A/N: Well this chapter was longer than I intended but, there are a few parts that I can't wait for you girls to read! I rewrote this chapter twice and I found that this one was by far better. I do enjoy your reviews so if you would like to leave me a gift that would be delightful! xoxo

"D'you think he fancies 'er?" Daisy said while mopping up the spilt tea on the table.

"Of course he fancies her! She's been here 3 times this week for dinner!" Thomas scoffed at the poor girl's ignorance. He puffed his chest out and released the smoke that was trapped inside his lungs, lazily creating a stream of grey clouds.

Today had been rather slow for the staff. It had been non-stop raining. Normally on days like this the Crawley girls wouldn't bother to leave their beds. After all, what really was the point? The staff would finish their duties and when there was nothing left to do they would sit around the table sharing meaningless gossip. Occasionally one of the bells would ring but other than that the only thing they had to worry about was dinner.

Currently around the table were Mr. and Mrs. Bates, O'Brien, Thomas and a few of the kitchen maids. Gossip was always their forte. With such a large estate as Downton Abbey there was always a rumor going around but, for once this piece of gossip was about none other than the Butler. It was scandalous. If there was something going around that table about Charles Carson it was not going to be pretty. Ever since he stepped foot in that house he was never the center of attention with these sort of things; he had liked to stay low never wanting to risk his job in any way. It was exciting to all the young maids to hear about Carson fancying someone!

"At his age? He must have taken a wrong turn." O'Brien gritted her teeth and flipped through one of her novels.

"Really, Miss O'Brien. Can't a man fancy a woman without such cruel accusations?" Anna was always the one with the counter remark when it came to insults. She always stood up for the one that was being picked on. It was just her nature, sweet Anna.

"Mr. Carson is hardly a proper man, in my opinion. He's so … scheduled; I can almost certainly tell what he's going to say when he opens his mouth." O'Brien was never one to give up a fight about her opinion. She'd properly state it and anyone who says otherwise would get a right smack in the face.

"Well, if he fancies Ms. O'Donnell … What about Mrs. Hughes?" Daisy stood in the doorway holding the sopping dishrag. It seemed as if everyone was looking at her. They stopped their knitting and their chatting and just stared at Daisy. She really must be daft to even suggest a thing like that in public.

"What about me?" Mrs. Hughes swayed into the room and everyone seemed to jolt up from their seat. Even Thomas and O'Brien seemed to care whether she heard the previous statement or not. They had all known that something was happening between the butler and the housekeeper but no one had dared to speak of it. It was wrong. They have had their off days of course, being cooped up in the same house for over twenty years, it was bound to happen. Ever since that woman, Ms. O'Donnell, stepped into the house it was nothing more than a war between the two of them. It always used to be polite conversations with them, joined by the hip if you will. Now, it seemed as if they couldn't get one nice word passed their lips when they were in the same room together.

"What was that? I heard my name. Not gossiping about me now are we?" Mrs. Hughes mouth was in a tight line as she glared at every face in the room. To tell her the honest truth, Elsie had heard every bit of this nasty gossip and she was about sick of it. She was tired of having her staff talk about her and that blasted man behind her back. Especially when the piece of gossip had a hint a romance between the two of them. Did these men and women have no shame?

"No Mrs. Hughes. We would never." O'Brien decided to speak up. She could lie on her deathbed if she had to.

"Make sure I don't hear it again. Do I make myself clear?" She was practically barking out the order and her staff almost trembling at the sight of her.

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes." They all said in correspondence. Fiddling with their objects they sat down in the now chilly room. Daisy looked as if she were about to faint as Mrs. Hughes passed her through the doorway.

"You're a daft woman, Daisy." O'Brien spitted out as she too passed the girl, obligating to return to her quarters.

Charles sighed as he scribbled the wrong number on to the wine ledger. He hadn't been thinking properly for the past few days, everything to seem out of sorts; with Mrs. Hughes and him always quarrelling and of course Grace.

Grace had been an unexpected chapter in his life, not an unwelcome one … just unexpected. If he thought back to the time when he didn't know her he would be lost. She was every bit of woman that he desired, sophisticated and very sweet with every intention of staying in service. She was about 10 years younger than him but he could overlook the age, if he squinted. Grace wasn't like the women he had met while on stage and she wasn't like the women he met while serving at Downton. She was different. He was too old to be muddling with such feelings but he had always found something to say to her, and she didn't seem to mind.

Now, about Mrs. Hughes; he couldn't take it any longer. One of them had to patch up this rift between them soon or he would surely go mad. He missed her. It's been 4 days since the incident in his pantry and he still feels himself blushing about it. He can't get her out of his head. Charles had never thought about a full on physical relationship with Elsie in years. All those unbridled feelings for Elsie Hughes were stashed way down deep inside of him, never to be uncovered again as long as he lived. What was he going to do? Here he was advancing towards Grace and all he could think of was Elsie…

You need to sort out your priorities.

A clap of thunder made him jump and he scowled. What a horrible day. Rainy and dreary, all he wished for was a nice cup of tea and a conversation. Not just a conversation but one that wasn't about work or the ongoing problems of his life; but one about how he had wished he'd gone another way, had a family, or worked at a factory.

Just like Elsie said.

Yes. Just like Els said.

He set his pen down; it wasn't like he was going to finish the damn ledgers anyway. Running is large hands through his hair he sighed. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. And for the first time as butler, Charles Carson slumped; too weary to care about being proper. If anyone was to have found him this way, they would surely think he was dead. He was in no mood to be proper and he was in no mood to do ledgers.

Elsie was tired, tired beyond belief; the rain didn't help either. The pitter patter of the rain was almost lulling her to sleep on her settee. She had decided that reading a book might keep her mind off of him. Keep her mind off of everything, really. Her thoughts seemed to venture towards her past.

She remember a long time ago when she was just a girl in Argyll her mum used to tell her stories, about how every time it rained the angels were crying for the one they loved. And she'd remember vividly how she'd stare out the window, tracing the pattern of the tears; slowly but steadily dragging her fingers down with them.

And you'd wonder what the angels' love had done so wrong for them to cry such beautiful tears.

Yes.

In a way she loved rain, she loved the smell and the sounds and everything that followed it. The rebirth of the flowers and trees; or when the birds would venture out singing a song of survival. Her stomach turned. If the tears were rain would there be some rebirth afterwards? Would everything grow back the way it was? Would the sun shine again? Maybe that was the way of life, after every downfall there was an uprising.

She sighed. This whole scenario with Mr. Carson and that woman must end soon, right? So why not stop the rain, and push the sunlight?

Well, go on then. Both of you could use a little sunshine.

Elsie stood up and pushed back the flyaway hairs from her face and headed straight for the door of her pantry.

Els. Your shoes.

"Right." She chuckled to herself. Always the shoes, she was always forgetting the shoes.

Charles was so close to dozing off.

I'm just resting my eyes, I promise.

A light tap on his door made him growl. Whoever it was would surely have their head chewed off if they didn't leave him be.

"What!" He barked at the intruder. He dare not open his eyes for he knew that he wouldn't be able to control himself from this rage.

"Mr. Carson." There is was. The moment where all he thoughts stopped and he stood to see her. She had a slight apologetic smile upon her face, balancing a tray of tea on her hip. She was certainly a sight for sore eyes. "May I come in?" Her head motioned for permission.

"Uhm… Yes, yes by all means." His hand rubbed the back of his neck. "I do apologize, I'm a bit disheveled." He certainly was; he had foregone his jacket and his tie was loosely hung around his neck. "I wasn't expecting a visitor." Nervously chuckling, he tried to separate the papers on his desk into neat piles.

"I wasn't expecting to be your visitor, if I'm going to be honest." She tapped his hands to stop his restless movements and set the tray on the disorganized papers. "I've come with a peace offering." She smiled and handed him a cup of steaming tea. Their hands grazed one another during the exchange, making Charles blush.

"I appreciate it. Thank you, Mrs. Hughes." He sat in one of his grand chairs by the small fire, motioning for her to take the other one. "It's been a rather long day, hasn't it?" Carson was trying his best not to wander off into forbidden territory considering how much they've been fighting.

"I would say so… Dreadful day too." Her lips blew at the tea and he shuddered. Those lips seemed to surround the cup as if they were made together. If only he had the chance to taste them, he bet they would taste as good as they looked.

"Yes… Dreadful."

"I would like to apologize, Mr. Carson." Elsie sat straight and turn towards him fully. "I've been a terrible nuisance these past few days and… I know that we've had better days." She bowed her head like a scolded dog, not wanting to see look on Charles face. It was too embarrassing. Her free hand rubbed the rim of the cup emitting a high pitched sound. Anything would do to get her mind off of the current situation.

"It seems we have been fighting like a couple of cats and dogs, haven't we?" He gave a half-hearted chuckle and continued to stare into the dimming fire.

"Yes… We have." She bit down the bottom of her lip, another one of those terrible habits she despised about herself.

Thunder boomed overhead making her jump.

*crash*

"Oh. Not again!" She knelt down to try and pick up the broken pieces of the delicate china. She was so clumsy these days. She placed the largest break in her palm, gently picking up the rest.

"Don't worry Mrs. Hughes." He knelt down beside her, taking her wrists in his palms. "You've cut yourself." His thumb ran over the gash and she hissed. Elsie's hand flexed at the touch of his hand around hers, she couldn't remember the last time they were this close to one another. His head was bowed and she could see the curls on top of his head, shining in the light of the fire. She gasped as he blew on the cut.

"That stings." She managed to choke out. His eyes locked with hers. She had never looked more beautiful to him, the light casting an ominous glow on her face. The way her eyes had shone when he touched her. Gods, this woman would surely be the death of him.

"I…" He suppressed his urge kiss her. "There was a piece right… here." Charles ran his thumb over the cut, slower this time so he wouldn't harm her. A lover's touch, you could call it. When he looked back up at her it seemed they were closer than ever. Noses barely touching one another, he could taste her. He could feel her surrounding him. Her breathe was coming in short gasps as she nodded at him. He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments and relished this moment. They nudged closer together.

"Mr. Carson…" She said in that slow Scottish accent of hers. Her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips. If he leaned in closer he could have captured that tongue with his and would hold her close to him; kissing her with all the passion in the world. That passion that he swore would keep hidden as long as he lived was bubbling at the surface. He moved closer towards her, this time his nose touching hers in the gentlest way. "Please…" She muttered as she closed her eyes willingly waiting for what was coming.

He opened his mouth as if to say something but then shut it quickly when he heard the shrill ring of the telephone. Sighing he rested his head against hers, the moment had passed. He cupped her cheek and whispered his apology.

Charles rose from his place on the floor beside her and picked up the phone with a dull, "Downton Abbey, Carson the butler speaking." He watched as she continued to pick up the pieces of the stupid cup. The familiar voice of Grace made him composed himself fully; back to being a butler.

"Yes, Miss O'Donnell?" Her head rose very slowly as she saw him talking to this woman on the phone. If only he had let the damn thing ring. "Yes… I suppose I could make it… Yes. Alright… I'll see you soon." He practically slammed the phone back on the hook.

"It seems the rain has stopped." Charles said still staring down at the telephone.

"Yes… It seems so." She dusted the remaining pieces of the cup into the rubbish bin. "I guess that make me the rain and you the thunder." She chuckled to herself and in return he gave her a furrowed brow and a frown.

"Miss O'Donnell would like me to come over and survey her work at the house… Seems she doesn't think she's been doing a good job lately." Elsie couldn't give a damn what that woman thought. "Your hand…" He gestured towards the cut, still bleeding.

"Oh… yes." She seemed to be examining it, flipping it over and applying slight pressure to the wound.

"Let me help you." Charles took her wrist and dug through the multiple draws in his desk till he found the emergency kit. "I keep one handy in case something like this happens." He waved his hand at the gash and softly laughed. She smiled at his nervousness.

"Sit, please." It was more of a demand than an offer but, she complied anyways. Kneeling down in front of her he took out an antiseptic rub and gauze. "You really should be more careful, you know." He placed her hand on her knee and motioned her to be still. "This will hurt." He rubbed the cream into the wound and wrapped it tightly.

"Thank you." She flexed her hand to make sure there was enough room for the wound to breathe. "You've been a wonderful doctor, Mr. Carson."

"I guess I should have gone into the field." He genuinely smiled at her polite flirtation. Although he was still kneeling he was face to face with this woman. Carson sighed and opened his mouth to apologize but she stopped him short. Telling him that nothing happened and that she would be sure to carry on in a proper manner and with that he stood. He hunted down his jacket and pulled his arms through it.

"Charles." She said motioning for him to move forward. It was the first real time she'd used his Christian name. He didn't pay much attention for he would be afraid she'd revert back to their dull usage of Mr. and Mrs.

Her slim hand was placed on his chest as she fixed his tie. Elsie's face was full of sorrow; for what, he couldn't tell. He knew she regretted something though, whether it was the almost kiss or the blasted telephone. Her fingers slipped in and out of the material creating a perfect knot, tightening just enough to be comfortable and proper. Smoothing out the imaginary creases of his jacket she smiled up at him. Whatever happened in this pantry today would be buried deep down with the rest of his feelings, along with her own.

"Rain and thunder." He muttered to her. "What a perfect pair we make."

"Yes." Her smile widened as a lone tear escaped her eye.