A/N: Honestly, I don't know where this is going, any more than Fellowes does. So let's just let them be them for a bit, yeah?
By the time she made it back downstairs that night, she was less than steady on her feet. Sleep would be welcome, if only she could manage to turn off her thoughts. She sat back on the settee and closed her eyes. A moment's peace…
…and there it was again, Sarah O'Brien's shrewish face swimming before her. God Damn and blast that woman! Leaving with such little notice. And with such a flimsy explanation. She really wanted to know the truth of it. She thought it might not hurt to have a talk with Mr. Bates — he seemed to be able to suss out behind-the-scenes drama almost as well as she could, and perhaps he knew something she didn't this time.
In the final analysis, of course, it didn't matter, not really. Miss O'Brien was gone, that was that. Despite the extra work, she knew she shouldn't allow herself to be too upset about it. The woman was a shit-stirrer of the first order, and she was now someone else's problem. Surely that was a good thing?
But whatever else the woman was, she had been good at her job, and finding a replacement for someone of O'Brien's qualifications was not going to be easy. While she generally handled hiring and firing of the female domestics without consultation, this was quite different — even Mr. Barrow's opinion was being solicited and considered. A new face was imminent, and the unknown was worrisome.
Sometimes, the devil you know is easier to deal with than the potential one you don't.
In the meantime, Mrs. Hughes was in the unenviable position of being at Her Ladyship's beck and call more than usual, if such a thing was even possible. Of all the things, at her age and position, having to now also dress the lady of the house when they were all in deep mourning. And putting up these new hairstyles, for goodness' sake. She had actually had to sit down with Anna for a couple late hours the previous night and — she shuttered at the thought — practise.
It wasn't that she disliked Cora Crawley, goodness no. They had worked well together running the household for nearly two decades now, through peace and war and back again. But the coming weeks promised more personal levels of interaction with Her Ladyship than she was used to, or entirely comfortable with.
Frankly, the vapid small talk drove her a bit mad.
Cora was a gossip. Elsie Hughes was… not. She could see now that O'Brien had had her Ladyship's ear far longer than had been healthy for anyone.
Miss O'Brien is soooooo lucky I don't know where she is right now, that's for sure.
She slipped off her shoes, stretched out her legs on the settee, and closed her eyes again. Just a few moments of rest and she could navigate those blasted stairs, extract herself from this hateful corset and…
"DAMN that woman!" she exclaimed aloud, forcefully, to the empty room, fist pounding on the back of the settee. She had been seething all day, and it had reached a boiling point. It didn't help that there wasn't a thing more she could do about it tonight.
"You don't say?" She jumped at the sound of his voice. He'd poked his head around the door quietly just as she was taking out her frustrations on the settee cushion.
"Oh, Mr. Carson!" She flushed, putting her feet down and sitting up straight again. "You startled me. I was just… letting off some steam. It's been a long and tiring day."
"I expect it has. Although I'm not certain what that pillow ever did to you."
When she snorted a laugh, it came out almost like the beginning of a sob.
"Mrs. Hughes- are you- are you alright? Truly?"
It was his kindness, the clear concern etched into his face that finally broke her, and without warning, she felt her eyes burning and the tears threatening. Dammit. Why now? You stupid cow. Couldn't keep it together one minute longer, could you, had to let him see you like this.
She felt the cushion dip as he sat down beside her. Not too close. Just close enough, but never too close. "Mrs. Hughes, I-"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Carson. I'm simply exhausted and thoroughly frustrated by the situation. It could be weeks before a suitable replacement is found for Miss O'Brien — whose timing, may I say, was impeccable as always-"
And whose name she just said with an amount of venom that she normally reserved for truly special occasions, he noted silently.
He regarded her for a moment. She sniffed. "-and you don't have anyone to yell at about it, I know. Well, it has to come out somehow."
She took a deep breath. Another, more steadily still, but not quite in control yet.
He handed her his handkerchief solemnly. She took it with weary gratitude. "Thank you."
"It's the very least I can do. Although if you do need someone to yell at-"
"Mr. Carson, I won't take this out on you…"
"-I should think not! No, I was going to suggest James or Alfred. I could easily come up with a reason for one or both of them to require a dressing down from the housekeeper. Or perhaps Mr. Barrow?" The corners of his mouth tugged up slightly and she knew he was trying his best to make her smile. "Well, perhaps not him. He listens to you more than to me, I'd best keep you in reserve where he's concerned."
She laughed weakly now, then sniffed, beginning to pull herself together. Stupid, stupid woman. He hates this type of thing. But he was looking at her still, and not with the uncomfortable prickliness she'd come to expect of late. His look was… tender. It was that soft, caring smile that he so rarely allowed to show. It was unexpected today, given how he'd seemed to be pulling back recently.
'No need to get sentimental.' Right. No need at all, said the pot to the kettle.
This life. This damned, solitary, lonely life. It would be so, so nice to have someone to simply hold you once in a while. Physical contact. At times like this, she craved it so desperately.
"I probably don't say it often enough- I know I can be a cranky old thing, but I am always on your side. I do hope you know that?"
"I could never doubt it for a moment," she replied with a watery smile.
"I just wish I could do something to help."
She sighed heavily. "Unless you fancy helping to dress her Ladyship tomorrow morning…" — his face somehow managed to convey both amusement and mild alarm at the same time— "…probably not. But I appreciate the thought."
She dabbed at her eyes a final time and made to hand back his handkerchief. A large, warm hand enveloped hers, and coaxed her to close her own back around it instead.
"Keep it, please. Especially if it's the only concrete thing I can do right now."
She looked up and met his eyes. The tenderness and caring were so palpable, and he was still holding her hand, and- oh please. Please let's just stay here like this for a bit. It was exactly this type of touch she needed so badly. So very badly.
When his other hand joined the first, she hardly noticed, so lost was she in the moment. When she felt his thumbs trace light patterns over the back of her hand, her eyes closed briefly in bliss. She breathed in, and her other hand drifted up to join their clasp. She felt him breathe out with her, opened her eyes again and let herself fall into his just a bit further. Please, if nothing else, let us have this much and never regret it.
"It's not-" Oh, lass, what are you doing? It's so good just like this, can't you leave it be? But she couldn't. Not any more. "It's not the only thing you can do."
He hesitated slightly, but only just. "What then?"
"I- just-" she gave his large hands clasped over her own a gentle squeeze. "This. Thank you. For this. Sometimes... sometimes this is what I need, more than anything else."
He looked down at their joined hands and seemed to be astonished that they were still interlocked, as though he'd completely forgotten that he'd been the one to initiate the contact. For a moment it looked like he might pull away. She tightened her hold on him.
Such a simple thing, a simple but perfect comfort. Please don't regret this, dear man, please. "There's nothing improper in it, Mr. Carson. Truly. And I appreciate it very much."
As he registered this, he met her gaze and his face softened once more. "You take care of us all, Mrs. Hughes. I- I worry sometimes that no one takes proper care of you."
One eyebrow raised and the corner of her mouth quirked up. "Only sometimes?"
"I'm afraid you know me too well."
"Quite right. As you should be. Afraid, that is."
They both smiled at that. He squeezed her hands once more then stood, coaxing her to her feet with him. "I know you're tired, but-"
He paused. Took a deep breath. Seemed to come to a decision.
She waited. Tread softly, lass. Tread softly now.
"Might I request the pleasure of your company as I do my final rounds this evening? Just a quick last check that everything is locked up, and then I'll be turning in."
She was surprised when he then offered his arm, as if he were going to escort her to the village or the fair instead of simply a few feet down a deserted corridor. She found that she wasn't as exhausted as she had been a few minutes ago.
"I- I'd like that very much." She took his arm with both hands and he led the way out of the room. Side by side, they leisurely made their way down the corridor that they walked hundreds of times a day, in the direction of the back door. This was silly, she knew. They both knew. But for now, perhaps it was the best they could do.
For now.
"I'll be alright, Mr. Carson. One day at a time, like always. I just have to make it through tomorrow."
The fingers of his free hand curled around hers on his arm as they walked slowly together. "Tomorrow, then. WE will make it through, yes?"
She glanced up at him. Hopeless, lovely, impossible man. Was he? Could he? Maybe. Just maybe he's trying. Tread softly.
"You know, I think we might, Mr. Carson. I think we just might."
"As will your defenseless cushions, I hope." She chuckled at that. They continued their slow stroll down the hall like a couple out walking in the park.
He leaned down to her and whispered conspiratorially, "You know, I'm not half-bad with a pen… perhaps a drawing of Miss O'Brien's face so that you have something more satisfying to aim at?"
She swatted his arm and finally laughed properly, prompting a sly smile from him.
Yes. Yes, I think we just might.