A/N: This is my first Downton Abbey fic which is all very exciting, but I'm a bit out of my Harry Potter comfort zone so please don't judge me too harshly if it's awful! I'm a big fan of Hughes/Carson and really hope (probably in vain) that they'll get together in series 3. I think that Mrs Hughes was not paid enough attention to after she was clearly very upset by what she'd had to say in court in the Christmas special, so I wrote this to let her get it off her chest. It's not intended to be a romance, but there will be hints of it in chapter 2. Enjoy, and please do read and review!

Mrs Hughes walked quickly through the hallways of Downton Abbey towards her sitting room. She was trying to pass her fast pace off as her usual bustle, but if anyone who knew her well had looked closely they would have seen that she was more upset than harried, her footsteps clumsier and somehow more desperate than as if she were merely hurrying to attend to one of her many tasks.

She had just come from Lady Grantham, to whom she had been recounting the events in court. She had almost lost her composure towards the end of the interview, overcome by the guilt that had been weighing down her shoulders ever since she had been forced, under oath, to speak words that she knew had condemned Mr Bates, in spite of her conviction that he was innocent. Mrs Hughes knew that it had not gone unnoticed by her employer – she had, of course, been gentle in her carefully chosen words about grief, but Mrs Hughes was internally kicking herself for letting her emotions show like that. This embarrassment, coupled by the fact that all day she had been attempting to act normally whilst trying to resist the grief and guilt that had been threatening to engulf her, had left her with a desire to run as fast as she could to her sitting room for some privacy. She knew, however, that this would not do, and thus compromised at a fast walk.

It seemed to take an age to get there, but thankfully she saw no one other than Mrs Patmore and Daisy, who were both busy peering into the oven, and didn't notice her. Finally, she reached the door and barrelled through it, banging it a tad louder than intended behind her. She immediately crossed to a little cupboard where she kept a bottle of brandy, which she used for medicinal purposes only, and poured herself a generous helping. She needed something to calm her down.

As she sank down onto the sofa, Mrs Hughes barely noticed that her hands were shaking until some of the brandy slopped over onto her dress. She brushed at it absent-mindedly, too lost in her thoughts to really care. For her thoughts were the kind that people will always get when disaster strikes someone they know – heightened guilt and a certainty that it was all their fault. This was how Mrs Hughes felt as she thought back to the dreadful moment that the judge had placed the black cap on his head. She barely thought of what Miss O'Brian and Lord Grantham had said, of how they had been forced into corners as well and had had to unwillingly provide evidence that would work against Mr Bates. She had no emotion or thought to spare for logic, for she had always been a kind woman who dedicated herself to helping others; whereas this time, it seemed the only people she had helped were the wrong ones – the prosecution.

Hands still shaking, Mrs Hughes downed her brandy in one. She felt the warmth of it seeping down the back of her throat into her stomach, but it didn't calm her as it was supposed to. Once the feeling of the strong alcohol in her gullet had died down, she didn't feel any different to before she'd drunk it. Placing the empty glass on a table, she stood up and paced around the room, wringing her hands, her mind racing.

It was shocking and heartbreaking enough that an innocent man, a good man who she had known and worked with, was to be sentenced to death. It was made worse by the fact that she was fond of Anna, whose grief was unimaginable. Mrs Hughes didn't think she could bear, on top of all this, the fact that she felt as if it was all her fault. Countless times she went over in her mind the conversation she'd overheard and wished that she'd tried harder to help him. She wished she'd had the courage to say that she didn't remember and refused to give evidence in the witness box. She wished she'd never overheard the conversation in the first place, had never got involved.

By this point, Mrs Hughes had worked herself up into such a state that she was now shaking all over. She felt hot as well – she crossed to the water jug and splashed her face, but it didn't help. Her breathing was fast and shallow, her pulse much faster than it should be and somehow more pronounced. Her stomach was churning, she was sweating slightly and she felt restless and stressed. She'd never had a panic attack before, usually being so calm and composed. But she'd never felt anything near this guilt before. Looking up into the mirror, she saw her own, very pale reflection staring back at her like a rabbit in headlights. There were tear tracks down her cheeks. She hadn't even realised she'd been crying.

As she stood there, staring at herself as if at a stranger, there was a knock at the door. Hastily wiping the tears from her face with one hand, the other resting on the back of the sofa as she took a deep breath, she called, "who is it?"

"Only me," came the reply. There was no mistaking that deep voice. Mrs Hughes did not particularly want Mr Carson to see her looking far from her usual composed self, but she was in no state of mind to think of an excuse as to why he couldn't enter, and so walked resignedly over to the door and opened it.

"Come in," she said, looking at a point over his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he closed the door, brow furrowed as he took the red patches on her cheeks where she'd scrubbed the tears away, still watery eyes and slightly twitchy movements.

"As well as can be given the circumstances, thank you, Mr Carson," she replied, with a valiant attempt at briskness and even a quick glance into his eyes in an attempt to make him believe her. "Are you?"

He didn't answer this, still regarding her worriedly. The brief eye contact had far from convinced him – the sorrow in her eyes did not match her less than believable reply.

"What did you want?" she pressed him, knowing she was being irrational but too annoyed that he'd walked in on her in the midst of her grief and was now simply staring at her.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Well?" Mrs Hughes demanded.

"It's not important. I can see you've got enough on your mind, Mrs Hughes. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"No I don't, because there's nothing to talk about." Mrs Hughes replied, swallowing the lump in her throat. The temptation to get it all off her chest was huge, but her sense of pride and habit of composure forbade her from giving in to it.

"Elsie…"

His gentle tone and use of her first name wasn't helping. This time, Mrs Hughes had to blink fiercely before saying, in a calmer voice she hoped would convince him that she was fine to be left alone, "Please, Charles. Leave me be." Seeing that he still looked very unsure, she added, "I'll be fine."

"Well…" he replied slowly, "If you insist. But if there's anything you need, you know where to find me."

"Thank you, Mr Carson." She gave him a forced smile.

"Goodnight, Mrs Hughes." He returned it sadly, inclining his head slightly. Then he was gone.

As the door closed behind him, she let out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and walked back to the sofa. She felt unsteady on her feet, and as she sat down a wave of fatigue swept over her. She had calmed down now – perhaps because she had had to force herself to in order to face Mr Carson, perhaps because the sight of a friendly face had helped more than she'd realised – but the aftermath of her panic was sadness and exhaustion. Wearily, she dragged herself back to her feet and off to bed, pulling out her hairpins as she climbed the stairs to her room. Once inside, she pulled off her black dress and threw it unceremoniously over a chair, fumbled her way into her nightgown and collapsed into bed, asleep within seconds.