She winces as the frigid water laps at her ankles and out of the corner of her eye she catches him fidgeting behind her.
Madness he had called it when she told him that she wanted to put her feet into the surf. In January.
She is tempted to agree with him now that her toes feel frozen and she can't quite stop the rest of her body from shivering. Yet, she feels stronger for it. Invigorated somehow.
When his fidgeting intensifies and he begins making little grumbling noises, she takes pity on him. Taking a last, deep breath of fresh sea air, she turns around and walks back to where he agreed to wait for her. Tries not to laugh at the comical sight of him standing there, holding her stockings and her shoes; his expression a peculiar mix of discomfort and annoyance.
He steadies her while she slips back into her hose and shoes. His warm hands rest on her arm and her back – his touch uninhibited and unobserved. Not surprisingly, they are the only ones braving the biting cold winds rolling in from the west.
Her arm rests in the crook of his elbow as they make their way along the deserted promenade.
"Are you feeling better now?"
She knows he is not just talking about her cold feet. They haven't spoken much since they have left Becky's home.
She looks up at him and finds him studying her with soft eyes. Caring. Worried.
She sighs as she lowers her eyes again. She knows that he hopes she will say yes. That this one visit has magically made everything better.
"Nothing has changed," she replies quietly, gently squeezes his arm to alleviate some of the bleakness of her statement.
He wordlessly steers them towards a few barraged changing huts, comes to stand behind one of them. She is grateful for the protection from the biting winds. Can look at him now without having to squint her eyes.
"Was it a good day today?"
She is not sure where he is heading with this but she nods. It has been. Still, it doesn't change anything, doesn't make her a better person. Because in the end she will leave again and she will be glad that Becky is cared for by someone else.
He grabs her hands and regards her seriously. "I want you to listen to me now. No protesting until I'm finished."
She feels a smile tugging at her mouth at his grave expression but she reins it in, knows that he would not appreciate it.
"You did what you had to do for your sister…."
She has already forgotten her promise, opens her mouth but he jerkily shakes his head. "You did!" he insists and she closes her mouth again.
"You could not have cared for her without becoming a pauper, you said so yourself. Becky has special needs you could never have met, even if you had wanted to.
You could have abandoned her; you could have put her into an asylum. You didn't have to visit every year – saving for those trips. You didn't have to be prepared to forsake your own chance at private happiness in order to go on caring for her."
His hand is gentle as it lands on her cheek. His thumb tenderly brushes along her cheekbone and she cannot stop a tear from escaping.
"And if you didn't do all of that gladly, if at some point you might have felt that life was treating you unfairly, then it only means one thing…."
He pauses for a second and her breath hitches.
"It means that you are human. Not a saint, but human." He smiles softly at her. "And I am glad for it because as far as I know, marrying a saint is practically impossible. And I cannot wait to marry you."
He has barely finished his passionate speech before his arms are full of her. Her lips crashing to his as she flings her arms around him, claws at him in an attempt to pull him even closer to her. This dear, kind man who really does love her – warts, dark history and all.
"I love you," she whispers between kisses. Only when he tightens his hold on her does she realize that it is the first time she has ever said it.
"I love you too my dearest…. Elsie," he rumbles softly when they finally pull back again and he's proud of the shy, tearful smile his use of her first name has produced on her face.
She links her arm with his again and together they walk back towards the town centre. She lets her eyes roam over the rough sea for a last time and presses herself closer to her future husband – marvelling once again at the magical combination of Mr. Carson and the sea. Steadiness, love and peace.
Thank you to all the kind and wonderful people who reviewed. I am eternally grateful for your support. This goes especially to the guest reviewers, whom I couldn't thank personally.