Chapter 26

"I am sorry Mr Carson for making you upset several times this morning. I was not in a good frame of mind and I let it affect my work. I admit, it is highly unprofessional. I am sorry," Mrs Hughes stated gently, finally breaking the silence between them.

"It is alright Mrs Hughes. I do not deny that I did feel you were unjustly accusing me at times," he said and Mrs Hughes smiled an apologetic smile, "but we are all human after all, aren't we? In life we make mistakes and they are what we must base our improvement on," he ended on a philosophical note. Mrs Hughes wondered how Mr Carson was capable of such fine words of wisdom spoken with such class and elegance. She presumed that it was his work that had cultivated this ability in him.

"Thank you Mr Carson. I am indeed very grateful for your kind consideration," she replied in her own practiced tone of Victorian politeness, which was rather force fed on the Highland girl as she grew up.

Mr Carson tilted his head slightly to the side, as he often did when she was upset or when he felt sorry for her. He wanted to let her know that he is willing to listen to whatever was on her mind in the strictest of his confidence but how he was to this through to her without making it sound too forward and intruding, he didn't know.

"Mrs Hughes I am here for you if you were to need anything," he subtly put his words in place hoping she would read in between the lines, the help he was ever willing and ready to offer to her. The love he held for her. She looked at him and smile. The kind of smile of hers that he would die to see every minute he is awake. That smile he thinks of every minute before he falls asleep and when he first wakes. Her smile that is so radiant with kindness.

"Thank you for that Mr Carson," she replied emphatically. Her tone relayed to him that she had in deed read between the unsuspecting words, as she almost always did. And though she may choose to act upon the reassurance he had offered, he was pleased and relieved that she did not toss his offer aside either not caring or in shock.

Mrs Hughes was grateful for his words. She knew that he would always be her friend and stand beside her. He knew he was a kind man. But Becky was a rough sea that she knew many could not withstand. She would hate it if he was to think less of Becky or he was to think her unkind for supporting her monetarily instead of caring her. She knew she gave the poor lass a better chance of life this way than caring for her by herself but Mrs Hughes could not take the risk. She could not have him thinking her selfish and unkind, inconsiderate. She knew that making Charles Carson look at look at her from an evil light would tear her apart and wreck her world. So she just smiled. A smile that she hoped would convey to him her gratitude for his words. And an apology for not letting go of her secret.

And he read through her smile. He knew her life was all within herself and she rarely let it out. Never to other but always with him, when she wanted to. And he decided not to put further on the matter of the anxiety. Like always she would tell him, all in her good time. And he would wait. He would always wait for Elsie Hughes.

Elsie's eyes fell on the dress on her desk. It may be because of the tenderness induced in her heart by Mr Carson's words earlier, which made her speak her next words without any encouragement or inquiry from him.

"It's lovely to have a child around," she spoke softly, her eyes still fixed on the dress.

"You do enjoy having Lady Sybil around, don't you?" he asked quite surprised. She almost never initiated conversation on such sentimental matters that were close to her heart. It was required a rather ungentle push of his words to get the sentences out of her. He watched it awe as she spoke of the little girl with such love and affection.

"Reminds me of a bit of myself. That seems like a hundred years though," she finished her sentence looking at him. And he tilted his head in that adorable way, making her hold her smile for longer than she initially intended to. He could easily picture the similarities. Two dark haired, adventurous girls always getting into trouble over their curiosity. That sounded very much like a young Elsie. But he also noted the differences. While Lady Sybil was mostly soft spoken, Elsie commanded a confident loud voice. While the young girl had eyes with the blue of the skies, his Elsie had the blue of the Northern Scottish seas. The seas in her eyes, he would gladly drown in, to seek their depths and to love their waters.

Several every day conversations passed between the Butler and the Housekeeper, from misbehaving footmen to the plots of the Ladies' maids and valets, from His Lordship's various dilemmas to Her Ladyship's myriad different requests and the Dowager's cutting lines. The grocer's boy winking at a kitchen maid and his father trying to avoid his promise of a discount on the flour. From Lady Mary managing to shatter a vase a half century old to the mistakes in wine deliveries, till the little clock on the Housekeeper's mantelpiece struck twelve midnight.

"I suppose that's marching orders for us, Mrs Hughes," Mr Carson got up from his chair having emptying his glass and Mrs Hughes handed him her empty one. He carefully placed the stopper on the decanter while she put out the final embers of the fire that had died many minutes ago and then went on to put of the candle on her desk. She shut the lid of her ink pot, gave her papers a final shuffle and put her sewing box into the cabinet along with the pin cushion. Then folding the dress of the little girl to take it up with her lest something happens to spoil it more during the night if it was to be left in the sitting room.

From a distance he watched her make these practised movements. To him, his pantry was his office, a mark of his dignity. A title for his honour and position. But to her this was a sanctuary. A little home she carefully created for herself beneath a roof which was not her own. The display of the china she had received from employers before and present in gratitude for her loyal service. Little trinkets she had collected over the years fit for a house she probably doesn't know if she would ever have for herself. Embroidered flower bouquets in cheap golden frames, their paint dulled and long gone, left only in some corners like relics from an age past. Picture post cards of the green hills and dark lochs of Scotland, and of blue beaches and golden sand, that he couldn't recognise where, with children playing in the background, all faded into the sepia tones. Photographs with people whom he dared not question who. Though in the far corner, almost unnoticed in a tiny frame, a teenaged Elsie Hughes smiling at the photographer, in another time and another place. An entirely different world.

She walked over to the table, as always like she did finally, and took the candle stick in her hand and she felt his gaze glide over her arm and then to her face as she leaned in slightly to take the candlestick with the now very short candle. She took a few steps towards the door frame and he faced her. Only he knew the hurricane of emotions let loose in his heart and the weighing of the possibilities in his mind. She hoped he did not hear the beating of her heart right through her chest. Or the sigh that is threatening to escape from her lips. He let his gaze linger on her eyes and she allowed hers to linger on his.

"Mrs Hughes…" he began on a softer note than usual. The softest note he thought he could manage. His heart urged him to continue, to seize the moment. His mind willed him to wait, for the perfect time would come for them when it is supposed to. They played a game of tug of war with his soul in the seconds that clicked past and were creeping on to be minutes.

She knew the embers that were burning between them had showed tender flames that night. She knew the answer her heart was prepared to give. But not so sure if that coincided with what her mind reasoned to be the most apt for their situation. This wasn't the time for them. This wasn't the place for them. This was very well not the lifetime for them. But a soft whisper at the very corner of her soul told her, the time will come, it will, perhaps not right now, but it will, it will.

"I wish you a very good night," he voiced as he swallowed the harsh lump that rose at his throat. But the fear and regret he was prepared to feel was washed away with the heavenly smile that she readily gave him. Maybe she would never speak her love for him in the very words they wanted to hear but in her smile, he knew her heart overflowed. That would keep them going, till it is time.

"A very good night to you too Mr Carson. Sweet dreams," she said softly and waited a minute till she broke their enchanting gaze. But the beautiful bubble of their world remained intact. It was a bubble they would save, a bubble they would fight with fate to save, over time.

He blew out the only remaining candle in the corridor and followed her up the stairs. The sweet dreams that she wished upon him would be filled with nothing but its speaker.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Thank you all so much for your kind reviews. I am ever so grateful. I'm sorry about taking too long to update. I promise I'll try to publish the next chapter as soon as possible. And please excuse any typing errors. I checked the document a couple of times but there are always a few that slip through. Hope you don't mind those. And also please excuse the long descriptions and any discrepancies in terms of the nature of the dialogue of the era. I am from nowhere near the UK or Europe for the matter *apologetically smiles* and in our country we do have quite an affinity towards lengthy descriptions. See you soon with a new chapter!