A/N We're making some progress now. Thanks for sticking with me! And once again, thanks to all who reviewed.

Chapter 8

Elsie was tired to the bone. She had been exceptionally busy all day, and it was now very late. She was in Mr. Carson's pantry, waiting for him to come back downstairs. He was attending to His Lordship and Mr. Branson, who seemed to be in no hurry to retire this evening. His Lordship had even sent Mr. Bates home earlier with Anna, saying that he would manage changing on his own. Mr. Carson had managed to slip out at one point and had come to tell Elsie not to wait for him, that he might be quite late tonight. But of course, she would never miss a chance to spend time alone with him, and so there she was, sitting in his armchair, trying not to fall asleep …

Suddenly she became aware of Mr. Carson's hand on her shoulder, gently nudging her awake.

"Come, now, Mrs. Hughes. Be off with you, then. It was kind of you to wait, but you shouldn't have. You'll surely regret it tomorrow," he said softly, leaning over closer to speak to her.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Mr. Carson. I must have dozed off. Did His Lordship and Mr. Branson finally go up?" she said, rising from the chair.

"Yes, and so should we," he told her.

"Well, I suppose it is too late for a chat and a drink now," she agreed, disappointed, looking at the clock on his mantle.

"Yes, I'm afraid so ..." he lamented. "But ... If you can afford just a few more minutes, how would you feel about a short walk? Would you care to accompany me while I perform my final checks and lock up? It won't take long."

"I would like that, yes," Elsie replied without hesitation, pleased at the chance to spend just a few more minutes with him.

"Good. So would I," he said.

As Mr. Carson made his rounds with Elsie at his side, they chatted about this and that, whispering so as not to wake anyone. Elsie saw a distinct benefit to this situation: they had to lean in close to speak to each other. Every time Mr. Carson's warm breath tickled her ear, goose bumps sprang up all over her skin. They completed their circuit at the stairs to the servants' quarters and paused at the place where they would have to part ways, where Elsie would head towards the women's corridor and Mr. Carson towards the men's.

"Thank you for coming along with me," said Mr. Carson quietly. "I enjoyed your company."

"Well, I'm glad to have been of service," she told him.

"I've kept you long enough already, but I do have one more thing to ask you tonight, if it's not too presumptuous," he entreated.

"Of course, Mr. Carson. What is it?" she asked.

"I would very much like to ... Would you mind if I ... " he stammered. Mr. Carson took a deep breath and in low tones, finally voiced his request: "Mrs. Hughes, may I kiss you goodnight?"

Elsie thought she might fall over. She could scarcely believe it. Had Mr. Carson really just asked to kiss her? He must have. He was standing there, awaiting her response, regarding her with a look that she had never seen before and couldn't quite identify. She stood frozen for a moment before she managed to nod her head and breathe a whispered, "Yes."

Mr. Carson looked around to ascertain that they were alone. Of course no one was about at this late hour. He raised his hand and placed his warm palm against her cheek. Elsie closed her eyes. While she was reveling in the feeling of his hand on her face, she was growing impatient for his lips to arrive there. When she finally felt them, she was only mildly displeased to find that they had come to rest on her other cheek. Of course, she had been hoping that he would kiss her on the mouth. But when the feel of his lips on her cheek made her feel like this, how could she be disappointed? She doubted that her poor heart could survive anything more intimate.

After lingering a moment longer, Mr. Carson pulled his face back just far enough to whisper, "Good night, Mrs. Hughes." As he withdrew his hand, his fingers briefly caressed her face. When she finally opened her eyes again, she dared to hope that the smile on his face mirrored the delight she felt in her own heart.

She regained the ability to speak just in time to rasp out a weak, "Good night, Mr. Carson," as he turned towards the men's quarters.