The Door To His Pantry.

Tense and nervous, Elsie listened at the door and waited to hear Charles' voice. She kept her body as far away from the door as possible. That way, she could quickly hop away from the door if an employee approached.

To avoid tipping over at the front, she supported herself on the wooden surface with her fingers spread apart, which made her hand look like a harvestman. In her other hand, she clutched the keys so tightly that she trembled slightly with exertion.

She was still waiting for a muffled murmur, but there was nothing. She could only hear a rush coming from her enclosed ear and the door. Her eyes looked around the deserted corridor without any clue. She pressed her ear even harder against the door, but it didn't change anything, only the rush became stronger.

If nothing could be heard, then there was no talking. But if there was no talking, what were Mr. Carson and Miss Baxter doing?

Unsatisfied, Elsie turned her face and squinted against the dark wood that was now right in front of her nose. Silently, she moved into a slightly more comfortable position and took a barely noticeable step forwards, which was much more comfortable for her back. Elsie now stood a little more upright. She closed her eyes and held her breath. All her senses should be focussed on her hearing. She now wanted to try the other ear. But even with it, she only heard silence. What was going on in there?

Elsie gently placed her cheek against the door and pressed harder.

„Elsie! - May! - Carson!"

Elsie flinched and remained in her position. She opened her eyes sceptically and let them wander from left to right and back again, her eyebrows scrunched together sceptically. She pressed her cheek even more firmly against the door. Had she really just heard her name?

„Open your hand, Elsie. Release them."

If Elsie hadn't been so tense, she would have jumped to the ceiling in shock. Elsie looked down at her arm without taking her ear or her splayed hand off the door. Her jaw dropped as she realised she was actually holding something.

Oh, my! God! There really was someone there. She was caught out. Stunned, she closed her eyelids again.

„Come on, Elsie. Open your hand!", she was ordered again.

Now she recognised the voice and knew who it was. She closed her eyes again and visibly slumped down. Her shoulders sagging, she opened her hand and let her keys dangle along the chain.

„Turn towards me."

It was a clear instruction and Elsie understood it. But she didn't move. She couldn't take her ear off the door. And she didn't want to. She just didn't want to be in this situation.

„Elsie. Turn towards me." The voice crept into her, menacingly quiet.

Elsie still didn't make a move.

„Elsie!" The housekeeper heard increasing impatience in the voice.

Elsie exhaled and bit her lower lip and chewed on it a little. She knew it wouldn't do any good to squirm like an eel. She was seen. Slowly, as if in slow motion, she moved her face away from the door and straightened up. She took another deep breath and turned on her heels.
Elsie tried not to let her discomfort show and opened her eyes.

Yep, there he was. Tall. And upset. And with pieces of paper in his hand.

„Off to my pantry."

Mr. Carson disappeared back into his pantry through the open door. And as Mr. Carson knew his stubborn wife well enough, he knew that she was still standing there motionless and making no effort to comply with his request. So he called out a firm "Now!" before the door had even fully closed.

Damn it, Elsie! The second door. You forgot the second door to his pantry!

Elsie stood in the corridor, looked up at the ceiling and let out a sigh. She put her hand around the doorknob, turned it, opened the door and walked through with lazy steps.

Today there is only a short chapter. It was difficult for me to write it.

Yes, Charles loves Elsie. And I think he would never betray her. But aren't we women masters at getting caught up in our own fantasies? Creating our own drama? Especially when we are unsure about our thoughts?

Thank you for your words. I could huuuuuuuuuuuug you!
Sometimes I find it sad that we are so anonymous. Drinking a cup of English tea with you while we talk about the Carsons would certainly be nice. Or watch the series together.

Take good care of yourselves!

See you soon in Mr. Carson's pantry! :-)