A/N: Short and sweet, building up to things! Because you know I just can't let things go... As always reviews are terribly appreciated. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and followed so far, it really means a lot to me!
So she shakes out the curtains and runs a feather duster over the chandelier and mantlepiece in the library, checks the blacking on the grates, tells her maids what to do. This day is no different than any other day.
She isn't worried about Charles. He is honest and honourable, he would not have laid with her if he didn't love her. If he didn't want to make a go of things. In all these years she has not known him to court anyone. Him touching her, moving her, making love to her, that means something and she felt it under the pads of her fingers, in her lips against his. It's lasting because it's been such a long, long time coming.
Everything around her reminds her of him, the sore muscles in her thighs as she goes up the stairs, the way he has straightened the vases in the hall, any bell that rings and she is in her parlour, trying to get some work done, but then she sees a scribble in the margin of the household accounts and his precise handwriting makes her think of the way he finds ways to make her body soar.
The ice that had crept into her bones when they told her she might die, when Lady Sybil passed away, when Mr Crawley lost his life in the car accident, seems to have melted somewhat: she feels warmer than she has in weeks. She stirs her tea, tries to focus on the linen rota, the note that came with the coal delivery today - hardly legible, written in blunt pencil, the letters uneven.
Outside her door she hears the bustle of the day, She knows everyone by their quick footsteps: the creaking of Alfred's new shoes, uncomfortable. The clicking of heels, short steps, deliberate. Anna. She gets up from her swivel chair, quickly goes through the room, opens the door. Calls for the girl, who is holding her sewing basket and a black garment.
Mending for Lady Mary, who will not shed her mourning.
The girl blushes fiercely, but steps over the threshold and what should be familiar and easy is awkward. Anna's blush deepens when asked to sit and she sits down on one of the straight-backed chairs, crosses her ankles prettily.
While not strictly under her jurisdiction anymore, Elsie feels she needs to address Anna's tardiness, knowing full well the reasons a newlywed might be coming in late - though Mr Bates had been in at his regular hour.
"It's not like you to be late." She starts and Anna looks down into her lap, her small hands holding on to the fabric.
"I'm sorry, Mrs Hughes. It won't happen again." She says, not looking up.
"There's nothing... wrong, is there? You didn't fall out with Lady Mary or something?"
Now Anna does look up, her brow furrowed. "No, I haven't fallen out with Lady Mary."
They both bites their lips and Elsie feels a smile starting to pull at her lip.
"Then what is it?"
"They sent me up to check on you and Mr Carson last night."
Maybe she shouldn't have asked.