Author's Note: Chelsie fans, this one is for you!


With the triumph of the night coursing through her veins, Elsie Hughes marched through the downstairs, happy to ignore her lingering aches and pains. The staff had only just begun to sit down to a well-deserved dinner, everyone dead on their feet from the day's events.

Dinner itself was an amusing affair. There were talks of various feats –– "Well, I saved the Dowager's wedding present from getting smashed!" "Oh, yeah? Well, I kept his Lordship's snuff boxes safe! Again!". There was even a swapping of strategies –– "Did you really think that thread was gonna catch the thing?" "Well, you see, it's all in the material. Yarn would have been too obvious…".

By the end of it, Elsie was more than ready for bed. Then again, she had been ready for bed for about three hours. But who was counting? Still, there were things that needed attending to. Her sitting room, for instance. Those little dears had made quite the mess out of her room and she would have to fix that before she could even think of retiring for the night.

"Mrs. Hughes?" Elsie looked up at Daisy's voice in the doorway. "Mrs. Patmore said something about Mr. Carson wanting to congratulate the senior staff on a job well done."

"Does he now?" Well, that was a changed tune. She would have thought a lecture was in order, what with her involvement.

"Yeah." The assistant cook commented, watching the older woman continue tidying up the mess that had once resembled her sitting room. "But, you see, he apparently wanted to do that before it got too late. And so they were wondering if––"

"I'll be along in just a moment." It only figured Beryl sent Daisy over to grab her. No doubt the cook was still fuming over her having escaped the pantry.

Well, it wasn't her fault Thomas had decided to help in that affair!

Mind, given that Daisy wasn't going to leave her doorway anytime soon, Elsie gave up on cleaning. She ignored the complaints of overworked muscles and followed after the girl, hoping her friends would keep this celebration brief.

"They're in his pantry," The assistant cook offered, ducking back into the kitchen, "Goodnight, Mrs. Hughes!"

"Goodnight, Daisy."

With nothing more to be said, the woman took a breath and marched on over to the pantry. The sooner she accepted Mr. Carson's pomp and circumstance, the sooner she could get back to cleaning. Not to mention the real goal of the evening, one commonly referred to as sleep.

"We're in here, Mrs. Hughes!" Elsie rolled her eyes at the obvious fact, willing her patience to hold out as long as possible.

"Ah, Mrs. Hughes," What? What was the doctor doing here? And why did Mrs. Patmore look insufferably pleased with herself, shutting the door with glee? "Just the person I was looking for. What's this I hear about a quaint kerfuffle with a kitten?"

The housekeeper would have scoffed at the alliteration were she not currently doing her best to assure the man of her health, "It was only two minor incidents, Dr. Clarkson. Nothing worth bringing you out here, certainly not this late."

The butler cleared his throat, eyeing her in disapproval. No doubt he caught the two part of her statement and wanted to know what she meant. Yes, well, she wasn't going to be informing him of what happened in the dining room.

Luckily, before the pair could discuss the matter, the good doctor was interjecting, "I'd like to be the judge of that, if you don't mind."

The housekeeper did mind. But she knew that any injury brought on by a stray cat was no laughing matter. And though her wrist had been seen to by the cook, she didn't mind confirming nothing would come of it.

Once her wrist had been officially seen to, she thought that the end of it. Dining room shenanigans aside, smacking into a table hardly called for an examination.

Alas, "And how's the head? I heard you had a collision in your sitting room."

Given that there was only one person who could have known that, Elsie didn't bother holding back a glare.

Mind, Mr. Carson was more than happy to meet it, calmly holding his ground and then some.

"Well, I suppose it does ache a little." She confessed, feeling much like the kittens they'd just caught. "But nothing too serious."

"Then you won't mind if I conduct a few tests of my own?"

The woman allowed him to conduct his tests, not pleased about the circumstances. No doubt, her friends would be getting quite the earful when this was all over and done with. But it wasn't as though she could truly refuse the doctor.

Minutes later, "Well, you do have a minor concussion. Nothing too serious. But I'm afraid you'll have to go to bed at once. And, of course, you'll need a companion to stay with you until noon tomorrow."

Elsie inwardly groaned, not thinking his instructions that necessary.

"Well, I need to finish cleaning up the rest of this mess." Mrs. Patmore commented, continuing, "But I'm happy to take over for the night if you want to get her upstairs, Mr. Carson."

The housekeeper interjected, "I still have a mess of my own to attend to."

"I'm sure that can wait until tomorrow." Elsie wouldn't going to scowl at the doctor. She would not scowl at the doctor. "If you could see to her getting upstairs, Mr. Carson?"

"I'd be happy to do so." Of course he was. Daft man. "If that is all, Dr. Clarkson?"

"I think that's it for me. But do let me know if your symptoms get worse, Mrs. Hughes."

"Of course." With that, there was nothing more for Clarkson to do. In seconds, he was bidding them all a good night and wishing them luck with the fate of the kittens.

When the doctor left, Elsie opened her mouth to start the lecture. Only Beryl's glare was mighty fierce, the woman beating her to the punch, "Don't ever do that again. I thought something had happened to you when I couldn't see you through the window! Bad enough to leave, but to put the chair as though nothing had happened?"

Mr. Carson interjected, undeniably upset, "Who let you out in the first place?"

"It's not my fault that the chair was loose!" She was in no mood to get Thomas in trouble. "And might I add that the doctor said it wasn't too serious!"

"Oh, right! Because your needing constant supervision until noon tomorrow isn't too serious!"

"Mrs. Patmore! Might I remind you," But before she could send off a volley of retorts, the butler was interceding once more: "Mrs. Patmore, I believe you mentioned some cleaning?"

Beryl scoffed at the man, in no mood to be interrupted. But she could tell that it wasn't worth it to pitch a battle tonight, "That's right."

"You may want to see to that sooner rather than later."

The cook's nod was rough and unamused, the woman muttering something about ridiculous housekeepers as she bade them a terse goodnight.

Elsie scowled at her, having half a mind to continue the battle. But one look at Mr. Carson and she knew it was pointless, "I take it you're also disappointed in me?"

"I'm only relieved you're all right." His admission was too earnest to anger her, the woman finding the fight beginning to seep out of her. It helped that he was only just saying this now. Had he spoken as such earlier, she might have smacked him for his needless worry.

"Well then," The housekeeper took a step, surprised at how wobbly she felt. Perhaps she'd done more than even she realised. "I think it best to get going while I still can."

Elsie kicked herself for phrasing it like that, hastily adding to the now scurrying butler, "I only mean that I'm a little tired."

"Say no more, Mrs. Hughes." Sound advice, given her propensity for worrying the man. But before she could remark as such, he was guiding her to the now-opened door. "If you'll allow me."

She nodded, distracted by the aches brought on by the movement. Really, every incident had been comical more than anything. These effects shouldn't have lingered this long, not in her opinion.

"That was certainly an ordeal." The housekeeper offered this as a subject to discuss, not wanting an awkward silence to linger between them as they managed their way toward the steps.

"You can say that again." She went to cheekily open her mouth and do as instructed, but his knowing stare took care of that plan. It seemed they would be in for a long night getting up these stairs, given his lack of amusement. "I can only be thankful the family knows nothing."

Elsie doubted that, but was in no mood to contradict the man. Of course, when that meant she had nothing more to say on the subject, that meant they were in need of a change in topic, "I don't suppose you'd care to explain why you had to rope Clarkson into this."

"I wasn't the one who did the roping." When Mrs. Patmore realised her friend had slipped out of the pantry, she had decided to ring the doctor personally. Quite a feat, given the woman's reluctance to go near the object.

"Well, he needn't come out so late. I'm sure he had better things to do than see to a silly old woman."

Mr. Carson came to a stop, looking away and shaking his head at the comment, "I don't particularly care for that perspective."

"When I managed to hit my head on that table? Not to mention getting scratched and heaven only knows what else?" She countered his words at once, disbelieving, "It sounds rather silly to me."

There was that pause again as his jaw went to work itself, hands twitching. "But it's not."

Elsie snorted, unsure of what brought on this passion, "That's very kind of you, but––"

"It's not." He repeated, fervently. "How were you to know I'd entered the room? And given that my shocking you was the reason you hit your head in the first place,"

"Mr. Carson," She needed the man to stop beating himself up for what was simply an accident. "You are not to blame for any of that!"

"Aren't I?"

"No." The housekeeper rested a hand on his arm, standing much closer than she had been a moment ago. "Not in the least."

"Well, neither are you." He pointedly informed her, unconsciously moving to place his hand on top of hers. The sensation comforted them both, the pair oblivious to the distance –– or lack, thereof –– between them.

Her breath caught up to the scene, tightening as the reality set in. But neither the butler nor the housekeeper went to step back. In fact, they were meeting one another square on. There was nothing to consider or become embarrassed by, not now in this moment.

If anything, this moment only told her more of the truth she'd spent far too long denying.

"Well then," Elsie spoke with a soft determination, feeling bolder than ever before. But whether the kittens or the concussion brought this on, it didn't take away from the fact that it felt absolutely right to do this, "If neither of us are to be blamed, what are we to do?"

"If I may make a suggestion," He was equally bold, prompting her to nod in approval. But that only set off another wince, bringing his hand to her cheek. Elsie leaned into the tender warmth before her, finding his touch to be more of a cure than anything the doctor advised. "Is that better?"

Her hum was an affirmation through and through, the housekeeper inadvertently taking another step toward him as her eyes closed in appreciation, "Much better, yes."

When her daft butler remained quiet, an auburn head of hair tilted questioningly, "You were saying?"

"Well," He breathed, unwittingly drawing her further in. Yet the man remained insistently tight-lipped.

"Mr. Carson?" Blue eyes opened to watch brown glance away from her lips, his face reddening from getting caught.

But this only coaxed a hopeful smile, her own hand reaching out to cup his cheek, "Might I make a suggestion?"

It was his turn to be stunned by her actions, finally meeting her gaze once more and seeing what lingered in the woman's demeanour. Unable to believe what he glimpsed, "Mrs. Hughes?"

She carried on with just a wee bit of cheek, "You are free to find it risqué, but I ask that you consider it, nevertheless."

Despite the fact that he was well aware of the fact that he was being teased, the man's gruff tone failed to hold any true bite, "Well?"

"Would you be so kind as to show me just what you'd been thinking?" She gave a meaningful look at his own lips, surprised at the audacity that had taken hold of her. But maybe that was what resulted when mischievous kittens had worn them out. After all, propriety had been swept aside long before that last hellion collapsed on them.

"Are you sure?" The butler wondered, no doubt thinking this to be a dream.

She didn't shake her head at his incredulity. Nor did she speak of her certainty.

What Elsie Hughes preferred to do, rather, was bring the man's face a mite closer to hers, "The question is, Mr. Carson, if you're sure."

He was.

And he was more than happy to prove it.


Author's Note: Gotta love the wholesome fluff!

Hope you enjoyed this little adventure, whiskers and all. 'Till next time!

Oh, and to anyone who wonders as to the fate of the kittens, let's just say Mrs. Hughes will make sure nothing bad befalls them –– much to Mr. Carson's immense frustration ;) :)