Hello dear readers, I hope you are well?

Here is chapter two of "Coming to you".

Downton Abbey and all the characters are Sir JF's creations, so I obviously don't receive any compensation for writing and sharing my fanfiction.

I thank Pixie.

Thank you for your reviews.

In response to the Italian review: Thank you. I think you will be satisfied in the next chapters. I hope so anyway.

Caring for you

1899

Mr. Carson watched the dancers with a look of utter disdain. He had only agreed to go to this fair so that Mrs. Hughes would stop pestering him about it. The woman was really stubborn. He'd told her he'd rather stay at Downton Abbey to make sure no thieves broke in, but she'd laughed in his face and told him there was a better chance of a meteorite crashing into the house. Then she made her pleading eyes, and he couldn't refuse her. So here he was at the edge of the dance floor, glancing at the valets and maids, making sure there was no misconduct. Some were overdrinking, but apart from the hangover they would suffer the next day, nothing serious was happening.

Mrs. Hughes was dancing and looking cheerful. He thought he would ask her to dance before he pulled himself together, if he did they would both become the subject of the most unseemly gossip and shame their employers, and that was absolutely out of the question.

He began to get bored, Mrs. Hughes was still dancing, and as Mrs. Patmore was also on the dance floor, he had no one to talk to. So he decided to go and have a pint in the refreshment room. After all, he could afford to have one drink before going home. He and Elsie had decided to allow the staff to stay at the fair until midnight because the family had gone to stay with friends for a few days.

With his pint of beer in hand, he looked around the dance floor again. He saw the cook hopping happily with a nearby farmer, but did not see the housekeeper. He thought that perhaps she had gone for a last look around the stalls before returning and decided to go and meet her.

The drink disgusted him a little, he had the habits of a marquis without being one. He much preferred wine, and not just any wine of course. He thought of Elsie's laughter when he told her about it, yes she would laugh at him, and he would pretend to be offended by it but would be amused by it too. He was now looking forward to going home.

"Hey old man!"

Lost in his thoughts he did not immediately understand that these words were for him. He continued walking, but two individuals blocked his path. He had strayed from the fair without realizing it.

"Oh, can't you hear when people talk to you, old man? "

"Excuse me?" Charles was shocked to hear these two young men who were young enough to be his sons address him in this way. Mr. Carson was a very respected man, he didn't understand.

"Hey, the old fart is getting angry," said one of the men.

Charles looked at them quickly, they were both in their early twenties and had certainly had a lot to drink. One was his height but thinner than him, the other was shorter but also stockier and looked more surly.

"Look, gentlemen, I don't know what you want from me, but I don't think I know you, so if you'll just let me pass..." he tried to pass, but the two men in front of him stopped him.

"Where do you want to go? Isn't this a good time to be a man? Now you're going to empty your pockets and give us your wallet, your watch and the pretty chain that holds it, and your hat too. "

"I'm not giving you anything! "

Charles didn't know them, they were certainly not from Downton or the surrounding villages.

Suddenly his head and his ears were ringing, and he was in pain. He straightened up, and put his hand to his sore left cheekbone. He looked up and saw the smaller man with a closed fist shaking his hand.

Charles was no longer a young man, but at forty-three he was in the prime of his life. He straightened up completely, bent his chest to face his attackers. He felt the blood trickling down his cheek. These barbarians would have made an inelegant mark on him that might prevent him from showing his face upstairs. In anger he struck back, but the smaller man was agile and avoided Charles' fist, which went to strike the taller man, who fell on his buttocks, holding his nose.

"You fucking old man! You broke my nose! Jack, he broke my nose, the bastard! Fucking smash him, fucking smash him!"

The Jack in question didn't hesitate and charged headlong into Charles' belly, who took the impact as best he could, his breathing stopped for a moment, but his instincts soon took over. As Jack kicked him in the ribs, his head still buried in his stomach, Charles pulled him by the hair, as hard as he could. He heard Jack groan in pain, and finally pulled away from him, stopping the blows.

Wheezing, with a bloody face, he knew that the two thugs were not finished with him. The tall one stood up, holding a handkerchief to his nose and giving him murderous looks. The boy was holding the top of his head, where Charles had pulled out a lock of his hair.

He realised that he still had it in his hand, and dropped it in front of Jack, who again charged at him headlong, but this time Charles was prepared and managed to get out of the way enough not to take it head on. But the little rascal was resourceful and turned just in time to kick him in the left knee and knock him down. Charles was then hit again in the stomach and again in the jaw. He tried to protect his face as best he could, but that Jack was snarling and he was a bit stunned.

"Hey, leave him to me so I can make that bastard pay for my nose!"

Charles thought it would be over soon, he would eventually pass out, the two would rob him and someone would find him, call for help and he would be back at Downton Abbey. He waited for the blow that would knock him unconscious, but it did not come. Then he realised that he could hear the sounds of a struggle nearby, he looked up and was convinced that he was hallucinating.

oOo

Elsie saw Charles walking away from the fair, she tried not to lose sight of him, he seemed to be completely absorbed in his thoughts and was walking away from the house. She waited a few minutes, but when she didn't see him coming back, she decided to go and meet him. She walked a few metres, the path was poorly lit, she did not like being alone in the dark, but she needed to find the butler.

She walked on and stopped at the sounds of banging and grunting in pain, she silently approached the scene and what she saw turned her heart. Charles Carson was on the ground, curled up in his arms, with two men surrounding him and beating him. Elsie didn't think, she grabbed one of the large stones in the path and charged at the smaller man, hitting him in the back with all her might. The man collapsed, unconscious.

The second man turned, and went straight for Elsie. She didn't think any further, Mr. Carson looked unconscious too, she let her fear and anger overcome her and she charged at the taller man, he grabbed her laughing at her, he had a few seconds of fun, she was small, he was huge. He tore off the front of her dress, revealing her corset and he laughed and Elsie went into a rage. She started hitting, punching, biting, as hard as she could. The man was forced to let her go, he slapped her, she recoiled in shock, but she felt nothing, she went back and spat at him. The man turned his back slightly in disgust so she took the opportunity to jump on him. Clinging to the big man's back, she tried to bite him in the neck, in the ear... everything she could reach.

Charles couldn't believe his eyes, right in front of him Elsie Hughes was hitting the taller one while the shorter one looked faint a few steps away. The taller one was struggling, but the housekeeper was on his back, hitting and biting him with all her might. She looked like a real harpy just by the light of the moon.

Suddenly he saw the big man's hand grab her by the hair and swing her in front of him.

"Elsie!"

Charles got to his feet, forgetting his pain. All he could think of was Elsie, whom he had seen thrown to the ground.

She barely screamed, slumped to the ground and took a while before she stood up, looking angrier than ever. She ran at the big man without thinking, screaming, while Charles was already dealing with him. The fear and adrenaline of seeing Elsie thrown with force had been enough to make him throw himself into the battle, and he wanted him dead. He had never felt this hatred before, he hit with his fist, with his foot, slapped him while insulting him.

"You deserve to die, little bastard, you deserve to die and burn in hell! "

He was going for another blow, as he held the guy by the collar.

He didn't hear Elsie calling him. He did not hear her say:

"Mr. Carson! Mr. Carson, please stop! Mr. Carson!"

But when she shouted :

"Charles!"

His fist hung in the air for a moment, then he finally lowered it completely and let go of the man he was holding, who was slumped over and fell face down, unconscious.

He looked up at her, they looked at each other, she seemed to be afraid of him.

She wiped her face, tried to calm the tremors in her hands. Elsie didn't know what state he was in, she approached him as she would a frightened animal.

"Mr. Carson?"

He was still looking at her, she didn't look hurt, he could finally sigh with relief. Then he felt an immense pain in his ribs and all the aches and pains from the beating he'd received flared up, and Charles dropped to the ground. Sitting on the ground, he watched her approach.

"I'm all right, Mrs. Hughes. "

"Oh, thank God!"

She was beside him, kneeling and facing him. She cupped his face, pulled a handkerchief from her blouse, and wiped the blood from his cheekbone. She saw that his jaw was swollen and his right eye looked bad. He took her hands and brought her against him. He had been afraid for him, but what he had felt when he saw that man throw Elsie to the ground was beyond fear. So he held her close, he needed it, he needed to feel her alive on his heart. She let herself go, sinking perfectly into his arms, they were both shaking, from shock, pain and fear.

"Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes! Oh, God! Oh, God! Don't move, I'll get Dr Clarkson, he's not far away. "

It was Mrs. Patmore who had found them still embracing and trembling, looking unwell and two men still unconscious a few feet away.

"Mr. Carson, I think... I think I killed him," Elsie said against his chest. She felt him tighten his arms a little more on her.

"Shhh Mrs. Hughes, it's all right, don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you. He's not dead, he's breathing. It's all right, Mrs. Hughes." Talking hurt, breathing hurt, hugging her hurt, but he wouldn't have changed his place for anything.

She was terrified, her cheek was burning from the slap she'd received, her whole body hurt from the fall, she didn't think anything was broken but her whole body ached. She didn't answer him, she wanted to believe him. A few years before he had promised her that she would always be safe with him, so she believed him.

oOo

She was lying on her bed, waiting for the doctor to come and check her out. He had looked at her quickly and a carriage had taken them back to Downton Abbey and once they arrived at the house someone had helped them up to their respective rooms.

She couldn't remember who had helped her out of her stained and torn dress, or who had cleaned it. She knew that Doctor Clarkson was with Charles who was much more injured than she was. She was fine, she had a few aches and pains, her upper lip was slightly split, but she was sure that with a little rest she would be able to resume her daily duties in two days at the most. She was much more worried about the butler. She sighed, grew impatient, she was about to get up and go straight to his room to see him, to make sure he was alright, but someone knocked and the door opened, it was a young housemaid, Emily, who let the doctor in, finally.

"Thank you Emily, you can close the door on your way out," Elsie ordered firmly.

Doctor Clarkson approached her, smiled, before starting the conversation in a tone that was intended to be gentle and caring:

"How are you, Mrs. Hughes? "

"I am well, Doctor, thank you. How is Mr. Carson?" she replied, letting the doctor examine her.

"Do I hurt you when I press here?" he said as he palpated her belly.

"No, it doesn't hurt. Is Mr. Carson all right?" She was getting agitated and impatient, he wasn't answering her and she didn't like that.

"Please calm down, Mrs. Hughes, I will answer all your questions after the examination. "

She huffed in exasperation, but allowed herself to be taken in, hoping that it would be quick. The doctor examined her all over, from head to toe. She had some bruises, would certainly be sore for several days, but nothing to worry about.

"And now, Doctor, are you going to tell me how Mr. Carson is? "

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes, I will tell you. Mr. Carson is asleep. I've given him a strong enough sedative to ease his pain, he'll sleep for several hours. He has two broken ribs, a large haematoma on his knee, two sprained fingers. I had to stitch up his cheekbone, the scar was worrying him but it will be gone in a few months. His jaw and right eye are swollen. He has a painkiller to take for three days, no more to avoid dependency, and ointments to apply and bandages to change twice a day. "

"I will take care of it. Can I go and see him now? "

"He is sleeping now. And you need rest too. You may be less physically damaged, but believe me, a good night's sleep will do you a world of good. I'll leave you some pills to help you sleep through the nightmares. Now just lay down and sleep and then you can go and see him. Tomorrow morning I shall send a telegram to the Granthams to let them know what is happening, and I shall come back here at the end of the day to check on Mr. Carson. Take care, Mrs. Hughes."

"Thank you, Doctor, goodbye. "

As soon as the doctor closed the door behind him and she could no longer hear his footsteps, she jumped up from her bed, ignoring her aching back. She put on her dressing gown and left her room as quietly as possible. She opened the door that separated the women's and men's rooms and crept up to his room.

She entered without a sound and approached the bed in which he was fast asleep. He made occasional plaintive sounds and snores.

When she saw his face, she let out a sob. He was unrecognisable, his face was so swollen. She was grateful that the doctor had given him a sedative so that he could sleep without too much pain.

She noticed a chair to the left of the bed, moved it so that it was closer to him and sat down in it. She needed to make sure he was okay, she wanted to be the first person he saw when he opened his eyes. They were friends, friends took care of each other and that's what she would do.

She put her hand on Charles' unbandaged hand, rested her head next to it and fell asleep.

She woke with a start when she heard a grunt and felt him move.

"Mr. Carson? Mr. Carson, it's all right, you're at home, you're in your room, everything's fine."

But he didn't look fine, he was grunting and fidgeting and she didn't know what to do.

She shifted slightly so that she could speak closer to his ear:

"Mr. Carson, it's Mrs. Hughes. Are you hurt anywhere? "

"Mmpf, Missuze? "

"Yes it's Mrs. Hughes, it's me Mr. Carson."

"Aoutch ! Missuze, zirzty."

"All right, I'll get you a drink, can you sit up?"

She saw him trying to get up without success. She quickly came to his aid, helped him to sit, arranged his pillows and brought the glass of water that was on his bedside table to his lips. He drank slowly, wincing. Then he pushed the glass of water away and sank back into bed, groaning.

"Doctor Clarkson will be back tomorrow to see how you are, in the meantime rest, everything is fine."

" Missuze ? pliz, zty'"

She wasn't sure she understood everything but she thought he was asking her to stay and it made her smile.

"Of course I'm staying Mr. Carson, you're not getting rid of me that easily. Go back to sleep. "

" u'r nize. Nize zveet and petty Missuze"

His head snapped to one side and he began to snore softly again.

She let out a small laugh, if he remembered what he had said, he would have a stroke.

oOo

"You know, Mr. Carson, if you really wanted to get me into your room, you didn't need to get beaten up. All you had to do was invite me in!"

She had been looking after him for almost three weeks. Mr. Carson was recovering well, his ribs were better and he was now able to get out of bed unaided and walk for an hour a day outside, Mrs. Hughes by his side, always.

He grumbled, which made Elsie say:

"That's a sign that you're getting better, Mr. Carson. You'll see, I'm sure Dr Clarkson will allow you to resume your duties very soon."

This made him grumble even more and made Elsie laugh.

She helped him to bed, he could have done it alone, but he let her guide him anyway. He felt lessened now that he was better, and he was beginning to dislike the proximity Elsie was imposing on him. She'd changed his face bandage twice a day for a week, rubbed ointment on his eye and jaw to help soothe the bruises, massaged his sore fingers, brought him a daily ice pack for his knee, read to him, brought him food and fed him the first few days when he was in too much pain. She even changed the sheets on his bed, which he soiled on the second day because he couldn't get up. She had never passed judgement, never had a look of pity. She had always been kind and gentle with him. She had even kept him connected to his work, bringing him the wine list, the menus, and news of the house and servants. He had loved every moment of it, and he was beginning to think that he might have loved it a little too much for their own good.

It was really when she had offered to shave him on the fifth day and he had accepted without much ado that he had become concerned about the direction their relationship was taking. She was his friend, his best friend, certainly his only real friend, but what he felt when she touched him, when she was near him, when he was invaded by her smell...

What he was feeling and the reactions of his body were clearly not feelings or reactions to have with his friends, he told himself.

So that night when she wished him good night and tucked him in after massaging his fingers, he exploded, he needed to put some distance between himself and her:

"Stop treating me like a child! Get out of here!"

She walked out smiling at him. He sighed and unfolded his knees, which he had pulled up to hide the physical discomfort her proximity was causing him, and ran a hand over his face.

He had to admit it, he wanted her.

He preferred to tell himself, however, that he had gone too long without a woman in his arms and that his body was crying out for this particular attention. After all, he was only a man, Mrs. Hughes was beautiful, kind, funny and she had taken care of him during these three weeks of convalescence with gentleness, it was quite normal that his body reacted. Yes, he had a man's needs, and in the next London season he would go to one of those houses, give some of his money to relieve those needs and everything would be back to normal.

He hoped so very much.

When she returned to her room, she laughed as she prepared for the night. She was glad to see that he was better and that he would soon be able to return to her side to run the house. She was sure the doctor would give her his blessing after the weekend and in three days things would be back to normal. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes side by side.

She put on her nightgown after a quick wash and went to bed. And suddenly she became aware of his smell, of the softness of his hand as she had massaged his fingers, she remembered the day she had shaved him. She remembered the tension in the room, and the look in his eyes that never left her. She had not dared to propose it, he had never asked her to do it again. He had managed to do it himself, cutting his skin in several places. She thought of the warmth she felt when she was with him and realised that she wanted him. She sighed. Yes, undeniably, she wanted him. She tried to tell herself that it had been far too long since a man had looked at her like the woman she always was, that it had been many years since she had been courted, kissed, caressed... that she was just a woman and her body was responding to Mr. Carson who was a handsome, tall, strong man and he was paying attention to her.

She was going to have to stifle that desire, for both their well-being and the balance of the house.

In the meantime, she slid her hands under her nightgown. She eased the tension that consumed her, and she came with the thought of him.

That should be enough, she hoped very much.

TBC…