He can't sleep. He is warm and restless next to her, tossing and turning. She can feel his hand shaking violently from the way the covers flutter. He is mumbling angrily and from time to time he is letting out a grunt.

It's been an hour since they've gone up and she has to be back at the house in another six. If he'd let her, she could get about five hours of sleep. She'll need it, too. The days that she could merrily organise a garden party with one hand tied behind her back on three sleepless nights are well behind her.

"Whatever is the matter?" she finally says, utterly exasperated.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

"Going back to sleep implies that I have been asleep already. Which, for your information, I haven't been able to since you've been jerking around so much. I haven't even had the chance to doze off!"

"Well, I'm sorry." There isn't a hint of remorse in his voice, only annoyance.

"Charles, I have to go to work in the morning! I don't know why you are being so angry, but I'll thank you not to take it out on me."

The silence in the room is only broken by the irregular drumming of Charles's hand on the mattress.

Elsie burrows deeper under the covers and closes her eyes. She pulls her legs up and tries to regulate her breathing. She's always had trouble falling asleep; there were always thoughts preventing her from giving herself over to it.

The night before her wedding had been remarkably peaceful. She'd gone up after her mostly uneaten meal, shared with Mrs Patmore, undressed, combed and braided her hair like she always did and she'd fallen asleep almost straight away.

Sleeping with Charles had proven a challenge. There are nights they make love and fall asleep afterwards; nights they go up at the same time and she can hear him succumb to slumber within five minutes. There are nights she doesn't fall asleep until it's so deep in the night it's completely silent. Usually it's not her husband's fault she cannot sleep.

But tonight it is. And she is frustrated and upset that he is somehow blaming her for the fact that he lies awake too.

She sighs.

"You better tell me what is troubling you if you want me to catch a wink or two tonight," she says, trying to keep her voice even and somewhat light.

"Nothing is troubling me," Charles says and Elsie sighs again.

"If you can't sleep, heat up some milk; there is some leftover and it will help you relax."

"You mean it will help me relax if I can manage to get it from the icebox without spilling it all over the floor."

"Charles, you won't spill it all over the floor, just use your other hand."

"Easy for you to say," he grumbles and Elsie pushes down the blankets and scrambles up.

She rubs her hands over her face.

"Do you want me to go down to make it for you?" she offers, though she must admit her heart isn't in it.

"No, thank you. I'm not an invalid."

She heaves a heavy sigh now and presses two fingers against her forehead, just over her nose, where a dull pain is starting to spread.

"Nobody calls you an invalid."

"They might as well."

"Why would you say such a thing?"

"It's what everybody thinks. They are just too courteous to say it to my face."

"Oh, Charles," Elsie says and turns to her husband and reaches out to cup his cheek.

There's a faint stubble coming in.

"Nobody sees you as an invalid. We'd never look at you like that. You are greatly respected, by all of us," she pauses.

"And loved."

He takes her hand in his - the steady one.

"I don't know how you can love an old ogre like me," he says, sounding terribly sad and tired.

"Don't let's start that. You know I've loved you for a long time and I'll continue to do so for a very long time to come."

"I can't even provide for you anymore."

"Charles, you have bought us a house!"

"Yes, to start a guesthouse, which I will be absolutely no help with!" His voice sounds loudly in the sparsely furnished room.

"I'm sure I could manage."

"You have worked hard enough all your life, Elsie Hughes."

His tone brooks no argument and she smiles at him lovingly.

"Haven't you, Charles Carson?"

He looks at her and she can see doubt in his eyes, though the room is dark.

"I know you weren't ready," she starts and rubs his arm before continuing.

"We both knew it would take getting used to. Neither of us have had an idle moment in our lives. But after the renovations, we can see if maybe we can sell on the house and then we'll be very cozy here."

He nods and starts to speak, but changes his mind.

"What is it?"

"It gets lonely around here. I'm not used to such quiet all day long," he says sheepishly and she knows it takes a lot from him to confess this to her.

"I'm sure it won't be so very quiet for much longer," she assures him with a smile.

"What are you saying, Elsie?"

Only once before has she heard such hope in his voice.

"It's not the same without you in your pantry next to my parlour. I've talked about it with Mr Barrow and her ladyship."

"You have?"

She nods now and leans in to kiss him. Her lips touch his briefly.

"Now. Go to sleep, it'll be dawn in a few hours."

They both crawl back down under the covers and Charles's arm slides around her waist, pulling her close.

Whispered words of love are accompanied by sweet kisses on her shoulder. She drifts off and dreams of endless summer days and champagne corks popping.

The alarm goes off much too soon.

A/N: Dedicated to onmyside - and to everyone in need of a little fluff. Hope you enjoyed this little story.