Chapter 8

"Mrs Hughes…" Mr Carson whispered. How he wished he could place his hand over hers and stroke her fingers softly? How he wished he could lay his fingers on her cheek and reassure her? But he struggled with his urges and let his words convey his thoughts.

"I'm quite alright Mr Carson," she said smiling amidst her tears and letting the back of her hand wipe her tears, "just a bit…" She struggled to find a word to describe what she was feeling.

"Muddled?" he offered and she nodded.

"I assume that is what I am," she smiled again and the pain eased slightly from Mr Carson, though not fully.

"It's that when Lady Sybil was sitting on my lap…" she began but struggled again. Mr Carson felt a rush of emotions so strong that he could kiss her hair and wrap his arms around her, but he hid it away. He wished he could, but not yet, but one day he thought he would. Instead he reached his hand forward and took Mrs Hughes' hand which was resting on the table. He gave it a gentle squeeze and stroked the side of her wrist with her thumb.

For a fraction of a second Mrs Hughes found herself to be breathless. His small gesture, she knew, conveyed a hundred more gestures that he wished he could put into action. She was grateful for the strength he gave her and felt immensely happy at the possibility that he might echo the feeling and sentiments she felt towards him, a love she never spoke out loud about. She took a deep breath, now that she had the support and strength she needed, she knew she could face this.

After a moment of silence spent relishing the intimate feeling of this small but loving gesture Mrs Hughes began again.

"When she was sitting on my lap, I felt different. I felt as if I was a different person. Emotions I never thought I would experience. It felt as if I was…" she paused again.

"Loving and protective," he completed the sentence for her. He knew entirely how it felt for her. If the situations in her life, whatever that led her to enter a life of service, were different she would have made a very good mother, he thought quite sorrowfully. If he had met her in an entirely different life, he would have made her his wife already. He would have had children with her. Tall children with blue eyes and black hair and accents with rolling "r"s.

"Yes," she whispered, "She's such a dear little lassie, Mr Carson. So full of love and curiosity. Just like an ordinary little girl."

Mr Carson smiled as he watched her contemplating on Lady Sybil. He thought how beautiful Elsie looked at that moment, a blissful smile painted across her lips. Elsie! He thought quite flustered. He had just called Mrs Hughes by her first name. Relax old man it's only in your mind. It's much better off than the dreams you have about her at night, he thought. Mr Carson, felt happy in an awkward way, that at least in his mind he thought of her not as a Housekeeper but as a woman.

"I wish…" Mrs Hughes began to speak but a knock on her door and Anna rushed in. Mr Carson swiftly took his hand off Mrs Hughes' and one look at the girl was enough to tell him that Anna had not noticed that tiny detail.

"Mrs Hughes, you better come quickly. Something's gone wrong with the flour and Mrs Patmore is putting up quite a riot," she spoke as fast as she could, gasping for breath. Mrs Hughes sighed and got up from her chair.

"Here's me thinking that I could pass one day without mention of that bloody store cupboard key," Mrs Hughes muttered and followed Anna out of the door.

Mr Carson watched her leave and let out a sigh of his own. He didn't know what Mrs Hughes was just about to say before they were interrupted but he could guess. It must be about missing having children of her own. It was extremely rarely that Mrs Hughes let any of her personal feelings out and even if she did, it was only a hint and only in his presence. He could read her fairly well but not as well as she could read him. He didn't think about a family often, and certainly not with anyone else but he knew that to Elsie this was a great deal. She would have actually made a good mother, he often concluded having watched her comforting many a maid and footman, hall boys too. And something in her past made her give it all up, he guessed, though he could not guess what it was. Whatever the reason was, it was buried deep in her heart and often rose with vengeance, threatening to tear her apart.

They both had secrets, he knew it. He also knew that she couldn't make a guess about even half of his life before service, a past he had locked away. Of music halls, women he once loved (never as strongly as he loved her, it was her and only her for him since she walked through the doors of Downton) but forgotten with time, stage partners, vulgar jokes and merry laughter induced by an extra pint or two. He hoped for a day when they could lay bare their secrets and their souls. But he didn't know when or how.

To be continued…

Thank you so much for taking your time to review this story. And also a big thank you for all guest readers, whom I cannot thank personally. Hope that I can keep up this steady speed of updating throughout the story. I still haven't decided on a definite number of chapter and still I am going with the flow, one chapter after the other. Hope you are enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing this