Just a batch of Carson/Hughes silliness, set at some point during Series 1. One-shot.

It had been one of those scarce days where she'd wished she could have been free to go outside. The sun had shone brilliantly, it had been warm but not too hot- a breeze rippled over the clam grass at intervals. It was England's finest display of an early summer's day. She was well aware that she was not employed in the slave trade and could have taken a quick walk so long as she hadn't been seen by the rest of the staff, but that was just it, she didn't want it to be quick; for once she wanted to be able to take her time. Instead she had taken to beating a carpet in one of the quieter corridors of the house- an activity she always undertook with vigour, only occasionally casting a jealous glance down to the lawn where-even from a height- Lady Sybil was visible bounding about like an excited child.

Thus it was entirely understandable that once she returned downstairs, after beating the carpet, ensuring the housemaids didn't become sloppy in the hot weather and having to fetch aforementioned excitable child in to dress for dinner, she was quite worn out and her mood had rather deteriorated. Most irregularly, she did not take the trouble to chivvy members of staff around the downstairs quarters before supper time; they seemed to sense her irritation and decide that it would be safest to keep their heads down. Instead she sat in her chair as the table was laid around her, waiting rather idly for her dinner. The sticky monotony of the day had wound itself into one protracted period of bored irritation. As the servants' hall filled up, she found that the noise gave her a stinging headache and she was rather short with poor Daisy- who retreated, alarmed, with her tail between her legs. There didn't seem to be enough air and she fanned herself absent-mindedly with her hand.

"Are you all right, Mrs Hughes?"

"Yes, thank you Anna."

The girl looked so relaxed, Elsie thought irritably. Having to stay in on a hot day evidently agreed with some people more than others. Though, she reflected shrewdly, that probably depended on who you were stuck inside with. She seemed to remember seeing Anna and Mr Bates together on the second floor that afternoon. The matter would have usually merited her full attention as the imperious matriarch, but, on this occasion, it pained her to acknowledge it even to herself; she couldn't be bothered to chase it up. She scarcely noticed the bowl of soup being set in front of her.

She was inexpressibly thankful to be able to retire to her sitting room after dinner. The quiet coolness was nothing short of a blessing and she sank with a groan to lie on her settee, closing her eyes tightly. But the light, blast it, was of that radiant summer evening variety that she could not close her eyes against. She usually loved to look at light like it but now all she wanted was darkness. A nice consoling darkness that could help her hide what a miserable day it had turned out to be. There was a tap at the door. She was hard-pressed not to swear out loud.

"Come in," she commanded with reluctance.

The door clicked and, unable to see who had entered, she realised that she was still lying on the settee. In a snap moment she decided that she didn't care, she wasn't in the right mood for propriety. The price of her decision was that it took a few more moments for her to see who her visitor was. Gradually, Mr Carson swam into view, frowning a little she saw.

"Hello, Charles," she gurgled with an air of impertinence that she did not trouble herself to condition.

"Are you all right?" he asked hesitantly. He did not often see her lying down.

Frowning at the light still cast over one of her eyes, she replied.

"Not really, no."

She heard him let out a heavy sigh but did not open her eyes. It wasn't until she felt his weight on the armrest beside her head that she realised how close he was and lazily lifted one lid. He had apparently dropped his jacket at some point between then and dinner.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" his voice sounded tense- she was unable to see his expression- "I presume you didn't just bite Daisy's head off for no reason?"

She wanted to snort but kept herself in check, realising that she'd probably appeared plenty unkind today.

"I had a headache," she defended herself weakly, "It's been a difficult day."

"And back to my question," his voice carried the hint of another ill-restrained sigh, "What's wrong?"

He was being kind; she couldn't quite bring herself to be cross with him. Instead she opened one eye again so she could observe his shadow against the bright light.

"Just things...Do you ever get tired of living a humdrum life?" she asked.

What she expected was a good talking-to about humdrum being what she signed up for when went into service and that it was a case of like it or lump it. It was a bit late in her case for lumping it. Instead, however, after a pause, the answer she received was rather different.

"Sometimes," he admitted.

She sniffed at the genuineness in his voice, it was consoling. She folded her arms across her stomach.

"You don't find me ridiculous for just getting sick of ploughing on through routine sometimes?"

"Day to day life is much harder to handle than a crisis," he pointed out.

"When did you get so wise?" asked, raising her eyebrows and inclining her head slightly towards where he sat.

"I practice. I recite sayings to myself sometimes, just in case they're needed."

She laughed properly for the first time that day and, realising the ridiculousness of his invention, he joined in too in his deeply grumbly laugh.

"How've you managed to cheer me up?" she asked, coming to a stop.

"It's a way I have."

She laughed again, but stopped sooner this time. She had just become aware of the proximity of her head to his leg. Noticing her sudden silence, he stopped laughing too and turned to her in mild concern. He must have noticed her watching his leg with more concentration than proper before she hastily looked away.

"Elsie..." he began warningly, but seemed unsure what to say next. The air between them seemed to have jumped to another level entirely.

"Yes?" she answered, hoping that he would say something, anything.

"Would it be all right if I sat beside you? Or else I'll probably break this armrest."

If he'd asked to kiss her she didn't think she'd have said no.

"Certainly."

She sat up quickly to allow him space on the settee. They sat companionably next to one another, not speaking for a while.

"Thank you for checking on me," she said after a while, "Thank you for cheering me up."

He was always made modest by thanks.

"It was no trouble," he told her.

And then,without thinking, almost as if a spasm compelled her to do so, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

He said nothing in reply but smiled a little as they resumed sitting beside one another, barely toughing.

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