I have just written this now really quickly because it has been going around in my head all day. It's probably no good but at least now my brain can rest! Spoilers for anyone not yet watching series 3!
She had been driving him to distraction for months now. He didn't know whether he was coming or going. He didn't know his own mind any more. Whenever he said anything he found himself looking to her for approval but more often than not he found the opposite. He found a look of disappointment or was greeted by a sarcastic quip or a roll of her eyes. He would back peddle sometimes and retract his statement, as he had with Alfred and Ivy having the evening off to go to the pictures.
He thought he had been remarkably lenient towards Alfred considering he had spilled food into the Dowager Countess's lap! And yet she had disagreed with him, overturned his decision in front of the others and not for the first time lately. And even though he had let her she still seemed disapproving. Made some comment about him never missing an opportunity. The way she had said it, there had been something in her tone, her eyes… he couldn't understand it but he knew he was again in her bad books.
They did not have an evening meeting but he did go to her parlour to say goodnight. She had been standing by her fireplace gazing into the flames. He liked seeing her in the firelight, it reminded him of the days before electricity when they would sit by the light of a lamp in the evenings and talk. It had all seemed so much more relaxed, more intimate.
He cleared his throat to announce his presence and she turned to him with a smile.
"Are you going to bed?" he asked
"Hmm in a minute." She said with a quiet sigh.
"Right." He hovered, not quite wanting to leave but unable to think of any reason to stay.
"Was there something you wanted?" she asked.
"No, no. Just uh… checking… to uh…" checking what, he asked himself. "that you were…not staying up too late." He finished feebly.
She cocked her head to one side and began to make her way towards him.
"You seem awfully concerned with sending me to bed lately. A person could get notions." She said quietly with a coquettish sideways look.
He could feel himself starting to redden but before he could think of a reply she laughed.
"Goodnight Mr Carson." And she left him standing there.
He had gone to bed with his cheeks flaming. She had done it again. Completely wrong-footed him. He knew now she was doing it deliberately and getting a kick out of it. He had changed into his pyjamas whilst he fumed at the gall of Mrs Hughes with this new behaviour of hers. She was absolutely infuriating. He lay on his bed and pictured her standing at the fireplace again, the way she had walked towards him, the coy sideways glance. He had never considered Mrs Hughes manipulative but she was clearly playing a game with his of late. He started to imagine different responses he could have given to turn the tables. He had been doing that a lot lately. It always seemed to be after the fact that he thought of some clever reply that would have given him the upper hand but then it was always too late. There were other ways he could leave her speechless too which his mind conjured up, usually in the darkness of his bedroom. He tried to avoid these thoughts usually but tonight he felt too riled and the image of her in the firelight kept popping into his head. What if he had reached for her as she passed him? Offered to help her to bed…
He felt a surge of warmth and a stirring in his groin. This was the point when he would normally start mentally going through the wine list but instead he had turned out his light and let his hand slid e beneath the band of his pyjamas. As he stroked himself the imagery in his head became more and more vivid. The feel of her skin, the smell of her hair, the touch of her hand…
His heart pounded and he clenched his jaw shut for fear of calling out to her too loudly. It didn't take long for him to climax and he lay spent for a few seconds until the shouting from the corridor fully registered.
"What the blazes…" he had cursed as he sat up quickly, disorientated and slightly dizzy. He tidied himself up as quickly as he could and grabbed his dressing gown before hurrying out the door. He found Thomas standing in the hallway looking dishevelled and mumbling something about James having a nightmare. Thank goodness, he thought, it was nothing more. He was not in a fit state to have to deal with any real problems. He hurried back into his room again hoping Thomas had not noticed anything awry in his appearance.
Now he sat in his pantry wondering if perhaps he had not been so distracted would he have noticed it was in fact Thomas whose appearance suspicious. But even now, having heard what had happened and having a had an extremely uncomfortable conversation with Thomas his main preoccupation was Mrs Hughes and why, yet again, he seemed to be in the wrong when in fact he had tried to deal with Thomas in a way in which he thought she would have done. He had not been angry, well not too angry. He would go so far as to say he had been very fair. And yet when she walked in before he could even explain anything he got another sarcastic comment. He was tiring of this, he really was.
He stood up and marched to her parlour, entering with a brisk knock and closing the door behind him.
"Mrs Hughes, we need to talk."