Moira bolts straight up. "What in the world?" She moves to swing her feet over the side of the bed, but Donal puts a hand on her arm.
"Wait, lass. Wait and let them come to us if they need anything."
"But that was a terrible loud crash. One of them, both of them could be hurt!"
"Likely only their pride will be hurt, lass. Leave them be. If Els needs you, she'll come for you."
Moira reluctantly, grudgingly settles herself back in bed. "What in the world do you think happened in there?"
"I don't know, and I don't want to know. Not unless I have to."
"But…"
"Goodnight, Moira." He kisses her soundly on the cheek and turns over, pulls the cover tightly under his chin and soon she hears nothing but the sound of his rhythmic breaths and some scuffling and struggling next door. What had that fool girl gone and done? Surely she hadn't tried to, they hadn't…not in a bed that size, not with a man the size of that Charles Carson. He could pull a cart and no mistake. She's winding herself up, ready to give the girl a piece of her mind. A broken bed frame it sounded like to her. Them at their age! Scandalous. How will they ever look each other in the eyes come morning? She'll never be able to dish up eggs and bacon to that man without, well, without laughing straight out in his face, truth be told. Now the first flush of anger has passed and the giggles have come on. She's shaking with them, trying to be so quiet so as not to disturb Donal, not that much of anything could disturb that man's sleep. Anything but a bed busting up right next door to him. She has to clamp both hands over her mouth to keep from laughing aloud. Oh dear oh dear oh dear. They'll all get a brimful at breakfast tomorrow, to be sure.