This story started as a series of one-shots, fleeting moments that filled in the gaps in what we see on screen with imagined moments of deliciousness. It seems only right that as the story draws to a close, to echo that pattern with the more intimate thoughts and actions between the new Mr and Mrs Carson. I swore I'd never attempt the wedding night but I've clearly reneged on that so I hope this works. Bless you for staying the course and for all your fantastic encouragement. I'm so grateful. One more chapter after this.
There was a tremor to his hand as he inserted the key into the lock and turned it. The door swung quietly on its hinges as it opened, revealing their bedroom beyond and she watched as he took half a step back and then gestured for her to go first. But her body felt routed to the spot and it was only her mind that moved, her thoughts rushing around at a hundred miles an hour without any order or consistency. She knew he was waiting for her but that didn't seem to aid her ability to act.
"Elsie?" he enquired after an age, though likely it was just a moment or two.
"Mmm?" she heard herself say.
"After you," he said, adding with a concerned frown, "I'm not sure I can carry you over the threshold like I might once have done."
And that did it. Her frozen state melted by the need to dismiss his ridiculous pondering with a chuckle.
"I fear this is going to be hard enough without throwing our backs out first, Mr Carson," she breezed.
x - x - x
She was right of course. It was all going to be extremely difficult and, as he followed her over the threshold, he was both relieved and saddened that she felt this way. He wanted it all to be wonderful, the physical embodiment of everything he felt for her, more than simply meeting their marital duty to one another. But there was something freeing about the reminder that they were in this together, operating somewhat in the dark without too many candles to light the way.
They each busied themselves with a task, her the table lamps and he shutting and locking the door, leaving the key in the lock in case they should need to make a rapid escape in the night. Yet he was flooded instantly with worry. Would she think she was his captive? It wouldn't do for them to be subjected to an intruder, or worse interrupted. As she said, it was all going to be hard enough. But a locked door was a symbol of something, of a person he didn't want to be.
"You can't be too careful," she said from across the room.
"Quite," he said with relief, turning to face her. "I've left the key in so you can leave at any time."
"I see," she nodded, her eyes darting towards it as if to check, her lips curling into a wry smile. "Well, I'm not too sure where I'll be going but it's good to know I can."
He felt his face reddened, "I just meant..."
"I know, Charlie," she murmured, her smile much broader now, "And I appreciate it."
Wordlessly, she moved to the bed and sat down, her hand smoothing over the sheets that an unseen maid had turned down whilst they'd been gone. He watched as her eyes followed her hand, her thoughts unreadable.
"So," he began, but not able to add anything further.
She looked over to him, her eyes wide as they captured him and drew him in somehow, and she gave an almost indiscernible nod of agreement.
x - x - x
As she pulled her nightdress over her head and set about fastening the three small buttons at her neck, Elsie could help reflecting on the ridiculousness of it all. More than twenty years she must have worked alongside Mr Carson, long days and sometimes even longer nights. She'd nursed him on occasion, he'd looked out for in a way no other had. Yet at no time had she seen any part of him other than his hands and head. Even the desperate shouts of 'fire, fire' in the middle of a winter's night had led them to be clad in long dressing gowns and respectable slippers as they stood in the gravel driveway. But in a few short minutes there was every chance she'd spy more of him than she'd ever imagined. Perhaps the young people had the right idea, she mused, throwing back the bedcovers and climbing in, it probably was best to try one another out effort marriage, if only to get a head start on the awkwardness.
Her eyes cast over the room that lay in near darkness save the lamps next to the bed and the light that spilled out from under the bathroom door. The effect was one of warm comfort, of cosy nights in, the outside world shut out beyond the curtains. Everything was still and quiet, too quiet, with even the waves seemingly banished to some far off place. And with nothing to do, nothing to distract her, she was left with only a ring to twist nervously around her finger and a dangerous set of imaginings she thought wiser not to entertain.
A familiar exasperated grunt almost immediately followed by a loud bang had her always flinging back the sheets and seeking out her dressing gown, but before she could the door opened and flooded the room with artificial brightness. Her eyes were forced closed for a moment before the click of the light cord shrouded everything in black once more.
"Are you alright?" she ventured with eyes open but not quite enough bravery to actually look at him.
"Stubbed my toe on the sink pedestal," Charles grumbled, "And banged my wash bag on the edge of the bath."
She tried to think of a witty retort but couldn't. Instead she tried to gather her nerves to watch as he set about what she imagined was a nightly routine. Clothes folded neatly and placed on a chair, watch and chain left carefully on the bedside table, slippers stowed under the bed, and then a lurch of the mattress as he finally sat down with his back to her.
"Are you alright, Elsie?" he asked, in a low voice.
She wondered at his question, wondered if he truly wanted to know or if she even knew herself. She reached out a hand and ran it gently across the smooth softness of new pyjamas.
"I'm fine, Charlie. You don't need to worry."
"I do though. I do worry."
"I know, and it's kind of you but I'm alright." She paused briefly, steadying her breath and her mind, "At least, I will be once you join me."
x - x - x
She hadn't meant it brazenly, he knew that, but God it sounded wild. An invitation to join a woman in bed and not just any woman but his woman, his wife, his Elsie. How he got from his perch at the edge of the bed to horizontal with his arm wrapped tightly around her waist as he held her close to him he wasn't sure, but then truthfully he didn't much care.
Her perfume, the one she wore only on very special occasions, filled his nostrils as he pressed his lips firmly against hers and delighting when she pressed hers back. It was like all the times before only more, his tongue asking and being answered, his own murmured joy met with quietly happy sighs. He felt as her body relaxed, pressing gloriously against his from shoulder to hip. Where her hand rested on his chest, it began to move, fingers searching for something.
He slowly broke off their kiss and opened his eyes, desperate to see her. He wasn't disappointed. With cheeks flushed, swollen lips and hair braid that already looked less tidy she looked wonderful and he could help the grin that spread across his face.
"Charlie," she whispered breathlessly, her hand finally finding the top button of his pyjama shirt.
His own breath hitched as he realised what she meant to do. He hadn't expected her to be timid, but not so encouraging. And as his own hand began to slide up the side of her body, he offered a silent prayer of thanks that his Elsie was even braver than he knew.
x - x - x
Releasing a button was nothing to her. It was the everyday mundane act of a lady's maid. A means to an end. But as she reached the last one and his chest was finally exposed to her, curls of salt and pepper hair fading down to soft skin across his belly, nothing about it felt routine. It wouldn't be true to say she hadn't wondered about what he'd look like undressed, but in all those thoughts she hadn't anticipated quite the effect it would have on her. If anyone had asked, she'd have guessed she'd be nervous, but now the only thing she felt was excited curiosity.
She fell back into the deep feather pillows and whether she pulled him with her or he came willing, he certainly followed. Wonderfully trapped between warm flesh and cool sheets, she moved her hands upwards to push away the fabric across his shoulders. She suppressed a girlish giggle as he freed one arm then the other before tossing it away onto the floor and reaching down to kiss her once more.
"Elsie," he moaned against her mouth.
"Mmm?" she returned, her arms wrapping themselves around his neck and holding him fast.
"May I, uh, that is, can I..."
She felt his hand move downwards, sliding along the dip of her waist and then the curve of her hip, her breath hitching just as he seemed to hesitate whether to go any further.
"Yes," she said, hoping she sounded willing and confident rather than desperate and wanton that she felt.
She wanted this, she realised. A part of her always had but suddenly it dawned on her how much. She wanted to not only be his wife, but his in all ways. She forced her eyes open and found herself looking directly into his piercing gaze.
"I love you, Charlie," she murmured, "And I trust you."