Education: a story where one character teaches something to the other.
Everything was quiet downstairs, most of the lights switched off, and everyone gone up to bed. After a brief search for Mr. Carson in his pantry and the servants' hall, Mrs. Hughes found him out in the yard. The moon was almost full and he was not wearing his coat, so he was easy to spot even though it was late. Mrs. Hughes was about to speak to him when he suddenly started to run, raising an arm over his head and one leg out in front of him. She smiled when she realized what he was doing. The house vs. village cricket match had taken place earlier today; he was practicing his bowling.
"You played well today, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes called out, letting the door close quietly behind her. He was startled and turned immediately in her direction, straightening his waistcoat and drawing himself up straight. When she approached him she could see that he was a little embarrassed at being caught out. She came to stand beside him. "I don't know if I'll ever understand cricket, but it was easy enough to see that the house team would be in some trouble without you."
Mr. Carson hoped the night hid his blush at her compliment. "Oh, I'm sure that's not true," he demurred.
Mrs. Hughes shrugged. "Well, I can tell you enjoy it, in any case."
He relaxed and smiled naturally. "I do," he admitted. "I really do."
"And you look very smart in your cricket whites," she commented.
Mr. Carson cleared his throat, uncertain how to respond to her flirting. There was silence for a while before he spoke. "Did you play any games when you were a girl? Not cricket, I would guess, but perhaps something else?"
"I did," Mrs. Hughes replied. "I can't remember anymore what we played, but I loved to run and I often got a scolding from my mother when I came home dirty, which was often." She laughed softly at the memory. "I find cricket very interesting, though. It's terribly complicated, but I still enjoy watching it."
"It's not so complicated once you learn the rules," Mr. Carson rumbled. "Though to be honest I think some of our players don't really understand the rules - they just know how to bat and run."
Mrs. Hughes laughed softly. "Then perhaps I could play cricket for the house someday," she quipped.
Mr. Carson turned and looked down at her. "I could teach you, if you'd like," he told her. She laughed at him. He thought her enchanting when she laughed like that, but he persisted. "I mean it. I don't think his lordship will let you on the team next year, but I could show you how to bat or bowl."
Mrs. Hughes looked up into his face, trying to gauge his seriousness. She was surprised to find that he was in earnest. He waited eagerly for her answer and she found she could not refuse. "All right. When do we start?" she answered, smiling.
Mr. Carson's smile widened a little and he touched her shoulder briefly. "Stay right here," he told her before hurrying inside. Mrs. Hughes waited, wondering, and a few minutes later he appeared with a cricket bat and ball. He had also removed his waistcoat, tie, and collar, and rolled up his sleeves. "I think we should go out on the grass," he told her. "The moon is out so we'll be able to see well enough."
Mrs. Hughes was caught by his enthusiasm and they hurried together out of the yard and onto the lawn. They didn't need a real cricket pitch; a level, grassy area would do very well. Mr. Carson held out the bat and the ball. "What should you like to try - bat or ball?"
Mrs. Hughes took the bat from his hand immediately. "Oh, definitely the bat." She turned it over in her hands, studying the handle and the blade in the moonlight.
Mr. Carson dropped the ball to the ground. "If you were to play in a proper match, you would play with a smaller bat," he began. "A batsman's height is part of what determines what size bat she uses. But I think you can manage with this one for the present."
"For the present? Does that mean you will buy me my own bat someday, Mr. Carson?" she asked teasingly.
"Never mind that," he answered, not bothering to hide his amusement. "Just pay attention while I show you how to hold the bat." Mr. Carson stood close beside her and took the bat from her hands. He showed her how he placed his right hand closer to the blade than his left and then began to demonstrate the different positions in a swing. "Now you try it," he directed, putting the bat back into her hands. Mrs. Hughes succeeded fairly well at replicating his grip on the handle. "Good, good," he encouraged. "Now show me your stance."
Mrs. Hughes shook her head. "I'm afraid I'll need more help on that. Can you show me again?"
Mr. Carson came back to stand beside her and explained again how she should stand. She managed it, more or less, so he decided to move on to the swing. She was far less successful here, however, and Mr. Carson scratched his head, trying to figure out how he might better explain the proper technique to her. After a few attempts at putting the swing of a cricket bat into words, he realized he was going to have to touch her. He wondered why he had thought this would be such a good idea. Mr. Carson directed her to go back to the beginning stance and stood facing her. He gently tapped her forearm and instructed her where she should move it, then tapped her other arm and pointed, explaining the motions all the while. This worked better than just telling her how to do it, but she still didn't understand the mechanics of a proper swing.
Mr. Carson studied Mrs. Hughes again. She was taller than the smallest hallboys who had played in the match earlier that day. Mr. Carson had helped those youngest ones with their swings and he might be able to show her in the same way he had shown them, but he wasn't sure if he should. His eyebrows drew together as he tried to decide whether to suggest it or to end this little amusement by claiming his feet hurt or he had a headache.
"What's wrong, Mr. Carson?" Mrs. Hughes asked. "Are you regretting your offer to teach this very untalented pupil? I won't hold you to it." She held out the bat to him, giving her a little rueful smile.
Mr. Carson did not take it from her, however, but continued to regard her seriously. Mrs. Hughes was offering to end their little lesson. He should accept her offer and go no further. Later, he would wonder why he chose to continue. "There is one other way I might be able to teach you, Mrs. Hughes, if you would permit me."
Mrs. Hughes was curious. "Permit you to…?" She gasped when Mr. Carson moved to stand behind her, his arms reached down and around her, and his hands covered hers, helping her grip the bat properly.
They commonly found themselves in close quarters - whispering in doorways, between courses in the servery, and sitting side-by-side in church - but there was something very new to Mr. Carson about being so close to Mrs. Hughes, with his arms wrapped around her like this. Fortunately for Mr. Carson, cricket was second nature to him, so he could continue to instruct her even though he found her scent quite distracting and her nearness entirely beguiling. He gently guided her movements and she followed his instructions.
Mrs. Hughes was not quite overwhelmed by him, but she wasn't able to really speak. She nodded or shook her head and occasionally murmured a word or two in response to his directions. She also had to fight the odd urge to close her eyes and sigh. Mrs. Hughes felt suddenly cold when Mr. Carson moved away from her and picked up the ball.
"I'll bowl now," he was saying as he walked away from her. "Remember what I told you about moving to meet the ball. I'll make it an easy one."
Mrs. Hughes couldn't remember much of what he had said, but she did remember the feel of his arms around her, so she was able to recreate some of the motions properly. However, she failed to make contact with the ball on her first attempt. She kept trying, but after a while she gave up. "I hope you can keep my secret, Mr. Carson," she said, smiling.
"Your secret?"
"The staff would never respect me again if they knew that I'm rubbish at cricket."
Mr. Carson laughed quietly. "Your secret is safe with me, Mrs. Hughes. But perhaps you'd do better if we traded places? I think I might be able to teach you the basics of bowling pretty easily."
Mrs. Hughes looked doubtful. "I'm willing to try it, but I don't imagine I'll bowl much better than I batted."
As it happened, she was wrong, and after a few lessons, Mrs. Hughes had the basic idea. She had a feeling it might be due to the fact that Mr. Carson didn't need to wrap both arms around her to instruct her. His touch was no longer timid, but he simply stood beside her and used both hands to guide her arm while he explained the corresponding steps she must take. After a little while he let go of her and had her try it a few times on her own.
"That's excellent for a beginner, Mrs. Hughes," he complimented her. "Let me get my bat and we'll see how you and I stand up against each other."
"You should be glad that no one's watching, Mr. Carson," she teased. "I might take your place on the house team next year."
Mr. Carson laughed. "I'm ready, Mrs. Hughes."
Mrs. Hughes bowled and Mr. Carson hit the ball squarely with the blade of his bat. Mrs. Hughes clapped her hands in delight as the ball rolled past her. Mr. Carson smiled as he watched her turn to retrieve it. Her hair was coming loose and she was laughing, clearly enjoying herself, and he did not think he had ever seen her looking lovelier. He was so lost in these pleasant thoughts that her next bowling action nearly passed him by, but he caught sight of the ball just in time to knock it back in her direction. She found it and bowled once more. This time, after he had hit the ball, Mr. Carson began to feel that his behavior was rather ungentlemanly. He could see that she was tiring a bit from chasing every ball he hit while he stood and watched her gradually becoming more delightfully flushed and disheveled. He laid down his bat and jogged after the ball, easily catching up with Mrs. Hughes, but she suddenly came to a stop.
"I can't find it," she said, breathless. "Perhaps it's in one of those shadowy spots on the lawn." They continued walking together and in a moment came upon the little ball. Both reached for it at once and both grasped it at the same time. When they stood upright, both the ball and Mrs. Hughes's hand were enveloped in Mr. Carson's large hand. They stood facing one another in the moonlight, breathless from exertion.
Mrs. Hughes smiled up at Mr. Carson, enjoying this rare view of him rumpled and tousled; she found him terribly appealing when the natural curl in his hair escaped the restraint of whatever it was he used to slick it down. He was always handsome to her, but something about those curls was especially charming.
Mr. Carson smiled back at her. Her hair was in total disarray, but her eyes shone, her merriment and enjoyment obvious. He tried not to notice the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she tried to catch her breath.
"Thank you, Mr. Carson," she said softly. "I can't remember the last time I had so much fun. What a shame we can't play moonlight cricket more often."
Mr. Carson smiled. "I'm glad it was entertaining for you." He did not let go of her hand; the ball dropped to the ground and he stepped closer. With his free hand he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Mrs. Hughes assessed the damage to her hairstyle with the hand that was not holding tightly to his.
"Oh, dear." She smiled ruefully. "What do I look like?"
"You look very pretty," Mr. Carson replied simply.
"Surely not."
"Oh, most definitely pretty," he insisted. "Bewitching, in fact."
"Well, thank you," Mrs. Hughes replied, looking at him curiously.
They stood for a little longer in silence, gazing into each other's eyes. "Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Carson finally said. "May I kiss you?"
Mrs. Hughes was surprised, but by no means displeased by his suggestion. "You may," she breathed.
Mr. Carson let go of her hand and grasped her hips, pulling her gently closer. Mrs. Hughes wasn't quite sure what to do with her hands, but in the end she rested them on his chest. He bent down and touched his lips lightly to hers. She stood on her toes to press her lips more firmly to his and he pulled her tight against him, trapping her arms between them. She sighed and Mr. Carson deepened the kiss.
Mr. Carson had at first felt like he was in control of this kiss, this next step since they had walked into the sea holding hands. It was usually she who nudged and pushed him reluctantly into the future, but he had asked her for a kiss. Now, standing out on the lawn with her in his arms, he did not feel so much in control of the situation. However, he had thought a great deal about this moment and, while he had not known it would occur as they both stood disheveled on an impromptu moonlight cricket pitch, he was finally ready to be carried away. Mrs. Hughes's moment of control had come after he had asked permission to kiss her and passed as soon as she had said that he could. After that she was floating on a cloud of emotion and unexpected physical sensation. With a little effort she freed her hands and slid them up over his shoulders. They kissed for a long while, the cricket and the setting completely forgotten. When they broke apart, Mrs. Hughes began to laugh and Mr. Carson joined her. Neither had to explain to the other the reason for their joyful laughter. They had just spent as carefree a half hour as either of them had experienced in years, and they had finally shared their first kiss.
"I suppose we ought to be getting back now." Mr. Carson was reluctant to let go of this magical evening.
"Yes, we must," Mrs. Hughes agreed. They turned toward the house, now holding hands, but upon taking her first step toward the house, she groaned. "I don't think I ought to have attempted to play cricket in these shoes," she lamented. "My feet are protesting."
"Oh dear," Mr. Carson commented. "Lean on me and perhaps that will make walking a little less uncomfortable."
"Perhaps it will. But even if it doesn't, I won't mind."
Mr. Carson smiled and started back with Mrs. Hughes, walking slowly to keep pace with her limping steps. "I love you, you know," he remarked conversationally.
"I love you, too," she replied as they made their slow way to the servants' entrance.
"I've something to ask you tomorrow, Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Carson told her.
"Why not ask me now?"
He shook his head. "Not when your feet are sore and we're both tired and ought to be sleeping. I'll come to your sitting room tomorrow night for a little sherry and I'll ask you properly."
Mrs. Hughes smiled. "Very well. I'll be sure to practice answering you properly."
"You do that, Mrs. Hughes." Mr. Carson paused to kiss the top of her head and then they continued through the yard and into the house, where they climbed their respective staircases to their separate rooms. They both fell asleep and dreamed of a little cottage between the house and the village, with a tidy garden, a comfortable settee, and an electric toaster in the kitchen.
The end.
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