A/N: Reading your guesses is as much fun as writing this chapter. Thanks for all the feedback and enjoy!
Oh, and spot the Persuasion quote!

Chapter 4

From there on things picked up a bit. She no longer avoided him and agreed to spend an evening in his pantry again, enjoying the leftover wine. And although that first evening was still a little awkward, once it was over they fell back in their familiar, comfortable routine. Another two weeks passed and it appeared as if everything was back to normal again.

Except that he couldn´t quite let go of the thought that there had been something more – something that he had somehow missed. He felt like a dog with a bone, determined to find out what it had been that had upset her so. His only clue was her rather cryptic remark about a letter. A letter of which she had meant every word, but that for some reason shouldn´t have been read by him. He had pulled out all the letters she´d send him when he was in London and studied each and every one of them carefully, but he came up blank. There was nothing out of the ordinary in them. He briefly contemplated asking her about it again, but he was anxious to put another strain on their only recently mended understanding.

Something just wasn´t quite right. He caught her staring wistfully in the distance rather often and she still appeared to be a little absent-minded on occasion. And whatever it was that Mr Moseley had done to get in her bad books, it looked like there was little chance she would forgive him any time soon.

The answer to his ponderings came one morning, about a month after his return from London. Just as he was about to go out and start the dinner preparations, William brought in a letter addressed to him, that had arrived earlier that afternoon. Much to his surprise he noticed it was from the London housekeeper. Wondering what on earth she could have to write to him about, he placed the letter on his desk and left for the dining hall, promptly forgetting all about it.

It wasn´t until he returned that evening, around ten o´ clock at night that he noticed it again. Settling himself down in his armchair, he opened the letter and was surprised when another letter fell out of the envelope, accompanied by a small note, informing him that this letter had been misplaced at the post office and had only been delivered to the Grantham House last week. He picked up the wrinkled, folded, cream-coloured envelope and immediately recognized Elsie´s handwriting.

With a small start he realized that this was most likely the letter she had been referring to a few weeks ago in his pantry and which existence she had studiously denied ever since. Any answers to her puzzling behaviour of the last month would probably be found inside the envelope. Carefully he slid it open and pulled out a tightly-written sheet of paper. His eyes checked the date first: Downton, 23th of April, 1913. Then he began to read in earnest, the first words already causing his heart to expand in his chest.

´Dearest Charles…´

It wasn´t until he had read the letter for the third time that its meaning finally began to filter through his brain. She loved him. Deeply and steadfastly. As much, as passionately and as whole-heartily as he loved her. This was not a letter to recover easily from and he was still staring at it when a soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. The door opened only slightly and her face peeked around it.

¨I´m about to turn in, Mr Carson, unless there´s anything you need.¨

He regarded her with a rather dazed expression on his face, subconsciously covering the letter with his hands. She looked a little tired and wore what he had come to dub as her ´unguarded face´. Usually, at the end of a long day when they had worked hard, but everything had gone smoothly, her face would acquire that peculiar expression of satisfied tiredness. Her posture would become a tad less rigid and she would smile that little content smile that told him all she was looking forward now was a well-deserved sleep. This lapse in her usual so stern composure made her look a little vulnerable and for some reason it was always very endearing to him.

¨Sleep well, Mrs Hughes,¨ he told her with a soft smile.

¨You too, Mr Carson,¨ she allowed a hint of worry to slip into her voice. ¨Don´t be up too long. It´s been a long day for both of us.¨

¨I won´t,¨ he promised, his mind barely on the conversation and fully on the revelations this beautiful woman had made in her letter. And yet, he couldn´t bring himself to tell her yet. The shock was too fresh and he still needed time to process it all.

She gave him another little, beguiling smile and then she quietly closed the door behind her. He sat there, watching the door for what seemed like an hour. She had come to his pantry countless of times in the last twenty years to bid him goodnight. But knowing what he knew now shed a whole new light on the brief encounter.

She always made sure she wished him goodnight before she went upstairs, but now the vague aching feeling in his chest that this always evoked in him turned into a much clearer longing. Suddenly he pictured them as they would retire for the night together. He would extinguish the fire in the fireplace, she would turn off the oil lamps and blow out the candles. Together they would close the door of his pantry or her parlour – wherever they had spent the evening and they would make their final round through the servants quarters. He would check if the back door of the servant´s hall was really close and she would ensure the kitchen was in order. They would make their way upstairs through the darkness of the house and at one point, as they were ascending the stairs he would take her hand, wrapping his fingers closely around hers. They would enter into his room or hers, inseparably together…

He shook his head ruefully. As romantic as this particular daydream was, it was still highly impossible, as they were both still in service. Then he looked down at the letter in his hand and every doubt disappeared as his heart filled with an almost reckless optimism. Not with a letter like this. Nothing seemed remotely impossible anymore. Slowly getting to his feet, he went through all the motions he had just envisioned alone. And still, as he made his way upstairs through the pitch-black of the house he no longer felt alone, the words she had written coming to life as he heard her voice in his head speaking them.

Her actions of the past months became perfectly clear now and he cringed as he realized how he must have unknowingly added to her discomfort by being utterly clueless about the reason for her distress. He still didn´t understand how this letter had found its way to London - her statement that he hadn´t been meant to read it indicating that she hadn´t sent to him willingly. But it all made so much more sense now. No wonder she had been angry at him, no wonder she had been so nervous upon his return.

Suddenly he found himself lying in bed, clad in his pyjama. Somehow he had managed to get himself ready for the night without even noticing. He settled himself for another sleepless night, knowing full well that his thoughts would keep him occupied all through the night. It didn´t matter, he needed this time to come to a full and thorough acceptation of the fact that Elsie Hughes truly loved him. And to think of a way to tell her that he felt the same.

During breakfast it had been him who had been detained by his Lordship and by the time he finally came downstairs she was already on her rounds. He lingered in his pantry, ate a sandwich and hoped he would managed to catch her after she came down. But when Thomas informed him that the wine had been delivered he had no choice but to go down to the cellar to ensure all the bottles were stacked away properly. This took up most of his morning, but when he returned to the servant´s hall, shortly before luncheon, he caught sight of her entering her parlour. He paused for a moment, debating what to do. With only fifteen minutes to spare before both their presence was required in the servant´s hall, it wouldn't be wise to make any declaration now. A determined look settled on his face. If he was going to tell Elsie Hughes after twenty years that he loved her, he wasn´t going to be rushed.

Just then the backdoor of the servant´s hall opened and Anna and Beth, one of the scullery maids, breezed in, carrying heavy baskets with laundry. A ray of sunshine and a warm breeze fell through the room from the open door and as he realized what a beautiful day it actually was, a plan began to hatch inside his head. He pulled Anna to the side and quickly made his small request.

Then he made his way over to her parlour to find her sitting at her desk, pouring over some accounts. She looked up with a smile and suddenly he found himself completely at loss for words. For years and years he had kept his feelings for her under a tight look, forbidding himself to act upon them, or to even linger on them in his mind. He had done it for countless reasons - or so he had told himself. It would have been wrong for him to become involved with a member of his staff. He had sworn to himself long ago that his time of dalliances were a thing of the past. He had always frowned upon relationships between servants and he could make no exception for himself. But now he discovered that there only had been one reason why he´d held back all those years: up until last night he hadn´t believed for a second that she would return his feelings.

But now that he knew, every other reason seemed nothing more than irrelevant excuses. Now that he knew her heart, it was impossible to keep his own love for her in check any longer.

¨What can I do for you, Mr Carson?¨ It wasn´t until he heard her voice that he realized that he had been staring at her for some quite some time. He cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed and highly distracted by the look of amusement in her eyes and the way her smile turned a little teasing.

¨I was wondering if you could join me for a little walk after luncheon?¨ he asked, taking a few steps closer towards her. ¨There is something I feel that I need to discuss with you.¨

Her brow knitted in confusion. ¨During a walk?¨

He gave a little shrug and held her gaze. ¨It´s a beautiful day. It seems like a shame to waste it. I´ve already talked to Anna, she´ll be happy to hold the fort for an hour or so.¨

¨Alright…¨ She nodded slowly, still looking a little puzzled.

Relieved that she had agreed to come he extended his hand to her. ¨It´s almost time for luncheon.¨
Just before they exited her parlour she stopped in front of her mirror that was placed on top of the chest of drawers. With a little frown she rearranged a strand of hair and pushed a few pins tighter into her bun.

¨You look lovely.¨ The words were out of his mouth before he could check himself and he watched as her movements froze and she turned around to face him, her mouth slightly agape.
He should be embarrassed by his forwardness, but the truth was, he really wasn´t. He had thought it on countless occasions over the past years and as the initial shock over his sudden boldness was wearing off, he began to enjoy the way her cheeks tinged pink and she continue to blink at him.

¨You do,¨ he insisted firmly. ¨Come on, they´ll all be waiting for us.¨ He opened the door and allowed her to go first. As she brushed passed him, she was still eyeing him incredulously and he didn´t fight the small grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

She was just going to have to get used to being admired.

As butler and housekeeper, they usually sat close together, he at the head of the table and she on his right. Their close proximity made it easy for them to talk quietly and fairly undisturbed most of the time. They didn´t talk now, but he couldn´t keep his eyes off her. She had glanced at him on a few occasions and he refused to lower his gaze, but continued look at her, until she looked away, her confusion becoming more apparent each time.

She loved him. The thought still filled him with wonder and made him look at her completely different. He had always admired her complexion, but now he wondered – allowed himself to wonder what her skin would feel beneath his fingers and lips. He had always been mesmerized by her voice, but now as he watched her lips move as she was talking briefly to O´Brien, he wondered what they would taste like.

Her conversation with O´Brien had come to an end and she glanced sideways, finding his eyes on her again. He continued to hold her gaze until she blushed slightly and looked down at the napkin lying in her lap. Then she looked up again, a hint of worry appearing in her eyes.

¨Is something wrong, Mr Carson?¨ she asked quietly.

He gave her a little smile and shook his head lightly. ¨Nothing´s wrong, Mrs Hughes.¨ And when she reached out for the salt he hastened to hand it to her, deliberately brushing his fingers over her hand as he pulled back.

For a few minutes he busied himself with his own meal, until he accidently moved his right leg a little so that his lower leg came in full contact with hers. His first impulse was to pull back and mumble an apology, but he resisted and let his leg rest against hers for a moment, watching in amazement as the hand that gripped her knife was turning white at the knuckles form the way she was squeezing it. It was only when he pulled away that her fingers relaxed somewhat. But he was close enough to be able to hear that her breathing pattern had become somewhat irregular.

The wheels in his head were turning as he began to realize just how much of an effect he was having on her. Had it always been like this? Had he always been able to affect her so by a mere look or touch? He had always kept a professional distance from her, but over the years there had certainly been occasions where he had touched her. He offered her his arm on walks back from church when the roads were slippery. Occasionally he placed his hand on her back as she passed him through a door and their arms often brushed as they were walking through the corridors together. And of course there had been that memorable time when a speck of dust had gotten into her eye and he had held her face in his hand, trying to get the dust out with the tip of his handkerchief. Had she been as affected then as she was now? At the time he hadn´t noticed, being too preoccupied by the effect her nearness was having on him, but now he wondered if he had just been a very oblivious fool all those years.

Or he was simply imagining things. Surely the feel of his leg against hers wouldn´t get that much of a reaction out of her, would it?

The thought, once it had entered his mind, was too tempting to resist and slowly he allowed his leg to move forward again, until it´s lower half was once again firmly pressed against hers. He couldn´t been sure if he had heard the small hitch of her breath correctly, but his eyes were not deceiving him. She took hold of her glass of water but put it down after a few seconds, because her hand was trembling slightly. Instead she reached for her napkin and brought it shakily to her lips to wipe her mouth, her eyes darting to his side for only a fleeting second before her hand dropped back in her lap again, creasing the napkin with her tight grip.

Suddenly he felt guilty for making her so uncomfortable. He drew his leg back again and turned his attention back to his food.

They needed to talk.

And they will, hopefully tomorrow. Meanwhile, please let me know what you think!