As always, my thanks to chelsie fan. And thank you to everyone that takes the time to review or leave me messages on tumblr. I'm sorry I haven't been replying to you, but I do appreciate your comments. Updates are coming as quickly as I can manage, which is to say not very quickly at all. I'm still fairly ill, if truth be told.

But writing anyways. Enjoy.

The knock on the bedroom door was familiar, and the voice even more so. "Elsie?"

"Come in," she invited him, drawing the covers over her. This was their routine now, every night after the first one when she'd invited him to sleep beside her. He came in, shut the door behind him and slid under the covers. They'd developed a little routine of preparing for sleep separately, but then going to sleep side-by-side, both comforted by the other's presence. Every night there were little more than cautious kisses between them before they rolled over to their respective sides and fell asleep.

In the morning he wouldn't be there, and his side of the bed would be cold. Elsie would move over to it, lying there, half-imagining his scent still on this pillow while she listened to him make breakfast. If she wasn't awake before the kettle whistled, she certainly was afterwards. Eventually she would get out of bed, pull on her dressing gown and pad out to the kitchen. By her estimation he wasn't ready to make toast in their toaster without supervision yet.

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He set the teacup down at her place. Everything had a very firmly defined place now, including where her tea sat on the table. She knew he'd already put the milk and sugar in precisely as she liked in the mornings. Her hands were much better three days out from the worst of it, and she no longer needed his help in lifting the cup to her lips.

"This strikes me all as very backwards you know," she said, placing her napkin carefully in her lap.

"What does?" he inquired.

"Your making me all my meals and doing everything to keep the house in order." She worried her lip. This was her greatest insecurity, and it was impossible to hide how nervous it made her to speak of it.

She heard him take his seat beside her, clearly taking a moment to arrange his own breakfast. He cleared his throat slightly. "The way I see it, my dear, is that you've done quite a lot of housekeeping already in your lifetime."

She did smile slightly at that. "It doesn't mean it's not backwards for you to be doing it now."

Charles pondered this for a moment, chewing his toast thoughtfully. "Well, we didn't exactly do things in a straightforward fashion to begin with, did we?"

"I suppose not…" she replied, not entirely sure of what he meant.

"Of course not. First I decided to retire, and then we decided to get married, and then it was over a month before I told you that I loved you. So if you ask me, we're very backwards indeed."

She laughed outright and nodded her head. "Yes, very backwards indeed. I suppose you know what comes next then?"

She'd puzzled him. "Next?" he asked very cautiously.

"Of course," she said primly. "The courting probably ought to begin next."

He chuckled. "Yes, I suppose I never did that properly, either."

"Well, one couldn't call it improper," she replied smartly, finishing off her tea. "But if we are so backwards, Mr. Carson, perhaps I should court you."

"Perhaps you should," he said, clearing away their places.

"Perhaps I will," she shot back cheekily.

She rose to go and change, but he stopped her with a gentle hand on the small of her back, turning her to face him. He bent to speak in her ear. "I think I should like that very much, Mrs. Carson."

She blushed. "Get on with you," she managed, entirely flustered by him. "I must be getting changed, or we'll be late for church." And with that she bustled out of the kitchen.

He looked at the clock on the wall, bemused. She couldn't possibly know what time it was, or she would know that they had well over an hour before church.

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"….damned, blasted, wretched, miserable thing!"

For the fifth or sixth time the hooks slipped beneath her clumsy fingertips, causing her corset to slide down her front, unbound. It was absurdly difficult to do it up without sight, let alone with no sensation in the three fingers that remained bandaged.

"That was rather blasphemous for a Sunday morning," called Charles from the hall.

"Oh, go away, Charles!" she snapped back, her patience worn away entirely by the tiresome, constricting bit of stiff fabric and bone. It had been ages since she'd put her corset on, living entirely in her dressing gown as she had. But she could not possibly wear her church clothing and go into the village without it, so there she stood, growing steadily more frustrated by it for almost half an hour.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he called. "We will actually be late soon."

"I know that!" she snapped. "But unless you also happen to be a ladies maid, then I don't think I'll be going!"

There was a pause as what she'd said sunk in. Had she really just asked that he…?

"Elsie, might I come in?" came his voice gently from behind the door. There was silence for a moment.

"Yes…please," she said finally. She collapsed back into a seated position on the bed, her corset loosely draped around her waist and her head in her hands.

The sound of the door hinges creaking was the only indication that he'd walked into the room, until he slowly lifted her chin up with his hand.

"Might my lady be in need of assistance?" he asked softly. "I don't know how…but if you told me, I might…possibly?"

She was frustrated almost to the point of tears, but his calming voice and tentative touch eased it some. "It cannot hurt to try," she supposed.

"What do I need to do?"

Clumsily she stood and repositioned the corset over her shift. "These clasps won't close for me," she said, indicated a row of hooks and eyes that ran down the front.

"What about the laces at the back?"

"Leave them. There's no need for them to be adjusted." Her fingers fumbled at a hook again, fruitlessly. "If I could only get these stupid-"

His hands covered hers, stilling them and silencing her. "Let me."

"Start with the bottom ones," she instructed almost shyly, "and, um, work your way up."

He knelt in front of her and tried valiantly to fasten the bottom hooks, but they were hidden beneath a bit of fabric, and every angle from the front was hopelessly awkward. After getting nowhere for half a minute, he let out a sharp breath of annoyance. "I'm beginning to see your frustration," he groused. "I can't seem to-"

"Maybe…if you stood…" she worried her lip again, wondering if she could even suggest…

"Behind you?" he finished, rising to his feet.

"Yes," she breathed, slightly flustered at his sudden presence behind her, his chest touching her back, the side of his cheek against her temple and his arms wrapped around her waist.

"It that any easier for you?" she asked, as he tried to fasten the corset again.

"I believe so." It was; he could see both hook and eye now and putting them together was much easier. But she was ever so distracting: the few pieces of her hair that had worked their way loose from her bun and curled around her neck, the rise and fall of her chest veiled only by her shift. Slowly he worked his way up the busk of her corset, trying to fight his desire to stare at her, to touch her. It was preposterous. Why, he'd already seen her in less clothing before. But this was different somehow. This wasn't some emergency; dressing for church was hardly a life or death situation…no she was letting him do this. He felt her relax against him, and he relished the need to press his cheek to hers in order to see what he was doing. The further up he moved, the more the restricting garment pushed her breasts up against her shift, and the harder it was to keep his thoughts away from his desire to kiss her exposed neck. When he reached the very last hook he noticed her breath hitch as he accidentally skimmed her breast with his fingers.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled instantly, pulling his hands away, but she caught them in her own.

"It's quite all right," she said quickly, wrapping his arms back around her and bringing his fingers up to her mouth, unable to resist giving them a gentle kiss in payment. "Thank you."

He flushed, but said nothing. He didn't dare move as she let go of his fingers and turned to face him.

"Is it done up correctly?" he asked, his face far too close to hers.

"I believe so," she said running her hand up and down the front to find it fastened as it should be. She could feel him, even though they were barely touching. His desire for her was so clear, but she wondered if he knew how much she wanted him. She pressed her palms against his chest and lifted herself up on her tiptoes. He took the hint and caught her lips in a searing kiss that contained all of the affection, but nothing of the gentleness with which she'd just kissed his fingers. His hands ran down her sides, but her corset confined her so tightly that he felt none of the softness he expected - wanted. She pulled herself closer to him and he followed her lead, deepening their kiss until eventually they broke apart breathless. He leaned forward, his forehead against hers, trying to remember what breathing felt like.

"Is this your idea of courting me?" he managed, after a moment.

"Perhaps," she panted.

"We…we have to go to church," he said, almost mechanically, still dazed.

"Yes…" her hands lingered on his chest. "And for that I have to finish getting dressed."

"I could help you," he said, "if you're going to continue to pay me in kisses."

"That seems to be fair," she replied, despite the fact that they both knew it was probably unnecessary it was for him to help her further. "My dress, then."

It was hanging in the closet, and he fetched it as quickly as he could. "How does this go on?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she said cheekily, taking it from him.

"I'm just doing as I was asked," he protested, smiling at her. "Where do I stand for this?"

"Just here," she said, pulling him in front of her. "There are several buttons down the front. You undo them for me so I can step into it."

"Certainly," he replied. These buttons were much less difficult than her corset had been, and in no time the task was complete. "There."

"Now, if you would be so kind as to help me into- yes," He'd knelt and guided her left stockinged foot into it, followed by the right one. Somehow touching her ankles, stockings and all, was just as arousing to him as fastening her corset had been. It took all his resolve to look only at her feet and at the dress, which he carefully lifted up into her waiting hands. She slipped it all the way up to her shoulders.

"May I?" he asked, his hands already at the buttons he'd just unfastened.

"Please," she smiled. She could feel his hands trembling slightly as he did them up, but when he'd finished, he didn't pull his hands away immediately like the last time. His fingers boldly traced along her neckline and eventually up her neck. She whimpered slightly at his touch, never able to know quite where he was going next. He grinned at this, a wonderful wide grin that she could not see.

"Elsie, you're very beautiful, you know that?"

She blushed and pulled his hand away, but was not able to let go of it. "Don't say daft things like that."

"I-"

"I shan't kiss you if you do," she threatened.

"Then I won't," he said, stepping closer to her once more, "but you cannot stop me from thinking them."

"We….we have to go to church," she said this time, despite leaning into him. "We…have to…go-" his kissing cut off her sensible words. He thought he would never tire of touching her. Reverently he cupped her face in her hands as he kissed her thoroughly again.

"Well, I had to collect payment for helping with the dress," he murmured against her lips. This wasn't helping, quite the opposite. He could feel his desire for her building and that just wouldn't do. They had to go. Despite knowing this, neither wanted to stop, but both knew they couldn't possibly carry on right this minute. To have such yearnings about each other… right before church on Sunday, too! Charles thought God must be testing him that morning, or possibly that He simply possessed a very ineffable sense of humour. Whatever it was, it took all his willpower to pull away from her.

"I'll get our coats while you fix your hat. I'm sure I couldn't help you with that," he managed finally.

"Yes," she said, her face very flushed. "That's an excellent idea."

He left reluctantly for the hall, and she set about fixing her hair and pinning on her Sunday hat. When he returned with their coats, scarves and gloves he found her just finishing with her task.

"Is it very cold outside, Charles?" she asked, double-checking the security of her hat.

He was rather perplexed by the question. "Yes, it is, rather," he answered, helping her into her coat.

"Good."

TBC...