Charles looks with dismay at the small twin bed in their room. They might both be able to fit in the bed, just, but it would mean pressing closely against Elsie, and she had said, specifically, that nothing intimate or private should occur at her sister's home. He's not completely without control. He's not a young lad, after all. Of course he's slept next to her without making love to her, but he has room in their bed at home. He has space. He's not forced to sleep right on top of her. He scowls. Not the sort of image he needs in his mind in order to have a restful night.
After dinner, Moira made apologies for the small bed they'd have to share, but there was something not quite sincere about her apology. Something in the way her mouth quirked as she offered to make up the sofa in the living room for Charles. She almost seemed to stifle a laugh as he blundered about, saying no need, no need all the while studying Elsie's crimson face, her eyes looking anywhere but at him. He scrubs the back of his neck. Blast it all. He'll just have to show some restraint. After all, he restrained himself for 15 years. Surely he can do so for three nights. Surely.
He takes off his suitcoat and hangs it in the closet. He turns as Elsie enters the room with her hair in a loose braid and wearing her dressing gown. He stifles a groan. It's going to be a long three nights.
*CE*
Elsie looks on the twin bed with dismay. She should have known, of course she should have. Tavey and his wife shared the second double bed now. Damn and blast Moira for making a joke of it this evening. The heat rose to her face again just thinking of it. How were they ever going to fit in this small bed? This bed was no bigger than the ones they occupied at Downton for so long. Why, they'd practically have to sleep on top of one another. Not a thought that is conducive to a good night's rest. It's not as though they are young, though. They've certainly slept all night in the same bed without…without making love, as Charles sometimes calls it. As for Elsie, she's got no words to describe it, although she supposes that phrase is as good as any to describe what happens between them. For heaven's sake, girl, get your mind off that track. You're no better than the rams that rut in the pasture. What's the matter with you? It's only three nights. Surely they can wait that long. Then, when they're back home, in their own bed, they can do what they like, as often as they like. She sighs just as Charles enters the room, that one curl loose over his forehead. Oh, dear. It's going to be a long three nights.