Sorry, it's been a hot minute since I've been able to sit down and work on this. Work, a wedding, several illnesses, etc. Anyway... here's the nonsense.
XIII:
"Are you glad to be going back to work tomorrow?" Charles asked softly as he braided Elsie's hair for the night. She had shown him how to do it and patiently sat through his less than worthy efforts until he had become adept at it; now it was one of their favorite parts of the day.
She shrugged and exhaled a noncommittal reply. "I suppose I am," she murmured. "I've been idle for weeks. It's enough to make a woman of action go mad." She picked at an invisible piece of lint on her nightdress, then heaved a great sigh. "I will miss our lass and our lad, though," Elsie said with a weary smile. "Your mum will have her work cut out for her, I think."
He stifled a chuckle. "Meggie is a good girl," he said, "but she is prone to mayhem when she decides to misbehave."
"I feel badly, leaving her all alone with them –"
"She loves every minute," he promised gently, tying off her braid. "Just as you love every moment of work you do."
"I don't want to give it up," Elsie said, her tone very quiet and almost harsh. "But there will come a day when I haven't a choice. Thanks to… my father."
Therein lay the elephant in the room. They hadn't spoken about Bruce Hughes or the inheritance or anything else since that day when he had dropped everything into Elsie's lap. The few times he had begun to speak about it, Elsie had shut him down. But now she was bringing it up.
"Do you want to talk about it now?" he asked.
She turned and faced him. "I still don't understand how he could… how he could do that to her," she said, biting her lip. "All those years… she stood by him and watched someone else take the place that was rightfully hers. She raised his children and kept his household running and – and she should have been the lady of the house, but…"
Charles exhaled and raised his hands in surrender. "I don't know, Elsie. He must have felt obligated to her in a way –"
"He married her and then he married someone else, and she had to sit there and watch her be –" Elsie broke off and shook her head, looking away. "I don't understand. I never will. Bloody men and their… their standards."
"Elsie, love," he sighed, "whatever your father has done, you can rest assured I will not repeat –"
"If you ever find someone else you love more than me," she interjected, cutting him off, "just tell me. Just be honest with me. Tell me the truth, Charles."
He felt violent revulsion; the very thought of finding anyone that could even come near enough to touch her in his estimations was ludicrous. "That will never happen," he said, nausea settling deep into the pit of his stomach.
"You nor I know what the future holds," Elsie warned. "You may find a maiden preferable to me in a few years' time and regret ever –"
Unbidden, his fingers clamped down around her shoulders. "Elsie, it will not happen," Charles said firmly. "I am in love with you, and there will be no other woman in my life – until our daughter is grown, and then, I will be too busy swinging my cricket bat at the young men in the village to even look at another woman."
She stifled a giggle. "You daft sod."
"I mean every word of it," he said. "I don't think you understand when I made my vows, I meant every word. That I intend to be with you every day until the day I die – you can't go first, Elsie."
"You don't get to make that choice – God does," she murmured.
"I pray every day now that if the Lord thinks he must have you, that he takes me in your stead," he said in earnest. She didn't know that the handful of days when they weren't certain of her recovery were the lowest point of his life. Without her, he didn't feel capable of caring for the children; he didn't feel able to even rise from bed without intervention. The obsession was uncomfortable, and he did not want to impose it upon her, to guilt her or shame her into doing what he wanted. No, he was too well pleased to let her just be and allow her to be her own person and not beholden or belonging to him. Even before the inheritance and titles and nonsense – she was his superior in every way.
"Dinnae be ridiculous," she scoffed. "What must people think of us?" she asked. "You silly, besotted man…"
"Not all men are like your father," he said. "By contrast… Lord Robert has done his duty in marrying Lady Cora, though he still loves Lady Ida. I do not pity him the choice, but I do feel his pain. It would be nearly as great as mine, should I lose you." Charles released her shoulders, realizing suddenly that he was probably hurting her, though she would never say it. "I made a commitment to you for the entirety of our lifetimes, Elsie, because I meant it. I want to provide for you and our children, to be your safety and comfort – and no amount of money or prestige or title will ever change that. My intentions were and are and shall always be honorable."
"I know," she whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek with a loving smile on her lips. "Believe me, I know." She glanced at the cradle when Charlie made a noise in his sleep, then started to fuss.
"Our lad has impeccable timing," Charles sighed, getting up to retrieve his son. While Meggie was his first child and he adored her with every fiber of his being – and he truly did favor her – he had been conditioned to believe that a son was more important than a daughter. It was a stark schism in his reality to believe that he should treat his intelligent, beautiful daughter differently than his newborn son. That men would kill over a son was ridiculous to him; he would gladly bean a blighter for insulting his daughter, though. "Come now, Charlie," he soothed, bouncing the baby in his arms. "Is your poor tummy hurting you?"
"I must say I'm jealous," Elsie murmured. "He doesn't settle for me that easily." Her voice was filled with sadness, and he turned toward her, just staring at the heartbreak on her face.
"Love, he's very small," he reminded her. "And I am very large. Maybe he just feels –"
"Safer?" she interjected. "I couldn't possibly blame him, after I almost killed him during labor –"
"You didn't."
"I did," she argued.
"Elsie, love, you saved his life."
"I don't want to talk anymore," she whispered.
He exhaled a sigh and nodded, knowing that things were only going to fester between them for a while yet.
The days flew by at breakneck speed. Every time Elsie turned around, little Charlie and Meggie were learning new skill or another, and she relished her nights with them – which were few and far between. And she was growing increasingly irritated with Charles; if she slept at their quarters at Crawley House, he would come to the cottage. And vice versa.
For all of his talk of love and devotion, when she needed him the most – in the deepest part of the night when she awoke in a cold sweat, panicking and alone – he wasn't there. It made her wary and guarded during the day, rebuffing him gently when he would try to gain her attentions.
She finished pinning Cora's hair in place and murmured, "Anything else, Lady Cora?"
Cora bit her lip and said, "As you know, the doctor came by earlier…"
"And is it as you hoped?" Elsie inquired. Cora had been feverishly praying and waiting with baited breath for any hope of a child for nearly a year. There had been once when even Elsie had been convinced it was happening, only to have her hopes dashed to bits.
"It is," Cora said, blushing. "I am actually with child, finally – "
Elsie tried to smile, but she knew all too well what might yet come to pass. "I am glad for you, m'lady," she said softly. "Truly."
"Have you and Mr. Carson given anymore thought to bringing the children into our nursery once it is open?" Cora asked cheerfully.
"I couldn't possibly impose on you and Lord Robert in such a way," Elsie said.
"It wouldn't be an imposition," Cora declared in a firm, no-nonsense manner. "We will already have the nursery open and running and our child can play with your children and be happy. There won't be an extra cost because we will employ a nanny and two nurses anyway." She waved her hand dismissively. "I will tell Robert and we will make plans. Of course, all of this is months away, and plans do go awry, but there's no reason not to have at least opened the option to you and Carson."
"There are many people who would not," Elsie admitted. "We are only servants –"
"You are family," Cora contradicted.
Elsie hesitated a moment, then said, "I need to tell you something. You mustn't tell anyone."
"Oh, I do love a good secret," Cora confessed dramatically.
"You say that now," Elsie said. "You mightn't feel the same once I've told you."
"I'm certain it can't be as bad as Rosamund telling Mama that she was to marry Marmaduke Painswick," Cora said, giggling. "Papa took it in stride, but… oh, there was terse conversation in French that they assumed I couldn't translate."
Elsie licked her lips and choked out a laugh that sounded more like a plea for help. Whatever demon possessed her to tell Cora part of her distress spurred her on and she said, "You met Lord Allenby. My father."
"Yes – he is a genial, agreeable man…"
"If only you knew," Elsie said, her hands clenching into fists ineffectually at her sides. "He… has done things that no good Christian man or woman should condone. Such as wedding my mother in accordance with Scottish law, then marrying another woman in accordance with English law."
There was dead silence. Then a sudden noise from Cora's throat. "Oh my word – your poor mother –"
"She made her bed and she lay in it," Elsie murmured. "I am the eldest, and… as there is no male heir, and laws of inheritance for Scottish titles are different…"
The absolute silence reigned again.
"Why are you here?" Cora finally managed to say. "Why are you here, changing my clothes and –"
"We are family," Elsie said simply.
"You have money and power and an estate of your own –"
"When he dies, yes," Elsie agreed. "Until then, I am no better than the servant I am."
"What about your husband?"
"Discretionary title. And the line will go on through our Meggie – I'll not dispense with Scottish law over English and make our lass lesser than her brother," Elsie said firmly.
"Does he know?" Cora asked.
Elsie nodded. "Nothing changes until Lord Allenby dies," she said very softly. "Though, to be honest, I don't think he will last long without Mam. Another year or two at best."
Cora took a deep breath and said, "Of course, all of this means that you can have no good objection at all to us opening the nursery to you –"
"The world will object."
"The world can sod it," Cora replied. "You know, I think most of our problems would go away if we just told people that they're behaving like idiots when they are."
Elsie restrained herself from rolling her eyes. "M'lady, your American is showing," she pointed out.
"Elsie, I don't understand – you are an heiress and yet… you're in service."
"I am nothing and no one until he dies," Elsie said. "And I choose to serve. That is who I am, who I have become – I am your maid."
"I feel very guilty."
"You shouldn't," Elsie soothed her. "I am content with my lot."
"Your lot isn't what you're pretending it is," Cora said sharply. "You are a Vicountess. You should be eating at table with us, not… not… dressing me."
Elsie paused for a long moment, then murmured, "This is what I know. This is what I was trained for all my life, Cora – to be a confidant, a woman behind the scenes. I cannae begin to fathom what it will be like to step out as a great lady –"
"Your father has done you a great disservice," Cora huffed. "As did your mother."
"You mustn't tell," Elsie implored. "Not even Lord Robert. Especially not him. It will get back to Lady Grantham and Lady Painswick and then it will be everywhere –"
"Why so much secrecy? Why not just rip off the bandage and let it out?"
"He is a bigamist and the scandal would be… horrendous." Elsie shrugged. "If it happens when he is dead, everyone will be horrified and disappointed, but not hold me accountable. If it happens when he is alive… fingers will be pointed everywhere and I am just vain enough to worry they will be pointed at me, as well."
"You are innocent in all of his sins," Cora snapped.
"Maybe so," Elsie whispered. "But I am not ignorant to the ways of the world. I have already faced more censure in my lifetime than anyone deserves. And what will happen when I am a maid elevated to Countess? I don't know anything. I will live in a castle and have good money to throw after bad and I will never sit at table with anyone because I cannae tell which is an oyster fork and which is a prawn fork –" Elsie inhaled sharply. "I will be a ridiculous imposter."
"No, you won't," Cora declared firmly. "I promise you that. Even if it means teaching you everything I know."
"I cannae ask you to –"
"You aren't asking a thing of me," Cora said firmly. "I might have to tell Robert eventually, when he begins to wonder why I am spending so much time with you, but until then…"
There was a knock on the door and Robert appeared. "Cora, we need to leave," he said. "Thank you, Mrs. Carson – we will return around eleven, if you could have Cora's things ready before you go to the cottage for the evening, we will manage without you tonight."
Cora raised an eyebrow. Robert raised one back. Elsie cleared her throat. "Are you certain, m'lord?"
"Of course – you should spend the evening with Mr. Carson on his birthday, after all."
"Yes, m'lord," Elsie murmured. His consideration was astounding, though he did try to be incredibly proper about it in mixed company. They towed the line of propriety, her wayward nephew by marriage and her aunt of some persuasion, the situation far more complicated than anyone cared to admit. "Thank you."
The Crawleys left for dinner at the Abbey and Elsie went back to puttering around Cora's room, putting away stray bits and bobs, identifying which dresses needed repairs… anything to avoid the elephant in the room. She was in the process of inspecting petticoats when Charles came into the room. "There you are," he said. "I've been looking all over – thought you might have escaped to mum's."
Elsie exhaled and murmured, "Charles… we need to talk."
He nodded and said, "Yes, we do – but not here. And not now."
"I… I don't like this," she confessed, gesturing at the expanse between them, open and empty. "Us, like this – I need you, Charlie."
He exhaled raggedly and said, "Come home with me, love."
"You're not going to push me away?" she countered.
"I don't like this… this distance, this… atmosphere… any more than you do," he said softly. "And it's all my fault, Elsie. I pushed you away, trying to keep myself under control and –"
She swallowed hard and murmured, "You're right. We shouldn't talk here. Not when anyone could hear us and –" She inhaled sharply, deeply, when he came over and wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her temple protectively. "Charles, happy birthday –"
"Another year went by and I wasted it," he said very quietly. "I wasted a year of my life without you, even though you were right here with me –"
"Our lad will be one soon," she reminded him gently. "And we've not – since he was –"
"I can't lose you," he said simply. "And Doctor Henry said if you were to bear another child, you might just –"
She softened then; his worry was palpable, like a living thing between them. The fear was real, but if they allowed it to come between them, how would it be any better than if they'd never wed at all? If they had gone a different way full of longing desire and furtive glances, never towing the line of marriage and love, but living together all the same? She stroked his arms where they lay across her belly and whispered, "I am sorry."
"You needn't be when it isn't any fault of your own," he said softly. "Come home with me?"
"Do you want that?" she asked.
"More than anything."
She smiled. "On one condition."
"The condition being what?"
"That you hold me tonight, the way a husband and wife are meant to do."
"Elsie –"
"We don't have to do anything, but I need you to hold me."
"I don't want to do anything that could hurt you –"
"You're just going to wrap me in swaddling and set me out to dry, then?" she countered. "Because that may be the only way I don't get hurt. And even then, it isn't a sure deal, is it?"
He exhaled a low sigh. "Let's just go to the cottage," he said quietly. "The walls have ears here."
"I know," Elsie muttered.
They finished their work for the evening and strolled, arm in arm, back to his mother's cottage. When they went inside, Meggie slipped down from the table in her excitement and came to throw her arms around Charles's legs. "Da! Heppy birfday!" she crowed excitedly. "Gotsu cake."
"We made you a small sponge," Margaret spoke up from where she was feeding Charlie some chunky peas and porridge. "Nothing fancy, but our Meggie helped a lot."
"Did you help Granny make a cake?" Charles asked, releasing Elsie to scoop Meggie up into his arms. "You're such a big girl, Meggie – soon, you'll be helping mummy sew buttons on."
Meggie shook her head and murmured, "No, da, ouchie."
"She's pricked herself on my pincushion," Elsie explained gently, reaching out to stroke her daughter's dark hair. "Did you finish your dinner, love?"
"She's got a bit more stew," Margaret said.
"Do you want to sit on my lap and finish while your Da and I eat?" Elsie inquired. Meggie nodded and crawled from her father's arms to Elsie's, tucking her chin tightly into her mother's shoulder. "What did you do with granny today?" she asked.
"Stiw cake," Meggie said cheerfully. "Hep ganny wif Chawwie."
"Did you help granny with your brother?" Charles asked, his eyebrows raising as he looked over at his mother.
"She did," Margaret said. "We took a nap together this morning and she woke up and soothed him so I could rest a few minutes more. She's a good girl, our Meggie."
"Oh, aye, she is," Elsie praised, settling in at the table with the little girl on her lap. Charles brought a bowl of stew in each hand, and a large loaf of bread sat in the middle of the table. Elsie poked at Meggie's few mouthfuls of stew before she gently shoveled one into the little girl's mouth. "Now, you've got to finish your dinner, lass, so we can have your da's cake – and it's going to be so yummy, isn't it?"
Elsie looked over at Charles, who was eating slowly, savoring his dinner. She had missed this closeness, this sense of family and love in the room, wondered briefly how they could possibly have lived without it for months on end. Meggie snuggled back into her and accepted another bite of carrot, and Elsie just held her, breathing in her scent and the soft smells of life well lived in the small cottage. The little girl was nearly asleep as she was finishing the third bite, but she was putting up a valiant effort to stay awake for cake.
Elsie ate her stew quickly once Meggie was done, and then the cake was set down in front of Charles. It wasn't a large cake, but it would suffice. Elsie plopped Meggie onto Charles's lap and took Charlie from his grandmother, intending to clean him up and put him to bed. She cooed and fussed over him, eliciting a smile and a tired giggle from the baby. "There's my lad," she murmured, wiping away the last of the peas from his cheeks. "I almost couldn't see you for the peas! You had so many peas on you!" She kissed his chubby cheeks and cuddled him close as they went upstairs.
A few minutes later, Charlie was in his crib and snoring softly, and Elsie was on her way down to collect Meggie. The little girl was sound asleep on her father's shoulder, a streak of confectioner's sugar on her cheek and raspberry jam in the corner of her mouth. "I take it the cake was a success," Elsie quipped wryly.
"I should say so," Charles replied with a small smile. "I'll take her up –"
"Are you sure?" Elsie murmured. "I can do it and you can enjoy your cake."
"Does this mean you two have finally come to your senses?" Margaret inquired. "And will stop avoiding each other all of the time?"
"Yes," Charles said simply. "We have… come to our senses."
The way he said it made Elsie feel warm – and not from the fire in the grate, either. "Let me take her," she said, feeling more flustered than anything, shifting Meggie to her shoulder and retreating quickly upstairs. She wiped down her lass and got the exhausted child into her nightgown and onto her pallet at the foot of Margaret's bed. She covered the girl with the blanket she had knit when she'd realized she was pregnant, and smiled softly before she brushed Meggie's unruly curls out of her face. "Mam loves you verra much, little love," she whispered, giving her a kiss.
With that, she turned down the oil lamp and left her bairns to sleep. Charles met her in the hallway with a small smile on his lips. "Hello," he said softly, taking her hands in his. "Do you want some cake?"
"Is there any left?" she teased. "I know your sweet tooth and our Meggie seems to have inherited it –"
He had the grace to look chagrinned. "There is only a little bit left – it was a small cake," he defended.
"I'd rather have a cup of tea," she murmured.
"I'll go get it then," he said, releasing her and hurrying off.
She hurried through her nightly ablutions and was rolling her black cotton stockings down her legs when Charles came back in with two sturdy earthenware mugs of steaming hot tea. Her nightdress was up well over her knees when he came in, giving him a perfect view. She stopped stock still, hoping she wasn't spooking him off – it wasn't time for her courses, so she didn't feel obligated to wear her drawers and dark calico nightdress to bed.
His eyes darkened with lust and he inhaled deeply, then murmured, "Elsie…"
"I did try to hurry," she replied, blushing a little as she resumed tugging at her second stocking. "Your mam must've had water on to boil."
He handed her the second cup and said, "I'm sorry I've been a prat."
"We both have," she murmured, taking a sip of her tea. "I take it you want to celebrate your birthday… rather more intimately than with cake and children." She raised an eyebrow but never quite met his gaze.
"Elsie, I've wanted nothing more these past few months than to just… have you. Whenever the mood struck. But I can't do that –"
"Because you don't want to hurt me," she interjected with a dismissive huff. "But how do you think it makes me feel when you don't want me? When you push me away?"
"I want you," he grunted. "I want you like a dying man wants to live."
"Then bloody well do something about it," she countered.
It was uneasy; their kisses were timid, sloppy, not at all in sync. He was anxious and she was testy; she got snappish when he treated her like she was fragile and would break in his hands. His arousal was intense, hers was nowhere near his, and he was fumbling at trying to please her.
She pulled back out of his arms and murmured, "Charlie, I am not going to leave you. I'm far too stubborn to die. Please stop holding me at arm's length."
"Elsie, I don't know how to –"
"Remember our first night together?" she whispered. "Just like that, love. You were afraid I would leave then, that I wouldn't stay the night with you –"
"All I wanted was you," he murmured, kissing her gently, nipping at her lower lip. "I'd never… felt so strongly."
She moaned softly and moved his hand lower down her body, from her waist to her thigh. "I was afraid that giving in to you made me no better than me mam," she confessed. "I didn't know if I should run toward you or away from you." Their kisses were stronger now, more intense, more fulfilling, and his fingers moved over her skin with more conviction, less doubt.
It was a slow road, but they came through together. She fell forward onto his chest, flushed and trembling from the force of her climax as his chest heaved with the effort of breathing after his own insane climb to ecstasy. She giggled nervously and whispered, "Love, I think we've gone far past running away now."
"If you run away from me," he rumbled, "I will hunt you down and carry you over my shoulder like a sack of flour. And then I'll use your hair ribbons and tie you to the bedposts."
She smiled and kissed his chest. "I love you," she whispered.
He held her like that for a long time until she shifted and rolled onto her side. He adjusted, spooning her tightly and keeping her warm. "I love you," he breathed against her neck, and she felt his hot tears as they began to fall.
"I'm nae goin' anywhere," she promised. "I'm nae leavin' you, Charlie." It was breaking her heart to know that he was so absolutely terrified of losing her that he was coming a bit unhinged.
His tears finally quieted and she surmised he had fallen asleep from the soft snoring behind her. She soothingly rubbed his arms where they rested on her abdomen and thought hard about his fragile state. She loved him, yes, adored him even, but she did not feel overwhelming panic at the mere thought of losing him. Maybe because she knew that she could juggle the children and work and in the end, life would be made easier by a fluke act of inheritance. But if their positions were reversed… he was a father, but he did not know how to properly clean or tuck down a bed nor change a nappy. He did not know how best to bring down a fever or to –
She started to cry then, softly, so as not to disturb his much-needed rest.
She promised herself that she would never dismiss his anxieties out of hand again. And she was determined that he should know at least how to take care of their children's basic needs – just in case.
