She stretched as she woke, a hand hitting the hard bed rails behind her, the slightest clink as her plain wedding band collided with the metal. Wincing, she brought her hand to her chest, rubbing it with the other to soothe away the pain. Goodness, how long had she slept, she wondered as she turned to the window the afternoon sun streaming through the glass reassuring her that it hadn't been as long as she might fear. She'd not thought to draw the curtains and was glad of it now. What a waste of a half day it would be to sleep it away. She lay there, contemplating moving as she heard the muffled sound of the clock in the hall chime three. She stretched again, relishing in the rush she felt as her muscles tensed and relaxed and then compelled herself to move, rolling off the bed rather inelegantly.
Grateful for the luxury of indoor plumbing in such a modest home, she headed for the bathroom across the landing. Whilst the servants quarters at the Abbey were hardly the Ritz, she'd gotten used to the convenience of a washroom down the hall. She had memories of frantic dashes to the outhouse across frozen ground as a child and certainly one advantage of service was not having to endure that any longer. She flinched as she caught sight of her hair in the small wooden framed mirror above the sink. It had half come down on one side, flattened on the other. She sighed and started to pull the pins from her tight bun, noticing the quiet tinkle they made as they hit the ceramic washbasin. Once loose she lifted her hair from her neck and let it fall in a continuous sheet down her back. It didn't reach quite as far as it once did, fashions had changed and the most simplistic styles didn't require so much length. Not that she'd ever have it as short as some of the others, she was too old for that. She contemplated whether it was worth braiding it but there was no real need if she wasn't going out again. She rarely wore it this way and it felt nice to have it free for a change.
She ran her hands over her dress attempting to lessen the wrinkles that had formed as the inevitable consequence of having slept fully clothed. Her corset felt unusually tight and she realised it must have twisted, a problem not easily solved without unlacing it and starting again. Her fingers made quick work of the buttons in her dress, a little note of regret as she recalled Anna's coy suggestion. As her skirts fell to the floor she reached to release the ribbons that held the rest of her in place, breathing deeply as she became less confined. She liked how she looked in her corset, it smoothed her out in a way that she could convince herself that she still had the figure of her youth. On occasion she'd opted not to remove it for her husband, much to his chagrin, given how it added to how attractive she felt. And despite his huffs at not being able to caress her breasts, she'd noticed he didn't complain as her boosted confidence facilitated some bolder actions on her part. But just now it felt glorious to move unhindered even though she reached for her dressing gown Tom over herself quickly. Splashing her face with a little water to refresh herself and to wash away the sleep, she began to make her way downstairs.
The first thing she noticed was the breeze, a gentle warmth drifting across the kitchen. She smiled as she caught sight of an abandoned bowler hat. He was home. Aware of how quiet her steps were on the tiled floor she took full advantage as she stole towards the back door and looked out. Chin resting on his chest, a soft intermittent snore emanating from his mouth, he dozed. She chuckled at the sight of him, clearly unable to resist the lure of sleep just as she'd been unable to do. Oh, they really were getting on a bit. She bit her lip as she contemplated her options. She could wake him, a gentle shake of the shoulder followed by a spluttering of excuses as he attempted to deny he'd ever been asleep. Or she could leave him be, make a start on the supper that no doubt he'd be keen to partake of when he did wake. Or, she mused, perhaps there was something else a little more tempting. It would be a risk, she admitted to herself but they'd waited long enough that it might just be worth it,
She quietly disappeared back into the house and tiptoed upstairs. Pulling open one of the drawers of the heavy chest in the corner of the room, she searched for what she'd buried there some weeks before. Had she been saving it? She wasn't sure it had been as deliberate as that, more than she hadn't been brave enough to go beyond physically owning it. She wasn't a clotheshorse, having neither the time, money, or inclination. But for some months now she'd wondered about having just one garment that was special. She'd neglected her wedding wardrobe, for the night as well as the day. She regretted it at the time but given the extreme awkwardness of their first bedroom encounter she'd concluded afterwards that the pressure of having made an effort would have been worse. But things had changed. They were more comfortable with one another, she was more comfortable with herself. And so she'd dared to visit a dressmaker in Thirsk and put away her embarrassment as she asked for something soft and feminine, not revealing but flattering. And now her fingers trembled slightly as she unwrapped it from the tissue paper, let herself feel its silky texture and imagined her husband's face when he saw her in it.
She sat on the edge of bed as she took a moment to think this through. He was going to be shocked enough that she was home, let alone this. But then why shouldn't she? There was nothing wrong in it and there was nothing quite as attractive to her as the expression he pulled as he tried desperately to hide his secret delight by feigning judgement.
Emboldened, she started to change. Stockings rolled down and left distractedly on the floor, bloomers and chemise meeting the same fate. She slipped the nightdress over her head and sighed at the feel of it on her skin. The shape and cut was reminiscent of her plain cotton ones but this had the advantage of being new and in a higher quality fabric than she'd ever indulged before. She quickly put her dressing gown back on before she lost her nerve and taking a deep breath started to make her way downstairs.
He hadn't moved, still dozing contentedly on their bench. She sat down quietly next to him, squashed up a little against his large frame, the arm digging in her side a little. She shifted to try and make her more comfortable before resting her hand on his thigh.
"Charlie," she said, her voice somewhere above a whisper. When he didn't wake, she tried again, a little louder, giving his leg a squeeze.
"What? Eh?" he started, suddenly roused from his nap. "Elsie," he stated, taking a moment to get a sense of his surroundings before adding, "I fell asleep."
She chuckled lightly, "You did. As did I."
He frowned as she'd predicted he would, and she sat quietly to let him work it out for himself. Bitter experience had taught her it would be better that way, slower but better. His frown turned to a quizzical look, his eyes flitting across her face to understand how she came to be next to him at home, in the middle of the afternoon.
"Were you upstairs when I came in?" he enquired, still trying to make sense of it.
"I've no idea, Charlie. I was away with the fairies, but," she paused, lowering her voice a little, "I'll admit that I feel quite refreshed for it."
He started to nod. It took a further moment before he noticed it. The shift in her voice, her eyes wide and focused on him, the hand that had crept closer up his leg, a gentle caress of her fingers suggestive of something wonderful. He fidgeted.
"Elsie, why are you dressed like that?" he asked tersely, "It's not quite the outfit for the garden."
"I was uncomfortable," she breezed, attempting to mask her nerves as they got closer to an explanation.
"I see," he replied, not sure he did at all. And the more he thought about it the more unsettled he became. "Well, shall I start the supper? It's a bit early, I suppose, but..."
He trailed off as her hand reached a decision point, now very aware that whilst he might be saying one thing, his mind had gone in quite a different direction. Elsie watched his face, the struggle between what might be right and proper with what he desired. He was a hard man to flummox at the best of times and so she rather enjoyed it when she did.
"Supper would be nice, Charlie," she said, leaning closer, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, "But so might other things..."
She kissed him, quite chastely, on his cheek, a day's worth of stumble deliciously rough on her lips. She heard a soft sighed escape him and encouraged lent even closer and when he turned to her she took her chance and captured his mouth with hers. He seemed to resist at first but then he surrendered, the spark that had been lit and extinguished twice over in as many days reignited. He grabbed at her, his strong arm at her waist as he pulled her to him, his other wrapped tightly around her shoulder, not a hair's breadth between them. Any thoughts of being seen over the garden fence were gone as she moaned into him, her hands finding the back of his head and she too felt the wild stirrings that had been frustratingly suppressed surface and drove her on.
At last she needed to breathe and pulled back, gasping for air as the dressing gown slipped from one shoulder, the knot of the belt having worked itself loose. He flinched at the sight of satin and lace.
"Elsie..." he started.
"Mmm?" she replied lightly, letting him digest the implication of what he saw.
The silence between them was palpable, with only the sweet sound of birdsong reaching their ears along with the buzz of a fly as it passed too close. She waited, patiently and quietly, feeling his heart pound underneath her hand as it rested on his chest.
Able to stand it no longer she ventured nervously, "Charlie, do you want to go upstairs?"
He looked at her, his dark eyes capturing hers in an almost impenetrable stare, his thoughts unreadable before his expression softened. The hand across her shoulder moved and she felt a finger dare to touch the delicate strap of her nightgown, a glint in his eye as he growled.
"Mrs Carson, just you try to stop me."
He lifted her gently off him, stood and held out his hand. She took it and lowered her head as demurely as could be managed given her excitement and let him lead her inside. The only sound was of the door softly closing behind them and the definitive turn of the key in the lock.
And there we leave them. Probably wise given I've pushed this rating as far it can reasonably go. I'm sure your imagination can do the rest! But, in my first attempt at something a little more, you can read what I think might happen when they go upstairs in 'An Afternoon Moment', definitely rated M.
Thank you so much for reading and especially to anyone who's been kind enough to leave a review. They are so encouraging to receive and without them this story wouldn't have gone beyond Elsie resting her feet on an old wooden crate. Until the next time...?