After Mr Carson cooks

Elsie sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers playing with the bandage on her wrist. Charlie was still washing up downstairs for the second time in as many days and the guilt was gnawing at her now. He had been so caring and considerate since she'd conned him with her fake injury and she was beginning to regret her deception. She had so desperately wanted him to understand how it had felt when he'd criticised her cooking efforts. She had tried so hard to make him something nice and she'd failed miserably several times over. She had thought it would be fair for him to feel a taste of his own medicine seen as he hadn't noticed her hurt looks and her passive aggressive vegetable serving. Now she wished she just simply said how she was feeling. The guilt at misleading him had been worse. He had managed to cook a reasonable dinner, some of it was a bit overdone and some a bit underdone, but for her, he had tried. Just as she had done. He'd had a difficult few weeks following His Lordship's illness and she was repaying him by deceiving him. Talking to Mrs Patmore this afternoon she thought she had taught him is lesson and they could move on, but he had been far too nice to her in the time since. She dropped her head into her hands and began to cry. Her body shook as the sobs overtook her, unable to deal with her overwhelming guilt.

That was where he found her ten minutes later. Horrified he rushed over to her and wrapped his arms around her.

'Elsie, love. Whatever's the matter?' He asked, cradling her body to his and running his hands over her back soothingly.

'No.' she choked, pushing him away. He reached for her.

'Elsie, please?'

'No! Don't! I don't deserve it.' She sobbed, pulling away from him completely and walking over to the window. She gripped the sill, taking shuddering breaths. He stared at her shaking back.

'I'm sorry.' She said eventually, when she had regained some control. 'I'm so sorry.'

'Whatever for, darling?' He asked, thoroughly confused. 'It can't be that bad, can it?' She turned, thick wet tears tumbled down her cheeks, her eyes red with all the crying. She shook her head

'Stop thinking well of me. I'm a horrible person, Mr Carson. I've deceived you, I've lied to you and I've allowed Mrs Patmore to get embroiled in my meddling too.' He stood looking confused and desperately sad that she appeared so unhappy. He needed to do something.

'Why don't you explain? Come here.' He said reassuringly, patting the bed beside him. She sighed and sat down beside him, heavily. He tried to put his arm around her, but she pushed it away.

'You won't want to when I explain.' She said, dryly.

'Try me.' He said and she exhaled heavily again, giving herself time.

'Before yesterday, when was the last time you cooked a meal yourself?'

'I don't know. Years ago.' He paused. 'I probably had to fend for myself when I went home after my mother died. So maybe, eighteen ninety seven.'

'And when do you supposed the last time I had to do the same was, before we came to live here?' He blinked at her. His expression shifted slightly. 'I didn't mean for our dinners here to be so badly cooked, but I'm not Mrs Patmore and I'm not very good. I know that.' He put his hand on her leg.

'But I expected you to be.'

'Yes. And I don't mind that you did. I'd like to be able to cook for you and to have dinner alone here together sometimes. But it's going to take me some time to be able to do it well. I'm a bit out of practice.'

'Well that's all right. You could always ask if…'

'Don't!' She snapped, whipping round to face him. 'Don't you dare say those words! Do you have any idea how humiliating it was for you to suggest that in front of Mrs Patmore and Daisy? Do you not think, given that you tutted and criticised through our entire meal, that I might already have worked out it didn't taste all that good? Did you not think that I might be as tired as you when we got home? And that, I might, in fact not manage to produce a meal you'd happily serve to the Dowager Countess!' She took a deep breath and Charlie shrunk back, bracing himself for a second wave of yelling. 'I would have happily asked Mrs Patmore for help. I would have happily accepted your help at any point during the cooking of dinner. But no! You sat there like Lord of the manor, passing scathing judgments on my hard work.'

'Elsie…' he started.

'And while I'm at it' she continued and he gripped the bed sheet, bracing himself again. 'What's wrong with my housekeeping? You don't complain about the beds at the abbey and how their made or how well polished or sharpened everything is there. However, you're perfectly happy to suggest the maids and the hall boys come and help out here because I'm not doing a good enough job!'

'Elsie…' he tried again.

'And now, I've sat up here feeling guilty because I've lied to you, but, to be honest, I think you probably deserved it.' She stopped ranting and looked at him. He stared at her, looking like a lost puppy. He blinked several times before he stood, strode towards her and wrapped her into his arms.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry.' He sobbed into her hair, holding her tightly to him. She couldn't quite move her arms enough to hold him, but she rested her head against him and patted his sides gently with her hands. He eventually lifted his head and looked back at her. 'Whatever you did, I deserve it don't I?' he sighed reluctantly. She smiled.

'Yes you do.'

'Go on, let me have it.' He stepped back and took her hands in his, his thumb gently rubbing her bandaged wrist.

'I didn't hurt my wrist.' She admitted, 'Mrs Patmore and I decided that you needed a taste of your own medicine.' She braced herself for him to get cross, but he didn't say anything, instead continued to stroke her wrist. 'I'm sorry I deceived you, but I couldn't see how to make you understand how hard it was. Every time you've suggested we eat here, we've been exhausted from a busy day, you've expected me to produce something elaborate and delicious and nothing less than perfect. And I just couldn't do it. I want desperately to make you happy and I can't seem to get anything right. I am trying Charlie. But you're telling me off like a naughty maid and I just feel useless. I'm sorry I'm such a terrible wife.' She finished, more tears spilling down her face. He looked at her. Her sad tear-stained face and he couldn't bare it. Tears tumbled down his own cheeks as he looked at her. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers.

'I'm sorry.' He said again when he pulled away. 'I'm so sorry. Here.' He said shakily, pulling her back to the bed and sitting down on it. She sat beside him as he rested against the headboard. He pulled her gently into his arms and held her to him. 'I'm so sorry, my love. Please forgive me.' He ran his hands over her arms, pressing kisses to her forehead. 'I'm sorry I didn't notice. I was just so desperate to be alone with you I didn't think about the work it would be for you.' He paused, flashes of a few of his comments over the past few weeks ran through his head and he groaned. 'I was awful wasn't I? Patronising and critical and probably quite rude.' He said.

'Yes, you were.' She said, her voice muffled into his shoulder. He smiled.

'Pair of old boobies again aren't we?' he said chuckling. She laughed, lifting her head to look at him. They lost themselves in giggles for a while. 'I am sorry.' He kissed her again. 'How about we cook together next time? Or get Mrs Patmore to do all the work and we can rush home and eat it.' She nodded.

'So, have we survived our first fight?' She asked, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

'I think so, it's been a while since I've been on the receiving end of the Scottish Dragon's charring.' She laughed again.

'Sorry' she smiled tilting her head down. 'Do you need me to soothe your burns?' she asked, stroking his chest. He kissed her again.

'Yes, please.'

Charlie leaned across to turn on the lamp a while later, the sun having set on them while they were otherwise occupied. It illuminated the couple tangled in the bedsheets and each other. He smiled down at her, reaching down to unpin her hair.

'Thank you.' She said, letting him run his fingers through her hair.

'At least we seem to get that bit right.' He said, kissing her forehead.

'Mmm' she sighed, snuggling herself closer to him. 'I suppose we just have to work on the other bits. I'm sorry I didn't just come out and tell you. I know I should have done. I'm much happier when we are in agreement.' She admitted, confirming something he'd said to her a long time ago.

'Me too. You can always talk to me, love. I know I can be a bit of an old fossil sometimes, but I can't stay grumpy with you for long. I promise to think before I speak in future and if I say something that upsets you, tell me. You do a thousand and one things every day that are wonderful that I can happily compliment you on.' She laughed.

'I want you to be able to tell me when you're not happy, I'd just prefer it if you were a bit nicer about how you said it.'

'I can do that.'

'I will try, I promise I'll try.' He nodded. She smiled at him. 'Come on. We've got a busy day tomorrow if they're coming back.' She sat up looking around. 'What happened to my nightgown anyway? It was under my pillow.' He laughed, stroking her arm.

'Do you really need it?' he teased. She looked back at him, blushing.

'Get up and light the fire then and you can pick the blankets up off the floor. You'll have to brave my cold feet if you don't.' he shuddered, hauling himself out of bed.

'Fate worse than death.' He said, picking the blanket and throw off the floor and dropping them on top of her. When he'd retuned to bed and they'd organised the covers, she burrowed herself into his side again.

'I liked sitting on the sofa next to you today.' She noted, 'sitting in two separate chairs isn't anywhere near as nice.'

'We can treat ourselves if you like.'

'I'd like that.'

'It can be symbolic' he continued. 'Of our new efforts to share in all things.'