Mr Carson was walking through the village on his way back to Duneagle Castle. The family had travelled to Scotland for their yearly visit to his Lordship's cousins; Lord and Lady Flintshire. This year, he was accompanying them playing the role of valet to Lord Grantham. Unfortunately, Mr Bates was unable to travel with them due to the sudden passing of Anna's mother two days before they departed. Not wanting Mr Barrow to be his Lordship's valet for fear of the schemes he might concoct, Mr Carson had offered his own services. He'd explained to Lord Grantham that as the family weren't going to be in residence, the house wouldn't miss him too much; Thomas could cope as under-butler, and he'd always wanted to visit Scotland again. His Lordship had readily agreed and Carson had then ventured to suggest that Mrs Hughes accompany them to look after Lady Mary in place of Anna. Again, his suggestion was accepted.

At first Mrs Hughes had been none too happy about his presumptuousness or that she would have to look after Lady Mary, whom she regarded as an 'uppity minx', but once Mr Carson had explained his reasoning; that he didn't want her left to deal with Mr Barrow alone and that he thought she might like to visit her home country again, she had softened somewhat, and thanked him for his kindness. She had admitted that it would be nice to see Scotland again, and perhaps pay a visit the village where she'd grown up if she got a half day. Mr Carson had assured her she would. He decided he would personally see to it that she did.

As he entered the village square, he spotted Mrs Hughes looking at the parish notice board and began to walk in her direction. If she was finished with her errands for Lady Mary, then perhaps they could walk back to the house together. As he neared he noticed that Mrs Hughes was paying particular interest to one poster pinned to the board. One that was advertising a Ceilidh.

"Anything interesting?" he asked, making her jump for she had not registered his approach. "Forgive me Mrs Hughes, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's quite alright Mr Carson; I'm ashamed to admit you caught me woolgathering. This poster caught my eye and I got lost in my memories."

"What exactly is a c… key… ?" he asked, struggling with the pronunciation. In the end he gestured to the poster that had interested her.

"It's pronounced 'Kay-Lee'," Mrs Hughes told him, fighting back a small smile; it wasn't often she knew something he didn't. "It's a dance. Traditionally it's more of a Gaelic social gathering; people tell stories, play folk music and sing, but in Scotland there is almost always dancing. And not just any dancing… traditional Scottish dancing."

"I suppose you attended them quite regularly when you were a young girl in Argyle?"

"Occasionally. If the timing allowed. Farmers are governed by the seasons as I'm sure you are aware. If it wasn't lambing season or harvest time, we would go, yes."

She had always loved the local Ceilidh dances when she had been a young girl. She and her sister would watch from the sidelines as the older residents of the village danced the Dashing White Sergeant, the Gay Gordons and Strip the Willow. Their father used to dance with them too; they would stand on his feet and he would carry them around the floor for some of the slower dances.

As they got older they would learn the steps to the dances themselves and once they reached the age of thirteen, their father had allowed them to join in. She had been so jealous of her older sister when she danced her first Ceildh, but she only had two years to wait before hers and she remembered it like it was yesterday.

She'd only danced at two Ceilidh's in Argyle before she had started her life in service and moved away from Scotland. Since then she'd only been to a handful of them… her sister had one for her wedding reception and there had been another two or three spread throughout her life. How she longed to hear the strains of the upbeat folk music and twirl around the floor, dancing her native dances.

Mr Carson noticed the wistful look in Mrs Hughes' eyes as they discussed the dance. He looked at the date on the poster and turned to her. "The family are dining at Ronachan House that particular evening; they won't return until late. You should have a night off and go; it's only in the village hall," he suggested.

"It's a lovely thought Mr Carson, but I haven't anyone to go with; there's no point going to a dance without a partner."

"If it's not too improper of me to say, I'm sure you would have plenty of offers once you arrived."

"I'm not sure about that, although there is a very strong culture in ceilidhs, where anyone can ask anyone to dance. But even if I did 'have plenty of offers' I don't know anyone here… I doubt I would feel comfortable attending on my own."

She had that sad, wistful look again and Mr Carson found himself willing to do anything to make her smile again. "Would you like me to accompany you?" he asked.

"I wouldn't want to presume…"

"Nonsense. It would be my pleasure. I can't claim to have any idea of what Scottish dancing entails apart from reeling, but I am willing to learn." For you.

"If you're sure, then that would be lovely."

"That's settled then. Now, would you allow me to walk with you back to the house?"

Later on, Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson were alone in the Servant's Hall; the rest of the staff having already retired for the night. They shared a pot of tea and discussed some of how they had spent their day since returning to the house. They had almost drained their cups and Mrs Hughes realised that if she was wanted to speak to Mr Carson about the Ceilidh in some manner of privacy then now was the time.

"I've been thinking about this Ceilidh…" she began. "How will it be possible for us both to be out of the house on the same evening?"

"It just so happens that I have been thinking the same thing and I believe I have found a solution. Ronachan House is over an hour's drive from here at the very least. They will be dining at seven thirty, so the family will want to arrive at seven at the latest, meaning they will need to leave here no later than five thirty. You know as much as I do how much his Lordship hates tardiness so I expect they'll be leaving closer to five. The ceilidh doesn't start until seven so we will have plenty of time to get ready. I have every confidence that they will not return before midnight, so we shall be back to attend to them before bed."

Mr Carson looked quite proud of his solution so Mrs Hughes hated to burst his bubble. "Suppose something happens and they return early?"

"Suppose the car breaks down, suppose there's a war?" he countered. It felt strange for him to be trying to persuade her to leave the house when it's not her scheduled half-day. It was normally the other way round; she was the one who often tried to get him to loosen the rules and accept change. Mrs Hughes smiled at him, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Would you feel better if I spoke with his Lordship? Explained the situation?" Mr Carson offered.

Mrs Hughes shook her head. "I don't think that will be necessary. His butler and housekeeper attending a dance together, what would he think?"

"You may have a point, although I doubt his Lordship would consider it improper. The Dowager countess however…"

"Well, that's that then," Mrs Hughes sighed. "It was a nice thought but I knew that, realistically, it wouldn't happen."

"It will happen, Mrs Hughes. Now, I may be a man, but I am not completely insensitive. I saw your face when you were looking at the poster in the village; I know how much you wish to attend. Part of my job as Butler is to ensure the welfare of the staff, including yourself. You work harder than anyone to make sure Downton runs as it should and, as such, I insist that you have a night off and attend the village Ceilidh."

"My, my, Mr Carson, that was quite the speech."

"I speak only the truth Mrs Hughes. So will you attend and allow me to accompany you?"

"It rather seems that I must," she teased. "Seeing as you insisted upon it mere moments ago."

"Good. I was worried for a moment I would have to use the seniority of my position and issue a direct order."

As he expected, she raised an eyebrow at him, and he could see her Scottish temper flaring at his remark. Neither of them were superior to the other and he jolly well knew that. Luckily for Mr Carson, he was unable to keep up his serious façade for more than a second, before his mask fell and he revealed himself to be reciprocating her teasing. Mrs Hughes shook her head. "You really are a daft man, Mr Carson." She finished her tea and placed the cup back onto its saucer. "I'm intrigued," she admitted. "How is it you know how to reel? I don't really see you as the country dancing type."

"I was recruited to assist when her Ladyship was teaching Lady Mary and Lady Edith," he admitted. "I cannot go so far as to say it was an enjoyable experience but I learnt something new, so I cannot very well complain… I shall need to watch carefully at the Ghillies Ball on Friday to reacquaint myself, but I'm sure I can be relied on not to embarrass you."

"I was going to suggest that I talk you through some of the more common dances. We can't rely on their being a caller. Not when we're this far north."

"A caller?"

"Someone to talk you through the dances before you start. It is more common practice in larger cities where you may have some non-Scots people in attendance. In a small village like this I would be quite surprised if they felt the need."

"So you are offering to teach me?"

"Yes, I suppose I am. But not tonight. It had been a long day and I doubt I would be able to keep my eyes open long enough."

"Tomorrow then?"

"Yes, but I haven't any idea about where we could go that would afford us the privacy and the time." They had no offices here, something they both found disconcerting; they were out in the open all of the time and they both felt uncomfortable, especially when Miss O'Brien was within earshot.

"Leave that with me," he said cryptically.

"As you wish." She stood from the table. "Good night Mr Carson."

"Good night Mrs Hughes." She was almost to the door when he called after her. "Just one more thing… I don't have to wear a kilt do I?"

Mrs Hughes just smiled enigmatically and retired to her room.