A/N: Results are in! option #1: 16, option #2: 1, option #3: 4, undecided/abstained: 2, based on 23 reviews.
You lot really are fond of Downton, aren't you? It's okay, I am too. It's Charles and Elsie's home, isn't it. I did fancy option #3 myself, I could see Elsie trying to give being a housewife a go ;) But who knows what will happen?
Don't forget to vote at the end, I really appreciate all your votes and I try getting back to everyone.
previously: "He wants us to marry as soon as possible." He says, his voice remarkably calm.
"But we're allowed to stay?"
"If we marry on the sly, he says we can pretend we've been a couple for a long time and that our baby is finally on the way, after many years of waiting."
She wonders if she can ever look Lord Grantham in the eye again. His wife is American, less rigid, less hemmed in by the rules and expectations of the British aristocracy. She might even congratulate her on the arrival of this unexpected child. This lie his Lordship expects them to perpetuate is easy to keep up. She's been seeing Charles off to the Season for many a year now, They've drunk a small lake worth of Burgundy. She knows his mother's maiden name, he knows about the cat she had as a child, rescued one rainy night. Her heart is beating violently over his referring to the baby as theirs.
"And you?" She asks, referring to Lord Grantham's wish.
"It's not how you deserve to be asked." He replies. "But I love you and you love me and it's the right thing to do."
1. "We could elope." He fantasised out loud in his pantry, late one night when her tea has gone cold and her eyes are tired from mending his socks. Her corset is digging into her painfully. All she wants is to go up, undress, wash and sleep.
"Elope?" She asks.
"Yes. We could just pack up and leave. Maybe go to America."
She knows he can't be serious. She has never known a man more English than Charles Carson, a man less willing to change. A man less suitable for adventure.
"What would you like to do in America?" She asks with a smile, she puts her mending away, drinks her stewed tea with a grimace.
"Maybe I could farm." He says and Elsie shakes her head.
"I didn't go into service to become a farmer's wife, Charles."
"It wouldn't be like that. We could breed horses. I know about horses."
"We'd be working ourselves to death, always worried where our next penny would come from."
"Cent." He quips.
They are quiet, the idea rushing around their minds, not altogether unappealing.
2. "Are you ready for tomorrow?" He asks, eyeing her with curiosity.
"I should think so." She is putting her mending away. She is tired, wants to go to bed, take off her corset that is permanently laced too tightly.
"Good… good…" He responds rather absentmindedly as he drinks the last of his glass of wine.
"You sound worried." She bends over to close her basket, unable to breathe for a moment, but happy she doesn't have to look at him.
"Not worried. A bit nervous perhaps." She can hear the smile in his voice. "I never thought I'd marry, you know."
"Me neither." She says honestly, seriously. "If you don't want to…" She starts, the words not forming in her usual steady tone.
"I should have married you the day I came home from the Season." He says.
"What a mess we've made of things…" Elsie cannot help the tears that start falling from her eyes.
3. "We're getting married in the morning…" He whispers in her ear as he hovers over her, leaning on his elbows, her breasts pressed against his chest, her belly against his. She had raced upstairs after the last of the junior servants had retired and Charles had taken care of his rounds in a flash. He had been just in time to watch her unlace her corset.
He had proceeded to seduce her, the way he sometimes would when the house was free of guests and his mind clear. He had run his fingers up her naked arm, kissed her shoulder after lifting the strap of her shift. He had manoeuvred her towards the bed and proceeded to make love to her, slowly, softly and now he has said those words and a tear wells up in her eye.
"I'm sorry he is making you do this…" She refers to Lord Grantham, a young man of little experience of how the real world works.
"Don't be sorry, my love." He whispers, rocking the pair of them leisurely. "We should have done it long ago. Long before…" He captures her lips and she kisses him back, her arms wrapping around him, holding him close. Not for the first time she wonders how this man who loves her has been her husband for a very long time indeed. Tomorrow will only formalise it.
She arches under him, quietly contented.