It had been months. Two, nearly three, and nothing had changed. She didn't want a change, not really, not much. There was only one thing that was missing, and she found (to her modest surprise) that she could not do without.

She glanced down the hallway, and saw that no one was paying any attention to her. Not that they would have thought anything if they had been; she spent almost every evening in the butler's pantry, and not to go in would have been a disruption of routine. She stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind her. Carson was reading the evening paper, apparently engrossed. He looked up at the sound of the door closing.

"Ah, Mrs. Hughes. Everything is settled, I take it?"

"Yes, the family are all gone to bed, and Daisy and Mrs. Patmore are finishing up in the kitchen."

"Excellent. I like a quiet evening, don't you?" He smiled at her a little, and she paused, a small frown on her face. "Is everything all right, Mrs. Hughes?" She was quiet a moment longer.

"I'm not so sure that it is, Mr. Carson. I'm afraid that our… arrangement… may not have been made with the same intentions on both sides." She pursed her lips, afraid of his reaction. He folded the paper and placed it on the table at his side.

"I am sorry to hear that, Mrs. Hughes, but I am not sure quite what you mean."

She walked closer to him, holding his eyes as he looked up at her from his seated position. Quickly, before she lost her nerve, Elsie reached out and held his chin in her hand. She leaned forward and lightly, chastely, touched her lips to his. There was no heat in this kiss, no passion, not a hint of the emotional storm that was raging within her. She had crossed a line that he would not, could not, have crossed himself, and there was no way to know if he would now beat a hasty retreat.

Carson made no sound, nor did he move, and after only a moment Elsie pulled away. She stood as tall and straight as she ever did, but her cheeks betrayed her with a dull pink flush.

"Mr. Carson, if you are planning on a lifetime of quiet evenings, companionable fireside chats followed by a cordial retreat to separate bedrooms, then perhaps we had better call the whole thing off." He looked away from her, breaking eye contact for the first time since he'd looked up from his paper, and he slowly stood, staring at the floor.

"Mrs. Hughes, if I have given offence, I must beg your forgiveness." She rolled her eyes, waiting for the rest of his ridiculously formal apology. It did not come. Instead, he gently touched her elbow, and haltingly leaned in to place a rather clumsy kiss on the corner of her mouth. He stepped back, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the floorboards just behind her left foot, and said nothing.

She ducked into his line of sight, catching his eyes again, and smiled a cheeky smile to hide her relief.

"That'll do just fine, Mr. Carson. Care for some sherry?" Without waiting for an answer, she went to the cupboard for the glasses.

"I would." He sighed, apparently relieved as well. "Mrs. Hughes?" She looked back over her shoulder at him. He cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should leave talk of… ah… bedrooms… separate or otherwise… for a later date." She smiled broadly.

"Of course, Mr. Carson."