A/N This is a season 3 AU. Matthew didn't inherit Lavinia Swire's father's money so the Crawleys are forced to sell Downton Abbey. This is a story about Carson.

"We're selling the estate, Carson, and moving to our smaller house in Eryholme."

"My Lord?"

Lord Grantham looks to his wife for support. "We can't keep up the Abbey any longer. It's too much."

"Besides," Lady Grantham chimes, "no one really has a house this large anymore."

Carson only nods, feeling the ground shift beneath him.

-CC-

"Of course, you'll be coming with us."

Lady Mary throws this at him as he oversees the packing of the small library. He lifts an eyebrow in her direction. He had always thought he'd die at Downton Abbey. Now it seems the Abbey is to go before he will.

"I can't imagine what we would do without you," she smiles.

"Of course, milady."

Perhaps he could grow to tolerate Downton Place, if only for Lady Mary.

-CC-

He finds her in the guest linen cupboard. Most of the linens will be sold with the house, but there are a few things Her Ladyship wants to take with them.

"I'm almost finished here," she says placing folded bed sheets into the trunk at her feet. "Then you can have your boys carry it down to the wagonette."

"You should have one of the maids doing this."

She huffs at him as she swats a fly-away hair from her eyes. She is still irked at him for his comments on the stairs before Lady Edith's almost wedding. He is worried about her. She tires more easily and Dr. Clarkson still has not given her the results of her test. He can't help but think this move will be harder on her than the wedding was.

"They have enough on their plates as it is. I've done the best I can for them, but they still need to find new jobs before the month is out."

"Lady Mary has asked me to go with them," he says.

"Well, of course she did," she smiles at him. "The Crawleys couldn't exist without their butler. Especially your Lady Mary."

He blushes faintly at her praise. He knows she doesn't always understand his love for the Family.

"Her Ladyship has promised me a good reference when the time comes."

Carson looks up at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

Mrs Hughes sends him an exasperated look. "Not everyone is as indispensable as you are, Mr. Carson."

He watches in shock as she places the last of the linens into the trunk and fastens it closed. She smiles tightly at him, leaving him alone among the linens.

-CC-

"Why aren't you moving to the new house with the rest of us?"

Carson stops at Mrs. Patmore's question. He moves closer to the kitchen door to hear the answer.

"I've already told you why," he hears Mrs. Hughes's sigh.

"Will you at least tell him why?"

Carson leans closer, placing his hand on the wall as he strains to listen over the noise of the kitchen. He almost misses the quiet reply.

"He's already having to leave his beloved Abbey. I'll not be adding to his burden."

A clink of china, quick footsteps, and Carson leans back into the shadows hoping she won't notice his eavesdropping. She slips quietly into her sitting room, head hung low. He watches her door for a long moment gathering his courage to go ask her what Mrs. Patmore had meant. What she had meant.

"Mr. Carson, you're needed in the drawing room."

Young Alfred looks at him expectantly. Carson nods and waves the boy away.

"Thank you, Alfred."

He watches the lad bound back up the staircase. He is a good worker and Carson will write him a good reference, hopes it will stand him in good stead once the Abbey closes for good.

Carson turns to look back at her door once more and sighs. Later then. He'll ask her later.

-CC-

Carson keeps a close eye on Lady Edith. She hasn't been the same since Sir Anthony Strallen had left her at the alter. She stays away from her family, preferring to sit by herself for hours in out-of-the-way rooms. Carson makes sure she has plenty of tea if only so that he can check up on her periodically. She is still so dispirited it breaks his heart.

"I'm cursed, Carson," she says one day as he pours her one of many cups of tea. She has drawn into herself so much that she reminds him of the timid young girl she used to be when she would sneak to his pantry after Lady Mary had been especially cruel. He hands her her tea making sure to catch her eyes.

"You are not cursed, my Lady," he declares softly.

"Aren't I? First Sir Anthony and now the Abbey. Everything I love, I lose."

"You are not cursed, my Lady," he says again pressing a white handkerchief into her trembling fingers. He takes up a silent vigil near the door. Lady Edith isn't the cursed one, he thinks.

-CC-

"You'd tell me if something were wrong, wouldn't you?" he asks again one night over his glass of sherry. She hasn't touched a drop of her's.

"Everything is going smoothly for the move, as you well know," she smiles at him.

"I wasn't talking about the move," he whispers.

She lets out a long sigh. "I know."

She says nothing more and neither does he. They sit in quiet thought together until the clock chimes the hour. She bids him goodnight, leaving her full glass behind her.

-CC-

Lady Grantham calls for them both to discuss the details for the first of the Family's things to be moved to the new house. The family that had lived in Downton Place has finally finished moving out, and now Carson and Mrs. Hughes had to organize the transfer of some of the larger pieces the Crawley's were taking with them.

"I dare say you both have everything under control."

"Of course, my Lady," Mrs Hughes smiles looking to Carson.

"Have you made your decision about coming with us, Mrs. Hughes?"

Carson inhales sharply, watches her smile tightly at the Countess. She avoids his eyes as she answers. "No, milady, I haven't."

Lady Grantham smiles sympathetically. "Have you still not heard from Dr. Clarkson?"

He feels her sharp look and tenses, holds his breath. She doesn't know that he was the one to tell Her Ladyship about her illness. He wasn't even supposed to know about it himself.

"He said it would take up to two months to get the results, milady."

"Doctors don't mind making you wait, do they?" Lady Grantham's face falls as her joke falls flat. She looks between her butler and housekeeper in concern. "Regardless of the results, Mrs. Hughes, you are more than welcome to come with us to Downton Place as Housekeeper or otherwise. My offer still stands."

Mrs. Hughes wrings her hands, tucks her head. Carson can see she is almost overcome with embarrassment. "Thank you, my Lady."

Lady Grantham dismisses them and they move as one out of the room. She is gone before he turns back from closing the door.

-CC-

Carson sits at his desk staring balefully at the empty chair across from him as he sips his wine. He had wanted to ask Mrs. Hughes to join him as he always does, but she has avoided him since their talk with Lady Grantham. He won't impose his company on her tonight when she clearly doesn't want it. He laughs humorlessly when he realizes he will have to get used to sitting alone once the move to Downton Place is completed.

"What's so funny?"

He hadn't heard her come in, and he startles to his feet knocking his glass onto his desk. They both move to save his papers at the same time. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's not your fault," he says mopping up the spilt wine with his handkerchief. "I shouldn't have been so clumsy."

His desk set back to rights, they both sit on either side and Carson offers her a glass of wine. Mrs. Hughes declines with a small shake of her head and looks down at her hands in her lap. She draws a deep breath before lifting her eyes to meet Carson's calmly.

"I may have cancer, Mr. Carson," she says matter of factly. "Dr. Clarkson has run some tests to confirm this but I haven't heard back from him. But you already know all of this."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes. I never should have-"

"No," she cuts him off with a shake of her head, "I'm not saying this to blame you for snooping. I should have told you but…"

She bites her lip, trailing off to look over Carson's shoulder and when he can stand her silence no more he prompts, "But?"

She turns back to him and smiles wanly. "I didn't want to tell you, Mr. Carson. I didn't think I'd have to tell you, but with the selling of the estate I no longer have any choice. You see, if I am ill, I will not be moving to Downton Place with the rest of the household and you'll need to find a new Housekeeper."

Carson breathes deeply trying to absorb what Mrs. Hughes had just told him. He had known she could have cancer, of course he had, but hearing it from her own lips was something he was woefully unprepared for. "But surely if-God forbid- you are ill, you could still come with us to the new house. The Crawley's wouldn't just abandon you."

Mrs. Hughes laughs kindly at his defense of the Family. "No. Her Ladyship has already made a generous offer in that regard, but you would still need to find a new Housekeeper. So there would be no point in my moving to the new house with you."

A long silence follows, only broken by the soft ticking of the clock Carson keeps on his desk. Carson traces the wood grain on the arm of his chair absentmindedly as he thinks of what to say to her. He wants her to go with them, with him, if he's being honest, even if she does turn out to be ill. He can't imagine his life without her in it. Leaving the Abbey is hard enough. He doesn't want to leave her behind too. He doesn't want any of this.

"You are not ill," he says suddenly, startling them both with the loudness of his voice. He regains his composure and meets her eyes. "You are not ill and you will be going with us to Downton Place."

"Mr. Carson, it's not as simple as that."

"We can't function without you. I can't function without you."

Mrs. Hughes closes her eyes and swallows painfully. "You may have to."

She leaves his pantry before he can stop her and he is left alone willing his tears not to fall.

-CC-

Carson had always thought empty houses were sad. The unnatural quiet that seems to always cling to the rooms unnerves him. There was always someone moving about the Abbey, it was never as quiet as this new house, Downton Place. Moving silently through the rooms Carson almost wishes he had listened to Mrs. Hughes and brought Alfred with him today, but someone was needed back at the Abbey to tend to the family.

He looks around the empty drawing room trying to imagine life happening here. Closing his eyes he can just hear the after dinner chatter of the Ladies, feel the warmth from the nonexistent fire in the hearth. He inhales deeply and looks around once more before moving through the rest of the house imagining the same.

He sees the Dowager Countess having tea with Her Ladyship in the small library, maids scurrying through the hallways on their way to clean some room or another. On the family's floor, he sees His Lordship leaving his dressing room.

Downton Place is so much smaller than the Abbey that it takes him no time at all to walk the entire house until he finds himself alone in the servant's hall. From his vantage point, he can see the much smaller kitchen that Mrs. Patmore had moaned over as soon as she'd seen it. He wanders through the downstairs trying to see the place alive with the natural chaos of a working manor house.

He opens the single door to his new butler's pantry. It wasn't quite as spacious as the one at the Abbey, but it did have a window, for which he was grateful. He watches the dust float through the sunlight before moving down the hallway towards the Housekeeper's parlour.

He stands outside the door without entering for a long time. He knows that the room is empty. Mrs. Hughes still hasn't made a decision about taking up the Housekeeper position here, still hasn't heard her prognosis from Dr. Clarkson. He places his hand uncertainly on the door handle debating whether to look inside.

A sharp buzzing jolts him from his musings. Irritably he stomps back to the servant's hall to look at the hideously modern bell board filled with lights instead of the brass bells he was used to. The front door. The movers must be here with the first of the furniture to be brought from the Abbey. He tugs his waistcoat into place, putting his melancholy behind him. It was time for him to go to work as the butler of Downton Place, however distasteful it might be.

-CC-

A sharp rap on his door draws his attention.

"I'm to see the doctor tomorrow afternoon, Mr. Carson."

Carson scrambles to his feet as she walks briskly across the room to his desk. His heart feels as if it is trying to beat its way out of his chest at this news, but she continues to ramble on.

"I've a meeting with Her Ladyship after to discuss the new house. Mrs. Patmore has offered to walk into the village with me so I'm afraid we'll be leaving you to deal with the last of the packing alone for a few hours."

Carson clears his throat to stop her, tries to smile. "I'm sure we'll manage."

"Yes, of course."

They stare wide-eyed at each other across his desk each filled with equal parts hope and fear. Hands wring, fists clench, wanting to reach out to offer some small form of comfort, but neither able to move for fear of breaking.

"Well," she says after an age," I'll say goodnight, Mr. Carson."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Hughes," he nods, praying with every fiber of his being that tomorrow afternoon will not break him.

-CC-

"I'm not sure I'll ever get used to this new house," he grumbles lifting his glass of wine to his lips. "It's much too small."

"Oh, but the gardens are lovely here, Mr. Carson," she smiles at him over the rim of her half empty glass.

He hums in agreement and they lapse into a comfortable silence that comes from years of living and working together. They are in a different place now, a different house, but they are still the same. He smiles. They are the same.

"Perhaps tomorrow we might walk through them, Mrs. Hughes, together?"

A red flush heats her cheeks. "I'd like that, Mr. Carson."

They smile shyly at each other and Carson begins to think for the first time that Downton Place isn't quite as bad as he'd imagined. After all, the best part of the Abbey had come with him.

A/N Thanks for reading. Please leave a review if you feel so inclined.