Thank you for the kind comments. I'm trying to keep the chapters short and light but there will be angst to follow.

Part Three

It was already eleven when Carson finished his work for the day. Even on a relatively uneventful day there still seemed to be so much to do, and the Dowager Countess had invited herself to dinner, adding to everyone's workload. Her presence had meant that his Lordship had needed to change his outfit at the last minute, Mrs Patmore had been forced to vary her choice of vegetable and the after dinner coffee had dragged interminably. Finally, to the collective relief of the staff, the family had retired for the night and he had been able to retire to his parlour.

The decanter of claret had gone untasted in the absence of his usual companion and he had found himself, lights turned on low, pouring over the pantry and wine ledgers. There was, he had to admit, method in his madness. A little extra paperwork tonight meant a little less tomorrow. As he closed the ledger with a thud and rose to his feet he heard Anna's voice drifting down the corridor. He chuckled lightly as her usual gentle tone rose in volume becoming more impatient with each passing second, and he heard the sound of scurrying feet across the tiles. She was no Mrs Hughes he acknowledged but the formidable Scot had taught her well. Arching his back he tried to stretch the fatigue from his body, rotating his neck to ease the stiffness. The voice moved closer and he glanced up at the door, anticipating her visit.

"Goodnight, Mr Carson," she said, appearing in the doorway, offering him a small smile. "I have sent everyone to bed, including Mrs Patmore, and turned off the lights and made sure Thomas locked the back door." There was something else she was sure she needed to tell him but it was all but forgotten after her first day in charge.

"I will check it myself shortly," he said, offering a nod of his head in approval.

She nodded, not in the least bit offended. "I'm going up now, if there's nothing else."

"Goodnight Anna."

"Goodnight Mr Carson." She turned slightly, intent on going on her way, then paused, biting the inside of her cheek nervously. "Would you like me to check on Mrs Hughes?"

He watched her, anticipating her question but finding he didn't have an answer. All day it had been playing on his mind. Elsie was the closest thing he had to a friend, had been for as long as he could remember but their positions prevented him from showing more than a casual concern for her welfare. They frequently shared secrets and discussed affairs beyond the walls of Downton, their rare arguments doing little damage to their relationship after so long. Yet they had never shared a meal together just the two of them, taken a walk in companionable silence or acknowledged what they truly were to each other. As he had waited in the drawing room after dinner for his Lordship he had wondered whether it was time to be a little more of a friend and less of the Butler, but then he had considered where they were, how fortunate they were, and sense had prevailed. So it surprised him when he heard himself say, "No, I'll do it myself."

"Yes, Mr Carson."He could have sworn she grinned. It would have irked him, had it not been for the fact it was such a rarity in current times and he rather liked the idea that he could make her smile.

Turning off the light, he took the same walk he did every evening, checking and double checking the back door and wandering through the rooms until he was certain that everything was ready for the morning. Slowly he ascended the stairs, his apprehension growing with each step. He was a man of propriety, a man who felt safe within boundaries and yet he was about to step beyond those boundaries. In the eighteen years they had worked together, they had shared many a cup of tea or glass of wine after dinner, always in his parlour or her sitting room. For the first time in their relationship he was about to step over the threshold into her room, not just step but hopefully stay a while. In any other circumstances it would never have occurred to him but she was sick and if he was to sleep at all he needed to know for himself that she was alright.

The women's corridor was empty and silent as he lightly knocked on the door, waiting for her to call out before he opened the door and stepped inside the room.

"Mr Carson?" she stammered, pulling the sheet up to her neck. A deep crimson hue covered her cheeks, in sharp contrast, he noted, to the paleness of the rest of her skin. "What are doing here?"

He found himself staring unabashed at her. He couldn't help himself. Even in the dimness of her room there was something ethereal about her. It wasn't that he hadn't noticed how beautiful she was before, despite the matronly outfits that drained her skin of colour, it was just that the circumstances had added a new intimacy.

Mrs Hughes blushed deeper, her fingers unconsciously toying with her hair as it hung loosely at her shoulders, tousled from where she had lain on it. His scrutiny was unnerving, yet not unpleasant, she had to admit.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, dragging his eyes from her face. "I came to see how you were."

"Won't you sit down," she suggested, indicating the threadbare chair beside her bed. In truth the constant looking up at him was hurting her neck, not to mention she felt at an unfair disadvantage.

Turning to ensure the door was still open, the last modicum of propriety in the situation, he settled himself in the chair. Leaning forward, hands clasped in his lap he asked softly, "So how do you feel?"

Elsie smiled weakly, feeling anything but the strong, capable housekeeper he had come to depend on over the years. "I must admit that I have felt better." She brought her fingers to her forehead, gently massaging the headache that was forming. "I'm sure it's just a cold or something that's going around."

He nodded, a grim smile on his face. The blush having dissipated, her face now carried the shade of her nightgown peeking out above her blanket. "Is there anything you need?"

She shook her head firmly, ignoring the pain searing through her skull. It wouldn't do for the Butler to be waiting on the Housekeeper. "Anna left me with a jug of water and some aspirin." He looked, she had to admit, slightly disappointed. "Isn't there something you should be doing?"

"You want me to leave?" he asked in a tone that belittled his amusement that she would so readily dismiss him after he had taken such a big step.

"No, of course not," she offered awkwardly. "I just meant I shouldn't be keeping you from your duties."

He laughed, his chest rising and falling beneath the constraints of his dinner suit. "It's almost midnight, Mrs Hughes, the only thing you are keeping me from is my bed."

Such a simple phrase but one that now occupied her mind. She tried to imagine them as companions, she really did and most of the time it worked. One day they would retire together and live in a two bedroom cottage on the estate, spending their day pottering in the Garden and reading. They would be friends. Sometimes she would allow herself to daydream, to believe that they would become more. The notion that he would wake up one day and realise that he was in love with her, or even lusted after her, was a silly school girl wish and one that she shouldn't allow herself to have, but she did. The familiar image of him, tucked up in bed, sheet wrapped around his waist, chest speckled with salt and pepper tuffs, heaving with laboured breathing brought forth yet another blush.

"Mrs Hughes?"

She waved him off. "I really don't feel that well," she half lied.

"Here have some water." He poured a generous amount into her glass. He really didn't like the way her skin flushed a deep crimson hue then dissipated to a grey colour. "When did you last take some aspirin?"

"Before dinner I think."

Charles held out two small pills and her hand reached for them, her fingers grazing his palm, causing them both to grab their hands away instantly.

"Thank you," she said throatily, swallowing the pills and taking a sip of water. She spluttered as it went down the wrong way. "Sorry. Maybe we should both be getting some sleep."

He nodded, mentally chastising himself for disturbing her so late at night. She was clearly unwell and as concerned as he was for her health he wasn't helping. "If you are sure there's nothing I can get you, I'll bid you goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mr Carson," she said quietly, exhaustion beginning to consume her body as she settled herself back on the pillow.

He rose to his feet, crossing the carpet to the door, turning briefly. "Would you permit me to call on you again tomorrow after lunch?" Charles asked, suddenly feeling nervous at the prospect.

She managed a small smile. "I would like that."

Charles nodded, pulling the door closed behind him. Glancing up and down the corridor he was relieved to see that none of the maids were lurking outside. Letting out a deep breath he fumbled in his pocket finally pulling out one of the keys Anna had given him. The door clicked open, and he stepped back into familiar territory, once more the Butler.