Set when they were still under-butler and head housemaid. Oneshot. Angst. Wonderful idea- which I hope I've done justice to- from 013bela.

"Charles," he had already known from her posture, never mind the tone of her voice, that this was not going to be good news, "I'm sorry. This just isn't working."

She had asked him to come for a walk down to the village with her. Explaining hastily to Mr Graves that they were out of silver polish- and hoping against hope that the butler would not take it upon himself to investigate and find that they were not- had put on his coat and followed her out of the back door. It was her half-day off. Snow covered the ground thickly, crunching under their feet as they walked along in the awful frozen silence after this remark. They had long since broken away from the path that would take them most directly to the village.

"Tell me you're not angry with me."

He looked down at her, watching him with worried eyes, matching the merest fraction of begging that he had heard in her voice. Cautiously, he reached his hand out and brushed it against her thick curls, which were miraculously warm in the freezing air.

"No, I'm not," he assured her, though he was a little angry that it had come to this it was certainly not with her, "If I'm honest, I've been expecting it for a while now."

She sniffed and he took his hand away from her head, resuming their steady pace over the white ground. He knew where they were headed, where they had headed without so much as a second thought, and he was fairly sure she did too. Letting out a heavy sigh, a torrent of his breath condensed on the icy air. He was glad of the cold; it was numbing him nicely.

"You see, I'm sure they were about to find us out," she continued, "I think they've been guessing about us for a while now. It's not that I'm ashamed," she added quickly, throwing him an anxious glance, "It's that they have the power to throw us out for it. And as you know, then-..."

"We'd have to get married," he finished for her.

"Yes."

Their steps slowed as they reached their destination- not the village- but where they'd both decided to go to without talking about it; the old overgrown orchard at the edge of the estate. They were sure not to be overheard there; they were the only people who ever ventured here.

"Of course, it's not that I don't want to marry you," she assured him, gently, but with a definite air of discomfort.

He knew he should look her in the face as she told him this, but he found he couldn't, in case he lost hold over himself. Instead, he looked up at the spindly barren branches of the trees, thin coverings of snow and ice coating them. It was eerily quiet here, not at all like it had been in the springtime when the breeze fluttered the leaves gently, when the blossom had been out. When they'd lain down beneath the trees, talking about anything, anything in the world except work. When one day, he'd completely forgotten himself and made love to her for the first at the foot of a cherry tree. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to remember that now. She was still talking.

"It's just, we've no money. We wouldn't manage, Charles, it wouldn't be sensible. I wish we could," she paused for a moment, "But we would never manage."

He was quiet for a moment, wondering how best to answer that; how to let her know that he wasn't angry with her, but was still as upset by the notion as she was. He looked down from the branches and at her.

"I wish we could too."

He hoped the longing didn't tell too much in his voice, but perhaps that was in vain. Gently, she slipped her gloved hand into his and squeezed. She leant in towards him, resting her head against his arm. They stood still both surveying the scene before them; the place they had come to think of as being so warm now frozen over by an invading external force.

"We'd have been so perfect," he heard her whisper, "In another life."

His face smarted as a tear trickled down his cheeks. Thankfully, he didn't think she saw.

"I know," he replied, his voice deep to disguise the emotion there.

But she was crying too, he heard a sob hitch in her breath and turned to look at her. Tears were flowing down her cheeks and she was making no attempt to disguise them. Briefly forgetting that holding her like this would only make it all the harder when he finally let her go, as he now knew he had to, he took her in his arms, tight to his chest and let her cry.

"I wish things were different," she told him, though it was futile, both because he already knew as much and because there was no way on this earth that things could be different.

"I know."

There was no explaining how much he loved this woman, not even being able to qualify it to himself. He knew she was a wonderful person, knew she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever set eyes upon, and yet still he could not possibly understand how he had come to feel like this. She had evoked emotions in him that he hadn't known he was capable of; that he hadn't known existed. And he dearly wished that he could tell her as much then, thanked her for the most wonderful year of his life, but he knew he couldn't even if he could have found the right words. Because then there would be no letting go at all.

"Thank you, Charles."

There, they were the words. He knew as she spoke them, she was thanking him for more than just holding her then. But he wasn't prepared for what happened next; when she stood on her tiptoes and planted a soft chaste kiss against his lips. He inhaled sharply, the icy air hitting the back of his throat, only to be replaced by the familiar feeling of her mouth against his. And with the same abandonment that had overpowered him that day under the tree, he drew her close to him and kissed her back with the full fervour of everything he'd wanted to say. This could not be the end, not when feelings like these raged in them both. And he would always be there, should she ever change her mind. He knew that, though he was still relatively young, he wouldn't- couldn't- ever again have any lover but her.

"I know," she said when they broke away, "I know. Thank you, Charles."

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