A/N And so ends my first foray into fanfiction. (Sort of. I actually posted "Solace" first, but I really had started working on this first.). Ladies (and gentlemen? Any of you out there? Very few or none, I suspect), I give you Chapter 26, the Carsons' wedding night. I only hope I've done it justice. I will be very happy if I've delivered everything you've been hoping for.

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Chapter 26

When the Carsons arrived at the Grantham Arms and requested their room, they were informed that the Earl and Countess had arranged for them to be given the best suite, the one meant for special guests of the family, who, for one reason or another, did not stay at the Abbey. Charles, who had previously reserved only a standard room, resisted mightily, but to no avail. Obviously, His Lordship held more sway with the innkeeper than His Lordship's lowly butler did.

Presently, the couple found themselves looking around a beautifully appointed suite. One corner contained a small dining table and two hard-backed chairs; the table held a vase of flowers, two unlit candles, a bottle of wine, and two glasses. A sitting area featured two armchairs, a low table, and a fireplace with a cozy blaze already roaring. The sleeping area was equipped with an armoire, a small dresser, two nightstands, and of course, a bed. They could also see, through an open door, the suite's private bathroom.

Charles was not at all pleased. He thought this too luxurious, too extravagant, and was most uncomfortable with the situation. Elsie herself was not entirely at ease, though her discomfort was not as extreme as her husband's. The two servants were certainly used to seeing fine rooms. Most of the rooms at Downton were more lavish, by far. But those rooms were not for their use. At the end of each day, they returned to their own unassuming quarters: her modest parlor and his humble pantry, and their spartan bedrooms in the attic. Never had such grand accommodations been intended for their enjoyment. Yet His Lordship had insisted, and they had little choice in the matter.

Charles looked down at his feet and cleared his throat.

"Yes. Well," he began. "Here we are."

"Yes," replied Elsie. "Here we are."

"Erm ... Let me take your coat," he offered after hesitating a moment.

As he stood behind his wife and helped her out of her coat, inhaling her intoxicating aroma, he was seized with a sudden desire to slide his arms around her middle and start kissing her neck passionately. Would that be appropriate? He had no idea how a man should behave around his wife. Here he was, alone with her - his wife! - and he hadn't the foggiest idea what he should do! He had a very good idea what he would like to do - eventually, anyway - but he couldn't see how to get to that point in a gracious and gentlemanly manner. After all, he had never done anything like this before. So he hung up her coat and then his own in the armoire but he found himself at a complete loss as to what to say or do next.

"Perhaps we should unpack now," suggested Elsie, sensing his difficulty and wanting to set him at ease.

"Oh. Yes, that's a very good idea," he assented awkwardly.

Charles carried their bags to the dresser. When Elsie opened hers and began unpacking, Charles's face and ears flared in color and temperature, and he began sweating profusely because - oh, mercy! - there were women's underthings in there! Of course, there would be; the thought shouldn't have shocked him, but the sight of them certainly had. Furthermore, he realized that he had his own underthings in his bag, and he was disinclined to bring them out at the moment.

"Er, perhaps I'll leave mine for later. I'll just let you finish here while I, erm, … tend to the fire," he said, finding a suitable excuse and moving toward the hearth.

Elsie was rather anxious herself. After all these years, she was completely alone with Charles … and he was her husband now … and he was so handsome … and there was a bed …

She finished unpacking and found that now she was also uncertain how to proceed. To calm her nerves and his as well, Elsie placed the hamper of food on the table, looked inside, and took out some fruit, cheese, bread, and pastries.

"We shall have to remember to thank Mrs. Patmore. This is quite a feast. Would you like something to eat?" she asked.

"Yes. That would be nice. Thank you," he said, relieved to have something to occupy them.

Charles found some matches and a corkscrew, lit the candles, opened the wine, and filled two glasses. They sat down at the table. Now they were in familiar territory, and both felt more comfortable. How many nights had they sat companionably, chatting, drinking wine, and nibbling on whatever special treat Mrs. Patmore had saved for the two of them? But after a time, the wine was gone, and they had eaten their fill.

Charles went to stoke the fire and add some wood, and when he was done, he remained staring into the flames. Elsie moved to stand beside him. She studied her husband, and the longer she looked, the more attractive he became. She wanted to take his hand and lead him over to the bed. But could she do that? Was it ladylike? Would she frighten Charles? She could see how apprehensive he was. She herself was certainly uneasy, but he looked downright terrified. His jaw was set, his hands were clenched, and his shoulders were stiff. She wouldn't hurry him. She knew that he would have to set the pace tonight, just as he had during their courtship.

For lack of a better idea, Elsie proposed what she thought was a reasonable plan: "It's getting late. Perhaps we should change into our nightclothes. I'll just go put my nightdress on in the bathroom, and you can put your pajamas on here, if you'd like."

She didn't wait for Charles to answer but instead went to the dresser, gathered her things, and disappeared into the bathroom. She decided that she was now very grateful for the larger suite with the private bathroom. Changing in a separate room would allow her the chance to compose herself and get ready. It would also provide Charles the space he needed to calm down and collect himself.

Elsie changed into the new nightdress she had bought especially for tonight. It was sensible and modest, yet tasteful and attractive. She hoped her husband would like it. She unpinned and brushed her hair. When she thought she was ready, she looked in the mirror to find Elsie Carson smiling back at her.

While Elsie was in the bathroom, Charles unpacked his things and changed into his pajamas. He had never been more nervous in his life. He had waited a score of years for this moment, and now that it was finally upon him …

Charles was just hanging his suit, having already changed into his pajamas, when his wife came back into the room. He was awestruck at the sight of her. Her beauty never failed to move him, but this was different.

Her hair was down. He had never, during the entire time he had known her, seen her with her hair down. The most he had seen was a stray lock which had worked its way free at the end of a long day. He had had no idea, until this very instant, that her hair was so long and full - so beautiful. He yearned to touch it, to run his fingers through it; it looked so soft. And she was wearing an elegant nightdress which perfectly accentuated her comely figure. He had seen her in her nightclothes before, during some of the nocturnal emergencies that had arisen over the years at Downton, but she had always donned a dressing gown and managed somehow to have had pinned up her hair. The vision he saw before him now was not the housekeeper of Downton Abbey but an angel come down from Heaven.

Charles stood frozen in place, eyes wide, jaw slack, knees weak, face flushed, heart racing, and lungs failing. All he could manage was a weak whisper: "Beautiful … "

Elsie felt the heat rising in her cheeks and ears. "Charles Carson, are you flirting with me?" she asked.

"If you must ask, then I'm making a right mess of it," he answered, looking down.

"I wouldn't say that," Elsie said. "But we have been alone in this room for hours, and you haven't even kissed me yet. What's wrong, Charles?"

"Oh, Elsie, I'm sorry. I'm just a bit nervous; that's all," Charles told her truthfully.

"So am I, Charles," she admitted. "But we will manage this together. Come here," she said, taking his hand and leading him to the bed. She sat down and gently tugged his hand so that he sat next to her.

"I'm sorry I haven't been better behaved tonight. It's just that I'm a bit overwhelmed. Aren't you? We're about to … well, to … to make love!" There. He had said it.

"My Dear," said Elsie, caressing his face reassuringly, "we have been 'making love' for twenty years!"

"Perhaps," he sighed with a smile. "But never in a bed."

"How different can it be?" she asked seriously.

Charles just raised his eyebrows and looked sideways at her in answer.

Elsie began caressing his hand, trying to ease his distress. After a few minutes of her soothing attentions, he began to relax. Then she slid one arm behind him and began rubbing his back, and he angled his shoulders away from her to allow her better access. She massaged his shoulders and neck as well, running her fingers up into his hair and scratching his scalp lightly with her fingernails. Soon, his tension began to dissipate under her ministrations.

"Oh, that's wonderful. Thank you, Love," he sighed appreciatively.

When he seemed more at ease, she said, "Now, lie down, Charles."

He did as he was told, stretching out his long frame and lying on his back. Elsie sat next to him on the edge of the bed and began to caress his face. He closed his eyes as her fingers fluttered over his features. She pushed back the lock of hair that kept curling over his forehead (the one that she had seen only when he was sick in bed or roused from slumber in the middle of the night for some crisis). When he was breathing regularly and deeply, she rose and walked around to the other side of the bed. Charles was still lying on his back, arms at his sides, but he was now smiling calmly at her as she lay down and situated herself next to him, also on her back. She rested her hand next to his on the bed between them and looped her pinky over his.

He decided to begin this new endeavor in the same manner in which he had begun their courtship. He regarded her reverently and asked, "Mrs. Carson, may I hold your hand?"

"Mr. Carson," she answered, "I am your wife. You may hold anything you'd like."

And that's where we'll leave our favorite couple to their happily ever after. Thank you again for reading.