For the tumblr prompt: revfrog said: Horrible scratch on candelabra and Carson needs calming before there is blood on the stairs. Better- it was a careless maid. Ohhhhhhh.

When 'Shut Up' Is Not Enough

"Mr Carson, won't you calm down." She tries again, reaches out for his arm but misses as he spins away, paces back to stand beneath the blasted chandelier.

"I will not." He states, tips his chin up and glares at her. "Mrs Hughes, there is-"

"A scratch, yes you've said." Several times in fact. "It's only a small scratch, barely noticeable." Indeed, she had to stand on a stool beside the dining table and squint to see it herself. If ever anyone has questioned Mr Carson's eyesight with his advancing age, they will be in no doubt now that it is still perfect.

"Barely—…Mrs Hughes!" And of course, if he doesn't lower his voice soon they will all know. "Whether it's tiny or the length and breadth of the Thames River is beside the point, it's a scratch on His Lordship's chandelier."

He turns again, stalks back to her and for a moment she thinks he might poke his pointed finger straight into her chest.

"A scratch, Mrs Hughes, put there by one of your maids."

She closes her eyes, counts to ten (twice) and barely resists rubbing the bridge of her nose. If he doesn't stop soon she is going to do…something. "Now see here Mr Carson…"

"No, no it won't do. I've thought for a while now that this new batch of Housemaids are ill disciplined, careless and now I can see that I'll have to—"

She kisses him. Rises up to her toes, grips the lapels of his jacket and presses her lips against his forcefully.

His hands find her shoulders and after a surprisingly long moment, he pushes her back.

"What on earth are you doing Mrs Hughes?"

"Kissing you." She says, because there isn't much more she can say. She notices that he hasn't let her go.

"Mrs Hughes, you can't, that is we mustn't- it's quite improper, anyone could walk in. I think we should—"

She kisses him again; sometimes the man really does just need to stop talking.