A/N: So, I wrote this because of a Tumblr entry from yes-please-mrshughes who deserves all the kudos!
The servants' bedrooms are in the attic and it is very quiet at night. Until Anna hears something...

As always: reviews appreciated,, especially advice needed on how to end this fic, because it is left sort of hanging in the air and I don't much like it.

The still of the night lays heavily around her. The quiet sounds of an old house drift around her, but she's used to them. Her thoughts are with John, who sleeps on a hard bunk in a cold and drafty prison cell, the damp worsening the pain in his leg. She thinks of his arms around her, his subdued kisses, his words linger in her ears.

She sleeps alone, there hasn't been a new maid since Jane left. Anna doesn't mind that she has to work two jobs. The hard work wears her out and allows her to sleep. Sometimes. She turns over and tries to block the thought of John never coming home. She allows herself to fantasize: John coming back and when he is strong and healthy again, they will move to the cottage, where she will care for him. Maybe one day they will welcome a child into the world and be a proper family.

Her heart cramps together when she lets go of her fantasy. She knows she is fortunate to have a good place and people around her who care. Lady Mary, His Lordship, Mr Carson, Mrs Hughes.

Her mind wanders to how Mrs Hughes held her and to how the older woman takes on some of Jane's old tasks without a word. How they speak quietly about the future, always a note of positivity present. Mrs Hughes' voice can sound so harsh when giving orders, but so warm when she is concerned. She looks upon Mrs Hughes almost as a mother, with Mr Carson as a strict father figure, who shows his heart with more difficulty, but is steadily there for you nonetheless.

Anna rolls back to her back. She closes her eyes and starts to will herself to sleep when she hears a noise that doesn't come from the house.

A rhythmic creaking, a throaty moan.

Anna sits up straight, the cold air whisks around her shoulders.

'It can't be,' she thinks. 'Mrs Hughes locks the door between the corridors.'

The creaking increases in sound and pace, the quiet moans get slightly louder, then they sound muffled as if something is held over a mouth.

Anna feels embarrassed, she can't drown out the noise and she thinks how upset Mrs Hughes will be to find one of the maids is engaging in... Well... Whatever you want to call it. Anna doesn't like to be the one telling either. She wonders who it could be. Who would be so bold to take her... Lover... To her bed. At least Ethel found herself a deserted room in the East wing.

"Oh Charles..."

Anna falls back on her pillow, horrified. The voice was most definitely Mrs Hughes'. There is only one man in the house who goes by the name of 'Charles'.

There is more creaking, more stifled gasping, then a sudden silence, pierced with a high pitched silent cry and the bed creaks no more.

When Anna comes to breakfast, everything is as it always is, but she can't look the Housekeeper nor the Butler in the eye. She wonders if this is what it feels like when you hear your parents 'going at it'. She sits down quietly and eats her porridge. Lady Edith's bell rings early and she excuses herself, thankful for the refuge.

Later that day Mrs Hughes helps her with changing the sheets in the Blue Room. Mrs Hughes talks to her about the family upstairs, plans for the shooting and how she will need Anna's help. She talks about tonight's dinner downstairs and how quiet it is without a second housemaid and a second footman.

"Not as quiet as the night though..." Anna mumbles, unable to keep it to herself. Her eyes cross Mrs Hughes, who breaks out in a dark, blotchy flush.

The rest of the day, they spend in silence, both feeling awkward and it takes a while for Anna to forget what she heard, but eventually she finds her equilibrium and things go back to normal.

Until, one night, three weeks later, she hears the tell tale creaking and gasps and she puts her pillow over her head and blocks all the noise out by humming a lullaby to herself. It works for a while and she feels as if a lot of time has gone by when she emerges from under her pillow, her cheeks hot from the pressure.

"Oh... God... Charles..."

She decides there and then that she will need to occupy the room at the end of the hall to get away from them until John comes home and whisks her off to their cottage. Her initial thought comes back to her tenfold: this must be what it is like to hear your parents making love. Somewhere it is quite sweet, but for the most part it is terribly, terribly embarrassing.

A/N: Oh poor Anna... I remember being completely mortified hearing my parents... Though i was a lot younger. Anyway: what did you think?