In short order, Mrs. Hughes had become, if not proficient, then at least comfortable riding the bicycle. She grew bolder and turned tighter and tighter circles, buzzing dangerously close to where Mr. Carson stood, ready to jump out of her way should the need arise. More than once, she'd pretended to lose control and almost run him over, stopping at just the last second, laughing wickedly as he caught the bicycle by the handlebars.

He had seen her laugh more in these brief hours than in the almost two years he had worked with her. And what a laugh! Today had not been filled with stifled, high pitched giggles or mild, indoor chuckles. Today, he had heard her laugh with all her soul; freely and loudly; gasping for breath. At one point, she had snorted like a pig. Unable to resist the contagious laughter, he had lost his composure and joined the frivolity. In all his years at Downton, he had not laughed like that; his restraint stripped away with just the pure expression of joy remaining. Soon, he had developed a painful case of the hiccups, which had caused her to laugh harder and snort again. They'd both laughed until their sides ached and tears rolled down their faces. Eventually, he had thrown up his hands and retreated to the garden to collect himself.

When he had returned, he found her riding expertly around the lawn, with a mischievous smile on her face. He kept close to the garden wall, hoping she would not try to run him down in the shadow of a brick wall. Still hiccuping, but less painfully, Mr. Carson had consulted his pocket watch and frowned seriously. Unfortunately, their afternoon was at an end. He declared grandly that the student had surpassed the master and began to walk back to the house as she rode alongside.

They'd returned to the house in time for Mr. Carson to sound the dressing gong. Mr. Carson spent the intervening hour between the gong and dinner service distracted by thoughts of the afternoon and of Elsie. His emotions were a confusion to him. Had his behavior been unprofessional? Were his motivations for teaching her to ride sincere? Had he really stolen her half day and forced her to spend it with him? Had he crossed a line today? Would he do it all over again?

Carson considered passing dinner service off to Roger that evening so he could cloister himself in his office to examine what he was feeling, but it was not to be. Lady Grantham had decided to allow the girls to attend a full, formal dinner as a celebration for the news of their father's eminent return. Without Mr. Carson's presence, the young ladies were unlikely to mind their manners properly.

Adding to the evenings challenges, the Dowager Countess had also been invited for the meal. As she descended from her carriage, Carson subtly warned the Dowager what she was in for. "The young ladies are very excited to be joining you and Lady Grantham for dinner this evening, My Lady."

"God protect me," she moaned. "I hope, at least there is adequate wine at the ready."

"I assure you there is, My Lady. To celebrate the excellent news of his Lordship's return, we shall be serving the 1895 that Your Ladyship favors."

"Bless you, Carson. Please see to it that I never see the bottom of the goblet."

"I shall do my best, My Lady."

CE—

Muscles she'd forgotten she had ached as she lay back in the tub. Elsie still had the rest of the evening off after they'd returned to the house. While the others were serving dinner, she had indulged in a long, hot bath. It had helped sooth her soreness somewhat. The soothing aroma of the bath oils lulled her almost to sleep. In fact, Elsie was so relaxed, she almost forgot to pin up her hair before coming down for dinner.

It was not until she was dressing for dinner that she noticed that her brooch was missing. She found it strange that Mr. Carson had not noticed, as he was always so aware of the staff's appearance. The truth was, Mr. Carson had not been able to take his eyes off of her for most of the afternoon, but he had been too distracted by her smiles and dancing eyes to notice the missing brooch.

At dinner, Mr. Carson forced himself not to give Mrs. Hughes more than a cursory smile. Before serving that evening's soup, Mr. Carson informed the staff of the imminent return of their Lord and master, adding that Her Ladyship was quite recovered from her earlier fainting spell. "It's a blessing I was there to catch her, or she might have hit her head when she fell." Miss O'Brien looked annoyed that her scandalous story had been rendered mundane. Elsie smiled to see how deftly he had diffused that situation.

Mr. Carson had also offered the bicycle for use to all on the staff. Both pieces of news were welcomed warmly by the staff, but the bicycle generated a bit more excitement. If anyone required lessons, they were to report to either Mrs. Hughes or Roger. Mrs. Hughes had already promised to hold a lesson after lunch tomorrow.

As the rest of the staff were contemplating how a bicycle would improve their half days off, Mrs. Hughes leaned over to Mr. Carson. "I need to run back to the lawn after dinner, Mr. Carson. I seem to have lost my brooch today. I shall take a lantern, as I may be a while. Please don't lock me out."

"Oh, dear. Is it valuable?"

"Not really, but I do hate to lose things," she said, as nonchalantly as possible.

Mr. Carson was not convinced that she was as calm inwardly as she was outwardly. He wished to reassure her. "We should go as soon as we have both finished with dinner. There should still be some little daylight remaining. No doubt, you lost it in your acrobatic fall. If we can find the patch of grass torn up by the tire, we should be able to find your brooch quickly."

"We?"

"Four eyes are better than two, especially with time against you. I can bring two of the hall boys as well, if you think that would help."

"There is such a thing as too many eyes, Mr. Carson." Hearing the double meaning, she hurried on, "What I mean is, with too many people, we're as likely to trod on the brooch as to find it."

"Point taken."

And so it was that they headed back to the lawn in the day's dying light. Mr. Carson carried a lantern, which was currently casting it's feeble light uselessly into the still bright evening. They very quickly found the divot left by the front tire. Unsure of which direction they had tumbled, they started at this point and spiraled out, searching the short grass as they went.

The night was falling quickly and the lantern would soon be a necessity rather than a precaution. Elsie's agitation grew as the light dimmed. What if they couldn't find it? What if a bird had already carried it off? Her panic grew as their search area expanded.

"I believe I've found it." Mr. Carson said as he knelt to pick up the glittering pin.

"Thank god." Elsie cried out. She ran to him and grabbed the small piece of jewelry from his hand before he could stand. Her relief was palpable. "Thank you, Mr. Carson!" Without thinking, she put her hand on his cheek and kissed the top of his head before stepping back, holding the brooch to her breast with her other hand.

Mr. Carson smoothed his hair down where she had mussed it with her lips. He was gratified to see her joy. "I gather the brooch has at least some sentimental value, Mrs. Hughes?" He was standing again.

She nodded fervently as she made to fix the brooch at her neck. "It was my mother's and her mother's before that." Her voice was full of emotion and her eyes were moist. Elsie had not been aware of how much she'd been afraid they might not find the brooch. She had so little from her mother and nothing else from her gran. Mrs. Hughes' hands were trembling too much to attach the brooch correctly. She hoped Mr. Carson had not noticed her lack of composure. But, of course, he had.

"Allow me, Mrs. Hughes." Smiling kindly, he handed her the lantern as he took back the brooch. Elsie held the lantern at her eye's height. She took the treasured opportunity to observe him closely and openly.

As it had done when she was falling earlier in the day, time contracted where each second filled an eternity. The lantern light accented his stately profile. His eyes were dark, but warm. She felt his fingertips brushing against her neck. She should have been fearful that he would feel her racing pulse there, but Elsie found she was strangely incapable of fear. Several eternities later, and still too soon, his expert hands had done their work. Elsie still watched him, wanting to see if their proximity affected him as it affected her.

Mr. Carson thought nothing of it as he quickly fastened the silver bauble at the top of her blouse. How often had he knotted or straightened His Lordship's tie? This was no different. At least, it was no different until he made the mistake of looking up into her eyes when he had fixed the brooch properly.

He reached up to take back the lantern; his fingers brushing hers just as he smiled at her triumphantly. His smile froze on his face when he observed her face, half in shadow. She wore an open and unguarded smile upon her lips. Unshed tears sparkled in her eyes, illuminated by the lantern's soft light. He had caught her in a moment of absolute vulnerability and it had stolen his breath away. He had never seen anyone or anything so beautiful in all his life.

Charles' nose was filled with the scent of lavender that rose warmly from her skin. He knew what that smell meant; she had taken a long, soaking bath, using the lavender oil Lady Grantham gifted her each year on Christmas. He had noticed at dinner, but had temporarily managed to corral his restless imagination.

But now, he could not control the destination of his thoughts as they raced to the female servant's bathroom. In his fantasies, she reclined with her wet hair hanging over the edge of the large tub. The light of the copious candles that were strewn inexplicably around the bathroom were reflected in the glassy surface of the water, through which he could only make out the ghost of her radiant, white body.

Why did he always picture her bathing by candlelight? Good god, why did he imagine her bathing at all? You weak and worthless man! How dare he consider her in such a carnal sense? She was his friend, his equal in every way. Usually, in these tantalizing and sinful moments, he hated himself for objectifying her.

But, in this moment, face to face with her on the lawn, hidden from the house, she was more exposed to him than if she were actually naked before him. And yet, he felt no shame. Seeing her as vulnerable as this, while awakening lustful thoughts, also stirred something deeper in him. He felt a longing that was not lust and a feeling beyond that which his youth had once called Love. He felt the need to protect this delicate creature. He would do anything for her and, for a fleeting second, he believed that she would let him.

All this passed through his mind in an instant. He blinked and the spell was broken. The lantern's light was no longer soft, but harsh. She was closed to him again, her defenses hastily rebuilt. She was once more the exquisite and unreachable Mrs. Hughes.

"Thank you, Mr. Carson." She withdrew a step. The smell of lavender faded away. His breathing steadied.

"Do not mention it, Mrs. Hughes" Please, for both our sakes. "It is lucky we found it when we did. We were almost out of light. I should have felt responsible if you had truly lost it." They turned back to the house.

"Thank you for insisting we come out to search so speedily, Mr. Carson. I doubt we would have found it if we had delayed at all."

They continued this inane conversation all the way back to the house. Their words were automatic and empty; nothing of consequence was said. Once inside the backdoor, they each bid the other a quick goodnight and retreated to their respective bedrooms.

CE-

A still dazed Charles Carson sat on the edge of his bed, removing his slippers. He thought of everything he knew of Elsie Hughes. He knew she was a singular individual; the picture of intelligence and self assurance. He knew she had chosen a path of independence and success. Who was he to take that away from her? For he now understood that it was within his power to do so.

He was not much experienced with women, but he knew Elsie well enough to know that she would not refuse him if he declared himself. Were he a young footman and she a young maid, they could give in to their physical needs and risk the consequences. If they were caught, they could leave service and forge a new life. Had he known her when he was a young man, what would he not have done to win her and please her? But he was not young. He was past an age where starting over was practical. He had reached the pinnacle of his chosen profession, to abandon it now would leave him with nothing to offer her. Even as he thought this, he shook his head. But I would. I would start again, if she asked it of me. And I would succeed if she were with me.

But he would not be the only one sacrificing the work of a lifetime. She would have to abandon the career she had built. How likely was it that such a strong woman would willingly subjugate herself in such a way for a man; for him? Not very likely. He could not ask her to. Even if she said yes, surely she would come to resent him for bringing her down in the world. And if she said no, he would have to leave Downton from the humiliation.

No, they would remain as they were and he would be grateful; never letting the bitterness of his disappointment contaminate the sweetness of their friendship.

Every evening, after removing his slippers but before closing his eyes, Charles Carson prayed. He could not have said if it was out of habit or out of superstition. Tonight he had a new prayer to offer along with his usual requests for the well being of all under Downton's roof and His Lordship's return.

Though it was not his custom, this evening Charles knelt beside his bed and spoke his heart's prayer aloud. "Dear God, thank you for Elsie Hughes and thank you for bringing her to Downton. Please help me be strong enough to respect the choices she has made for her life. 'The spirit is indeed willing, but the flesh is weak.' Help me to offer her my sincere friendship and to be content with her's in return." Around the lump in his throat, he added, "Amen."

CE-

Laying in her bed now, Elsie's mind kept returning to his hands; large, strong and warm. How feverishly hot they had felt on her calf as he untangled her and on her hips as he pulled her to safety. She had tried to banish those feelings with the steaming water of the bath, but she had only succeeded in burning his touches deeper into her skin. Elsie hugged her herself gently, placing her hands on her hips where his hands had been, and sighed.

The delicious feeling of tumbling beside him would not leave her alone. Elsie still felt his gaze burning through her after he had fastened her brooch in the warm summer twilight. Before tonight, she had never truly doubted her decision to reject Joe and dedicate herself to this celibate life. Having witnessed the lives of her sister and friends who had taken the more conventional route, Elsie was certain she had chosen the path that was right for her. She reminded herself that the comforts, the stability and the respect were worth it to her. As they are to him.

Charles Carson loved his work. She could see it in his eyes as he described the future house parties. He loved this family. It was obvious when he let the girls fuss with his cufflinks or retie his tie, when he offered Lady Crawley a new book, when he helped the Dowager Countess down from her carriage and when he spoke of His Lordship's return.

Elsie considered her role in his life. He valued her as a colleague; of that, she had no doubt. He had described them working together to tame the chaos into order. To him, there was no higher aspiration and he had included her in his glorious, imagined future. He seemed to accept her as a worthy partner in his life's calling. This was no mean compliment and Elsie was mindful of the honor of such esteem.

But how did she feel about that? Was his esteem enough to build a life around? Was his professional respect sufficient substitute for his embrace? Were their evenings drinking tea or wine as fulfilling as even one night tasting his lips? There was an attraction between them; she knew it was not just her hopeful imagination. He blushed if their hands touched, while he hardly acknowledged the existence of any of the other female staff. He had practically burst into flames when he'd touched her leg today. Only a man who dreamed about her the way she fantasized about him would have responded to something so innocent in such a guilty way. Elsie knew she was supposed to be offended at being the object of improper thoughts, but she found the thought exciting, rather than insulting. The respect between them elevated their vulgar thoughts to something purer.

She still could not fully define what had passed between them tonight in the newly born darkness. Had the shadows played tricks on her, or, for a brief shudder of a moment had he truly looked into her eyes with unguarded desire? She had managed to restrain herself, somehow finding the strength to step away from him.

Something about her disarmed him, Elsie knew. She was certain she was capable of tempting him into forgetting propriety for at least one night, but she knew it would destroy her future here. She considered that she might even convince him that he loved her. She might persuade him to leave Downton for her, but she was afraid to ask. It would be cruel to ask so much of him when she had so little to offer in return. Could she ask him to sacrifice so much for her? She thought the answer was 'no'. And she could not even be sure of succeeding if she did ask. Could she risk being sent away from him? The answer was an emphatic 'No'.

She believed the responsibility for maintaining their working relationship rested solely with her. It was in her power to destroy them both. As she saw it, her choice was between Lust or Love; between one moment of having him completely or the rest of her life working beside him, stealing the occasional moments with him; moments like today. Would she trade all the sunlit laughter and camaraderie their future promised for a fumbling yet passionate midnight release?

The choice was a simple one. She only hoped she was strong enough to stand by her decision. She smiled sadly into the darkness of her room and hugged herself tighter. Elsie Hughes chose to give him the rest of her life, even if he never knew that's what she had given him.

CE-

"Good morning, Mrs. Hughes. I trust you slept well."

"I did, Mr. Carson. Thank you, for asking."

"No injuries or bruises from yesterday?"

"Nothing that time won't heal."

THE END...for now...

A/N Sorry to douse them with the figurative cold shower, but I needed them both to have very strong reasons for resisting their mutual attraction for the next 20 years, as this AU already has it's revelatory moment (in Moving Forward). I think they both must have made definitive decisions to remain only friends at some point in their early relationship. But that does not mean they can't have any number of intimate moments and near misses in the meantime. In fact, removing the sexual tension can actually bring them closer, which could reignite the sexual tension...

It may stretch credulity, but we'll have a bit of fun with them...in future stories.

Thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting and following. Alas, there will be nothing more to follow under this title :(

I will soon be launching another story, in this AU, from this era; picking up only a few months later:)

It is called Never Downton Land and features the young ladies' visit to London to see the play 'Peter Pan', also including Lord Grantham's return from Africa and TONS more Chelsie. Just because they've both decided to keep their feelings hidden, doesn't mean it will be easy to do so.

Both Training Wheels and Never Downton Land are in the same AU as Moving Forward, Moving On and the forthcoming (January) follow up, Perpetual Motion.

*Matthew 26:41 (King James Version): "Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation: the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."