I hope you won´t mind terribly, but this story is going to have five chapters after all... Chapter 4 got away from me a bit...

Chapter 3

On a windy, chilly morning in June Elsie stood outside the front door, lined up with all the other servants to welcome the family and him back home. As the car pulled up on the driveway she felt the heaviness spread from her stomach to her throat, almost making it impossible for her to swallow. Her hands were folded nervously in front of her and she squeezed her fingers together so tightly that the skin around her knuckles was turning white. He was among the first to get out of the car, but he didn´t glance in her direction once, but instead helped the ladies depart from the car and instructed the hall boys which luggage should be brought inside the house first.

Lord and Lady Grantham greeted her warmly and airily and Elsie felt more or less reassured that they weren´t about to toss her out of the estate any time soon. It wasn´t until the whole gathering had made their way into the hallway when she finally found herself locking gazes with Charles.

He took of his bowler and smiled at her, taking her hand in his and squeezing it softly. ¨It´s good to see you again, Mrs Hughes,¨ his deep voice resonated.

¨It´s good to have you home, Mr Carson,¨ she replied, her voice turning into a nervous squeak at the end of the sentence, much to her aggravation. She tried to search his face for any sign or indication of his feelings for her, but he looked as calm and collected as ever. Just then a bit of a fuss erupted behind them when Lady Edith discovered that one of the dresses she had bought in London did not seem to be among the packages that had already been brought inside the house.

Since a new frock was obviously of far greater importance than her mental state or even twenty years of friendship, Elsie tore her eyes away from his face reluctantly and turned around. Their conversation would have to wait until a more appropriate time.

As it turned out, that time didn´t come until late at night, after the family had retired. She had spent a few minutes hovering outside the door of his pantry, working up the courage to go inside when he opened the door suddenly, almost giving her a heart-attack.

¨Ah, Mrs Hughes,¨ he said pleasantly, his eyes lightening up. ¨Would you like to share the remains of the wine with me?¨

She nodded wordlessly and followed him inside, her skin prickling with nervousness again. She perched herself on the edge of his couch, her posture rigid, ready to bolt whenever necessary. He filled two glasses, appearing to be perfectly at ease and handed her one of them.
¨To being home again,¨ he said softly, raising his glass to hers.

¨To being home again…¨ she echoed slightly bewildered. It was almost as if the letter had never been send. As if he didn´t have a clue about her feelings. Gingerly she took a sip of her wine, but it only served to increase her feeling of nausea and finally she decided she had enough. Whatever the outcome of their conversation would be, it wouldn´t be as dreadful as this anxious anticipation. Suddenly she longed to get it over with.

¨I feel that I owe you an apology, Mr Carson,¨ she began, her voice a great deal stronger than she actually felt. She barely noticed the look of surprise on his face as she ploughed on. ¨I realize my manner of correspondence must have been highly upsetting for you and I apologize profoundly for it. It was never meant to happen in the way that it did.¨

¨Well…¨ he started carefully, his face now falling a little. ¨I admit that I was a little surprised. But I understand how stressful it can be to have the responsibility of the house solely on your shoulders, so I chalked it up on that.¨

She stared at him in disbelief. ¨You thought I was simply overwrought?¨

¨Well, it seemed like the most plausible explanation,¨ he replied gently. ¨Please don´t distress yourself over it… I have already forgotten all about it.¨

Slowly her disbelief was giving way to anger. So this was the way it was going to be then? He was simply going to ignore everything that had happened and just going to pretend that her feelings didn´t exist.

Putting down her wineglass on the table with a decisive clink she rose to her feet and said tersely: ¨I´m afraid I´m rather more tired than I thought, Mr Carson. I think I will retire now.¨

He didn´t bother to hide his disappointment at her sudden departure, but he remained perfectly cordial. ¨Of course, Mrs Hughes. This must have been an exhausting day for you.¨ He got to his feet as well and showed her out of his pantry, but she could barely bring herself to look at him anymore, too overwhelmed with disappointment.

After he had gone back inside she stormed upstairs, straight to her bedroom and shut the door behind her with a rather loud bang. Quickly divesting herself of her clothes and shrugging into her nightgown she lay down in bed, facing the ceiling and utterly reeling with indignation.

She had been prepared for anything, had expected anything… except this: that he would simply ignore it and act as if her feelings weren´t there. He even had the audacity to suggest that her feelings were merely the result of her overworked mind, that the responsibility of taking care of Downton had been too much for her feeble, female mind. She made the unhappy discovery that this belittlement of her feelings was even more painful than a rejection could have been. She had feared she would lose his respect, but now she wondered if she had ever had his at all.

It had gotten to the point where he was actually losing sleep over her behaviour. He had been so looking forward to being home, being with her again, that her aloof, distant behaviour bothered him a great deal. The most frustrating part was that he was absolutely clueless as to what could be the cause of it. She had appeared a little tense and withdrawn at his homecoming, but she had agreed to come to his pantry later that night – only to leave very quickly after she´d come in, claiming fatigue and not even finishing her glass of wine.

He had analysed every word of the brief conversation in his pantry on the evening of his return, but he was none the wiser after that. She had apologized for the brief lapse in their correspondence while he was in London and although he had been a little disappointment at the time about her lack of communication he had, as he had told her, chalked it off on her being too busy at the moment. And after he had written her a second letter after his letter from the last week of April had failed to get a response, she had been as constant as before in answering him. Once she had apologized so sincerely for skipping that one letter, any annoyance he might have felt had evaporated instantly. He couldn´t quite belief that it would bother her to such an extent that she barely wanted to be in the same room with him anymore.

But for some reason, she continued to distant herself from him and it unsettled him greatly. Normally they would meet regularly during the day and stop for a brief chat or an update on each other´s activities. But now it seems that entire days could pass by without him ever bumping into her once and he was beginning to suspect that she was actively avoiding him.

And even though he usually saw her during mealtimes, he began to notice that she often found excuses to skip them altogether or leave after she had barely taken a few bites. It was two weeks after his return from London now and she hadn´t spent a single evening in his company. She always had some sort of an excuse ready: too tired, a meeting with Mrs Patmore, working on some paperwork or correspondence… he was beginning to get thoroughly fed up with it.

It all accumulated on a Monday morning in the third week after his return. He had gone to her parlour, intending to discuss the upcoming arrival of a few guests in the coming weekend, but he had barely been inside when she was already heading for the door, mumbling some vague excuse when he finally had enough.

¨What is it this time?¨ he snapped impatiently. ¨Do you need to feed the horses at the stable? Did one of the ladies misplaced a button that requires your immediate attention? Or are you simply too tired or too busy or too preoccupied to listen to me for five minutes?¨

She stopped in her tracks and turned slowly, a brief look of pain flashing over her features, before she regained her usual composure. ¨Actually, Mr Carson,¨ she told him coldly. ¨I was on my way to inspect the arrival of the supplies for the storeroom. With guests arriving this weekend I thought it prudent to make sure we won´t suddenly find ourselves without any key ingredient for dinner.¨

His shoulders slumped slightly and he bowed his head. ¨I´m very sorry, Mrs Hughes, I spoke out of turn. However, I cannot help but feel that for some reason you have been acting rather distantly of late. If I have done something to offend you, please tell me so that I can make amends.¨

She sighed deeply and he suddenly noticed her pale complexion and the dark circles underneath her eyes. Worry for her well-being overtook him and taking a few steps closer towards her, he reached out and softly touched her elbow. ¨Something is obviously upsetting you,¨ he told her gently. ¨Can you not tell me?¨

She bit her lip and wrung her hands together nervously. ¨It´s that letter…¨ she began haltingly and stopping then to take another shuddering breath.

He almost laughed out loud in relief. ¨I´ve told you before not to worry about that. I know you were particularly busy at that time. I don´t hold it against you, you can be assured of it.¨

Instead of calming her down as he had intended to do, his words only seemed to anger her further. ¨I didn´t write that letter because I was tired or overwrought,¨ she spat at him. ¨I meant every word of it, even though you weren´t meant to read it!¨

His eyebrows knotted in confusion. ¨I´m not sure that I understand you… you did write me a letter then?¨

It was only then that realization dawned on her, draining her of all her anger and resentment, replacing it with a feeling as if the rug had been pulled from under her – again. He really didn´t have a clue what she was talking about. For some obscure and incomprehensible reason he hadn´t received that letter. Somehow her secret was still safe and he was none the wiser about her feelings. He simply thought she hadn´t replied to one of his letters – during that dreadful week when she had been waiting for a reply from him to her letter. She blinked a few times, trying to get her thoughts and feelings in order, while he still stared at her, looking equally bewildered.

¨What letter are you talking about… what wasn´t I suppose to read?¨ he asked eventually, trying to make sense of her earlier outburst.

She looked down, trying rapidly to remember what she had and hadn´t told him. If he didn´t know, she most certainly wasn´t going to tell him now. ¨It was nothing, Mr Carson,¨ she answered in what she hoped would come across as a bright voice. ¨It seems this has been nothing more than a miscommunication.¨

Charles Carson was not that easily deterred though. ¨You mentioned a letter…¨ he insisted. ¨Was there anything amiss that you needed to tell me about?¨

¨No!¨ Goodness, how was she going to distract him from that involuntarily slip of the tongue? Deciding to go with his earlier assumption that she was upset about a letter she hadn´t sent, she said in a deliberate calm voice: ¨There wasn´t a letter. While you were away in London I got rather caught up with all my duties here and I forgot to reply to one of your letters. I am very sorry about that.¨
She could only hope that he would accept this excuse and would leave it at that.

¨Please believe me when I say that it didn´t upset me nearly as much as it seems to upset you,¨ he told her, his expression softening again. ¨I very much enjoyed every single letter I received from you while I was in London… you haven´t in any way been deficient in your correspondence.¨

She smiled genuinely at him for the first time in weeks. ¨Well… let´s forget this episode then, shall we?¨

He continue to stare at her, his brow frowning slightly. Something didn´t make sense, her chance of countenance was just too sudden. ¨Are you certain that is all there is to it, Mrs Hughes?¨ he asked slowly. ¨You seemed rather distressed these last weeks – and rather put out with me as well.¨

She was still frantically thinking of a suitable reply when they were disturbed by a knock on the door. Whoever it was, Elsie felt certain that this person deserved her eternal gratitude. These sentiments disappeared quickly however when Mr Molesley entered the pantry. He looked at her rather apprehensively and then turned towards Charles.

¨I just came to ask if my services are required next weekend?¨ he said, smiling nervously and glancing in Elsie´s direction every so often.

¨We will have a room ready for Mr Crawley if he does not wish to go home,¨ Charles replied thoughtfully. ¨But since Mr Crawley has already indicated that he will be present all weekend, but will return to Crawley House at night, I think you´ll be mostly needed there.¨

Then he looked at Elsie. ¨Unless you believe we need him here?¨

¨Oh no, I dare say we´ll manage perfectly well without Mr Molesley,¨ Elsie replied before she could stop herself, barely able to keep the bite out of her voice. She threw Molesley a dark look and he visibly shrank underneath her gaze.

Charles watched the interaction between them with great confusion. Whatever he had done recently to get on her bad side, it appeared that poor Mr Moseley was even more in the dog house.

I´d love to hear what you think!