*Drumroll* Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! This cloudy evening, I am presenting you with a little piece I have been working on for a few days. This time we are exploring a scene between the Carsons, which I hope we had seen in the series, during the finale of season 6. Before I spoil everything, I'll let you get to reading! Don't mind the possible typos. I hope you enjoy (let me know with a little review!). Stay safe, darlings! :)
She gently unbuttoned his livery, pulling it from his slightly slumped down shoulders.
"You don't have to do this."
"I know, but I want to help you.", Elsie reassured him firmly for the millionth time that night.
His livery now laying on their bed, Elsie made it to remove his collar. When her cold fingers made contact with his skin, she saw him wince.
"Sorry.", she whispered.
"It isn't fair for you."
"What then?"
"You aren't meant to be taking care of me. You're not meant to be my nurse."
"Shush now. I don't mind.", her hands made a quick job of tossing the cloth from his neck on to the bed.
"It should be me taking care of you. You work so hard and it's only fai-"
"Charlie, stop talking such nonsense and stay still."
And the husband complied. He stood still, being undressed by his wife. The light from the candle on their bedside gloved against the pale skin of her neck, making his breath caught in his throat, her hair fell free on her shoulders, her teeth biting into her lower lip in her concentration. While watching her, his mind wandered back to the incident that led to such happenings…
They had just gotten back to the cottage after a long day at the abbey, after eating dinner with the other servants, and he was going to pour them both some wine while she would have her bath. A routine already familiar to both of them. However, she hadn't had the time to start the water when his loud yell from the kitchen made her rush downstairs.
"Charlie? Is everything alrig-", she came into the kitchen, only to be greeted with a horrible sight."What on earth happened?"
She was at his side with a towel from the sink right away.
"Ahh!", he winced as she pressed the towel against his bloody hand.
Somehow, he had managed to drop the fine bottle of Margaux on the floor, where there now was a big pool of the said liquid, and in the process to get a rather nasty cut on his left palm.
"You aren't hurt anywhere else, are you?", Elsie asked worriedly as she examined him.
"No."
"Right, sit down at the table. And hold this againt the wound.", his wife instructed."I'll get something to clean up the wound and bandages to stich you up."
"Lift your arms, love."
Her voice rang loud on the otherwise quiet bedroom, shaking him out of his thoughts. Charles slowly brought his arms towards the ceiling to let her remove his undershirt. His cufflinks had been removed already and were placed on his nightstand. She had to get on her toes to pull his shirt off, but managed eventually with him leaning down a bit.
"There we go.", she managed a smile at him."You can sit down on the bed so I can remove your shoes."
"No, I don't think so. You won't be kneeling on the floor to take off my shoes."
"Yes, I will. Now sit down."
With a push of her hand, he was forced to sit down. Charles watched his wife slowly kneel on the floor with a loud crack from her knees. He stayed quiet despite the urge to get her up from the cold floor.
"Once we've got you into your pyjamas, I'll go downstairs to make us some tea. We can enjoy a nice cuppa in bed tonight, won't we?"
He hummed his response absentmindedly…Stealing a look at his face, she could sense what he was thinking and made it to put a stop to them:
"Don't put another though on it. It could have happened to anyone."
He felt like he needed to help her in some way. Just offer her some comfort, to make her feel like she hadn't married just a useless old man.
But in the end, that was just the truth. He was a useless old man, being cared by his young and beautiful wife. It wasn't what he wanted. Not how it was supposed to be.
"Can you remove your trousers on your own or do you need help?"
"I can do it.", he just replied, feeling embarrassed by the very thought.
"Alright then. I'll get your pyjamas.", Elsie smiled slightly, stepping aside to walk to their wardrobe.
Charles turned his head to see her bend down to grab his pyjamas from the bottom drawer, the ones she had gifted him this very Christmas. She hummed a happy Christmas tune, as if the night were like any other…A habit of hers that he loved so dearly. Turning back to the task in hand, he carefully took off his trousers, pulling them down with his right hand. Standing there in just in his underpants, he let out a nervous cough, which caught her attention.
"Are you coming down with something?", she asked, knowing deep down the question would go to deaf ears.
She walked back to his side, dropping the pile of clothes on the bed. She helped him into his checkered, red pyjama pants and after a while, pulled on his shirt. Her tiny hands worked on the buttons of the said shirt, slowly hiding his slightly hairy chest from sight. Upon finishing buttoning his shirt, her lips wandered to place a sweet kiss on his left cheek. And from the gesture she was happy to receive a small smile on her husband's lips.
"How are you feeling?", Elsie gently asked, bringing her hands to rest on his chest.
He thought for a moment what to say to her…How to not make her regret choosing him even more, but before he could stop himself, the words were already out of his mouth:
"Useless, old, clumsy. Do you want me to continue?"
"No. Because none of those things are true.", his wife told him firmly."I don't want you to say such things about yourself. It sounds very harsh, love."
"I suppose.", Charles mumbled quiet.
"I love you, no matter how old or clumsy you are…None of which are true, mind you. It doesn't change a thing."
Her words brought a proud smile on his face. He would always thank the Gods for bringing this woman into his life and letting him cherish her.
"But enough of the love talk now. It's very late and you have to be in bed."
"And so do you."
"I know, love. But my patient goes first."
Her saying that didn't sound bitter at all.
"Get under the covers while I'll have my bath. I'll join you in a moment with a cup of tea for both of us.", she suggested.
"Only if you won't take too long."
"You can count on that, Charlie.", and with those words, she was out of the room.
And just like Elsie had promised, she was back in heartbeat, now dressed in her nightgown and bathrobe. Balancing the tea tray on her hip and a roll of bandages in her other hand, she made her way into the now fire lit room. Charles had, despite his other hand being worse than useless, lit the fire so they wouldn't get cold.
"I brought up just two cups, but I can get more if you want to."
"Just join me. It's getting cold under the covers without you by my side."
With a shake of her head, Elsie placed the tea tray on her bedside table and climbed under the covers. They sat with their backs against the headboard, sipping the warm tea.
"I don't think I have the energy to braid my hair tonight. I know it will be a right mess in the morning, but I suppose that's a risk I have to take."
"I'm sorry."
"No, don't be. It's not your fault. And maybe you'll be the one brushing it.", she teased and sipped her tea.
"That seems fair…", Charles nodded absentmindedly.
"You've done it before, and we both know it's not."
A silence fell between them. Elsie turned to inspect her husband's down casted face. His eyes were focused on the slightly shaking teacup, which he was holding with his right hand, and his shoulders were slumped down. It broke her heart to see him like that: so fragile and numb.
"You know I'd give you the whole world if I could, don't you?"
His sudden statement caught her off guard.
"But this damn palsy-"
"I'd marry you now if I already weren't your wife.", she told, interrupting his sentence.
"Would you?"
"Without a doubt. Without a moment's hesitation. If it meant I'd have to follow you to the other side of the world, I'd do it. And just because it would mean I could be here sitting with you, feeling so happy I might as well burst."
She stopped there, taking their cups, and placing them back on the tray. She took his hands carefully in hers and continued with a stray tear rolling down her cheek:
"I promised to cherish you for better and worse, in sickness and in health. I intend to keep that promise.", Elsie whispered."Shaky hands or not."
"So…You don't regret?"
"Nothing. Not falling in love with the sweetest man on earth, nor marrying my best friend."
"No regrets.", he sighed.
"No regrets.", his wife repeated after him."We'll take one step at a time, day by day. And whenever you need it, I'll be there to steady you."
You can always hold my hand if you need to feel steady.
I don't know how, but you managed to make that sound a little risqué.
And what if I did?
"Thank you for that, Elsie. But after today, how can you possibly put up with me?"
"Well, there's a simple answer to that question."
"Which is?"
Leaning forward with a bright smile playing at her lips, Elsie closed the distance between them, as her lips entwined with his. It was a seal to her promises that night. After a long while, when breaking apart to catch breath she told him with her forehead pressed against his:
"I do love you so, Mr. Carson."
And all was well again. The couple settled under the covers, holding each other as if trying to protect their love from the cold outside the warmth of their cottage. The wife gently rubbed her husband's slightly shaking hand with hers while he planted small kisses to her hair.
"And for heaven's sake, don't tell Mrs. Patmore I said you are my best friend. She'd be so cross with me.", Elsie laughed, the sound of her laughter rang loud in the otherwise quiet room.
Charles' blooming laughter joined hers soon after. It was music to her ears…
"I wouldn't dare do such a thing, my dearest Mrs. Carson."