He leads her to his pantry, opening the door for her to enter. Following her he closes the door behind them and takes a deep breath...
Before he can open his mouth to speak Elsie snaps,"well now what do you need that is so important it couldn't wait? ". Her anger always brings out her Scottish brogue and he feels it like a caress across his skin. Makes him shiver from the inside out.
"You, only you" he thinks to himself, but never says the words. Keeps them locked up tight in that vault. The secret place he hides all improper thoughts of his beautiful housekeeper. She's in a mood alright! Staring at her now he thinks how very enticing she is when she's angry. The way her eyes seem to burn, her nostrils flaring, repressing her rage. He would like to grab her around the waist and push her bottom up onto his desk, hike that pretty dress up along those strong lean legs, pull the neckline of her dress slowly off her silky white shoulders and down over her large firm breasts, her pink ..Stop! He tells himself and doesn't understand why he continues to torture his mind with these thoughts. It's bad enough she's the only thing that seems to be on his mind when he ends his day in his small lonely room. Oh how he dreams of her. Every situation, position, taste, touch, words she would say...
"Uh hmmm," he clears his throat. "Mrs. Hughes I had the misfortune of overhearing your conversation with Mr. Bates. I truly hope that you do not think your position here at Downton is not valued. You are held in very high regard by all."
The fire still burning in her eyes, "I don't believe I said anything about the bloody house, Mr. Carson! I said you! You do not need me!"
He's shocked at the intimacy this could imply. Why did he pull her in here, he wonders. But he knows, knows that he couldn't make it through his day thinking she might be upset, or worse hurt...by him. His face reddens and he utters the only safe thing he can think. "Are you quite all right today Mrs. Hughes? Maybe you should take the afternoon off for a rest."
"I might just do that" she nearly yells turning on her heal and throwing the door open before stomping out.
He hears the slamming of her sitting room door. Why? Why couldn't he have just told her he needed her. Let her know how he valued her. How he knew he could never do his job without her. Never live his life without her...That is exactly why. He knows once he opens that vault and let's out a little it will pour out like the floodgates have been lifted. So he keeps the wall up. Always.
She throws the door shut behind her. It closes with a bang shaking the pictures on her wall. Pictures from a life she can hardly recall anymore. The only life she seems to know is the one with him. This life has become harder to live lately. To be with the man she loves but not able to really be with him. How she longs to hold him in her arms. To reach up around those broad strong shoulders and pull his lips down onto her own. She dreams of slowly undressing him, ridding him of his stiff white shirts and waistcoats, reaching down and...She tries to shrug these thoughts from her mind. There was no sense in torturing herself. He was so cold to her. "Your position. The house. " All she wanted was for him to say "I need you", but of course he doesn't. She should know by now, but still after all these years every shrug, every brush-off, every reprimand, every inability to share his thoughts is like a dagger straight to her heart. Stupid, insufferable, stubborn, pigheaded man. The walls start to build up higher, sheltering a heart so scorned and burned. Fraying at the edges. She has an overwhelming feeling of being trapped. Wanting to break free from her cage she exits her room and heads out of the house sobs escaping her. She didn't grab her coat or hat, she doesn't care, wants to feel the hot summer sun burning her cheeks. Wants to feel...
He's hears her sitting room door now, then the familiar sound of the back door opening and closing. What is unfamiliar is the sound of hear crying. He swears he heard a muffled sob before hearing the door shut. His heart sinks into his stomach, he falls back into his chair and leans his face into his hands. He wants to go to her, to comfort her and show her all the love he has for her. He knows where she is going. The lake. She always goes to the lake when she's feeling off. She loves the water, reminds her of home she once said. He remembers a time in their youth, well they weren't that young really. She was the new head housemaid Elsie. He was walking the grounds alone on his afternoon off and spotted her swimming. Her long auburn curls, turned dark with wetness hung over her shoulders. She was wearing only a thin piece of fabric, something women wear under their corsets he knew. He had lived a life once. It was wet, transparent, clung to every curve of her body. She was beautiful, goddess-like. He knew from that moment he would never see a more perfect creature in his whole life- he hasn't. It has always been her, she has always been his everything. He stood up abruptly knocking his chair backwards, and headed out the back door towards the lake...