I'm glad you're still enjoying this fic. I have changed the rating back to T because after reading back over the last couple of chapters, I felt that was more appropriate.
Disclaimer: Not owned, borrowed, or leased by me. If begging would make them mine, they would be.
Charles felt Elsie watching him as he carefully drew the razor down his cheek to scrape away the stubble. At least Mrs. Johnstone had included one useful thing in the valise. Although as he thought back over the evening, the nightshirt hadn't turned out too poorly.
"And what is that wicked smile about dear man?" she teased, meeting his eyes in the mirror as she pinned her hair.
He paused with the razor inches from his face, "I was just thinking that I might have to thank Mrs. Johnstone for that nightshirt. It seemed to work rather well."
Her cheeks tinted faintly pink, and she ducked her head, "Don't you dare."
That would never do. He finished shaving quickly and washed the last of the soap off his face before putting his hands on her shoulders to turn her toward him, "Elsie, you do realize that everyone will know what we've done once the divorce is filed. I suppose we will be the only ones who ever know the details, but…"
"I do know that Charles," she answered, smoothing her hands over his shoulders, "and you, us, making love, showing love to each other doesn't embarrass me, not really. I've thought about what you said weeks ago. The vows were broken the first time he raised his hand against me." She met his eyes again and asked, "Are you prepared though? Your reputation will be destroyed. I can't imagine Downton Abbey being happy that their butler has been having a scandalous affair."
Charles's shoulders rolled, and he turned away from her to look in the mirror. Picking up his shirt, he buttoned it while he decided that now was likely the best time to tell her. He cleared his throat and spoke to the buttons on his shirt, "They are not. I spoke with Lord Grantham before I left for Ripon. He knows that I'll be the co-respondent, but he thinks it's all been a misunderstanding. He wants me to go to court immediately and tell the judge just that." He looked back to the mirror to meet her eyes.
"A misunderstanding?" she asked, staring at his reflection steadily, "How could he think all of this is a misunderstanding?"
"Well, he knows my reputation. He would never believe it of me," Charles said, eyes dropping again, "and I did tell him that although things could be construed that you and I were intimate, we had not actually 'done the deed' so to speak, which at the time was true," he was quick to add while he pulled his waistcoat on and then reached for his collar. "I also insisted that I would be glad to be named co-respondent if it would free you from this marriage. He wasn't entirely happy, but he wants to meet you, to see us together. I'm sure that Mr. Crawley has apprised him of the happenings in Ripon by this time, and he at least is on our side."
"Oh Charles," she buried her face in her hands, "our employer. How could you be so frank with him?"
He tugged her hands gently away from her face. "He might be our employer, but you need to remember that I served as his valet when he was home from school or his regiment when he was a young man. Once you've helped a man out of a bath and into his clothes, a certain amount of trust is built up. There was also more than one occasion when I helped sneak him in through a back window either at Downton or in London so that his mother wouldn't know what deeds he'd done. Finally, my reputation is impeccable. His first reaction upon reading that letter was that it must have been sent to me by mistake." He tugged on the bottom of his waistcoat , "Come to think of it, that's a bit insulting. It's not as though I'm incapable of seducing a beautiful young woman."
His attempt to lighten the conversation apparently failed because she only worried her bottom lip more, "You have an impeccable reputation now, until all this becomes public. Then you'll be a man seduced by a woman who deserted her husband. A man who sneaks around in hotels with women he is not married to. What will your Lord Grantham say then? The gentry can do as they like and it's winked at, but the likes of us, we're to marry and stay that way, no matter what."
Her voice had grown progressively more bitter and her teeth chewed more fiercely at her bottom lip. He focused on the first thing that came to mind, "Woman."
"What?" she asked, finally releasing her bottom lip. He noticed a speck of blood. She needed to stop that habit.
"I do wish you'd stop chewing your bottom lip when you're upset. You've lovely lips and I hate to see them injured," he said quietly, taking her cheek in his hand and brushing the small mark with his thumb. "I said that I only sneak around with one woman who is not yet my wife. I have every intention of making that one woman my wife as soon as we are able. If not, I would never have brought you here. I am not that type of man, and you are most certainly not that type of woman."
She started to protest, but he cut her off again with raised hands, "Elsie, my reputation will still be in our favor. As will your demeanor. Lady Grantham hired you despite knowing you were separated from your husband, didn't she? She had surmised what you'd been through and had told Lord Grantham. They may not want scandal, but they'll not abide a miscarriage of justice either."
He chose not to tell her about the argument he'd heard between the two in which Lord Grantham had attempted to put his foot down about not running a charity house and Lady Grantham had most assuredly put her foot down and informed him that the hiring, firing, and management of household staff was her domain, not his, and he could quietly contain himself to his library. He was also trying desperately to forget the additional comment Lady Grantham had made suggesting that Lord Grantham could also contain himself to his own bed if he continued to choose to interfere. There were some things that even a butler shouldn't know.
Elsie threw her hands in the air, "You have to be the single most exasperating man in England, Charles Carson, maybe even the world. Have you even given the slightest thought to the possibility that the divorce might not be granted? I might be forced to go back to the farm with Joe."
Charles put his hands soothingly on her shoulders, "Sometimes, I think that you think I'm an idiot. Yes, I have given thought to the fact that the divorce might not be granted. You'll never be alone with him again though. I have promised you that, and I will keep that promise. If for some reason the divorce isn't granted, we'll emigrate."
Her mouth dropped open. Good. He'd finally managed to surprise her so he continued, "When the trial date is set, I'll come here and buy tickets to the United States for just after the trial. If the divorce isn't granted, then we can be on the first available ship. Mrs. Levinson, Lady Grantham's mother, has indicated that having a genuine English butler would be a mark of distinction. I also have reason to believe that she would be particularly happy to employ me."
"The United States," she said flatly, "I thought your opinion was that too many Americans lived there."
"I did say that," he agreed with an inclination of his head, "but if you were there, and we could be together it would be worth it."
"Why would this Mrs. Levinson be particularly happy to employ you?" she asked suspiciously, "Has she offered you a position?"
"Not in so many words," he said, eyes shifting away from hers and rolling his shoulders, "but she has implied and then, she, um, well she patted me."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, "Where?"
"In the hall, by the door to the drawing room," he answered, smiling and hoping that she would drop the matter, which, of course, she would never do.
"Where on your person?"
"My, um, the backside of my person," he said cheeks fully flaming now.
"Your bum?" she asked incredulously, "she patted you on your bum, and you expect us to go work for her?"
"Now, dear, I'm sure she didn't mean anything. She had had several glasses of wine by that point," he tried to soothe her, "And that was years ago anyway. Regardless, the point is that I was given the impression that in the United States an English butler would have little difficulty in finding employment if he knew the right people."
"Humph," she snorted, "Anyone we work for will have to keep her hands off my man."
"Your man," he said, smiling at her again in satisfaction, "I rather like that."
She lifted her hand to his cheek, "I may never be able to call you my husband, but you will always be my man."
He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, "Elsie, at times I think that you don't believe I take this situation seriously enough. I know the difficulties that we face, and I am doing everything in my power to work past them."
"Charles," she pressed her hand against his chest firmly, "I trust you. Surely you know that I do. If I didn't I would never have consented to be alone with you in the teashop for a moment, never mind what we've done now." Her cheeks tinted faintly when she alluded to their activities of last night and this morning.
He caught her hand, "Then trust me in this."
She squeezed his hand, "I do, but these are my problems as much or more than yours. Don't leave me in the dark."
"I have no intention of leaving you, in the dark or otherwise," he tightened his grip on her hand and met her eyes fiercely, "but that goes both ways. There'll be no more running away for you. You can't leave me. I can understand your wanting to be away from him, but in the future, we will face him together."
"No," she tightened her arm around his waist and pulled his hand to her lips, "I'll not run away again unless I take you with me. We will make our way through this."
He bent to kiss her, "That's my woman."
She laid her head against his chest, "And that's my man, my dear sweet man."
Reviews are welcome as always