Soooooooo, here it is... a small, a very small sequel to "Sinning by Silence". It's not really necessary to have read the original story, but maybe some details will make more sense, if you did.

A big hug goes to Gemenied who, as always, tried to make this to look better than it is.

I also want to thank Julian Fellowes for creating this wonderful show. I certainly don't own any of the characters!

Shadows

It's part of what we call shadow, all the dark parts of us that we can't face.

~ Michael Gruber

Part 1

For a reason Carson couldn't quite name, this year's Servants' Ball felt different from the ones they had had enjoyed in previous years. Maybe it was the unusually warm winter or the roaring jazz music. Maybe the reason was the presence of Lady Mary's new husband, Mr Blake.

Maybe the reason was Mrs Hughes.

Mrs Hughes, Elsie, seemed rather absent-minded tonight, in fact she had been absent-minded all day long. Ever since the morning post had arrived, she had been uneasy and unusually sharp-tongued. Her wit was something he usually cherished, because it kept him on his toes (not that he would ever admit it to anyone else, but himself), but today he felt intimidated by it.

After lunch he had tried to find out what was bothering her, but she had cut him off with a short remark and had sent him away.

"Really, Mr Carson, can't you think of anything else to do! Can't you count the wine bottles in the cellar? With the servants ball I have my hands full! I'm fine, but very busy!"

His sole answer had been a raised eyebrow. He was used to her sass, her witty defences, but she had used a tone of voice that hadn't been the real her. He would never claim to be an overly observant man. In fact, he knew she thought of him as a foolish, oblivious kind of person, but when it came to her, he had learnt to sense a lot of things.

He had known women before her (had known one very well while already loving her). Had loved one other women, had lain with her and others, but he had never, never experienced the level of physical and emotional attachment to another woman, as he had with her. Every time she was out of his sight, out of his reach, he missed her. His body ached for her. It felt, as if he lacked a part of himself when she wasn't around. And so he could naturally sense , when something was bothering her.

The day had been busy and after her little outburst he had decided to leave her alone, but now he finally had the time to investigate the whole matter. The dance had been going on for some time now. Everybody was cheerful and enjoyed themselves, without being out of line. Even James behaved himself, which was a relief, because the year before he had drunken too much champagne, which had led to an embarrassing dance interlude with him and a new housemaid.

Only now Carson felt relaxed enough to get to the bottom of Mrs Hughes' obvious distress. Earlier she had been talking to Mrs Patmore and Anna, but now she was alone. He detected her in the other corner of the room where she could watch the dance floor, without being threatened to dance herself. She stuck to the shadows this night, as if she was a part of them. He noticed how pensive she looked, as if she didn't notice what was going on around her. He braced himself for the upcoming task and started moving. He slowly circled the small group that was crowding the dance floor and approached her, armed with two glasses of punch.

"Mrs Hughes," he said with a broad smile. "Time to come back to mother earth."

She looked up to him (was she really that small, even fragile compared to him?) and seemed dumbfounded. "Excuse me?"

He gave her the glass. "You appear to be rather preoccupied tonight."

She blushed. "Oh, am I? I'm sorry, Mr Carson." She faked a smile and sipped from her punch. She looked lovely tonight. She wore a dress he had never seen on her before. It was black (Didn't she generally prefer black?) and the neckline cut a bit lower than usual was made of lace. She had tried something different with her hair that looked softer than usual.

"You are indeed," he confirmed and added in a much lower and (as he hoped) warmer voice. "Why don't you just tell me what's bothering you?"

A shadow crossed her face and it seemed to reveal a certain sadness, she had apparently tried to cover for most of the day.

"I told you there's nothing...," she broke off when she realized that lying was useless. She sipped from her punch. "I wish I could, but..."

"Yes?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why?" He didn't understand, but what he understood even less was her following response. Actually, it left him quite upset and frightened.

"Because I don't want to lose you."

Elsie felt sorry for him. There he was; so loving, so attentive, so ignorant, so unsuspecting. It wasn't his fault. Not this time. She was the problem, she was being difficult, she couldn't handle her emotions, her memories. She had no right to expect him to understand her.

He was standing close to her now, trying to make sense of her and she didn't know how to deal with it. She smelled his cologne, the scent she had given him for Christmas. It was the most intimate present she had ever given him. She had picked it because it aroused her. She hadn't told him so, but it had been the sole reason to buy it as a gift. It produced lustful, forbidden images in her mind that she would only care to admit to him in the darkness of his bedroom.

"What on earth are you talking about?" he asked.

"Nothing," she answered, already angry with herself, because she had given herself away.

"It's not nothing," he corrected her.

She looked around, hoping nobody had noticed them standing so close together, talking so eagerly. If there was anything the upstairs family and the downstairs staff had in common, it was gossiping, and the last thing Elsie wanted, was becoming the main subject of their chit chatting attention.

"Not here," she mumbled. "Later."

She avoided his eyes, but she sensed the silent message they were sending.

There is no later - not if you're like this.

"All right. Outside then. In five minutes," she hissed and moved away from him.

The air outside felt damp. It was the mixture of cold and fog that made one shiver from inside out. At least they would be alone outside. Meeting downstairs wasn't a safe choice, because there were too many places where people could hide and overhear them.

But nobody in his right mind would follow them outside and if, their followers could easily be seen. He waited for her while she was getting her coat. Out here the music from the inside didn't reach his ears. It was a calm night, a silent darkness that was as peaceful as it was disturbing.

After a few more minutes he finally heard her steps behind him. She stopped right next to him and followed his gaze that lingered around the hidden treetops in the fog.

"Now that's a romantic location for a late night meeting," she joked half-heartedly. "We should do this more often."

He didn't reply. He waited.

"A friend of mine has died," she finally said and he could see how she shivered, despite her warm coat.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"The letter I received today... It came from India. It seemed a nurse wrote it, because... well...," she broke off. Carson turned to her. The sadness upon her friend's death hung over like the fog hung over the majestic trees.

"It was sent at the end of October, so it's been a while now, but I had no idea..."

Carson touched her arm, squeezed it gently. He knew he should take her into his arms, should comfort her, but he didn't want to risk anything. Sure, they were alone, outside the house, but if anybody saw them, their lives, their careers would become a laughing stock. He didn't want to think he could be the ruin of her. She was highly respected in this house, valued even by those who only tolerated him. He couldn't allow himself to be the man she needed now.

"Grief is no shame," he said tenderly. "But why couldn't you tell me this morning? You know, I'm always there for..."

She interrupted him, "I know you are. But there are things I can't tell anyone. Not even you."

Not even you... The words echoed in his head, as he started to understand. "This friend of yours was a man, wasn't he?" he asked. "Another man... are we talking about Edward Lane?" A former lover. The thought caused a small, but sharp sting in his chest. A long time ago Lane had been his one and only friend and then he had learned Lane was not only in love with Elsie Hughes, but had also acted on his desires and had seduced her. Carson had forgiven him, her, for that matter, but the friendship between the men had been over ever since. Yet, he never had the desire to see him dead.

"No, it's not Mr Lane," Elsie clarified. "At least not that I know of. It's someone from another life. Before I came here as head housemaid."

"Is it that farmer?" The man who had the nerve to propose to her, not just once, but twice.

She shook her head. "It's not a man, Mr Carson. It's a woman. She and I worked together in a house in Sussex. Her name was Brenda."

Relief flooded him. She wasn't grieving for another man, he wouldn't have to compete with a dead man for her heart.

"I'm sure she meant a lot to you." He meant it. In their positions they didn't have close relationships with their co-workers. As housekeeper and butler their positions were unique. If they got too close to those who were entrusted to them, they ultimately exposed their weaknesses and that could undermine their authority. The only close relationship they had had in years was with each other and even that was forbidden, stolen, an unjustified claim.

"She did. At one time in my life."

"Did you stay in contact with her?"

"No. It wasn't like that."

He noticed that she wasn't looking at him. Her eyes lingered somewhere in the fog, as if they were searching for something they couldn't find. As if she was looking for something lost, unreachable.

"Did you part on bad terms?" he asked.

"Quite," she confirmed. "And you should stop questioning me, before I tell you the whole story. I know it's something you don't want to hear."

"Try me."

"You'll despise me."

"I could never despise you."

She was being ridiculous. She was the most honest and upright soul he knew. What could she have done to be despised by anyone?

"But you will. You must! I don't think I could bear it."

He was lost. She made no sense to him. She was a women for heaven's sake! Many of her actions didn't make sense to him, but he always knew whatever she did[,] found its motivation in her big heart. But maybe this wasn't the time to question her about something she didn't want to reveal. Maybe it was best, if it stayed in the shadows until she was ready to share it with him.

"I won't press you, if you don't want to share it with me, but I'm sad that you feel this way." He made a pause, hoping for some kind of reaction from her, but he was left disappointed. He gave up and reached out to touch her elbow. "Should we go back inside then?"

End Part 1