A/N: Back to our regularly scheduled broadcast. I finally came up with a perfect parallel to what I was feeling on Sunday, watching the choir sing "Oh Happy Day" from Sister Act 2. When the kid hits the high note, that's what the last scene of Episode 1 felt like to me. :)
Speaking of sequels, part of this chapter was inspired by Downton Wars – Episode 2.
I love you all, I hope you enjoy this.
January 2016
A week after the shooting incident, things had returned to normal. Elsie felt it particularly after the meeting with the new pastor at Charles's church. January to April suddenly felt like no time at all.
"I think I'm beginning to panic, to be honest," she said to Beryl during lunch. They sat in the kitchen by themselves at a table near the window.
"Why? You set the date at the church, didn't you?" Beryl opened a bite-sized Dove chocolate and popped it in her mouth, ignoring the remains of her salad.
"Yes, that's all settled," Elsie said, sipping her tea. "That's not the problem. The problem is that we've got to find a place for the reception, and a lot of places are booked months, if not years, in advance. The last place I called, the girl laughed at me over the phone when I told her the date was in April of 2016."
"Well, you should be able to find some place," Beryl mused. "Bill and I were only engaged for five months, I think it was."
"But you held the reception at the farm. You didn't have to worry about finding a location, you already had one."
"Do you want to have yours there?" Beryl asked eagerly. "We rent out the barn for weddings and other occasions, but I'm sure Bill wouldn't charge you anything."
"Thank you, but no." Elsie hesitated. She had gone to more than one wedding at the Mason farm. William and Daisy's, Anna and John's, Beryl and Bill's. They were all lovely in their own ways. But Elsie was not convinced that the setting fit her and Charles. She wished she could figure out a way to tell her friend without being rude.
"It's not the place you're looking for," Beryl said, as usual hitting the mark. Elsie opened her mouth to protest, but nodded sheepishly.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Hughes?" The two women looked up. Thomas and Jimmy had been eating in another corner with Andy.
"Hello, Jimmy. It's nice to see you here," Elsie said. Thomas wandered over, drinking his water.
"Thanks. I've got a hearing this afternoon across the street. Listen, I don't mean to interrupt, but we thought we heard you talking about where to have your reception?" He glanced at Thomas, who leaned against a chair.
"Yes," Elsie raised her eyebrows, wondering where this was going.
"Well, we know a guy in the city. He owns a catering company, and they often cater to several locations in the area. His name's Mark Proctor, here's his number. Give him a call. You never know, he might know of a place that's available when you need it."
"Thank you." Elsie took the card. She doubted a place would be available, but it wouldn't hurt to call.
"When you call him, make sure you tell him you're a friend of ours," Thomas said, dropping his empty water bottle in the recycling bin. "He bloody owes us, he's getting married this fall, we introduced him to his future husband at Mardi Gras last year-"
"Thank you, Thomas, I'll be sure to tell him." Elsie repeated wryly. The two men left the kitchen. Beryl raised her eyebrows.
"Are you sure they aren't just trying to get business for their friend?"
Elsie shrugged. "Maybe, probably. Still, I think I will call him."
"Don't forget, we're going dress shopping Saturday with Anna, Daisy, and Phyllis. Cora and Mary are coming, too."
"How can I forget, as you've reminded me every day this week?" Elsie rolled her eyes as they left the room.
00000000000000000000000000
Charles got out of the car, shivering as the wind hit him. He took Elsie's arm as they walked, shoulders hunched, across the parking lot.
"It doesn't look very big," he commented, glancing at the French country-style building. "And this neighborhood is rather industrial." He glanced at the huge warehouse on the other side of the street.
"Well, Mark said it's available on our wedding date, so I thought we'd better have a look." She leaned into Charles, trying to get warm. "If it wasn't for the wind, today would be a rather nice day. For January." They shuffled quickly toward the front doors, where a man stood waiting.
"I hope you didn't have to wait too long," Elsie said, removing her glove and shaking his hand. "You must be Mark. I'm Elsie Hughes, this is my fiancée, Charles Carson."
"Yes, I'm Mark Proctor. It's nice to meet you both in person." He wore dark-rimmed glasses. His goatee was dark like his hair, but had several strands of grey. He shook their hands and fished out a key. "I didn't have to wait long, just a few minutes. I'm glad it worked out you could come this morning."
"We have a bit of a time crunch, our wedding's in April," Charles explained as Mark opened the door, letting them in.
"Elsie told me about your predicament. Let's have a look around though, see what you think." He gestured to the huge room in front of them. The ceiling was industrial, but the walls were exposed brick. A long oak bar spread almost the length of the room to the opposite wall on their far left. In front of them, oversized windows showed a patio, bare in the winter chill. The way outside was marked by two French doors. In either corner of the room, tasteful chairs and a loveseat made a space for small groups to sit. The vast majority of the wood floor, though, was bare.
"If you're planning on dancing, this is where you would set it up," Mark said softly. Charles nodded, watching Elsie. She walked across the floor in front of the bar, looking at the ceiling and the size of the room.
"Can we see the patio? I'd like a look out there," she said. Mark hurried to the double doors and opened them for her. A blast of winter air hit them. A canopy stood over the doors to the outside, making a covering over part of the brick patio. Wicker chairs and couches sat under the canopy.
"Your wedding date is late April. By that time, we'll have vines and vegetation covering the fence. If you choose an evening reception, you'll have a good nighttime view of the city." Mark gestured to the skyline. "I know it's hard to visualize now, but there are pictures I can show you inside of what it will look like."
"What is that, over in the corner?" Charles pointed to an odd-looking brick structure in the far corner. It sat behind what looked like a small bar, with a roof covering it. Elsie and Mark looked in that direction.
"That is the pizza oven," Mark explained, rubbing his hands on his arms. "It's an extra expense, but it's very popular."
"The children would love that," Elsie murmured. "Sybbie, Poppy, George, Dickie Merton's grandsons." She tried to keep her face neutral, but as they went back inside and she got a closer look at the furnishings, she knew it was a lost cause.
The place was perfect. Not too formal, not too casual. It exuded warmth, almost like a home, but with a touch of elegance. She saw Charles eyeing the exquisite bar again, with all its intricate detail. It was a good sign he was quiet. It meant there was nothing to criticize.
Mark took them through a small hallway, where there was a big mirror on one wall, and the restrooms on either side, into the second room. It was just as large as the first. More windows let in light, with many of them stained glass. Wooden chairs and tables were assembled on the left side of the room.
"This is where food is laid out. We can also set up enough tables for a full sit-down dinner, up to 120 guests," Mark said. He went into more detail, mostly about the catering. Elsie and Charles listened politely and asked a few questions. Charles wanted to know about the wine list.
"Would we be restricted to the list you have available, or would it be possible to get others shipped?" he asked. Mark nodded as if he expected the question.
"It's absolutely possible to get any wine, beer, or any other beverage you might like that's not on our list," he said. "Of course, it's an additional cost-"
"That doesn't matter," Charles said, waving it off.
"Charles!" Elsie gasped. He looked back at her, his eyes soft.
"It doesn't matter," he repeated. "This is our wedding, we will want for nothing." He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she saw no further need to protest.
"If there's no further questions, I'll leave the two of you to talk about it," Mark pulled out his phone and started walking back to the bar room. "Oh," he stopped, turning. "Since you're friends of Thomas and Jimmy, I think we can negotiate on a final price – say a twenty-five percent reduction?" He smiled and walked into the other room, his phone at his ear.
Charles held his bride's hand. "What do you think?"
She raised her eyebrows. "I think you like it a lot. Asking about getting wine shipped…"
"I do like it. But what do you think? Can you see our reception being here?" He thought about the short time frame. It seemed like a miracle that the date they wanted was available.
She pursed her lips, not looking at him. Finally, she gave a little toss of her head, her hair bouncing on her shoulders. She put a hand on her cheek. Her eyes were shining.
"It's perfect, Charles," she whispered. "We can have dinner in here, and our guests can sit and visit if they like, or they can go into the other room, with the bar-"
"And dance the night away." He finished. "And there's the patio, too. Can you imagine it on a spring evening? The lights from the city?" He felt his smile stretch his face.
"You don't think it's too much?" she asked, a hint of doubt on her face.
"No," he said firmly, pulling her into his arms. "You, my love, deserve the wedding of your dreams. And I intend to make sure you have it. So there," he planted a slightly mocking kiss on her cheek, but moved his lips to her mouth. She parted her lips, feeling his tongue slip between her teeth. Her breath hitched when he tightened his grip around her waist and he lifted her off of the floor.
"Charlie," she sighed when he set her down again, tucking her hair behind her ear and kissing her neck. Her heart hammered and she struggled to maintain her composure. "Mark-he's in the-the next-room-"
She was finding breathing difficult.
"So?" he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. He bent his head, swirling his tongue under her ear. She moaned. "He's marrying a man, I don't need to worry that he'll steal you away." He left another long, lingering kiss along her jaw. "Of course, if you're around him long enough, you might change his orientation. But I don't think he's your type," he slid his hands up from her waist and to her shoulders, before sliding them back down to rest at her hips, "Is he?"
"No," she growled. She pulled at the lapels on his sport coat, bringing his head closer to hers again. Giving him a searing kiss, she wrapped her arms as far as they would go around him. He backed toward the wall, their lips still connected. He somehow found a solitary chair and sat down. He pulled her into his lap and resumed his slow torment on her neck.
Elsie had completely lost touch with her surroundings when there was a sudden cough behind them. She straightened up in a flash, fixing her face with the most neutral expression she could manage. Charles gasped, his face red as he glanced at the intruder.
"What do you think of the place?" Mark asked, his tone polite. A smile twitched on his face.