Chapter Two
Mr. Carson had been very masterful since that afternoon in the courtyard. Within minutes of their return to the house, Mr. Carson found his lordship in the library and informed him of his imminent marriage to Mrs. Hughes. They would not stay on indefinitely, thank you; advertisements would have to be written and approved and candidates interviewed and selected. The Carsons would remain at Downton only as long as it took the banns to be read. They would then move into one of the estate cottages. Of course they would be available for consultation on any matters that might arise, but they were very firmly committed to enjoy their retirement.
From his pantry he telephoned Reverend Travis and asked for an interview at the earliest possible convenience. Half past three this afternoon? Certainly Mr. Carson could see him then. The issue was most pressing, after all.
So it was with surprisingly little effort on her part that Elsie Hughes quickly found herself scant hours away from becoming Elsie Carson, who would soon be installed in a perfectly charming cottage on the estate with every amenity she might have wished for. She hardly knew where to begin. Of course she had visited the cottage, approved its selection and supervised the cleaning efforts of the young maid her Ladyship was kind enough to insist upon. Her Ladyship had also invited the future Mrs. Carson to select from the attics any furnishings the cottage might require. Of course Mrs. Hughes chose wisely and well; she accompanied Mr. Branson and a few hall boys to the cottage so that she might tell them exactly where she wished each piece to go.
With their duties having been significantly lightened by their replacements, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes found themselves with ample time to walk to the cottage on the eve of their wedding. Mrs. Hughes had made a great show of presenting Mr. Carson with a key to their cottage. Since their engagement, he had become less serious, playful even; on the eve of his wedding his spirits were particularly high.
"Thank you most kindly for my key, Mrs. Hughes. I shouldn't want to be locked out of my new home."
"As if you ever could be."
"As you know, I've never been a husband before. I'm bound to make a few minor errors, particularly in the beginning." He held the key between his thumb and forefinger and regarded it thoughtfully. "It eases my mind to know I shall always be able to enter, though I suppose I should try it out, just to be sure you've given me the right one."
"Go on with you."
He opened the door to their new home with a flourish and bowed as Mrs. Hughes entered the threshold. He crept behind her and whispered into her ear. "Tomorrow I shall carry you over it, my darling."
His proximity and his warm breath sent shivers along her spine. He had been a perfect gentleman throughout their engagement. He had taken to kissing her goodnight, a chaste kiss on the cheek, which left her pleasantly tingly but curiously disappointed. She could not precisely articulate what she wanted; it was enough to know she wanted. She felt he'd been holding himself apart from her, that these chaste kisses were in some way a reward for safeguarding her sterling reputation.
Mr. Carson for his part felt alive. Though he'd waited over twenty years for this woman, he hadn't always known he was waiting for her. A sort of madness had taken hold of him since she accepted his clumsy proposal. He'd offered to ask her again properly, but she'd only laughed and stroked his cheek tenderly. He found he was only able to cope with this unexpected happiness by attacking with gusto each task associated with the wedding. Each day brought some new enjoyment; each shared glance, each slice of toast he buttered for her, each cup of tea she prepared for him took on a heightened significance. He could now openly study her face, though he tried not to do so in the presence of the staff. Leaning into her each evening and gently kissing her cheek was the reward he permitted himself for not kissing her passionately in the servery or the linen closet or the Servant's Hall. But now he was alone with her in the home they would share together. He breathed in her scent and rubbed his fingers along her shoulders. Tomorrow, he mouthed. Tomorrow.
"You'll want to take your case upstairs, Charles."
He stiffened; his case wasn't all he wanted to take upstairs. He released his grip on her and cleared his throat. "Of course. I'll do so before we leave."
"As you wish." She leaned against his chest and he could not resist the opportunity to wrap his arms around her. She turned smoothly in his arms and tilted her face towards his, but he released her and walked a few paces away.
"Don't you want to kiss me, Charles?"
He turned to face her with a pained expression. "You'll never know how much, but I cannot."
"I don't understand. We're alone here; there's no one to catch us out," she teased lightly.
Charles drew his brows together. "That is precisely why I cannot kiss you, my dear."
His serious gaze caused her to blush furiously. "I hadn't…" She trailed off, uncertain now as to what she had meant. Certainly not that. At least not now. There was no denying that she had given it a great deal of thought over the past few weeks. She felt impatient and timid all at once: a very curious and unpleasant sensation.
He sensed her discomfort and crossed the room in two long strides, grasping her by the elbows. "I've thought of little else these past few weeks, my dear." His voice was low and tender and Elsie's heart quickened to hear it. "I am all impatience for tomorrow; when we return to this cottage, it will be as man and wife. Are you impatient for tomorrow, my darling?"
"Yes," she murmured.
He pressed her to him and she buried her face in his chest. She felt weak and trembly, quite unlike her usual self. After a few moments, he gently put her away from him and offered her his arm. "I think it's time I escorted you back to Downton, Mrs. Hughes."
She took his arm gratefully. "I agree, Mr. Carson. It's growing late and I want an early night."
"Can't have you sleeping in tomorrow, can we?"
"Certainly not. Though I am sure to be at the church before you."
"Hardly," he scoffed. "I shall be waiting at the end of the pulpit, the one with the flower in his buttonhole."
"Are you worried I might not recognize you and marry Mr. Bates instead?"
"I'm not taking any chances."
"See that you don't."
They walked along the path to Downton, sharing smiles and teasing glances. Mrs. Hughes held on to his arm with both hands, and Mr. Carson gently smoothed the soft material of her glove and sleeve with his free hand. At last they reached the Servant's entrance, where he let go of her reluctantly.
"I'll see you in the morning."
"In the morning, yes. I'll be the one carrying flowers."
"As if I could mistake anyone else for you." He grasped her hand tenderly. "Sleep well, my dear." He kissed her hand gallantly. "Good evening, Mrs. Hughes."
"Good evening, Mr. Carson."
He turned and walked back along the path to the cottage. He could just make out her faint call. "Sweet dreams!" He turned and grinned at her, waved his hat, then walked on. He was certain of pleasant dreams tonight.
A/N: So this happened. Expect more soon, though I cannot say when. I think just one more chapter will be it. I've been so intrigued by wedding/wedding night fics lately that I just had to get this out of my head. I am currently struggling to write a drabble about Haxby. It is super hard to contain myself to 300 characters, so I gave myself an extra 100. Still tough, but I am determined. I want to finish the whole shebang so that I can post daily updates.