On her hands and knees Elsie dragged their leather suitcase out from where Charles had sensibly stowed it under the bed. They'd unpacked as soon as they'd arrived but she was sure she'd brought an extra garter clip for her stockings in the event of one breaking, which, somewhat inevitably, one had. She'd thought to hide it in her toiletry bag given the degree of unease that seemed to exist for her husband when it came to the intricacies of women's apparel, but it must have slipped out as it was nowhere to be found. The navy satin lining of the case was all that could be seen when she lifted the lid, but as she ran her hand around the inside edge she felt something hard and, slipping her hand inside the inner pocket, she pulled out the missing clip.
She hadn't been able to appreciate waking up in their hotel room as much as she'd hoped. At first she'd been worried about where Charles could have gotten to at such an hour and then when he didn't return the simmering anger that hadn't quite dissipated bubbled up once more. She tried to read for a bit but the grumble of her stomach had become harder to ignore and eventually she'd decisively thrown back the covers and got up. The sight of the deep bath had her pushing in the plug and fiddling with the taps to find the perfect temperature, even indulging in a few soap flakes that had been generously left for them to use. As she waited for it to fill, she pottered about, straightening the bed, moving a few things, choosing her clothes for the day and laying them ready. She opted for her newest blouse. It was a sort of green, sage Miss Baxter had described it as, with a V-shaped collar that possibly went a smidgen lower than her others although it was the addition of a satin and lace trim that was the most significant difference. When she'd tried it on in the shop she'd felt as feminine as she could ever remember.
Bathed and half dressed in her chemise and corselet was when she'd discovered the broken clip. And now, with one stocking fastened, she lifted the other leg to rest on the low button-backed armchair to give herself better balance as she rolled the cotton material over her knee and halfway up her thigh, her nimble fingers working their way around to secure it. As the last clasp snapped into place she was startled by the turn of a key in the lock and then the broad frame of her husband in the doorway. He stood frozen for a moment, his jaw dropped, before he came to his senses and hurried into the room and shut the door firmly behind him.
"What are you doing?" he hissed.
"Whatever do you mean?" reeling in reply, "Dressing. What does it look like?"
"But you can't stand like that, anyone could have seen you," he admonished, his cheeks flaming.
"Well, they wouldn't have had even half a chance if you hadn't stood there letting the draft in now, would they? she argued, placing her foot back down on the floor. "Besides no one's interested in anything I have to offer," she added, reaching for her blouse and easing it from its hanger.
Charles muttered something under his breath as he made his way to the edge of the bed and sat down heavily. She looked over to him just as he did the same, their eyes capturing the others'.
"Where have you been?" she asked calmly, "I didn't expect to wake up alone," her tone belying the urge she was fighting just to shout and scream at him.
He blanched. "I went to fix something, to..." he tailed off as her face gave her away. He sighed. "I'm sorry. Truly."
She didn't reply but let her hand drift up to his shoulder where it rested for a moment before dropping it back down to her side. She wasn't quite sure the last time he'd apologised for anything. It took a lot from him to do so and especially for what he was referring to. But it wasn't going to be enough.
"Charles," she began, moving to sit down alongside him, her eyes fixed to her feet. She couldn't look at him now, her resolve to speak would break if she did. "You promised me that I'd be your equal in this marriage."
"You are!" he spluttered, halting as she stiffened and realised it was time for listening.
"I know that I'm not," she countered, "In society's eyes at least and certainly not financially, but you said that we would be, when we're just Charlie and Elsie. But what you accused me of being and, worst of sanctioning..." Her voice cracked, recalling the cutting remarks as he'd laid into her in the heat of their argument. She looked at him. "It was just a kiss and we've shared a hundred of them. You should know they can mean everything and nothing at all."
She stood up, the green blouse still clutched in her hand, and moved towards her side of the bed to the rest of her clothes. She dressed in silence, the swish of material the only sound as she stepped into her petticoats and skirt and made quick work of the fastenings on the waistband. She pushed back the curtains letting the morning light stream in. The window overlooked the sea and she couldn't have wished for a more delightful setting. The day was going to be warm despite the chill she felt now as she turned once more to address him, just one last thing to say.
"When I kiss you, Charlie?" her nerves in asking, showing through, "Initiate things between us, I mean. Is that wrong? Is that not what you want?"
They took their breakfast in the dining room where dinner had been served the night before. It was a pleasant enough room although the high wall protecting the hotel from the sea blocked more of the view than was ideal. Their fellow residents were grouped mostly in couples, with the odd solo traveller, but not being the peak of the holiday season it wasn't busy, the muted conversations of others providing the background to their tea and toast.
After popping back to their room for their hats, they left the hotel and wandered in the direction of the steps up to the path that they'd seen from the beach. It ran the length of the cliffs and promised spectacular vistas across the waves and along the coast which stretched far off into the distance. Charles went ahead, stopping when he reached a tricky section to turn and offer her his hand in what he hoped was helpful reassurance than anything else that she might misconstrue. Each time he did so he was rewarded with a small smile and after twenty minutes or so he felt himself beginning to relax and enjoy himself despite the tension that still existed between them. After a further ten minutes, Elsie suggested they stop at a bench just ahead which was set back from the path and he agreed readily.
"It is lovely here, Charlie," she said, breathing in the salty air, the gentle breeze against her cheek counteracting the growing warmth of the sun. "Thank you for bringing me," reaching for his hand, a small sigh of contentment as he curled his fingers around hers.
She did this subconsciously he realised, given her earlier question that he was still yet to answer. It went against the lifelong habit well-worn now into the grain of his character to seek the touch of another. He'd yearned for it of course but until this moment he hadn't fully appreciated that he'd come to rely on the feel of her skin on his. He coughed to clear his throat.
"Don't ever stop, Elsie. Please," he said, his eyes fixed on where their hands joined. "I didn't mean a word of what I said. I adore you and everything about our marriage. Everything," with stern emphasis on this last word.
Elsie frowned, "Time's passing, Charlie. Who knows how long I am for this earth and I don't want to squander it on things unsaid or actions not taken." She paused long enough to see his nod of agreement, feel the squeeze of his hand. "What if it was me who'd never been kissed," she half whispered, "The things I would have missed."
"The things we would have missed," he said darkly, "And you're right, we don't have time to waste"
He released his grasp and stood up with an air of decisiveness, turning to hold his hand back out towards her, all but hauling her to her feet. A gust of wind shook the straw hat on her head and she reached up just in time to stop it from being whipped away. Charles took the opportunity to step forward and slip his arm around her waist and draw her close, their lips inches apart.
"Can I kiss you, Mrs Carson?" his courteous request at odds with their proximity with one another, the positioning of his hand which enabled splayed fingers to stroke the soft material of her blouse.
Her beaming face was response enough to encourage him the final distance, the joyful feel of her mouth surrendering to his, her back arched away from him as he pushed forward. She continued to hold onto her hat, but her other hand clutched at his arm to stop her from falling such was the strength of his attention towards her. But she didn't mind, far from it. It was a heady, breathless encounter that addressed her doubts and rekindled the simmering flame of desire that never quite went away, whichever way the wind blew between them.
From the beach below, a slip of a girl observed them, her face adorned with a wry smile. Mabel supposed she'd never fully know what had transpired between the kindly man and his wife that she'd so willingly helped that morning. They were both old enough to be her grandparents and the idea that such a crisis could occur to have him sending telegrams of such a nature seemed unlikely, but despite that she sighed happily. How glorious to be kissed so passionately whilst exposed to the raw elements of the sun and the sea. Her uncle chastised her for her constant state of daydream, he imagined she lived in a novel the way that she spoke about the world around her, and he wasn't far wrong. Unfortunately for him the scene playing out above did little to persuade her that the alternative of dwelling in the monotony of everyday life would bring her greater satisfaction.
She turned to head back from where she'd come, a delicate pink shell in hand to add to her collection. She'd been looking for another Ammonite to replace the one she'd gifted him. It seemed her luck was out but she knew it was only a matter of time.
I wrote a version of this chapter where Mrs Hughes really went to town, let all of her anger and upset pour out, but it wasn't in character at all. But it was a lot of fun to imagine, I'm not gonna lie :-) Maybe I'll keep it for a rainy day...
And sincere apologies for the poetic licence I've taken with the geography of Robin Hood's Bay. If you know it then no doubt you'll spot one or two (likely more) errors!
I'm thinking epilogue and something steamy, not necessarily in that order. Or do I risk another holiday scene? Answers on a postcard…
As always, thank you for your lovely reviews. Have I told you lately how much they keep me writing? They really do! x