"You know he will never make the first move." said Beryl over a late night glass of port. "If you don't want to be sat in that parlor of yours, discussing Lady Mary and Mr. George, on Valentines Day, you'll have to take that bull-headed Butler by the horns!" Elsie smiled as she remembered their fit of giggles, but Beryl was right. If ever he was to be shifted off his davit of propriety, it would fall to her. Leaving him busy with the staff Valentines, she put her plan into motion. What happens next?
Elsie heads to her sitting room to wait. She spends the next hour keeping herself busy going over her linen rota and store cupboard order. The tasks do seldom to keep her mind off what Beryl said. She knows she will never be able to "make a move" as Beryl so bluntly put it. Charles would be too blind to notice, or worse, appalled. Either reaction would certainly hurt her. So instead she would continue on as they always had, a steady and constant working relationship containing brief moments of friendship and tenderness. Words would continue to remain unspoken. Gazes would be meaningful, but cut short. Life would continue on for them both, she thought. Things were fine the way they were. Why must there always be need for emotions and passion. For physical attraction and sexual desire. She had pushed those feelings for Charles deep down inside her when she took the position of Housekeeper. These feelings that were once again bubbling beneath her skin, her soul. She shook her head, willing the unwanted thoughts to subside. Telling herself she did not need that from him. She didn't need anything from him.
Time passes quickly and soon he is at her door. With his quick obligatory knock, he swings the door open and is standing there a full wine bottle in his hand, and a tray containing a small plate of cheese and fruit. "Would you care for a drink tonight, Mrs. Hughes? I brought us a bit of a snack as well. I haven't seen you leave your room in hours and you did not eat much at dinner."
"I wasn't aware you were keeping track of me?" Elsie said, sounding sharper than she intended. She softened and smiled at him adding, "I would love some. Thank you very much, Mr. Carson."
"And how was your day, Mrs. Hughes?" He asks pouring her a full glass of wine as she comes to sit at the small table by her door. Charles waits for her to sit, then joins her at the table, scooting the plate closer to her so she can partake in the fine cheeses and fruit.
"Just fine, thank you. And yours?" She asks, trying to be pleasant while keeping her walls up, her heart protected.
"It was long. Poor Lady Mary was up in her rooms all day. It's no wonder, it being Valentines Day and all. Her first without young Mr. Crawley." Charles let out a long sigh. "Love can be so cruel."
There was a long silence between the two when Elsie spoke, looking right at Charles. "You are right about that, Mr. Carson. Love is sometimes a very cruel thing." There was a near palpable tension between them after she spoke the words. Elsie stood up heading towards her desk, fighting the tears that were threatening to come, she spoke quickly. "Perhaps I should finish up here and head to bed. I will see you in the morning. Good night, Mr. Carson." With her back still to Charles, she leans over her desk pretending to look for something.
Charles is confused. Her words had been true. Love was cruel. His unspoken love for her was a cruelty he had endured for more years than he can recall. "Oh, um, well. I'm sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Hughes. I just thought that perhaps you were looking forward to some company this evening." He cleared his throat as he stood. "Goodnight, Mrs. Hughes. Happy Valentines Day."
"Wait, Mr. Carson. I'm sorry to be so rude. I suppose I'm just not having a good day myself." She said a tear escaping down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away and looked around the room, anywhere but at him. "Please, sit. Let's finish our treat."
They both sit back down and sip at their wine. Tears fall freely down Elsie's cheeks now. She wipes them as quickly as they fall.
"Mrs. Hughes, please, what is wrong?" Charles finally asks, his deep voice a little over a whisper. "Why did you agree with me about love being cruel?"
"Isn't it though, Mr. Carson?" She nearly whispers. "Isn't love a cruel and controlling emotion? One has no power over it. Cannot simply forget or deny it. If you feel it for another, it is always there, whether you want it to be or not." She cannot help but feel his gaze on her. She stiffens and reaches for a strawberry, adding, "I'm sure Lady Mary wishes she did not love Mr. Crawley so. The pain would most definitely be easier to bear."
"I believe you're right." Charles says reaching his hand across the table to cover hers. "Though that does not explain your tears. Don't tell me they are for Lady Mary, I know your sentiments there." He pauses before making a leap he hasn't had the courage to do before. "Sometimes love isn't always cruel, Mrs. Hughes." He says, bringing his other hand to the table. Placing her tiny palm between his two, he looks into the blue eyes of the woman before him. "Love can be the very thing that keeps you going. The one constant in your life. It can be expressed in many ways. Kind words, gentle touches, meaningful glances. It can blossom as slow as the prettiest flower, or burn as hot as a flame. I have felt the cruelty of love. Yet, I also have felt the all consuming joy of love. I feel it everyday, Elsie. I feel it for you."