Ok, so not a one shot (again!), as seen as you all seemed to want me to write some more, which was nice. So here we have Carson's reaction to this hazardous garment.

He had to admit it had taken him rather by surprise- pleasantly, mind you- but very surprised none the less. Probably because he was used to seeing Elsie Hughes buttoned up to within an inch of her life, or at least her chin. It took him a moment to realise what it was that was different, though he noticed that there was a difference straight away. She had a new dress on. He'd only glanced at her at first, but it still caught his eye and he was drawn swiftly back to it, ungentlemanly though it was he reflected in hindsight. But the effect was enough to catch anyone's attention; as indeed it seemed to have done to most of the room.

He had always acknowledged that Elsie was a handsome woman, and when he considered it, she was an excellent example of a good friend- having a subtle sense of humour to match any. And, as it seemed she was the person he was resigned to grow old alongside, he loved her dearly. But where on earth did she get a neck like that?- he thought more than a little disconcerted by the thought. Obviously, she got a neck like that from years of hiding it under tightly buttoned layers of thick starched material. The black of this new dress contrasted spectacularly with the milk white complexion. He didn't know what he had expected her neck to look like, he doubted he had given it a great deal of thought before now, but it wasn't this by any stretch of the imagination. It captivated him. He had the most irrational urge to reach out and touch the skin there, perhaps, even, to kiss it.

Charles Carson- he thought sharply to himself- you are sitting at the dinner table thinking amorous thoughts about Mrs Hughes' neck! What's more, you're probably staring at it quite avidly. Pull yourself together, man! And yet he was still marvelling at how on earth such a minor alteration to a dress could possibly cause him to see her in such a spectacularly new light. No, he thought, stop it! Elsie, he noticed, looking away from her neck now and towards her face, was staring very hard at her soup, determinedly not making eye contact with anyone. A faint flush had crept into her cheek and was creeping, slowly but surely down her face. Immediately feeling guilty for causing her awkwardness, he resolved to look away. But the flush was tingeing her neck now. He could not possibly watch this and keep a cool head; he busied himself with his own soup.

…..

He didn't know what on earth she was laughing at; this wasn't funny at all. What was wrong with him admitting to finding her neck... alluring? Alright, perhaps he shouldn't find it alluring, but at least he'd had the guts to say so. Well, maybe it was funny to her, but he was mortified. Butlers, as a rule, did not stoop to such levels; and if they happened to they certainly didn't own up to it! There was nothing he could do but wait- uncomfortably- for her to calm herself down; noting all the while the way she had her head thrown back accentuated that wonderful snowy stretch... Stop it!

"Good heavens, Charles," she finally stopped laughing, "I'm sorry, I just never thought that you'd ever say that to me."

He felt himself colouring a little; did she think he was made of stone? Surely she released that even his self-control had its limits. And her wearing that dress, he had to acknowledge, pushed dangerously at them.

"So," she began, he happened to notice that she was blushing furiously again- not helping him a great deal-, "How attractive does this dress make me to you? No really, I'd like to know," she assured him, responding to his startled expression, "Will I have to wear a scarf around the house to ensure you're not distracted?"

His instinctive response was "Don't you dare!" though obviously he could not say anything of the sort, least of all because he suspected that she was teasing him. He watched her carefully, considering his options. Of course, he didn't want her to think that he was some sort of beast and was going to get sick kind of enjoyment from goggling at her, but equally he could not let her leave with the slightest idea that that dress made her look anything other than wonderful. Goodness, it was warm in here. This conversation was getting really rather difficult. Finally, he decided to speak his mind, therefore- if nothing else- he could at least boast honesty.

"You've got a nice neck," he informed her placidly, as if telling her that it looked like it was going to rain.

Apparently, honesty was the only virtue that his remark would be able to boast. He sat there considering that he should never open his mouth again. She looked at him carefully and seemed to decide he wasn't mocking her.

"I definitely need to find that scarf," she surmised wryly.

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