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MISPLACED
"Mrs Hughes...?" Turning, Elsie Hughes waited for the young housemaid to catch up to her from her position at the bottom of the servants' staircase.
"What is it, Anna?" she asked when the girl finally reached her, her eyes drifting to the full cup of tea clutched in the housemaid's hands.
"I just went to wake Miss O'Brien," she said, gesturing to the teacup by way of explanation, "and, well...she wasn't in her bed. Or her room at all, actually. I've checked the hall and the yard, and no one's seen hide nor hair of her since after dinner last night."
"What, not even Thomas?" Anna shook her head. "Now, that is peculiar."
Relieved that the housekeeper didn't seem to think her confusion at the lady's maid's absence trivial, Anna continued,
"He says he saw her go off with some of her mending, but he wasn't exactly burning to tell me anything much."
"I can well believe that", replied the housekeeper, her mouth twisting wryly; expecting Thomas to be forthcoming on any matter was nothing short of foolish, even on the best of days.
"Thank you for letting me know, Anna. Although quite what I'm to do about it, I've no clue - of the many things I've come to expect of Miss O'Brien, her vanishing into thin air has never crossed my mind. I suppose I'd best go and check she's not with Her Ladyship before we call out the dogs - perhaps she was just feeling exceptionally eager to begin her duties this morning?"
Anna raised her eyebrows, considering,
"Or maybe, Mrs Hughes, it'd save us some time if we readied the search party now?"
Not expecting Her Ladyship to be awake yet, Mrs Hughes entered her dressing room without knocking - if Thomas had seen Miss O'Brien with some mending, perhaps she had come to return the garment?
Glancing around the annexe, she could immediately see that this wasn't the case as there was no sign of the woman.
Puzzled, she stepped a little further into the bedchamber. His Lordship was away, so there was no danger of bumping into him unexpectedly in his wife's room, something of which she'd normally be more wary, knowing (as she did) the couple's unorthodox sleeping arrangements.
Her eyes quickly scanned the room, not really expecting to find the missing woman, but feeling it necessary to check in the interests of being thorough.
Throwing a passing glance at the bed caused her to start, and she froze, eyes widening as her brain struggled to register the truly unexpected tableau before her.
Suddenly, she very much wished she'd not been so proactive in her search for the missing lady's maid, and had instead waited for Her Ladyship's bell before checking up here. Although based on current evidence, she had reasonable cause to doubt that it would've rung at all this morning, seeing as the person most likely to respond to it was already present.
At least, Elsie thought somewhat hysterically, she could now account for her whereabouts.
Sarah O'Brien lay on her back, shamelessly naked and the very picture of peaceful sleep, in Cora Crawley's bed.
Her waist-length hair was loose, splayed across the pillows and sheets, and tangled around her upper body, partially obscuring the smooth, pale skin of her neck and chest. The usually immaculately-set curls at her forehead were tousled beyond repair, pushed back and twisted in amongst the rest of her unruly locks.
If O'Brien's presence was shocking, it was nothing compared to the scandalous way Her Ladyship was fitted against her side, her chin resting on the other woman's shoulder and her beautiful face pressed comfortably into the pillow. One arm was slung across her maid's torso, the palm of her hand curving around a breast, the other beneath O'Brien's head, fingers threaded through her hair. One of her legs was draped possessively over the other woman's hips, and one of O'Brien's hands gripped the thigh in her sleep, holding it in place.
It was an intensely intimate scene, and she knew she should retreat quickly before her presence was realised, but the housekeeper found she could not look away, entranced by the spectacle.
The women were beautiful in repose - O'Brien's usually-stern features were softened in sleep, the harshness gone from her face, and Cora Crawley's long, lithe limbs looked so fine wrapped around the softness of her lady's maid.
The Countess was all sharp angles and clean lines, and they contrasted so neatly with the dramatic and sweeping curves of the other woman.
How odd it was that such a hard personality could bely such a soft figure, and how such warmth and charisma happened to be contained in so sharp and angular a frame.
They made an intriguing pair, she had to admit.
Her Ladyship's fondness for her maid was no secret, but everyone downstairs had always presumed that Sarah O'Brien felt nothing but contempt for her mistress. Could it all have been an act? It seemed so unlikely, and yet...the affection and familiarity of this embrace was obvious - how often did it occur, she wondered?
Perhaps Sarah O'Brien's contempt had never been for her mistress, but rather for her position?
The housekeeper's musings were sharply interrupted and her heart leapt into her throat as Her Ladyship stirred in her sleep, limbs tightening around her maid as she seemingly endeavoured to get impossibly closer.
A muttered, "Sarah" left her mouth, and O'Brien responded by shifting onto her side so that she could pull the other woman more firmly into her embrace.
O'Brien must be awake, Elsie realised with horror, quickly stepping further back into the annexe and out of sight moments before the woman herself responded.
Her voice was rough from sleep as she addressed the countess,
"Cora? Are you awake?"
"No," came the sleepy and somewhat petulant reply, and Elsie watched with a mixture of distress and amusement as her employer buried her face further into the crook of O'Brien's neck.
The maid sighed and sniffed, an unladylike yawn momentarily overtaking her features, as she twisted as best she could in her employer's embrace, stretching her legs and back.
"Cora, you know, much as I'd like to, that I can't stay 'ere f'rever - the lady of the house is going to be demanding 'er cup o' tea sooner or later, and I know she'd never dream o' runnin' a comb through 'er own hair."
There was a giggle from beneath the mess of raven curls, and a perfectly manicured hand swatted playfully at the other woman's collarbone.
"That joke is wearing very thin, O'Brien."
"Doesn't explain why you keep laughing at it, Milady," she replied, smirking at the gasp of mock-outrage that followed then squealing in shock as her mistress quickly rolled them and, straddling her stomach, effectively pinned her to the mattress.
The housekeeper watched as the maid flinched and squirmed, hands trying in vain to shield herself and avoid the gleeful retribution she knew was coming - to no avail - as Her Ladyship's seeking fingers danced with knowing surety over the evidently ticklish flesh of her maid's sides and thighs.
Goodness! The housekeeper knew she'd never heard the maid laugh like that, helpless and unrestrained; if you'd asked her last night, she would've probably declared Sarah O'Brien incapable of such mirth.
The Countess leant forward to press a kiss into her maid's exposed throat and spoke against the skin,
"You know as well as I do, Dear O'Brien, that the lady of this house won't wish to rise for another hour. At least."
Edging herself back through the partially-open door of the dressing room, the housekeeper very much hoped the couple laughing and shrieking on the bed were far too distracted to hear the soft click as it closed.
Well.
It certainly wasn't true that no one had seen 'hide nor hair' of Sarah O'Brien that morning. Pushing herself back up against the wall outside Cora Crawley's bedchamber, her eyes still wide with shock, Elsie Hughes could now say that she knew the total to be at least two.
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