The last installment of this little fic. Thank you for indulging my AU.

1922

Elsie woke again to a cold, empty bed. Today of all days she wished that it was different. Sighing, she rose carefully, mindful of the catch in her right shoulder. Perhaps something could be done about that later today. A blast of wind drove rain against the window, and she decided that the best course of action today would be to get a quick cup of tea and return to bed. If only the rest of the world would cooperate with her plan.

Standing, she pulled her robe tight around her and shuffled into her slippers. No need to get dressed in her own home. Not yet. She made her way slowly down the stairs and as she reached the bottom she heard the sounds of low singing from within. Her first smile of the day graced her lips as she stood in the doorway. She had the pleasant view of her husband bent over studying the dial on her toaster while he sang to himself. He jumped when she spoke.

"Tuesday or no, there'll not be any 'hanging of the linen' today," she said, "Have you seen the weather outside?"

He turned to greet her, "If you mean the driving rain and icy cold, then yes I have dear wife. What are you about scaring me half to death?"

"What are you about trying to destroy my toaster?" she returned, "I know you don't care for it, but I never thought you'd send it to an early grave."

He rolled his eyes at her and turned back to the toaster, "I'm trying to make breakfast for you. I've already made mine." He indicated the dark brown bricks of toast on the tray. "Now I'm trying to figure out how to turn the dial to make the bread that you like."

"It's a toaster, Charles," she said, stepping in front of him and bending over to look at the dial, pressing her bottom into his groin. She smiled as she was rewarded with his low groan and his hand on her waist, "It makes toast not bread."

He watched over her shoulder, breath teasing the hairs on the back of her neck, as she turned the dial down and then he slipped two pieces of bread into the slots for her. Grabbing her waist with both hands now, he turned her in his arms and kissed her soundly before saying, "For bread to become toast, it must be at least a little brown on both sides. What you prefer, my dear, is known as bread; warm bread to be sure but bread."

The toaster finished her lightly toasted bread before she could retort and she withdrew it to place it on the tray he'd already laid out.

"Were you planning on breakfast in bed then?" she asked, examining the tray with its pot of tea, cups, marmalade and toast.

"I was," he sighed, "but since you spoiled my surprise, I suppose we could eat down here and then return to bed."

"And why would we return to bed now that we're up?" she asked innocently, lifting the tray to carry it to their kitchen table.

He took the tray from her and answered just as innocently, "Well, as you've pointed out, the weather is horrible. I can't think of anything better to do today than stay in bed to sleep."

She paused in the act of sitting down to look at him in disbelief, "To sleep?"

"What else would we do in bed all day?" he asked with a smug smile before popping a slice of toast in his mouth.

She sat down and prepared her tea. Frustrating man. He was going to make this difficult. Two could play that game. She took her time cutting her toast into neat, even slices. Picking up one, she put just a little marmalade on it and chewed it slowly and thoughtfully. Charles had leaned back in his chair, but she could see that he was growing more impatient.

When it looked like he was ready to burst, she leaned toward him and said, "I had hoped that we might celebrate today." While she spoke, she slipped her foot out of her slipper and ran it lightly up the back of his calf.

He let out a low growl, dropped his toast, and leaned forward to meet her lips brushing over them with her tongue and teasing them apart. Pulling back with a low chuckle, he said, "You taste like oranges. Celebrate what love?"

"Oh I don't know," she answered, shifting closer to him in her chair and working lose the tie on his robe, "Perhaps the fact that this is the first day of many that my husband will stay here instead of working at the big house all day."

"Ahhh," he said, shifting closer himself and working on the laces on the front of her nightdress, "And here I thought you might be angry that I was invading your free time."

"You are welcome to invade, Mr. Carson," she whispered, fingers already reaching for the buttons of his pyjama shirt.

He pushed the material of her nightdress out of the way and leaned down to nuzzle her breast. After a moment he pulled back to look in her eyes while his fingers traced the shiny scar on the top of her breast, "There's something else to celebrate today as well. Two full years since we have known that you were well."

She smiled and caught his hand, pressing it to her breast, "Would you be shocked to find out that I'm grateful for that lump?"

"I would," he said firmly, "There was nothing good about that."

She traced the ring on his finger with her thumb, "Was there not?"

"I was a foolish man to wait for that," he said hoarsely, looking down at their joined hands.

She nodded, "Perhaps we both were foolish. We can spend the rest of our lives apologizing."

"Beginning now," he agreed and stood to his feet, pulling her with him.

Reviews are welcome as always