Another prompt: Baxter is very late coming back from the village [I've made it York instead] after running errands. Molesley is beside himself with worry.
Hope you like it.
He is sitting in the dark when he finally hears the back door go, and he is on his feet like a shot.
He is so relieved when, hurrying into the corridor form the servants' hall, he sees that it is her, she is back, and the relief wells into his throat a little as he says: "It is you! Where were you?"
She looks up from taking off her gloves, jumping a little at the voice in the dark, relaxing when she sees who it is.
"Oh, hello," she replies, sounding tired, "It didn't think anyone would be up."
"Of course they're not," he replied, "It's gone midnight!"
"What?" she replied to him, looking at her watch, "It can't be."
It was, however, near enough to not be worth quibbling about.
"Did Mrs Hughes say anything?" she asked him.
"Yes," he told her, "She asked where you were at dinner. I told her you'd called up to say that there'd been a problem with the train and you'd be back as soon as you could. She was fine," he answered her next question before she asked it, "Anna saw to her Ladyship for you."
She nodded.
"I'll say thank you to her tomorrow morning," she told him, and then, looking at him carefully, a smile lit up her lips a little, "You didn't have to wait up for me, you know."
"I know I didn't have to," he replied, almost a little indignantly, "I wanted to; I was worried, Phyllis!" her first name slipped out in his momentary lapse of concentration, "Where were you?"
"I got into a spot of bother and missed the train," she told him quietly, "It's alright, I got back in the end."
"What sort of trouble?" he asked her.
She looked up at him, grimacing slightly.
"I went into a teashop because I was feeling a bit worn out," she told him, "And there was a man who assumed that any woman who happens to be sitting alone was obviously in want of company, and wouldn't just rather be left alone."
"Oh my goodness," he looked truly disgusted, "That's awful. Were you alright? He didn't try to do anything, did he?"
"It was fine," she told him, rather wearily, and then when he looked unconvinced, "Really, he was harmless enough. It was more annoying than anything."
"How did it make you late, then?" he asked her.
She let out another sigh.
"Well, you know, whenever something like that happens, you're a bit more cautious when you leave, and then I lost track of time."
He looked really appalled.
"Oh, Phyllis," he told her sincerely, "I'm so sorry."
She smiled at him.
"What are you sorry for?" she asked, "You didn't do anything. In fact you waited up to see that I was alright."
"Even so-…" he replied, "I feel-… I had no idea that you had to put up with that sort of thing!"
She rested her hand gently on his arm, amused, almost, by the intensity of his surprise.
"Nevertheless," she reminded him, "It's alright. I'm back."
He looked at her, seeming to decide that she was sufficiently unharmed and therefore right. She felt his arm relax a little under her hand.
"You must be worn out," she said quietly to him, "You should go to bed. But thank you for waiting for me. It really means a lot, Joseph. Really."
And before she knew exactly what she was doing, perhaps the weariness of a long day and the sense of a near escape was making her bolder, she stood slightly on her toes, reaching up to kiss his cheek.
When she returned to her usual height, she could see that he was looking intensely surprise and she stifled a very broad smile indeed.
"We should get on upstairs," she told him gently, "We'll have to be up in a minute!"
She was right, but even as she went, he turned back to her.
"I wish I could have been there to help you," he told her.
She stopped, and turned back to look at him, understanding what he was talking about.
"I'd have socked him on the jaw," he supplied, and she smiled again.
"That still wouldn't change the fact that some men think they can treat women however they like," she replied, "There are very few men as good as you, Joseph," she spoke his first name, softly, for the second time, "But thank you," she told him softly, "It means a lot that you want to be there for me."
He spoke softly into the dark.
"I always want to be," he confessed.
She stood there on the same spot for a long moment, watching him, and then, she stepped forwards, reaching up again, cupping his cheek gently with her hand, rising his lips sweetly and briefly.
"Tomorrow," she told him, her hand still resting on his face, "When we're less tired, and little bit less overwrought, I'm going to interrogate that remark very thoroughly."
He smiled at that promise, turing his lips quickly to her palm to plant a gentle kiss there in return, his eyes closing softly. Never before had she noticed the length of his eyelashes.
"Alright," he replied, a moment later, "I look forward to it."
End.
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