N/A: This is part of the "Let's tease Duda" half time job, that ended up "Let's get Mel curious" as well! :D Duda, my dear, thank you very much for it and for all those funny comments we shared while I was writing this. Hope you all like it.
Never Let me Go
She ran, ran like she hadn't in a long time. Fast and nimble, with forceful steps, ignoring everything around her. She fumbled out the hall, with quick steps that echoed heavily on the wooden floors. Closed the door and went out into the patium, heading to the path. She had seen Charles Carson kissing that woman.
That arrogant, irritant woman like her employer. That woman that walked down the corridors with such pretension that she seemed to be part of the family, not a mere ladiesmaid. That woman with the cold eyes and rehearsed manners.
It shouldn't bother, it shouldn't tug at her heart nor make her blood boil, but it made her want to run from it as fast as possible. Insecure, saddened, angered. Jealous. She was surprised when she understood.
What was she thinking, that a man like him could ever show any interest in a kid from the countryside like her? He was from the city, a smart, older, more experienced man… and she was a farm girl, who not long ago was engaged to Joe Burns, and who now didn't know if she wanted to stay in the house or not. Being attracted to the butler of the house she was working in was the last thing she expected, until she arrived at Downton and met him.
She went to that house hoping to make something out of herself. She wished to ascend in service and take pride in her position in a house such as Downton, but this, that she once thought was going to be the hardest thing she'd ever done, turned out to be easy compared to the task of resisting the butler. She knew that she was going to be promoted to housekeeper, someday soon, and there she was, losing control completely.
It was a June afternoon, the sun shone on everything around her, birds flew high and the girls ran around the garden, flowers blossoming everywhere. None of it mattered to her, not now, as she ran down the path, heading to the river.
Her new dress got dirtier with each and every step she took, its hem darkening gradually. Nothing else mattered, she just wanted to find a bit of solace, peace. Freedom. Freedom from the suffocating sensation that attacked her throat, from the unexplainable need to cry. Charles Carson was her co-worker, her superior, her friend, and the main reason she had rejected Joe Burns.
So absorbed she was in her controversial emotions that she didn't notice the racket she caused as she left the house. Behind her, Charles tried to catch up to her silently. He didn't know how the situation had gotten so out of hand, it was truly a mystery. One minute he was locking up the silver while he went over the schedule for the weekend with Lady Rosamund's maid and the next she was hanging on his neck, her lips on his.
He hadn't given her the least sign of interest and considered her behaviour inappropriate and disrespectful. And he only had eyes for one woman, and she was not Miss Harris. What had gone on in that woman's head? When he heard the noise in the corridor and saw Elsie running out the door, he did not think twice before following her.
A need to explain himself rose within him. Elsie Hughes was his subordinate, but she was also his friend, his closest friend, and he hoped that one day she would accept the position of the keeper of his heart.
No woman could ever dim the light that Scottish girl brought to his eyes. After a lifetime of trying to right his wrongs, he had found redemption in those blue-grey eyes and hoped he could share this with her someday. Soon they would be equals in their jobs, they would have more time together and privacy, it would be easier to spend their free time together without anyone making a note of it or throwing them suspicious, at least, that's what Charles hoped and waited for impatiently.
He caught sight of her ahead, not knowing that the tightening she felt in her throat was getting worse by the minute. She needed to free herself from that whirlwind of feelings before it was too late. Her plans had been to walk to the village, post a letter to her sister and buy paper and some sewing thread. She knew the butler had the afternoon off and thought that maybe he would like to accompany her. She felt extremely foolish.
Panting, she reached the wooden deck. The day was warm enough and she looked around, making sure there was no one near, before running her fingers quickly over the buttons, freeing herself from the dress, the corset, the shoes and stockings. An unpremeditated attitude, imprudent and inconsistent with the position she held. She pulled the hairpins out one by one, until her brown locks were cascading down her back.
She never noticed Charles, not even when he stopped a few feet away, observing the scene unfolding with a mixture of curiosity and outrage. Was she really going to do what he was thinking? Yes, she was.
As the dress slid down her shoulders, it revealed the pale and delicate skin of her arms. Elsie had strong arms, slightly shapely. Even though she undressed quickly, it was as if he was watching the scene in slow motion, hypnotized by the movements of her hands, by every piece of discarded clothing. When her hands unhooked the corset and took off the stockings, he found himself biting his lower lip, and holding his breath when she freed her hair.
It was an enchanting vision. The sun illuminated her long locks, making them shine intensely, and he wondered if they shone the same way when the early morning sun illuminated them as they danced around in her pillow.
She stretched, ready to dive in the calm Waters of the river. When the sunlight touched her body, her figure became evident through the thin fabric of her shift, leaving not much to the imagination. Charles blinked after a few seconds of staring fixatedly at her, and when he opened his eyes again, she had jumped into the water.
Perhaps this was his opportunity to get out or at least hide from Elsie's immediate field of vision; after all he was sure she would not want him there, but when he realized she hadn't emerged, he immediately walked to her pile of clothes, ready to jump in water after her. The sight of her hands, arms, and then her head coming out of water made him stop.
Elsie brushed the hair away from her face, tilting her head back, with her eyes closed. The cold water would wash the stress out of her body, wash her soul, even, and she felt calming gradually. She allowed herself to stay in the water for a moment, with most of her body submerged.
Charles, from where he was, saw the outline of her shoulders and her wet hair down her back until she lay down completely on the water, leaving her hair loose and dancing slowly, and her face to be touched by the almost blinding light of the sun rays. He noticed how the drops of water went down her face and how her hands moved gently tracing wavy patterns in the crystalline water. Despite the lovely image, Elsie did not look happy. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, making him gasp. His gaze traveled inevitably slowly to the curves of her face, her cheeks, her delicate chin and slender neck, but he stopped himself before he went beyond with his gaze, closing his eyes. Charles had to make a quick decision, get out or be noticed, before she saw him and had her own conclusions. Leaving was the best option, no doubt, pretend he had not seen anything like that, that he had not seen her in such a delicate position, but he felt tied to the deck.
"Mr. Carson! What are you doing here?"
Her voice hit him, making him open his eyes automatically. Too late. Elsie wrapped her arms around her body, covering herself with a wild expression in her face. Charles felt absolutely surrendered by her at that moment and fought against the weakness that had taken his legs to keep from falling to his knees.
"Miss Hughes I..." He swallowed again. "I came after you, to explain and... I did not expect... was not my intention ..." He stammered nervously, looking away from her.
If he did not care for her he would not be there, would him? Elsie wondered, optimistically. She knew him enough to know that he would not be there except to apologize and it touched her in some way. Charles Carson was not the sort of man that would take advantage from a woman, especially from a woman he worked with.
"Turn around." Her voice sounded much more bossy than necessary and at the same moment he turned his back, stripping down his own jacket.
Charles did not move a muscle. He kept his head down and handed his jacket to her to dress. He heard the sound of rippling waters while she swam close to the deck and a blow dry when her feet touched the wood. Elsie's shadow projected beside him and she took the jacket from his hand gently.
"Thank you." She murmured in response, touching his arm to indicate he could turn around.
She watched as he turned on his heel, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground, precisely in her bare feet, contrasting with the black shoes, carefully cleaned and polished, that he wore.
"Why did you come here after me, Mr. Carson?" Elsie asked him in a low voice, almost a whisper.
Charles tried to articulate a response, fixing his attention on her delicate feet and ankles. He'd lost his words and before he could again think of any answer, he felt her hands touching his face, making him look directly into her eyes. The situation was inadequate, they both knew. Water dripped from her hair, wetting the back of his jacket and a puddle beginning to grow rapidly beneath her feet as the water flew through her body and through her shift.
"Charles, I know that you are not here for immoral reasons, you are not the kind of man to spy on women..." She paused, licked her lips with the tip of her tongue in an unconscious gesture and continued: "I just want to know why you came after me."
He stared at her, smiling a sad smile. She just called him by his birth name. His hands covered hers on his face and he closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the feeling that her small and cold hands caused on his skin. It was impossible not to feel shamefully aroused by the situation, by her.
"I wanted to explain myself to you; I do not know how it happened..." Charles cleared his throat and continued: "I would never do something like that, especially with Miss Harris. She just kissed me."
"We cannot blame her for being tempted to do so, can we?" Her tone was soft, almost jokingly, framed by a small smile of encouragement.
"Do you feel tempted in this way?" Charles found himself asking before he could stop.
"Do you?" She was biting her lower lip.
Always. He declined to answer when he stepped forward, getting closer to her, but far enough not to constrain her. His hands slid from hers gently, following the path of her arms now covered and through her face, running his fingertips through wet hair gently.
"More then I should." He bent over her, resting his forehead on hers.
Elsie closed her eyes for long seconds, remaining still when she felt his lips touching her forehead in a soft kiss. The constriction in her chest was gone; hers doubts left as she regained control upon her nerves. For the first time she felt a distinct joy growing in her chest and spreading throughout her body. That man wanted her, wanted her in particular.
"We need to get out of here before someone sees us." Elsie said remembering the embarrassing situation in which they were. She quickly gathered her clothes while he merely observed. "Come on."
"Are you sure Elsie?" His voice sounded hoarse, slightly fearful. If someone saw them it would be their end in Downton, in service in general, but this was the least of his worries. He feared not to resist.
"I know I can trust you." A smile took her lips as she pulled him by the hand. And Charles allowed himself to be taken anywhere, to an unknown world, directly into her arms.
THE END
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