He's just come in to hand her his inventory list, to say a quick mid-morning hello, and she pulls away from her rotas for a moment to smile at him, takes the paper from his outstretched hand. Her eyebrows rise in amusement then, as she skims it over, and her tongue is pressed firmly in her cheek when she swivels her chair round, when she looks up to tease him. (Honestly, how does one man go through this much silver polish in a week?) She stops short however, when she sees his serious expression, finds him looking over her shoulder, squinting at the picture frame on her desk.
Elsie turns, gestures for him to pick it up if he wants to, and he does. Brings it close to his face for examination, frowns at it. "This is new."
She smiles. "Not really, Mr. Carson. Nancy sent it along with her most recent letter, but it's quite old."
It's a drawing, a silly little sketch really, of herself and her sister side by side. It's nothing exceptional, just plain black ink on a piece of scrap paper, and it's clear that Nancy hasn't taken much care of it – had probably found it in the bottom of her drawer one day when she was cleaning – but she had a frame lying around, and it seemed right somehow, had kindled something warm inside her when she put it there amongst her books, where she happened upon it often. Elsie has only a few keepsakes from her childhood, and not a single one of her sister, so there is sentimental value in it, she supposes. But still, she's surprised that it's caught Mr. Carson's attention in this way, that he's still standing there beside her, brooding over it.
That it's another long minute before he puts it down, looks at her. "Who drew it?"
Elsie adjusts the frame, shrugs. "My brother-in-law. He's always been good with a pen, I daresay."
Mr. Carson nods, and takes in the information with a severe countenance, with his eyes still fixed on the picture. Clears his throat. "Is it only the drawing, or do the two of you look alike?"
She blinks. Blinks again at the strangeness of his question. Looks up at him carefully then, tries to read his face. Wonders what's brought this on, why on earth he's asking. Thinks for a fleeting moment that he looks sad, ruminating almost, and that can't be right, surely. He can't be disheartened for never meeting her family. Surely not. Surely.
"Well, they're coming for a visit soon, Mr. Carson. Perhaps you'll be able to decide yourself then." Elsie grins, wrinkles her nose at the drawing. "But no, I – I don't think we're much alike. Nancy's taller, and she was always the prettier of us –"
"Certainly not."
Her head snaps up, and she looks sharply at him now, takes in a breath. "Mr. Carson?"
Mr. Carson too, seems stunned, and begins pulling away from the frame, from her desk. "That is, I didn't mean – it's not my place to say, of course." He clears his throat, fumbles with his cufflinks. "Of course, it isn't that your sister isn't also – but – it's just that – you are more – I mean –" His eyes are wide in shock now, in horror and his face has flushed completely red.
He straightens up, adjusts his waistcoat. Frowns at her then, and turns to shout, to bluster. "Really, Mrs. Hughes, the wine delivery will be here any minute now. You mustn't keep me."
Elsie stares at the door, jaw hanging slightly as he leaves, and then for a long minute after. Finally, after what seems an age, she turns back to her work and smiles.
He'd just called her beautiful, after all.