Author's Note: That moment when your day got so easy and so lovely, you knew you could do another update :)

Now, to the story: did I mean for this to turn into a Chelsie chapter? Not at all. Do I have any regrets? Nope!

For Baxter fans, I promise she will show up. I just had to indulge in the Chelsie fluff once more before we get back to any real plot.

Enjoy!


Present Moment


"And that's the whole of it?" Mr. Carson questioned, endearingly befuddled by the events.

"Mostly."

"'Mostly'?" She really should have known better than to say that. But Elsie hadn't wanted to lie to the man.

"Well, they might have taken a liking to my dress." To the point where they'd change its silhouette.

Once Thomas had fled–– gone upstairs to rest, that meant there was no one else to distract them. Which also meant she was only the one who could make a grab for them. Only, they were content to carry on playing the same game they had with the under-butler. Which meant she'd had to chase them around her sitting room and ignore the fact that her dress was paying quite the price.

When the things had ducked under the table, Elsie knew this was her best chance to try something. She didn't have much of a plan –– it'd been years since she'd had to catch an animal, let alone a cat. But she took her time approaching them and the kittens had even calmed down.

It had all been going rather well. Until the butler had surprised her, that is.

"They'd 'taken a liking' to your dress?" Said butler questioned, his eyes skimming the fabric before comprehension dawned on him. "Oh!"

So, now Mr. Carson could see the lengthy tear that ran down the side of her leg. It was from that one time the smaller of the two kittens had gotten a good grip on the cloth. It wasn't too impertinent, all things considered. But it certainly was not proper.

"It should be easy enough to stitch." It would have to be easy, given that her dress was not something easily replaceable. "And luckily, they only got the cloth as far as I could tell."

No, the only part of her in any real pain was the wrist. Her head simply throbbed and her legs only threatened to hiss from the scratches.

"Well, let's get you seen to." He remarked, distracted. She gave an uncharacteristic shrug, not seeing much point to it. Cleaning the wrist and then bandaging was probably all that was necessary. There was no need to worry about the rest of her. "I can see now the kitchen's not in any shape to be used."

She chuckled, sparing a look in the direction of that mess. Thomas certainly had been desperate to catch the dears, judging from the mess. No doubt, when Beryl and Daisy finally return from their errands, they would insist the man clean the whole mess up. She would have to make sure they made such a request only after the lad had gotten enough rest.

"Right. If you'll follow me." As though she could protest. She was experiencing enough discomfort as is. She had no qualms relinquishing control over where they went, leaning on the butler in a manner that would have been deemed impertinent. But she was tired and in enough pain she thought it reasonable. "We'll have to clean the cut on your wrist, of course. But I want to get a good look at you and make sure we haven't missed anything."

Elsie leaned against the frame of the pantry's door as Mr. Carson stepped in, the man fetching her the nearest chair, "I doubt there's much to find."

"I would beg to differ." He informed her, guiding her to the seat. She acquiesced with a small smile, not minding the butler's manner as he took on the role of mother hen. She held out her wrist for inspection –– as he suspected, there was a cut there that they'd have to get seen to, but nothing too serious.

That was when he looked at her dress meaningfully, clearing his throat, "May I?"

Her eyes made the query while her mouth remained shut, her headache enough to keep her quiet.

"I'd hate to miss another scratch or cut. And given the circumstances, not to mention your condition, well," He gestured in the direction of her apparel, and she got the message at once. He wanted to make sure the tear on her dress wasn't hiding any blood. Given the impropriety of what he was suggesting, he was asking for permission to lift the fabric and properly inspect her legs.

"You may lift anything you like." Elsie was quite serious, even after she realised how risqué that sounded. As for the butler, he turned pink in the face before fidgeting with his hands, needing a moment before he could attend to the problem at hand. These were the moments she doubted she knew the truth of his sentiments toward her. Where she felt there may be something that hadn't been there before.

When he remained statuesque, she assured him, "Mr. Carson, I do trust you –– not to mention your judgment."

That settled his nerves, fortunately. In seconds, the man was kneeling and carefully taking hold of the fabric, doing his best to spot any injuries while still maintaining her virtue. And it only took an additional minute for him to declare, "There doesn't appear to be anything more than a scratch or two. No blood."

"That's good." The woman looked down at him in amusement, realising he still had his hands on the fabric. But she didn't mind. Perhaps he really did view the whole thing in a light she hadn't anticipated.

"Right." It was a pity when his mind caught up to reality, the butler letting go at once and swiftly getting back to his feet. So much for that. "The only thing I'm worried about now is that head of yours. And the wrist, of course, but we'll be taking care of that soon enough."

Elsie scoffed, "I can assure, nothing's wrong with my head."

If only she could be convincing. For as she made this declaration, something throbbed in protest and forced the woman to turn away, letting out a hiss.

"I see." Mr. Carson responded, his opinion quite clear. "Well then, you won't mind if I take a look?"

"Fine by me." The sooner he saw the truth, the sooner they could get her wrist properly seen to. The thing may throb, but there was no real cause for concern.

The housekeeper turned her head so he could get a good look at the spot in question. Only, he had to do more than look this time. He had to gently move the hairpins around to confirm there was nothing of import hidden.

She unconsciously leaned into his touch, closing her eyes at the ensuing warmth. Perhaps there was a purpose to this exercise: it allowed her a pleasure she thought impossible.

The butler was gentle, nearly tender in his inspection. In fact, he had to lower himself a little to get a good look, his sight not quite as perfect as it'd once been. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to reveal any hint of desire. It didn't help that she only had to tilt her head and their faces would be centimetres apart.

"I think you're all right." He muttered, more to himself than to her. But with his voice grazing her neck, the woman shivered. "Did that hurt?"

"No." Elsie kept her response brief because she didn't trust her ability to sound neutral. Suffice it to say, none of this was painful.

Not that she needed to embarrass the man by admitting to that.

Mr. Carson continued his inspection, considerate of how she styled her hair but determined to confirm there was no real pain. In the process, he practically massaged her head. With that in mind, his close proximity made it rather difficult to remember their respective roles.

When she felt his hands pause for more than a few seconds, blue eyes tentatively opened to softly meet brown. She stopped at the sight of such open expression in his eyes, how he looked at her so intently. Her hand reached out before she knew what she was doing, the woman cupping his cheek and basking in the sensation. He leaned in much like she had earlier, compelling her to lift herself up and finally bring her lips to his.

That's what happened in another life. In this life, Elsie remained seated. Her hands stayed by her sides. Trapped by those ridiculously embarrassing imaginations, the housekeeper settled for murmuring, "Did you find anything?"

"No." His hands left her as the man took a step back, regret seeping into the air.

"I don't suppose we ought to see to that wrist?" She inquired, belatedly wondering where the kittens had run off. But before he could agree to a thing, they were interrupted by a yowl and a loud sneeze on the top step. "Anna?"

The servant gave another sneeze, the door leading upstairs hastily shutting, "Mrs. Hughes? Why are there––"

With a third sneeze, the truth became clear at once: it seemed the lady's maid was allergic to cats.

Worse still, it seemed that very same lady's maid let the animals loose in the house.


Author's Note: So, given the fact that I'm making this adventure up as I go along: does anyone want anything in particular to happen?

It could be an easy day upstairs with the family out (which would be hilarious, given the levels of ridiculousness they could get away with). One of those, "Don't you dare knock over that vase–– no, get back over here you little––gah!"

But it could also be one of those, the Dowager's upstairs and most displeased / the kittens make a mess out of Mary's outfit / Isis gets into a kerfuffle with them / etc. which is equally hilarious.

It could even be one of those endearing, they're freaking out because they think the kittens are making a mess in the house but, in fact, the kittens simply bolted up to Thomas to curl up beside him.

In short, anything and everything is possible ;) :) just let me know your thoughts.

In any case, hope you enjoyed this. Till next time!