A/N Well, here it is - Chapter 5. If you're still reading, thanks for sticking with me this far. I know we've been moving slowly, but things are starting to pick up. For those of you who have said that you can easily believe that it might happen this way, thank you! I think so, too. That's my whole intention. I've tried to keep it as believable as possible - something that could (wishful thinking?) actually happen in Series 4. I hope I haven't disappointed!
Chapter 5
Charles was, once again, in a state. He had another question to ask Mrs. Hughes. His anxiety was milder this time, though. He had by now grown accustomed to his new arrangement with her and had become more confident. Nearly every night for a month, he had gone to her sitting room or invited her to his pantry. They had talked and drunk their wine or tea or sometimes just sat quietly, enjoying each other's company.
Spending his evenings with Mrs. Hughes was nothing new, but Charles now looked forward to their time alone with even greater anticipation. He had become more comfortable holding her hand. He had even been so bold as sometimes to caress her hand while holding it - to brush her knuckles with his thumb or to run his fingertips over the back of her hand. She had reciprocated by delicately stroking his hand with her soft fingers, and he had marveled at the way her touch could be both so exhilarating and so comforting at the same time.
Now, after a month's time, he hoped he might be ready for the next small step. He had invited her to his pantry and was now waiting for her to finish her work and join him. Finally, Mrs. Hughes arrived.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. That took a bit longer than I had expected," she apologized.
"That's quite all right. Mrs. Hughes, I wonder if you might like to join me for a walk tonight. We won't go far, just a little stroll through the grounds. It's a beautiful evening. I know it's late, and it might be a bit chilly, but we won't stay out long," Charles implored.
"I think that would be lovely," she agreed.
"Excellent. Shall we?" he said, smiling and motioning towards his pantry door.
On the way to the back door, they stopped to get their coats. Charles held out Mrs. Hughes's coat to help her put it on, something he never did when others were about. When she turned around and slid her arms into the sleeves, he allowed his hands to linger lightly on her shoulders. Then he put on his own coat, and they stepped outside.
Once in the courtyard, he offered her his arm, something else he never did in the presence of others. She took his arm, and they shared a smile. They walked slowly through the courtyard and out onto the lawn. It was indeed a lovely evening. The sky was clear, and the moon was bright. Neither of them minded the slight chill. On the contrary, the cool air provided an excuse for them to walk closer than they otherwise might have.
As they walked, they talked about the day's work and commented on the beauty of the grounds. Charles led them to a bench near a flower garden, and they sat down next to each other. He took her hand, as was now his habit when they sat alone together. Neither spoke for a few minutes, but the silence was comfortable.
Then he turned to face her, still holding her hand, and said, "Mrs. Hughes, I must confess, I have a particular reason for inviting you out here tonight."
"I should hope so, Mr. Carson!" Mrs. Hughes teased. "It's very unlike you to lure an unsuspecting woman to a dark, secluded place late at night, so I can only assume that your motives are entirely honorable."
Charles felt his face flush and nearly lost his nerve, but he was determined.
"Not entirely, I'm afraid." he admitted, at which point Mrs. Hughes looked at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. He continued, "They're not dishonorable, exactly, but selfish, perhaps. You see, there is something I've wanted to do, but I can't do it in either my pantry or your parlor; the furniture is not suitable."
"Oh? And just what type of furniture would you require in order to be able to do this 'something'?" she wanted to know.
"Well, a settee, or a sofa, or even a bench like this one. Anything that would allow us to sit side by side," he explained.
"I see. And just what, precisely, is it you've been wanting to do that requires us to sit next to each other like this?" Mrs. Hughes asked.
"Mrs. Hughes … " he began nervously. "I have enjoyed holding your hand these past weeks, and I hope you haven't found it too unpleasant," he continued with downcast eyes and a self-deprecating grin. "At any rate, you've allowed it, and I am very grateful for the privilege. I wonder if you would grant me the further privilege of resting my arm about your shoulders when we are sitting as we are now."
Charles thought he noticed her shiver. Perhaps she was cold, but he hoped there might be a different reason - the same reason that sent shivers up his own spine, a reason that had nothing to do with the night air and everything to do with their current proximity and the prospect of more intimate contact.
"Mr. Carson," she responded with a shy smile, "I also have enjoyed our recent dealings, and I would be only too pleased to allow you to place your arm round me."
He smiled back, gently let go of her hand, pulled his arm back, and slowly raised it around her back it until his hand came to rest on her shoulder. He was elated when Mrs. Hughes slid closer and leaned lightly against his side. She placed her hand on his knee, and he covered it with his free hand. Charles started to rub his other hand in delicate circles around her shoulder and upper arm, and she shivered again.
"I'm sorry. You're cold. We should go back," he offered, disappointed.
"No, not at all!" she assured him. "As a matter of fact, I'm quite comfortable, really."
He couldn't help smiling as he gingerly pulled her closer. They sat quietly, both too content for words. Charles closed his eyes and released a sigh that he hoped wasn't too obvious. He had never been so close to Mrs. Hughes. He could feel her shoulders rise and fall with her breathing; he could smell her shampoo. And how he longed to bury his nose and lips in her hair! It would be so easy. If he just leaned in a few more inches…
But he couldn't. Not yet. All this was too much for Charles. He had been in love with Mrs. Hughes for two decades, and now, here he was, holding her close, and he was afraid. Did she feel for him any part of what he felt for her? Maybe she was just being kind, tolerating his recent nonsense. Perhaps she thought him ridiculous. Oh, blast! He resolved to enjoy this perfect moment right now and ponder his foolishness later.
Her voice pulled him from his thoughts. He turned towards her and found her looking at him earnestly.
"Thank you for this, Mr. Carson. It's very pleasant, being here with you … though it's a shame we have to come all the way out here to find 'suitable furniture,'" Mrs. Hughes lamented.
"Oh, I don't know … Sometimes it's nice to get away from the house. It gives one a different perspective on things," he noted, hoping his deeper meaning wasn't lost on her – or maybe hoping it was.
"It does indeed," she agreed.
"Perhaps … we could do this more often?" Charles suggested tentatively.
"You have only to ask," she responded.
"Then I shall," he told her, smiling eagerly. "You may depend on it. Now, let's get you back inside before you catch cold."
"I'm not that fragile, Mr. Carson. But you're right. We probably should be getting back now," she acquiesced.
They both stood. When he offered her his arm, she wrapped both of her hands around it and held it firmly. Charles enjoyed the feeling of having Mrs. Hughes on his arm and felt a sudden surge of pride at the thought of having such a lovely woman holding onto him possessively. As they walked back to the house, he found himself thinking he would like to able to walk with her like this more often – to the village to run errands or to church on Sundays. He was so distracted, in fact, that he had difficulty keeping up the light conversation she was making.
When they were back inside, Charles helped Mrs. Hughes take her coat off. Once again, he enjoyed the pleasure of letting his hands linger longer than strictly necessary on her shoulders and shuddered when his fingers brushed the soft skin of her neck.
She turned to him and said, "I should be heading up now. I'll say goodnight." She smiled and softly squeezed his arm before continuing, "Thank you for a most delightful evening, Mr. Carson. I can't remember having spent a nicer one."
"The pleasure was all mine, Mrs. Hughes. I'll just lock up and then be off to bed myself. Good night," he responded, returning her smile.
Mrs. Hughes turned and walked upstairs. Charles watched her until she was out of sight, struck, not for the first time, by her beauty and grace. Then he completed his final checks for the night with a light heart and a silly grin.