"And then I'll come up," she said, "with your tea."
"With my tea," he repeated, swallowing quickly again before struggling to his feet and starting toward the stairs.
And that, she thought as she watched him limp out of sight, is how we'll both get burned.
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