The Acquisition of Memories

by BorneToFlow

Embarking on their honeymoon, Charles and Elsie begin to process the events of their wedding day and those leading up to it. A series of internal reflections; lengthy, fun & sometimes in-depth conversations; &, interspersed with requisite amounts of playful holiday fun & honeymoon adult times. From Ch19 rating is a tasteful but strong M. Some S5/6 JF canon is blissfully ignored.

39. Chapter 39- Poet Lovers

The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 39- Poet Lovers

Mid- Afternoon. Wednesday 2nd June, 1926

Scarborough, Yorkshire. Northern Cove Beach

"Charles! I just realised something!"

"What's that, Love," he replies lazily from his prone position on their picnic rug under their secluded hired beach shade, his large hand trailing slowly through the warm yellow granules, lifting and letting drift small flurries of the origins of cut glass crystal through his fingers and making fine powdered castles in the sand.

"Damon was a lech!"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. I think he was a man of infinite taste and growing thoughtful wisdom."

"And how do you figure that?" and much more quietly, because she has just realised her sudden outburst about the lines she has just been reading ahead with silently from Thomson's Summer poem could lead to a conversation far better conducted in a more private space, so she almost whispers near his ear from where she lies propped up on her elbow next to him, "And keep in mind that a man who openly ogles his wife bathing whilst leaning, semi-clad in doorways of luxury hotel suites needs to have a very convincing argument to adequately refute the idea that this young man is nothing more than a Peeping Tom!"* And she gives him one of those bright-eyed and impish smiles around her tooth-gripped bottom lip as she finishes.

Charles whole body shimmers with a sense of forbidden erotic delight when his Elsie speaks so into his ear… and in public! Such sweet memories she conjures up for him when she sparks her mind up against his. Thankfully, the Northern Cove at Scarborough this fine clear mid-week day is not nearly as busy as the Southern Cove was this morning when they set out for their day on the beach, so he feels free to state his case for Damon within this private space in public they have formed for themselves once more. He turns onto his side to mirror her position, disturbing the peace of the various little coloured urchin shells Elsie had fossicked for and collected earlier as they paddled in the shallows, and which, for some unknown reason, she had decided would look grand as embellished buttons on his shirtfront as he lay his legs out in the sun to dry his rolled trouser bottoms. He leans in to kiss and release that little plump and smooth delight he so adores with his own salt-tinged lips. God! How I love kissing this woman. He feels a renewed fire for all of her delicate flesh kindling down low in his spine.

He states, somewhat huskily as he draws back from her face, "Well, perhaps you ought to read the passages aloud so that I may better state my case, Mrs Carson."

"Well, all right." And she rolls back onto the pillow of her folded cardigan, one arm stretched up and tucked beneath the back of her head as she holds the pocket-sized tome above her eyes. Charles takes to gently brushing her fly-away strands of hair behind the shell of her ear as she sweeps him up with her lilting tones into the dream of one of his favourite sections of the poem.

oOOo

"Cheered by the milder beam, the sprightly youth

Speeds to the well-known pool, whose crystal depth

A sandy bottom shows. Awhile he stands

Gazing the inverted landscape, half afraid

To meditate the blue profound below;

Then plunges headlong down the circling flood.

His ebon tresses and his rosy cheek

Instant emerge; and through the flexile wave,

At each short breathing by his lip repelled,

With arms and legs according well, he makes,

As humour leads, an easy-winding path;

While from his polished sides a dewy light

Effuses on the pleased spectators round."

oOOo

"Well there is nought wrong in any of that, Els. He is but a slip of a lad, running along at the end of a day to have a dip in a little pool. I did as much myself when I still worked the stables." Elsie smiles at him, trying to imagine a scantily clad, tall, wiry, and dark-haired Charles Carson dashing off for a skinny-dip in a stream. She would wager he had not grown into his nose or eyebrows quite so well at that young age! And the vision makes her smile. "And he is not out trying to hunt down where the ladies may be bathing. I see him as an innocent- still a youth."

"Hmm.. I'll grant you that. It is a pleasant enough vision. What about the rest of that bit though?"

Elsie plonks the book onto her tummy and turns her face to Charles', awaiting his further parsing of the text. She reaches to stroke his errant curl back from his forehead and remembers back to when she first met Charles and the signs of all of this silvery delight were only just starting to lightly pepper about his temples within all of his own thick ebon tresses. Such lovely hair he still has- and rosy cheeks today, as well!

"Well, that last line- it suggests that maybe he is with some other young lads, at least I think so, but maybe that is just my youthful memories more than it his reality. No matter. But he is different, Damon, for he is the only one we know of who pauses to consider before diving headlong into the pool. He is cautious. Thoughtful." Elsie, smiles at her man as the description of him becomes more robust by the moment. "But he is a youth on the cusp. And… and when he surfaces…- through the flexile wave- he is the one transformed, Els. And so he moves off to leave all their young follies all behind him- to move out into the world so to speak. And… he is ready for it all- he is strong and vigorous- his arms and legs are- what is it again?"

Elsie lifts the book to find the line again. " 'According well', Love…. And with 'polished dewy sides', no less!" she smiles broadly at him. "Quite the rakish Peeping Tom is young Damon, I'll be bound!"

Charles just lifts a disbelieving eyebrow at this current flippancy of Elsie's and then breaks into a beauteous smile at her, knowing exactly what she is really thinking about him, and secure in the knowledge that she really does want to hear him too- hear all of his musings. All of it. This is what I have dreamed of, he thinks blissfully as he rests his heavy palm on her belly where the book had been so that he may feel the slight vibration of her singing voice play through his fingertips.

"But that's it though… he has grown into himself and he can follow where his humour leads and the path is easy and clear for him. He is striking out on his own, Els. Now, what comes next?"

oOOo

"Close in the covert of an hazel copse,

Where, winded into pleasing solitudes,

Runs out the rambling dale, young Damon sat

Pensive, and pierced with love's delightful pangs.

There to the stream that down the distant rocks

Hoarse-murmuring fell, and plaintive breeze that played

Among the bending willows, falsely he

Of Musidora's cruelty complained."

oOOo

"So, Damon was there at this quite stream or brook first, wouldn't you say- and when the ladies come along later what is he to do?"

"Well, he is to turn and head back the other way, Charles!"

"But I think as you read you will find he does at least try to find a way to slip away unnoticed, well… eventually. But still, here is our thoughtful young man, don't you think, Els? He has left behind his silly friends and is taking the time to sit and ponder his love for Musidora."

"But then why is he complaining of her cruelty?"

"Well, he has only just started leaving his youthful friends behind him, and perhaps he is still confused, for doesn't the next section tell of how Musidora has not fully returned his favour yet?"

"Let's see… so she… ah …here we are: "

oOOo

"The brook ran babbling by; and sighing weak,

The breeze among the bending willows play'd:

When Sacharissa to the cool retreat,

With Amoret, and Musidora stole."

oOOo

"Ah! Now that's the bit, you see, that shows that Damon was there in the stream first, and Musidora and her two friends arrive, so it is not as if Damon purposely went out of his way to spy on naked bathing beauties, Elsie." Charles is rather pleased he has been vindicated by the text again.

"Are you serious, Charles? So that excuses him staying there to ogle longer?"

"Well…" Charles falters a little, "perhaps not. But…but maybe he didn't want to make a scene- if he were to be noticed as he left. Perhaps he could not manage it discreetly without embarrassing the ladies further."

"And that is your grand theory?" she asks sceptically. "Very convenient, I must say!"

"Well, I will stick to it for now. Read on Mrs Hughes. Musidora knows more than she is letting on I would wager."

"Well, all right."

oOOo

"She felt his flame; but deep within her breast,"

oOOo

"See?!"

"Shush, Charles."

oOOo

"In bashful coyness or in maiden pride,

The soft return concealed; save when it stole

In side-long glances from her downcast eye,

Or from her swelling soul in stifled sighs.

Touched by the scene, no stranger to his vows,

He framed a melting lay to try her heart;

And, if an infant passion struggled there,

To call that passion forth. Thrice happy swain!"

oOOo

"Well? What did I say?" Charles challenges her. "She knows what she feels for him, but Damon is frustrated and unsure of her love because she conceals too much."

"I suppose that is possible- that might explain his pensive musings and all. But it does not convince me that she knows he is there looking at her in secret right now. And from memory the end of the sections bears me out."

"Hmmm… I guess you are right there. Still, Musidora is aware of her charms, surely that is clear."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Elsie reads on, enjoying this back and forth discussion and seeing the poem through Charles' different eyes.

oOOo

"A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate

Of mighty monarchs, then decided thine!

For, lo! conducted by the laughing Loves,

This cool retreat his Musidora sought:

Warm in her cheek the sultry season glowed;

And, robed in loose array, she came to bathe

Her fervent limbs in the refreshing stream."

oOOo

"You see? Charles is genuinely warming to his take on the topic now, "… and granted, she may not really know he is there hiding, perhaps it is just the memory of his gaze that moves her at the moment, but she is certainly leaving her friends behind her too to seek a quieter place to bathe- and perhaps to think on her Damon for a while too. What do you think?"

"Hmm… I guess that is possible. But then that also says that Damon is taking this chance to ogle because… What? Now the Gods have thrown it all in his lap so it is perfectly fine for him to do then what he wilt?"

"Well, yes… I guess that does sound like he is taking his chance while he can, but who can blame him- what with all those fervent limbs flailing about, hmm?" and he grins a silly grin at Elsie, knowing his argument is rather slim in this place.

Elsie shakes her head incredulously at him and smiles anyway, still not fully convinced by any of this, but she finds Charles' take on this story of young love ready to be explored really rather sweet and compelling.

She reads on.

oOOo

"What shall he do? In sweet confusion lost,

'Twas then, beneath a secret waving shade

Where, winded into lovely solitudes,

Runs out the rambling dale, that Damon sat,

Thoughtful and fixed in philosophic muse.

And dubious flutterings, he a while remained.

A pure ingenuous elegance of soul,

A delicate refinement, known to few,

Perplexed his breast and urged him to retire:"

oOOo

"There! Damon is not such a bad egg, he is a thoughtful young man of delicate refinement who knows what he must do- nothing lecherous in his intent whatsoever, I don't think."

"Ah!- but he doesn't retire from the scene, though, does he, Charles?. This is where your logic will fail you."

"Oh really, Elsie! What makes you think logic is at all what is driving young Damon here now? Allow me to read to you of a young man in dire conflict with his dearest held philosophies. I pity him….well…sort of." He grins puckishly at her, "I do love this next section, though."

"Well, there is no surprise, now I know the man of passion that you truly are, Charles! Perhaps you should read it from here, though – it does get rather racy from now on."

Elsie hands him the little volume and makes herself comfortable on his out-stretched arm. Charles takes up where Elsie left off- his deep voice, kept low and seductively private near Elsie's face, as if they too are the only two people about for many miles and they too are sharing secret delights in their own private hidden glade. He sounds almost furtive as he begins and he grins rakishly at Elsie, for he knows the next passages will only remind him of his own delightful muse, bathing quietly in the morning light, looking just like that Gainsborough painting of Musidora hanging in the Tate Gallery.

oOOo

"But love forbade. Ye prudes in virtue, say,

Say, ye severest, what would you have done?

oOOo

Charles emphasises this last line while pointedly glaring at Elsie and she shucks him on the arm for being just a bit of a smarmy know-it-all.

"Now, here is what he is up against, Elsie. The power of his love and then this next. This would break a greater man than our young Damon to be sure."

"Hmm… it is a decidedly vivid text, I'll grant you." It is the most demure way Elsie can find to describe the next part of the poem, but she smiles longingly up at Charles' jawline from her pillow on his large bicep, ardently waiting to hear these lines read to her by that voice she so adores. Charles turns onto his back to take up the reading properly and speaks in his most private, sensuous and seductive tones.

"Then allow me to read these lines with only you in mind, my sweetest love." And he turns his head briefly once more to kiss her softly on the lips. Elsie is completely enamoured and stares up at the movement to his gleaming dark eyes as they slide across the page.

oOOo

"Meantime, this fairer nymph than ever blest

Arcadian stream, with timid eye around

The banks surveying, stripped her beauteous limbs

To taste the lucid coolness of the flood.

Ah! then, not Paris on the piny top

Of Ida panted stronger, when aside

The rival goddesses the veil divine

Cast unconfined, and gave him all their charms,

Than, Damon, thou; as from the snowy leg

And slender foot the inverted silk she drew;

As the soft touch dissolved the virgin zone;

And, through the parting robe, the alternate breast,

With youth wild-throbbing, on thy lawless gaze

In full luxuriance rose._"

oOOo

Elsie actually feels a desperate need to fan her own face from the heat surrounding them when Charles stops reading momentarily and looks over to Elsie- his desire diving deep into her own eyes.

"Methinks Damon is getting a little hot and bothered there, Charles." Her voice is smoky with desire for her man's rumbling voice and heartfelt words of adoration that she knows he has read as thus for her alone.

"I well know his predicament, Elsie-Love" Charles gravels out in a rumbling purr of want for her.

Elsie pointedly clears her throat as the look in Charles' eye intensifies and she realises that he may actually lose all sense of decorum with her in public, and quite as much as they are claiming, rightly or wrongly, that poor Damon does in the poem.

"Perhaps you should just read on, Mr Carson… I believe my point is that Damon should certainly not be lingering there at all now."

"As you wish." Charles says most reluctantly and finds he has to clear his throat before he can read on.

oOOo

"_But, desperate youth,

How durst thou risk the soul-distracting view

As from her naked limbs of glowing white,

Harmonious swelled by nature's finest hand,

In folds loose-floating fell the fainter lawn,

And fair exposed she stood, shrunk from herself,

With fancy blushing, at the doubtful breeze

Alarmed, and starting like the fearful fawn?"

oOOo

Elsie actually has to shake her head to come back to herself a little, but manages to maintain her side of the argument. "Ah-ha! – that's the line Charles- you see, she doesn't know he has been there all this time- she is startled and he should have let her be."

Charles turns back to his side to face Elsie and keeps his voice seductively low. "And I still maintain that never a more difficult task will face a man than seeing his one true love so beautifully and innocently displayed before him… and I have very…very personal and quite exquisite memories of my own to draw upon now in order to back up that particular assertion."

Perhaps we should have read this section in the hotel room, Elsie thinks in a flash, but it slips her mind and flies into bright oblivion as Charles captures her lips in such a deep and sultry kiss that it actually takes her breath away. And then all her mind can hold onto in that moment is the single blinding truth- I love him!

As Charles reluctantly draws back from her he breathes lustfully across her face. "Listen to this, my very own Musidora," he rumbles out low to her. It serves only to prove my point."

Elsie is fast losing any mind to argue anything right now. Just kiss me like that again, Charles. It is her only clear thought right now as she drifts into his voice one more.

oOOo

"Then to the flood she rushed: the parted flood

Its lovely guest with closing waves received;

And every beauty softening, every grace

Flushing anew, a mellow lustre shed-

As shines the lily through the crystal mild,

Or as the rose amid the morning dew,

Fresh from Aurora's hand, more sweetly glows.

While thus she wantoned, now beneath the wave

But ill-concealed, and now with streaming locks,

That half-embraced her in a humid veil,

Rising again, the latent Damon drew

Such maddening draughts of love and beauty to the soul

As for a while o'erwhelmed his raptured thought

With luxury too daring. _"

oOOo

Charles sounds of the softest smoothest steel to her and his eyes do not falter from her own.

"How could he possibly turn away from such beauty, Elsie-love?" And he leans in again to explore Elsie's mouth quite thoroughly with his loving, searching lips. He groans longingly into her. Somewhere in his love-bleared mind, he thinks to draw his suit jacket over his hips lest his current state of heady arousal should indeed embarrass his own lady hiding beneath this summer shade. Part of him cannot believe he is acting this way in public, but he finds he just cannot stop kissing his beautiful wife this way… because he really just does not ever want to stop… It is everything! Everything wonderful! Especially with Elsie's own lips urging him forward wanting him and somehow silently asking him for more. God! How I love her!

Eventually, they must both pause to allow fresh air to finally re-enter their lungs and they look at each other with wide-eyed wonder over the depths of the passions they feel for one another.

Elsie is the first to break their breathless silence when her honey thick brogue manages to roll out a quip she would never have expected to use with Mr Carson in order to bring him to behave with a greater sense of propriety. "Well,…" she purrs out, "it seems my man of the stage truly knows how to live and breathe a part. Phew! My, my! You have … gotten yourself into quite the 'Damonic' state there, Mr Carson." And she tries to stop her face breaking into a sunny and faux malicious smile.

"Grrmmmm…" he rumbles out lustfully, "you wicked woman, you. Is it any wonder I feel somewhat possessed around you, my delightful Musidora," he breathes into her ear, "whom, I will still argue, well knows the power of her charms with the poor conflicted Damon." But he does take the hint that maybe he should try to cool off a little in their current situation and he breathes out a long relieving breath as he remembers that, if young Damon could manage to cool his passions and not embarrass his lady-fair, then so too can old Carson. He clears his throat heavily before he speaks again. "Perhaps I should just read on, Mrs Carson."

"If you think it wise, please do." And she captures her own lip in an impish lustful grin that makes Charles grown aloud again at seeing. He pointedly turns his eyes back to the page and releases one more heady breath as he rests their little book on Elsie's upper arm as they continue to lie on their sides, better shielding Charles' current bodily predicament from any potential passers-by.

oOOo

"But Musidora fixing in his heart,

Inform'd, and humaniz'd him into man.

And Checked, at last,

By love's respectful modesty, he deemed

The theft profane, if aught profane to love

Can e'er be deemed, and, struggling from the shade,

With headlong hurry fled:"

oOOo

"You see?" Charles speaks low, his voice still rasping slightly with his desire for Elsie. Lovingly he looks to her face, his true point about to be made, "He is not some youth leering at a young maiden when it is not his right. He is transformed through the depth of his love that is fixed upon this one true woman, and she alone has made him into a man, and then he behaves as any good man should. Listen."

oOOo

"With headlong hurry fled: but first these lines,

Traced by his ready pencil, on the bank

With trembling hand he threw-'Bathe on, my fair,

Yet unbeheld save by the sacred eye

Of faithful love: I go to guard thy haunt;

To keep from thy recess each vagrant foot

And each licentious eye."

oOOo

"You see, Els, he is there but to protect her honour."

"Sweet man," she whispers out, knowing that Charles sees himself thus transformed by her and he has indeed pledged her no less than Damon did his Musidora- Charles, her very own gentleman husband- Oh! But in the most erotic manner! "I will grant you all of that as the truth. However," she manages to go on, unable to capitulate entirely on her own point, even though her heart is filled to bursting for her man right now, "I will still maintain that Musidora did not know of her charms, or at least did not feel confident enough of them until she could truly be sure of him first and his respect for her and his actual intentions, and so he should still have left the glade sooner."

"Bah! But then where would they be? With no time to pen his note- she would never have known his true worth. And where is the romance in all of that? More a tragedy I would hazard. And, sadly, one I feel could all too easily have happened to us." Charles has slowed his speech markedly, "I well know the mistake that could have been." He pauses briefly and considers Elise very closely. "Here, Elsie, you read the last- and I ask that you think on how it mirrors in some ways our own particular pre-wedding predicaments."

Elsie looks somewhat perplexed at this charge but takes up the tome and reads of Musidora.

oOOo

With wild surprise,

As if to marble struck, devoid of sense,

A stupid moment motionless she stood:

So stands the statue that enchants the world;

So, bending, tries to veil the matchless boast,

The mingled beauties of exulting Greece.

Recovering, swift she flew to find those robes

Which blissful Eden knew not; and, arrayed

In careless haste, the alarming paper snatched.

But, when her Damon's well-known hand she saw,

Her terrors vanished, and a softer train

Of mixed emotions, hard to be described,

Her sudden bosom seized: shame void of guilt,

The charming blush of innocence, esteem

And admiration of her lover's flame,

By modesty exalted, even a sense

Of self-approving beauty stole across

Her busy thought. At length, a tender calm

Hushed by degrees the tumult of her soul;

And on the spreading beech, that o'er the stream

Incumbent hung, she with the sylvan pen

Of rural lovers this confession carved,

Which soon her Damon kissed with weeping joy:

'Dear youth! sole judge of what these verses mean,

By fortune too much favoured, but by love,

Alas! not favoured less, be still as now

Discreet: the time may come you need not fly."

oOOo

Elsie finishes quietly.

"Well… it is true, I well know how important your ardent admiration has been to me, a chagair. So… what are you saying? …That perhaps you should have written me some sort of love letter before we married Charles, and that it might have made all the difference to me? Is that what you think?"

He huphs out a short laugh at this. "Yes… well, … it certainly would have been a somewhat more romantic way to reassure you of your beauty and of my respect and regard for you… but also of my intentions and desires for a full marriage. And most certainly, I should have done something rather than leaving it until you felt so unsure of yourself that you were compelled to use Mrs Patmore as our intermediary… or the indeed to invoke the fearsome Oliver Cromwell against me- of all people!- in order to get me to act!"

Elsie thuds her head lightly into his chest. "Oh, dear God, what an embarrassing pair of old boobies we are. I still worry that Mrs Patmore laughs herself to sleep at night because of my foolishness."

"I assure you I have worried many a-time about myself over the exact same thing, Elsie-love," he chuckles out. "Lord, I don't think I have ever held such an uncomfortable conversation with anyone in my entire life!" He actually cannot stop laughing, for it seems too ridiculous for words looking back on it all now, and soon Elsie is joining in with him.

"Oh dear, I am very sorry it came to all of that Charles, for all three of us, really. But, well, I guess we are fortunate that Beryl has precious few outside of the two of us that she would tell such a story to. I do trust that she is discreet with the understaff at least, despite her coarse mannerisms at times."

"Hmm, I suppose you are right. But it was my own fault really, Els. I do truly wish that I had been brave enough beforehand- to tell you the sorts of truths that I now feel I can, and that I have been trying to show you these last days."

"Och, you have been making all things clear on that front now, and no mistake, a chagair," and she give him a loving and very appreciative peck on that little dip in his chin. "But still, why did you not show me your regard more before we were married, Charles? I don't mean before you proposed, for I never expected that… but afterwards? I…I… felt the way … the way you shivered slightly that night you proposed… when…when I touched you… and you looked so… just so very lovely, my darling Charles, with all your heart shining so brightly in your eyes." Elsie is looking deep into his eyes now, that have misted up again at the sweet memory she is invoking. "And when I kissed the scar on your hand… I felt… I felt you hold your breath, and I knew, and I most certainly know it all again now, that we felt the same way… that same energy we share… but… but then afterwards I thought maybe I had been mistaken and that I must have revolted you somehow with my forwardness, perhaps, and that you only shivered and held your breath because I appalled you somehow- that I was not what you wanted at all- at least not in that way-… so...so I started to feel foolish…and then you seemed to run away from me… not even touching me at all, or calling me by my name in private. That is all I would have wanted, Charles- not out in the servants' hall if it embarrassed you, … but at least over our little sherries of an evening."

"Oh Elsie-love, I am so sorry… But if you only knew how conflicted I became every time you were anywhere near me… once I knew you had accepted me and wanted me too, and I had all of this marriage to look forward to… I was fit to be in … well,... quite the 'Damonic' state, as you so aptly put it, every time you so much as brushed past me in the hall."

Elsie scoffs out loud and covers her mouth at this, which has actually broken out into the sunniest smile. "Really?!"

"Yes, really, Elsie. Surely this week has shown just how desperately I desire you. The slightest touch before we were married was actually making me at risk of embarrassing myself in front of all and sundry, and especially in front of the downstairs staff, for we have much more cause to be near each other there. I would have lost any small respect I did still have with them, and no doubt with you at the time too. That I am sure would have appalled you! So, I just couldn't risk that level of contact then… I… I just wanted you so very much, Elsie. I wanted you so completely. I still want you that much- all the time. And so I just had to do what Damon did- and keep my distance in order to do right by you. I am terribly sorry. I should have written, you are correct. It would have served us both well it would seem.

"Oh, you dear man. I never realised I could have such an effect on any man! Not before this week away with you. But why don't you tell me now then, Charles- you want to court me still, so tell me what you would have written in that letter before we married."

"If I did, would it prevent you from invoking the spectre of Cromwell over me ever again?"

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary ever again, Charles," she laughs out at her own silliness. "And I was not trying to set him onto you, as it were, I was just quoting him in reference to me."

"Really? For I fear I have never fully fathomed what you were even saying that night when I first kissed you. So much of it was a blur. I could only hear that you were wanting to pull out of everything we were planning and my heart just stopped somewhere up in my ears and I only heard Oliver Cromwell's name through all of that fog of dread and…. and I thought you were about to lay waste to me as if I were some sort an Irish monastery and Cromwell was on the march!" Charles' thoughts and feelings and memories are tumbling out of him quite rapidly now. "I was terrified that I was losing you forever- just so scared, Elsie-love. I didn't think I would ever have to live through the pain of a broken heart ever again… and I never wanted that from you, most assuredly- not with you… And, really… I … I just needed you to stop talking, right then and there, for I just couldn't bear it… I couldn't… and … and all I could think to do was to finally kiss you… so that I might at least have that …that one memory to keep me alive… just that once … before I left us all behind me… and I just… because I couldn't find the words…. So I just had to kiss you- I had to- like I had been wanting to do for so very long. But… even then I was afraid… desperately afraid that I would not be able to stop once I had started and that I would only offend you like Damon felt… and I was right because I just didn't want to stop kissing you that night…Your lips…so…"

"Warts and all," she states clearly as a means to try and stop Charles barrelling in any further through his confused distress.

"But … but I had to… I had to stop myself… so I just kissed your forehead to stop myself from… I had to stop… W- What?"

"Warts and all, Charles. That is all I said… that you could have me just as I am. That I would take the risk, with you… and as inelegant a thing as it was to say… I guess at least it did finally stop you running away from me again."

"Why ever would you say that about yourself!" Charles laughs out loud, finally hearing for the first time what had swum around his head in a whirlpool of blind and frightening, but also delightful and ultimately comforting sensations from that night. And as if he is rising from the flexile waves of their own ever-growing love, Charles looks at his beautiful Elsie with fresh eyes once more, disbelief still in his heart that they somehow blundered their way through all of their foolishness and transformed themselves into something new together- to make it safely into this wonderful private space they have together. Much more surreptitiously he continues, "I can assure you, Mrs Carson, that far from any warts, there is nary a spot on you…and I have made several, quite thorough investigations… but I am always willing to confirm this assertion again- anytime you should need some further reassurance." And he looks at her, mightily pleased with his various recent explorations and with this particular turn of phrase. Elsie shivers with the energy of their lust-filled memories. And equally delighted, Charles cannot help but tell her, and most sincerely, "That said, M'Lady, you have actually been laying waste to me like Cromwell on a rampage ever since."

"Ha! Oh, most decidedly not like that I would hope, Charles!" she laughs back and kisses him firmly on the lips. "Let's leave Cromwell out of this marriage from now on, shall we?" and they kiss each other and do not even think to ever stop until they are both quite breathless again.

"No arguments about that on this front I think you will find, my delightful Musidora," Charles pants out against Elsie's cheek as he continues to hold her tightly. "Hmmm… My muse," he murmurs into Elsie's neck as he breathes in the delight of her fresh and sweet and musky-salty skin. "Still, Elsie-love, I am very sorry you doubted me so much that you somehow found a way to think it was all because you were in some way lacking. You are absolutely everything I could ever want or need, pretty Elspeth. You are all I have dreamed of. This is everything I have dreamed of…and, really, so very much more."

"A chagair," she whispers into his cheek. "Likewise, noble Sir. Hmmm… I love you…But I still maintain that you should continue your lovely courtship with me, Charles my darling. Tell me what you would have written to me so that we may have avoided that fearsome vision of Cromwell… or indeed our dear Mrs Patmore as a messenger of love between us when we came to our understanding?"

"I am not sure I would know what to say, Els. I don't think I even have the words."

"Oh, nonsense, Charles! Think of all the lovely things you have said to me these last days," then lowering her voice to a whisper once again, "my delightful and magical poet-lover." Elsie chews on her lips to contain the gleeful and lustfully knowing smile caused by all of her most vivid memories of their most recent days together. She finds her voice is very low and throaty as she continues. "The poets really should have come to you and saved themselves a lot of time and worry, Mr Carson, I do mean that. You have a most lovely way with words and I adore hearing you love me with your voice… But, … I especially love that it is only ever for me, my Charles." Elsie feels her face flush and a burning heat and stringing tight energy pulls across her middle at the thought of her man's fire for her. "Tell me what you would have said to me when we were betrothed, young Damon."

Charles always feels so much more confident when he knows he has all of Elsie's approval, so he takes a risk now with her as well. "I have a much better idea Elsie-love… I think if I were not so feint-of-heart at the time, I would have actually written to you. And if you give me some time… I will write to you again… and then I will read it aloud to you if you would like. How does that sound?"

"It sounds absolutely lovely, a chagair. In fact," Elsie says brightly as she sits up quickly and turns towards her handbag. "Here. Why don't you start on it now?" and she fossicks about for a pencil and her little notebook.

"Oh, but I couldn't, Els. Not with you here watching me. I would feel foolish."

Elsie looks at him incredulously, then leans in to speak very privately into his ear. "Charles, have you forgotten how much beautiful poetry you have formed over my body this week alone… and just what it does to me. You must surely be quite a rarity amongst men to even manage that much focus… So, I have no doubt that you can indeed find the words, a chagair. I want you to. I want to hear you."

Charles coughs to clear his lust-thickened voice. "Well, perhaps it is more that I am afraid that I will be too distracted by my visions of such things if you were to be so near me as I write."

"Well then, I shall wander off for a little and fossick about in the sands… and you can start to write and tell me what was in your heart back then when we were both too scared to tell each other the truth. How does that sound?"

Charles just smiles up at his Mrs Hughes, back to finding solutions for all their little woes.

"That should do nicely, Mrs Carson. However, I think you will find it will be exactly what is in my heart today, for my feelings have not changed. In fact, they have only grown and deepened, I find."

"Sweet man." And she gives him a little peck on the chin and then takes his bowler hat in hand so that she may collect various treasures into it out along the sands. "Do you have any requests of me then?"

"Merely to see you smile like that again." And then he intones even lower, "And perhaps that I may take you back to our room later and never have to stop kissing you tonight. Does that sound manageable?" And he grins up at her with that expectant and rascally smile she absolutely adores.

"I think we can easily come to an agreement on that front, Mr Carson." And she rises without another word or touch, but pointedly sways her hips just a little more than is entirely necessary for her to keep balanced in the sand as she makes her way out into the bright sunshine of the late afternoon.

oOOo

Upon her return, Charles quickly tears the pages he has been working on from the back of her notebook and tucks them in an almost embarrassed fashion deep into his trouser pocket. Elsie just snuffs bemusedly at him and lets it be. She knows that he will tell her his heart when he is good and ready. She is sure now that her poet-lover's words will be well worth the wait.

"Look what I have found, Charles," she states excitedly, looking like a smiling young girl as she kneels down upon their rug and tips her latest finds out of Charle's bowler hat and onto their rug.

Together they start sifting through her bounty of delicate sea treasures. They quietly fall into sorting them into rows and piles, just enjoying the way each of them approaches the task somewhat differently, whether sorting by colour first, or species, shape or size. Some of the shells and little stones are really quite lovely.

"Why don't you choose out a favourite, Charles-love. Make it a souvenir of our special trip to the seaside, hmm?"

Charles is immediately drawn to a rather large and deep scallop shell. It is the underside of one, not the more commonly noted flat fan-shaped ones that are easily found on the beach. It is bleached almost white from the sun, but is shiny and not yet brittle from weathering. It looks clean and clear to him.

"Why that one Charles."

"Hmm? Oh… I will tell you later," and he just smiles at her. Elsie thinks she detects something deep and warm and knowing in his eyes, and it makes her feel even more eager for his explanation "What about you Elsie? Which one are you going to take home with you?"

"Close your eyes, I'm not going to tell you until later, either. Then we can set these others out in the sand. I don't think I need to take the lot home. But I do like finding them all the same."

"Indeed."

"Now close your eyes."

Charles willingly obliges, enjoying Elsie's sweet young playfulness. She secretes her little keepsake shell into her purse. When she is done Elsie puts their few remaining luncheon items and plates back into their picnic basket and smiles as she sees what Charles has started to do with their shell collection. Shuffling next to him, he matches her wide sea-swept smile with one of his special close-lipped ones that squints up his cheeks in that special way she loves and reaches right into his gleaming eyes. She leans over to give him a peck on the cheek and then concentrates on helping him finish fashioning their two initials into a large interlinked cursive display upon the sand. He may not be ready to share his writing with her yet, but he really is a sweet young man at heart and her own heart blushes with fresh heat for him and sings brightly within her breast.

oOOo

Basket packed and ready to move off, Elsie asks again why Charles chose his particular shell. He silently tilts his head her way, picks up the basket and lets her know that now is not the time or place. He simply offers her his arm and escorts her across the soft sand to the Northern Esplanade.

They find an out of the way bench beneath a tree to sit on in order to replace their shoes, ready for the walk through the streets of Scarborough at the rear of the castle bluff and on to the Southern Cove and back to their room at the Grand Hotel.

"Show me your shell first, Elsie, then I will tell you why I chose mine."

"Well, all right," and she fishes it out of her purse to show him then laughs aloud as she sees his bushy eyebrows creeping up his forehead, somehow managing to make those little caterpillars look both perplexed and surprised all at the same time.

"Elsie! That would have to be one of the most boring and least pretty shells out of all the ones you collected!"

"That is most assuredly because this, dear husband, is a whelk shell," and she laughs at him heartily.

"Well, I should have known that something so disgusting would come from such a non-descript place. It is brown, Elsie," he says with quite some distaste at the memory of the one whelk that ever deigned to pass itself off as food in the presence of Charles Carson's.

"Well Baron Trevor de Brown Trout shall have his very own play toy then- they can be a matching boring pair!" she chuckles again. "Perhaps I should name this little one too, for I chose him to remind me that my wonderful husband who, although he might appear to be a bit of a stodgy and boring old bean at times, still knows how to have fun," and she leans over to kiss him on the lips. "'Wally the Whelk,' I think I shall call this little fellow- to remind me of my very own Cheeky Charles, who likes to find and share his joy with me. And so now Wally is my special little shell just for you, a chagair," and she presses the coiled tip of Wally into the dimple on Charles' chin, looking mightily pleased with her incongruous choice of things to hold onto and treasure in this lifetime. Charles breaks into a silly grin at her wonderful flippant reasoning, complete with a loving backhanded compliment to him. So very Elsie, he thinks happily. "Now! Tell me about yours, Charles."

"Well, Elsie-love, I happened to have chosen it for much the same reason as you, although I could never have gone past the elegance of the design and the size of this little beauty. For, you see, this shell I thought would look well enough on your little dressing table we will have in our cottage someday soon. And I rather thought, it might be useful…" and Charles leans in close to Elsie's face and she can feel his warm breath tickling across her cheek, as he reaches up silently to withdraw a single hair pin from Elsie's now very loose and fly-away hairstyling. "You see, pretty Elspeth," he whispers secretively near her ear, making the loosened strand of her hair flutter around her sensitive neck so that she actually shivers from the sensation, "when we get back to the hotel room, I shall demonstrate to you how this lovely shell can house all of your little hair pins of a night… and so in the future, every time you, or I, go to place your hairpins in this shell, we will remember the joy that we can find together whenever you, My Lady, truly let your hair down,… Just as you will tonight…when I will kiss you and kiss you and not stop, I'll never stop wanting to kiss you, pretty Elspeth…. And tonight, I will kiss you, so slowly and so absolutely thoroughly and for as long as I can possibly endure, until we both find our joy so intensely and completely, and so often, that we will never…ever…forget our time together here,' he is breathing quite heavily along with Elsie at his desire filled reasoning, and his voice has become quite gravely as he finishes, "Nor will we forget how very deserving we each are of the other's love…and so that is why I chose this shell, a chagair," and he whispers this last out so low and close that Elsie senses it in her skin more than she really hears it over the whistling of the early evening sea breeze around their ears.

Elsie's mouth is slightly agape with want and her eyes had been following the movement of Charles' lips as he spoke so seductively to her, willing him to kiss her in that same way that fairly took her breath away as they had lain together on the beach earlier. But he doesn't. And it leaves her quite bereft and wanting, much as she left him earlier when she sauntered off to collect the shells and he was all alone with only his thoughts and unspoken words of love. Charles moves slowly away from Elsie's face and that ultimate temptation of her lips and rolls the hairpin across the back of his knuckles as if it were their lucky penny as he simultaneously moves to stand before his adoring wife. He pointedly places the hairpin within the cup of the pristine white shell he chose, and then he slides both into his hip pocket with the lines he penned for her earlier. Then Charles proffers his arm to Elsie, and proceeds to walk out with the lady he holds a very particular understanding with.

oOOo

CECECECECE

On Thomson's Summer section of the 'Seasons' suite of poems-

I have played a bit fast and loose with the sequence and stanzas I have chosen to use here. This is because Thomson continued to edit this poem, and it would seem quite extensively so, until just before his death. The links below are for what is a 1730 imprint- and includes the lines about Musidora humanising Young Damon into manhood. The raciest stanzas I have Charles and Elsie read here are likely closer to the 1746 imprint (the Gutenberg 1908 version – see link below) and Damon is really getting in a bit of a flurry watching the fair Musidora bathe, but it also ends with that lovely note he leaves her, stating he will guard faithfully her privacy- and I just couldn't go past using it for our Charles and Elsie.

I also chose the part from the earlier iteration of the poem that describe the 'flexile wave' as opposed to the 'obedient wave' as it changes substantially the notion that Damon was transformed by his thoughtful and more cautious dive into the stream. It is also the version that speaks more obviously of Damon's philosophical musings. It is entirely possible that Charles and Elsie have had access to this older version of the poem through Lord Grantham's library, but it seems fitting that Elsie gave Charles the later imprint version in something like the 1908 imprint I have found online via Project Gutenberg Australia. Anyway- I needed it to do what I need it to do- so I mixed it all in together! Apologies to the purists, but my treatment of even the Chelsie canon is evidence enough that I don't mind sampling and disrupting texts quite a bit (a LOT!) to suit my own selfish aims!

Because of all this messing about, I cannot give accurate line numbers from the poem, but they both appear at roughly the 960 – 1100 mark in either imprint found via those links. Choose your favourite. They are both rather racy in their own ways, and it sure beats reading Fifty Shades!

. /e/ecco/004810089.0001.000/1:11?rgn=div1;view=fulltext

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*Peeping Tom –

Just an interesting side note, given I have at one point describe Elsie as being as confident as Lady Godiva in the streets. The Peeping Tom originated from this story of Lady Godiva. No one was actually meant to look upon her, but the rascal Peeping Tom did.

Next Up: The mega chapter as promised/ threatened!- but all in good time.

Kind regards,

BorneToFlow. : )