Oneshot for Carson and Mrs Hughes, set and the end of S1 Ep7

It was a typical evening, there was nothing especially different about it, except one thing - she was going to tell him. She had finally decided, it had only taken her 12 years but she had decided that tonight would be the night she told him. She hoped everyone else had gone to bed, they were bound to be the only ones up at this time. Nevertheless she cautiously exited her parlour, scanning the corridor expecting to see a footman or lady's maid skulking in the shadows, wouldn't they love to know what she was up to. Her heels tapped against the stone floor as she made her way to his pantry. She raised her trembling hand to knock but she stopped to think about what she was doing.

She was about to waltz into the Butler's pantry and confess her love for Mr Carson. It was only when she thought this that she realised just how crazy it was. Why after 12 years of yearning to tell him did she think tonight would be the best time to do it. As if he wouldn't already be beginning to stress, having just been told that Britain was at War with Germany, well it was only a minor setback she supposed. It had made her realise, the future was totally unpredictable and everything can drastically change in the blink of an eye, right now, she needed comforting and reassurance, as much as he gave her that, it wasn't the same when she knew he only did it as a friend.

'Think for a moment Elsie, be sure before you do anything you can't take back, why do you love him?' she had to be sure before she did this.

She loved him, she knew that, she'd been in relationships in the past but none had felt like this; a longing for him, a need for him. She wanted his arms around her tonight. She needed comforting by him, he was always so good at that, maybe not while the other servants were around but when they were alone he became the kind supportive friend he really was, instead of the uptight butler.
She loved it when he comforted her, he'd always place a hand on her shoulder when she was upset, never any more – such a gentleman. She loved his smooth deep voice, it sent shivers up her spine, it relaxed her so much, he could read the wine list to her and send her to sleep. She loved the way he'd get a twinkle in his eye whenever he was going to say something funny, that was another thing, it took a lot to make her laugh these days but he could never fail to. She loved the way he would lean his head to the right whenever he was sympathetic. She loved everything about him, apart from his tendency to be unwilling to tell her that something was wrong. But she loved him all the same and she needed to tell him. And it would be tonight.

He sat at his desk staring blankly ahead. War. All he could think about were Lord Grantham's words, we are at war. He didn't know what to do so he'd just gone back to his pantry and just sat. He knew there was only one person who would really understand how he felt and she was in the room just next door. She'd been a faithful friend to him for many years and had always been there to listen. He loved her so much. This sudden thought startled him, in love with Mrs Hughes? Surely not, but he couldn't help wondering if that was the case. They'd always been there for each other, always spent time together; talking, laughing and sometimes arguing. He'd always been aware of her many fine qualities, he knew her likes and dislikes, he knew a great deal about her. But now he wondered if he was actually in love with her. He loved many things about her, he loved the way the fire made her blue eyes sparkle when they were alone in the evening, or when the sunshine made them shine a lighter shade as they took a walk on a summer's day. ' I sound like Shakespeare' he chuckled to himself. But he did love those eyes. He loved the way her hair stayed in its perfect curled style, unless she was angry when a few strands would fall loose. Her loved her voice, oh that accent, that sensual Scottish accent, he loved how she would occasionally roll her r's so it sounded like she was purring. He loved her perfect complexion, she had a few wrinkles but that only added to her radiance. He loved her flawless white skin and the contrast to her deep brunette hair and unlike him she had no grey at all. He longed to see her without it pinned up, he imagined it would flow over her shoulders, how soft it would be to touch, how he could run his hands through it, play with it, curling it around his fingers.
To the staff she appeared a strict no nonsense housekeeper who wasn't well known for a sense of humour but when she was with him, she would come out with some wicked things, she could easily make him laugh, it warmed his heart to hear her laugh, he guessed it wouldn't happen as much now there was a war on, but he still treasured those rare occasions when she did. He had to admit now, he did love her, after thinking all that, how could he not. The question now was how to tell her, or whether to tell her at all. She'd surely had enough shocks for one day, but then again she might want someone to just hold her for a while. He got up and made his way to the door, he might as well tell her. He reached for the handle and opened the door – almost jumping out of his skin to see her facing him wearing an unreadable expression. They stood in silence wondering what to say. But in a spur of the moment decision he leaned forward and put his arms around her waist, in the same moment she threw her arms around his neck and lifted herself to rest her chin on his shoulder, he held her in the air and moved back inside his pantry to close the door.

Maybe it wouldn't be to hard to tell her after all.

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