The Letter.

„Dear Elsie.
My dear Elsie.
I remember very clearly when we worked together for the first few days after you took up your duties here at Downton Abbey. It didn't take long for me to realise that I had a pleasant feeling when you made yourself heard - unintentionally, of course - with the rattling of your keys. I became more and more aware that my lips were about to give in to a grin as soon as my ears recognised the rattling from afar. At times I felt like a schoolboy with a crush on his teacher.

It may not have been love, but I felt that you strengthened me, that you gave me support and always the confidence that our joint management of the staff would lead to the well-being and satisfaction of her Lordship and Ladyship. Suddenly I was no longer alone. Of course, your predecessor was also always eager and endeavoured, but it was just different, she didn't have everything in her hands like you do. She didn't have that much control over me.

Elsie, the rattling of your keys is driving me crazy now, it's been doing that for a long time...for years. Every time it announces you, it creates pure tension in me. I'm barely able to breathe anymore, my heart almost stands still with excitement when it could bump into you at any moment: When you're suddenly standing in the room, you turn the corner or you just cross my path, just like the sweet rattle promised a few seconds before.

Now I'm afraid that I won't be allowed to hear it again, that I've scared it away, frightened it off. Or worse ... what if every time I hear it now it means that I will instantly bump into you and you will show me dislike and contempt? That rattle would make me die a little each time, remind me each time of how close I was to marrying you. It would remind me every time how much I had hurt you.

There are no words that can undo or forget my behaviour towards you. But I can assure you that it will never happen again. I never want to see you hurt like that again. Not because of anything or anyone, and certainly not from me. I want exactly the opposite: I want to protect you.

The moment I realised that I love you and my dreams started to cry out for you more and more, leaving me no room for other thoughts, I started to tell you that I would like to open a bed and breakfast with you. By now you know that I wasn't interested in doing business together, but in living together. A life with you.

Together.
You and me.
The two of us.
Not as colleagues.
As lovers.

Just like you said in front of his and her Lordship and Ladyship: It's about Elsie Hughes and Charles Carson.

I want to feel you, I want to smell you, I want to taste you, I want to see you, I want to hear you.

Elsie, please forgive me.

I am sorry.

Your Charles"

Charles cleared his throat and let his eyes rest on his lines before he folded the letter again and pushed it back into the envelope. He was unable to look at Elsie. He feared her words, he feared her eyes.

"I wasn't aware that the sound of my chatelaine was secretly announcing me. I'd never thought of that before.", Elsie began timidly.

"I love that sound, Elsie. It's you.", Charles replied, hoping to hide his despair well.

Elsie rose noisily from her chair and walked toward Charles. She took the letter from him and put it back in her skirt pocket.

"I love you, Charles.", she gently placed a hand on his cheek and made him look at her. His stomach tightened into a lump as he still feared Elsie's words. "I have to take good care of your letter. It's your first love letter to me."

Charles' heart sensed some relief and tried to loosen the knot inside him, but he didn't allow it yet, her words were too vague for him.

"Do you forgive me, Elsie?" The butler now pressed out the question impatiently. He wanted to finally put the burden of uncertainty behind him. He wanted an answer. A yes or a no (that's rubbish!).

„I forgive you.", Elsie replied. After a moment of silence, she continued: „You frightened me very much, Charles. You've hurt me more than anyone has ever hurt me in my life. That scares me. I didn't realise that my love for you would give you so much power over me."

Charles let his bated breath escape, which he didn't realise he was holding back.

"Besides, you have ... ", but Elsie never got round to finishing her sentence. Charles pressed his lips to hers. He was so full of relief that he couldn't hold back any longer. He absolutely had to feel her now. He absolutely needed her closeness. The last few hours had been unbelievable torture for him. He thought he'd lost her before he could ever call her his.

Charles pressed Elsie's lower back firmly against him with one hand, while the other pressed her neck even more firmly against his lips. What a wonderful feeling to feel her so close to him. She was so close that he could finally smell her scent again: Myrrh and tonka.

Elsie didn't forget what she wanted to say, but pushed it aside...later. His touches were too seductive. All she felt was the massaging pressure of his hands on her. She felt his hand slip naughtily close to her bum and press ever more firmly against her.

His tongue tickled her lips, which she unconsciously opened to let his tongue into her mouth. Charles wanted to feel her even closer to him, in wich Elsie had to take a step back. He pushed her back until she bumped against her desk, steadily united by their kiss. Elsie had to let go for a moment to catch her breath. Charles took advantage of this pause to sit down on the desk with a twisting motion so that he could pull Elsie onto his lap.

He enjoyed feeling her weight on him. He ran his hands up and down her back and pressed her close for another kiss. Elsie's hands rested on Charles' chest. Their tongues danced the tango.

Charles let go of Elsie and gasped out of breath: „When you sat on my thigh last week, your keys rattled too."
He grabbed Elsie's bum and pushed her forwards (rattle) and back again (rattle) and forwards towards him (rattle) and away from him (rattle). Elsie understood Charles' acoustic-haptic demonstration and realised that it made the tingling between her legs even more intense, although she didn't know why she seemed to like it so much. She closed her eyes and savoured the feeling of his guiding hands on her buttocks. He noticed her relaxed grin, which only pushed him closer to her. Charles buried his face behind her ear and placed lots of small, gently sucking kisses on her pulsating skin.

Elsie got goose bumps at the feeling; no one had ever touched and caressed her like this before. Elsie let out a soft moan of devotion and tilted her head back invitingly, a barely audible „Charles.", escaping her. He realised how agonisingly tight his crotch was by now, and how willing he was to give in to the urge for more pressure. When suddenly there was a knock at the door.

Both stiffened in their positions.

„Mrs Hughes? Are you there?"

Elsie let go of Charles and slid off him, it took them both a moment (he more than she ...) to arrive in the here and now.

„I know you're there! I heard your keys. Why is your door locked?" Mrs. Patmore rattled the doorknob. „Is everything all right with you?"

„I'm coming, Mrs. Patmore, just a moment."

Charles looked at Elsie, hand-wringing. Elsie gesticulated back to him incomprehensibly, both of them trying to find a solution. After a short time, she signalled to Charles that she had an idea and indicated that she would open the door now. He showed his agreement by nodding (he realised that his body was also more relaxed again ...).

A click and the door swung open. Mrs. Patmore caught sight of a red-cheeked, nervous Mrs. Hughes, whose hair looked strangely dishevelled, and a Mr. Carson, who was trying to appear conspicuously inconspicuous and was looking around the area without a care in the world. Also with a flushed face and a skew (aha!) bow tie.

Mrs. Patmore stopped in the doorway and watched this bizarre performance sceptically. She raised an eyebrow with a serious expression and stared at the two of them in turn. Mrs. Hughes became visibly more nervous and scratched the back of her head with one hand, stammering: „Mr. Carson was kind enough to bring me tea."

„Yes, I just found him outside your bedroom door, Mrs. Hughes, and he told me he wanted to do that. I'm just wondering at the moment where that tea has disappeared to." Mrs. Patmore, still standing in the doorway, scanned the room for the tray. She poked her head into the room curiously.

„Um, Mrs. Patmore, Mrs. Hughes, if you'll excuse me, I ... I have to prepare the table for dinner." Charles cleared his throat and left the room at a brisk pace, pushing Mrs. Patmore aside.

Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Hughes looked at each other seriously, then laughed heartily and freely when Mr. Carson was inaudibly far away.

„How can I help you, Mrs Patmore?" Mrs. Hughes began, one hand still resting on her stomach - a remnant of her laughter.

„I just wanted to see if Mr. Carson had found you. He seemed very distracted earlier."

„Yes, he was. We both were."

„Then you've managed to sort everything out?" Mrs. Patmore asked solicitously.

„I'm not quite sure, Mrs. Patmore." Mrs Hughes took another few steps away from the door and gestured for Mrs Patmore to enter. This time, however, she left the door open and then added in a low voice: „I'm quite upset. But it looks like everything is going to be all right. I think I need some time away from yesterday's situation."

Mrs. Patmore sighed understandably as she watched Mrs. Hughes walk to her desk.

„Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?"

Mrs. Hughes thought for a few seconds. She still felt a little insecure at the thought of being exposed to so many curious eyes. Above all, it felt unspoken with Charles. She felt in limbo, torn even. She still didn't know what the Granthams had to say, how the wedding was called off and how everything had been arranged at such short notice. Hiding wasn't her style, so she gave Mrs. Patmore a nod of approval. Today she would have dinner in the servants' dining room.

Mrs. Patmore saw the little glimmer of sadness in Mrs. Hughes' eyes and gave her a reassuring smile.

„Then I won't disturb you any further and will go back to Daisy in the kitchen. Dinner should be ready to serve soon."

„You do that, Mrs. Patmore." Mrs. Hughes turned back to her notebook at the desk as the cook left the room.