They are taking a leisurely stroll after the noon meal, her arm tucked into his and his fingers absently stroking her arm. He is full; he's eaten more in the past few days than is good for his health. He's relieved when he remembers his next appointment with Dr. Clarkson is many months away. Perhaps he can lose a stone or two; perhaps he and Elsie should take longer walks together when they return home. Home. He'll be glad to return home with her, of course he will. He enjoys their companionable routine, the freedom they enjoy, their own bed. It's odd, though. He'll miss her family. He'll miss seeing this side of Elsie; watching her with Moira, listening to them talk, hearing the occasional (too occasional) reminiscence has affected him more strongly than he thought. He hadn't enjoyed the camaraderie of a family in so long. He'd made that ridiculous statement that the Family was all he'd got, but he'd been so flustered when she asked if he'd ever wished himself on a different path. He couldn't admit it then, couldn't admit that he did wonder (very occasionally, on those awful nights when it was too warm to sleep and he tossed and turned, thinking) what it might have been like to have a wife and children (to have had her for a wife, her as a mother to their children). Sometimes he could get very angry with himself for wasting so much precious time, for allowing fear and propriety and social constraints to weigh more in his estimation. He was so different now, so changed. He hardly recognized that old shell. He makes a great effort to stay in the present with her, not to castigate himself too strongly. He knows he is difficult, exacting toward others, but he is even more stringent with himself. She was always the one who could cajole him, tease him into a better mood, make him forget. He listened to her. He always has.

"Charles?"

"Yes?" He looks down at her quizzically. Her voice holds a note of wariness.

"Are you sure visiting the pub is such a good idea?"

He had seen at luncheon that Donal's announcement of their plans surprised her. He wouldn't say displeased her, but it wasn't an idea she was entirely comfortable with. He could tell that. "I don't see why not," he says mildly. "Donal thought it would be a good opportunity for you and Moira to do some catching up alone."

Elsie shoots him a disbelieving look. "What?" She snorts derisively. "What does he think we've been doing while you menfolk have been out and about, tending to all your chores?" She falters here a bit. The bed slats were replaced before luncheon and mercifully no one had said any more about the matter.

"I don't know. He suggested it and I was grateful for his help…earlier, so I thought it would be alright. You don't mind?"

"I don't mind, exactly. It's just that I can't see you enjoying yourself much down at the local. There won't be much in the way of entertainment for you there." She worries her bottom lip.

"It'll be alright, love." He stops walking and smiles down at her. "It'll only be for an hour or so, I'm sure. It was very kind of Donal to ask me."

"Oh yes," she says hastily. "It's just that…"

"What?"

"Well, just don't let them talk you into drinking anything. And for heaven's sake don't let them talk you into drinking whisky!"

He drops her arm, indignant. "I can hold my drink, Els. I'm no youngster-far from it! I'll not embarrass you, if that's what you think!"

"I'm not concerned about that. I'm just trying to keep you from having a sore head tomorrow. Those lads in the pub love nothing more than to get hold of a stranger."

"I'm not a complete nitwit, Els, and besides, I'll have Donal with me."

"I just don't want you to get carried away."

"Carried away?"

"Defending the honor of the English." He gives her an incredulous look. She raises her hands. "I know you think I'm being ridiculous, but just, just be careful is all and remember you're not in England. And stay with Donal. And don't drink"

He cuts her off abruptly. "Don't drink any whisky. Don't worry so much, woman," he grouses. "I managed to live 63 years without your guidance. I think I can survive a night in the pub."

"Suit yourself, then."

"I will."

"Alright."

"Alright, then."

She turns stiffly and begins walking back towards the house. He puts a hand on her arm to stop her. "Els, come back. Please. I'm just not used to being fussed over is all." She relents and allows him to move closer. He snakes an arm around her shoulder and squeezes her fondly. "I'll be alright. I promise."

"Just so long as you look after yourself. That's all I ask."

"I will, love. No need to worry."

"See that you do," she says primly.

He laughs and kisses her cheek. "Let's keep walking, shall we?"

She nods her assent and he takes her arm, threading it through his own again and they walk on.