Chapter 14

A/N: There is some amazing kismet at work in the fanfic world as evidenced by the 14th chapter being posted on the 14th day of February and containing what I hope will be very sincere and wonderful Chelsie Valentine feels. Happy day to you all!

A/N2: So I borrowed heavily again from Austen, Evitamockingbird, Chelsie Dagger and SensitiveBore. But really, I should point out that I imbibe ALL of these wonderful stories, stories that are like fine wines, each having its own distinct elements that show up in my stories, diluted perhaps, but easily discernable to our fellow Chelsie lovers with our discriminating palates.

They kissed more deeply than before, Charles allowing his hands to move from her shoulders to her back, pressing himself against her as firmly as he dared. Elsie gave herself up to the pure pleasure of his mouth moving against hers, the warmth she could feel through his suit coat, the delightful smell of his cologne and his pomade, that scent that was uniquely Charles. It was as though she had stepped outside herself, every aspect of this experience presenting such sharp contrast to her daily routine and the life she had expected to lead until the day she died. She stiffened suddenly as she felt his tongue move against her lips. She opened her mouth tentatively and his tongue clumsily stroked her own. She broke the kiss, unsure of what to do next. He released her immediately and took a step back. She had a strong impulse to laugh wildly. What was happening to her? To him? He looked so stricken, so painfully embarrassed. She sighed, took a step forward, and reached for his hand. He grasped it tentatively.

"What you must think of me, Mrs. Hughes." His usually rumbling baritone was barely above a whisper.

"It's Mrs. Hughes, now, is it?"

"Only I thought-"

"Only I thought we were past all that, Charles."

"But I…then you…"

"You can't expect this is any easier for me." She hoped her tone was gentle enough to assure him that he was still in her good graces. Very much so. She squeezed his hand and shook her head ruefully. "I'm not very good at this."

"You can't think I am." Oh his face, his darling face.

"I do," she said steadily.

"Then you aren't-"

"Aren't what? Scandalized? Horrified?" She smiled up at him. "No. But I am…nervous."

He nodded. Nerves he could understand. "As I am, Elsie." He smiled. "Letters are easier, aren't they?"

She laughed. "Yes, indeed, they are. We can control what we say in them." Her brows knitted, her face pensive. "It's very important to us, isn't it? Control, I mean."

"It's who we are."

"Is it?"

"Of course. It's why we're so good at what we do," he said confidently. He was back on firm ground now. He could talk endlessly of the household and the myriad ways in which to control it.

"Yes, we are good at what we do, but is that really who we are? All of who we are, I mean?"

"I don't understand."

She sighed noisily, beginning to get exasperated. "I mean, this-" she gestured wildly with her hands. "Us. We aren't solely what we do, Charles. There are more human elements to us, wouldn't you agree? I mean, just consider what we were doing only moments ago."

She hadn't thought a man of over sixty years could blush, but her comment flustered him so completely that his face turned a bright shade of red and she thought for a moment that she would have to slap him on the back in order for him to recover. "I…it was just…"

She dismissed his blethering with a shrug. "I know that, Charles," and he shuddered to hear her lengthen her vowels. He doubted she was aware of how very musical her voice could be. "It wasn't only you who wanted it, you know." She appeared to find a spot on the opposite wall very absorbing.

He took a step closer, grasping her hand more tightly. "What is it you want?" he whispered urgently.

She stiffened and made to pull her hand away. "That's for the gentlemen to say."

"Shall I tell you what I want, Elsie? Should you like to hear it?" She nodded mutely, rooted to the spot by the passionate urgency in his voice. "Very well. I should like you to know that I love you. I have always, and…and I want to marry you, Elsie. I want to marry you. If you'll have me. There may be obstacles, we may be forced to retire or to leave Downton entirely, but none of that matters to me anymore. It's you I want," he whispered. "For you alone I think and plan," and his hot breath on her ear caused her to shiver. "Will you have me?" She nodded. Tears pooled in her eyes. "I've left you speechless, have I?" She nodded again. He grabbed her by the shoulders. "Say it, Elsie. Say it. Say my name."

She gasped. "It's you, Charles. It's always been you. I'll have you. I will."

He kissed her again and again, rough passionate kisses to her mouth, soft delicate kisses to her jaw and neck. He ran his fingertips up and down her back as far as he dared, all the while murmuring soft words of love and nonsense. Elsie was openly weeping now, and the sight of her tears caused his heart to clench painfully. It was almost more than he could bear. He felt his legs weaken and he guided them to a chair, where he slumped gracelessly and pulled her with him into his lap.

He kissed her fingertips. "When shall we tell the family, Elsie? This morning?"

"This morning! My goodness, I hadn't thought-"

"I find I don't want to wait longer than is absolutely necessary, my dear. If we tell them today, we can have the banns read this Sunday. In less than three weeks, you'll be my wife."

She smiled. "Are you that eager, my love?"

"Are you going to tell me that you aren't?" She looked up in surprise, only to find a roguish grin playing across his lips. He pressed her to him even more closely. It was as though the mere knowledge of their engagement had loosed something entirely new in Charles. She looked into his eyes, searching for their familiar warmth and kindness. That was there, as always, but now there was something new. She thought it might be joy; she suspected that a study of her eyes would reveal the same. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest; she was surprised that Charles hadn't commented on it. It was thunderous in her ears, but perhaps he couldn't hear her heart over his own.

"No," she whispered. "I cannot tell you that I am not." He stroked her hip and thigh in a distinctly proprietary way and she was surprised to discover that it gave her such a thrilling feeling. She kissed him hard on the mouth and she felt his legs shift beneath her. He pushed her up, and rose himself.

"I imagine our tea's gone cold, my love." He smiled affectionately at her.

"I'm sure it has. Would you like me to put more water in the pot?"

"No, no. Just let me hold you a few more minutes. Ivy will be round soon." He gathered her in his arms and placed her head on his chest. She fit so snugly under his chin, as though she had been made expressly for him. He sighed in contentment, swaying gently with her from side to side.

"Shall we tell the family today, then, Charles?"

"Mmm. I think so. I don't think I can endure any more privacy."

She smiled against his shoulder. "Daft man. It's only been two days."

He chuckled. "Only the longest two days of my life." He smoothed his hands across her back. "The dearest, loveliest woman has agreed to be my wife. I don't want to wait a moment longer than I have to."

She buried her face in his chest. She supposed she would grow accustomed to this Charles Carson, but it would take some time. No one had ever called her lovely or dear, not even Joe Burns. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest. This was too much. She needed a few moments of privacy to compose herself. Reluctantly she moved out of his embrace. "I'm afraid you must go, Charles. I…I need a few moments of quiet to ready myself for the day."

He smiled and smoothed a piece of hair away from her forehead. "Very sensible, my love. You are as practical as you are beautiful. I'll see you at breakfast, then," and he gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead and left her to contemplate this latest development in relative peace.