Sand
Ever since their rainy day picnic and the heartfelt discussion they'd had while lying together under the afghan as the raindrops pelted the windowpanes, Charles had been toying with an idea. The harder he tried to push it from his mind, the more forceful it became, the clearer he could picture it all in his head. More than once, Elsie had caught him staring off into space, lost in concentration as he sorted through various details in his mind. He'd brushed aside her concerns, telling her he was thinking of some mundane village business, and that seemed to placate her. But, that excuse would only work once or twice before she would demand answers and offer to lend him her ear.
Fortunately for him, Mrs. Patmore had invited Elsie to the Abbey for tea, and Mrs. Baxter had asked that she stay for a bit to discuss the upcoming garden party. It would be the first one in decades that Elsie hadn't planned from start to finish, and nerves were running a little high, both upstairs and downstairs. As he kissed his wife goodbye with a lingering kiss to her lips, he promised her he would carefully watch the roast in the oven so their dinner wouldn't be ruined by the time she returned. And just as she was closing the door behind her, he called out one last reminder.
"If there are any leftover biscuits or tarts, tell Mrs. Patmore it's always kinder to share." Her laughter as she walked down the lane filled his head and his heart with happiness.
With his adoring wife out of the cottage, Charles felt free to indulge his thoughts, getting them out of his head and onto the paper in front of him. First, he made an extensive list of everything that would need to be purchased or secured, trying to think of everything well in advance. His next step was to settle on a date. It couldn't be before the garden party. Elsie would never forgive him if they missed it. And part of him was more than a little curious to see how differently it would be without his wife at the helm. Finally, he would need to make a few phone calls, though those would be the last things he'd need to worry about today. No sense in making arrangements when nothing was settled.
With his mind more at ease and his thoughts sorted neatly, he pulled their roast from the oven and ventured into the garden to do a bit of weeding. Elsie had commented on it the evening before, saying she needed to get it done before they took over her precious roses though she wasn't sure when she would find the time. He hoped to surprise her with his efforts and a few cut flowers for their table. He even managed to cut a pretty red rose for her pillow, smiling proudly to himself as he envisioned her face upon finding it at bedtime.
By the time Elsie returned home, her head pounding from the stress of the afternoon, she was utterly surprised, relieved, and grateful that Charles has taken it upon himself to complete their supper preparations and lay a perfect table.
He took in her appearance with bright eyes and a smile on his face which quickly faded as he saw the weariness in the slump of her shoulders and the creases of her brow. In a moment, he was by her side, helping her with her hat and coat, speaking in a soft tone and guiding her to their sofa. "Sit here and rest. I'll pour you a glass of wine, and then you can tell me all about it, love." He kissed her forehead and ran his hand over her hair before retreating to the kitchen for the promised wine and a Beecham's powder.
He returned to find her head resting against the back of the sofa and her eyes closed, her fingertips pressing harshly against her temples. "Drink this and take the powder," he suggested. He moved to stand behind her, giving her time to take the medicine before allowing his fingertips to begin their medicinal and loving treatment. "Looks like you had a rough afternoon, sweetheart. Would you like to talk about it?" he asked after several long and comfortable moments of silence between them.
She reached up and took his hand in hers, bringing his palm to her lips for a kiss, then pressed her cheek to it. "Oh Charlie, it was a mess, an absolute mess." She tugged on his hand until he took the hint and settled down beside her, gathering her into his arms and guiding her weary head to his chest. "Thomas thought he would take this opportunity to improve upon years and years of tradition. He had changed everything from the order in which things are arranged to the timetables for everything. I spent most of the afternoon trying to correct his mistakes, guide Mrs. Baxter on her duties, and I never even really had a chance to visit with Mrs. Patmore. What's worse is that I am going to have to go back tomorrow and finish sorting out this mess. The only thing that saved me today was the dressing gong."
Charles gently stroked her hair and rubbed her shoulders until he felt her relax against him. "You leave Thomas to me, and you focus on helping Mrs. Baxter. I'll go back with you tomorrow and see to it that traditions are upheld. As the elder statesman at the helm of it all, at least according to His Lordship, I feel it's my duty to steer the course into calmer waters, especially if it helps put a pretty smile back on your face and thwarts a disaster in the making."
Elsie reached up and cupped his cheek before kissing him softly on the lips. "Downton Abbey does not deserve you, Mr. Carson. However, I will agree that they need you, not as much as I do, but still …" She kissed his cheek then shifted from his arms. "Now, I'm sure supper won't cook itself so let me get started. You must be starving."
He stood up with her and took her hand, guiding her to the table and directing her to sit. "You are in for a treat. While you were away, I was a busy husband. I managed to pull together our dinner as well as tending to your garden." He plucked a pink lily from the table arrangement and offered it to her. "This, my love, is from your very own garden. After we eat, let's slip outside to our swing with the leftover wine and enjoy the stars."
"That sounds like a perfect ending to a long day. Anything I can do to help you in the kitchen?"
He shook his head. "Just let me plate it, and then you can eat while you tell me more about this fiasco Thomas is planning."
And that's exactly what she did. Sharing her troubles with her husband seemed to greatly lighten the load she felt she was carrying on her chest and on her shoulders. The wine, her third glass of the night, had completely alleviated her headache, though it may have been a combination of the headache powder, the company, and the merlot.
As they cuddled on the swing in their garden, Charles wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his side, pressing a kiss to her temple and inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo. "I will have a word with Thomas tomorrow about what happened today. Current housekeeper or not, he should show you more respect and rely on your guidance to steer him in the right direction."
She patted his leg then gave his thigh a loving squeeze. "Be gentle with him, Charlie. I don't think he did it maliciously. He simply hadn't considered all the details. After all, he's not as organized and well-versed as the previous butler." She shifted a little and pressed a lingering kiss to his neck. "As much as I'm enjoying this, do you think we could go upstairs? I'm suddenly feeling rather tired."
"Of course, love," he said with a smile, suddenly remembering the rose on her pillow and knowing it would put a smile on her face. "You head on up. I'll rinse the glasses and be up in a moment." He took her empty glass and his and went to the kitchen, remembering to bring a small vase of water for her flower so it would last through to the morning.
Throughout the following day, both Charles and Elsie worked in tandem to get the garden party back on course. After a stern talking to, Thomas had sought a private word with Elsie to apologize, first to her and then Mrs. Baxter, for his behavior. Charles stood in the doorway and nodded proudly.
"It's a big man that can admit the error of his ways, Thomas. It shows you are improving in your work. And one last word of advice, if I may." He waited for a nod of consent from the new butler. "The housekeeper of a house this size can be your best friend or your worst enemy. Seeing as how you are already friends with Mrs. Baxter, it would not do to disrupt that friendship in the vain attempt to make your mark on the festivities. Wouldn't you agree?"
"I would, Mr. Carson. There will be other opportunities for me to showcase my abilities. I know that now."
"Very well. Now, if you'll permit me, I'd like to use your phone. I have a few calls I need to place, and it's necessary for Mrs. Carson to be occupied so she doesn't overhear. Can I count on you to see that I'm not disturbed? It would ruin a very special surprise."
"Take as long as you need. I'll go and speak with Mrs. Baxter and Mrs. Carson about the changes they need me to make. I'm sure we should also confer with Mrs. Patmore, so that will give you at least an extra half hour," he nervously joked.
"Indeed," the retired butler replied. "As I said, Mr. Barrow, you're learning." The use of the former footman's new title was not lost on either man in the room, both silently acknowledging the compliment for what it was worth.
With the pantry door firmly closed and confident that his wife was truly occupied, Charles picked up the receiver and placed the first of several calls. By the time he emerged into the hallway, hearing his wife's laughter ringing through the corridors, Charles was most pleased with his progress and the little surprise he had successfully orchestrated.
"Mrs. Patmore and Mr. Barrow have invited us to stay for supper. I accepted for us. I hope you don't mind," Elsie said, giving her husband's arm a reassuring squeeze, one that said she would happily defer to his wishes. She understood how trying it would be for her husband, having to watch another man do his former job, having to correct mistakes which could have been seriously troublesome for everyone.
"That's very kind. It would be very nice to stay for supper and to catch up with everyone. Sundays after church simply don't allow for such luxuries."
By the time the Carsons returned to their home, the hour was late but they had both enjoyed the deviation from their routines. It had been wonderful to feel needed again, as if their opinions and thoughts still mattered, to know that they could still be of some use to those still working at Downton Abbey.
Charles rested his head against Elsie's chest, thankful that at times she enjoyed holding him in her arms as they fell asleep. "Do you think it would be possible for us to have a quiet day here tomorrow?" His lips brushed against her collarbone, a whisper of a kiss but one that she felt as if it had been filled with all the passions of youth.
She carded her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp and feeling him shiver. "I think we've earned it, Charlie. Did you have something particular in mind?"
"Ah, that would be telling, love. You'll have to wait and see."
"You're such a tease." She laughed and took hold of his hand that was resting on her belly, lacing their fingers together.
His deep chuckle rumbled from his body to hers. "And here I was thinking I was your curmudgeon."
"My husband is a man of many mysteries … and I am enjoying discovering each and every one of them. Now, stop talking to me so I can get my beauty sleep."
"As you command, Mrs. Hughes."
"That's Carson, if you don't mind. Now, cheeky lad, either stop talking or give me a reason to stay awake."
Before she had even finished her sentence, Charles shifted in her arms, capturing her lips with his in a fierce kiss while his hands left no doubts in her mind as to which option he was choosing.
Before she was even awake, Charles had pulled on his dressing gown and made his way downstairs. He's not a completely useless husband. He did, after all, manage to teach Lady Mary how to scramble eggs, and he's fairly confident in his ability to work Elsie's blasted toaster these days. They've agreed not to fiddle with the dial, a happy medium between her lightly tanned toast and his dark brown. Coffee for him and a pot of tea for her, milk in first, and the table has been set. He looked up as she descended the stairs, positively glowing and looking refreshed and happy.
"Morning, my love. Did you sleep well?" He opened his arms and ran his hands up and down her back, reveling in the feel of her satin nightgown, a wedding gift from a new husband to his new bride, beneath his fingertips.
"Mmm," she hummed into his chest. "I slept better than I have in days. My loving husband knows just what I need." She slipped onto her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his, softer than a feather's touch, letting their breaths mingle, reliving their evenings' events in a single moment.
When she pulled back, Charles slowly opened his eyes and stared down into the dark blue ones of his temptress of a wife. "If I hadn't made you breakfast, I'd take you back upstairs." He patted her bottom and grinned. "But I did, so let's not let my efforts go to waste."
"Can't blame a wife for trying." She returned a pat to his bottom then slipped out of his arms and into her chair at the table, taking a long sip of her perfectly prepared tea. As she sat the cup back on its saucer, her eyes locked onto something peculiar on their table, in the spot where the flowers had been.
"Charlie, what's this doing on the table?" She reached out and lightly touched the lid to the small, decorative jar.
Inside the little glass container were several scoops of sand, beach sand to be exact, along with two seashells, two small petals from a rose, and a small clipping of heather. Elsie smiled as she remembered the day they had created the jar of memories. It had been their last evening in Scarborough, at sunset. She had made a foolish wish that they could stay in this peaceful resort and enjoy the luxury of having time to themselves. Feeling much the same way, Charles had crafted the idea to bring a bit of Scarborough home with them.
He'd taken her hand and quickly darted into the little general store near the beachfront. The owner was quite surprised to learn that the only thing they required was a bit of ribbon and a small jar used in canning. Happy to make the sale, he wished them on their way, his curiosity bubbling over.
Charles had led her back to the beach and together, they'd added sand into the little container, making sure to leave enough room for the additional items they'd agreed upon. They each chose a small shell from the shore and added it before it was sealed. As Elsie tied the ribbon around the top near the lid, Charles reached out to still her hand. "Not too tightly, love. When we get home, why don't we add a flower or two from your bouquet? It will be a true reminder of the happiest days of our lives."
"Only if we add a petal from your boutonniere. One petal from my bouquet and one from your flower. Agreed?" And she sealed the agreement with a kiss.
Charles brought her out of her daydream with a small kiss to the side of her neck as he placed her plate of eggs and toast in front of her. "So, you found my surprise?"
"It would appear so. Care to explain?" She placed the jar on the table between their plates, her hand reaching out to take his.
"I thought it was time to take my wife on a little holiday, and what happier place than Scarborough. It will, of course, be after this garden party next week, but that will give you plenty of time to pack and purchase anything you might need." He reached into the seat of the empty chair and presented Elsie with a small box with a lid. "Oh, and there's one more thing." He pushed the box over to her and watched with great anticipation as she removed the lid. "I thought we could add another sand jar to our shelf."
She opened the box and a broad smile graced her face and tears of happiness welled in her eyes. Inside and wrapped in white tissue was a delicate vase with a cork for a stopper. Also nestled within was a good length of royal blue ribbon and a handwritten note.
Looking forward to making many more sand jars with you, my darling.
All my love.
Your devoted and loving husband,
Charlie
A/N: Thank you all for your love, support, reblogs, and reviews. I apologize for not responding to you personally from last week's prompt. Life managed to sneak up on me! HUGS!