A/N: Based on the scene in S4E2 where Mrs Hughes and Mrs Patmore agree that 'we must all have our hearts broken once or twice before we're done'. See also this gifset: post/62759575865
Sunday afternoon is always quiet and Charles Carson liked it that way. He liked having a bit of peace before serving tea upstairs. A few moments to gather his thoughts - today he had more than enough to keep him occupied: thoughts of Alice leaving him, of Charlie leaving Downton, of Elsie Hughes running after him.
He had a cup of tea, 'Great Expectations' and even managed to procure a couple of Mrs Patmore's custard creams. He had untied his shoes and taken them off and was just settling in his more comfortable chair when he heard laughter drift through the grate. Giggling even. The distinct voices of Beryl Patmore and Elsie Hughes, the sound of spoons ticking against porcelain cups.
Their voices were loud enough to hear without having to prick up his ears too much. There was more sniggering, a chuckle. The story of a butcher's boy coming to call on Mrs Patmore when she was no more than a kitchen maid, the tale of Joe Burns and the recalling of first kisses. He hears a rather tearful story of a young man going off to war - or India - or both - and Elsie offering comforting words and another cup of tea.
He had never really given a lot of thought to Beryl Patmore's past. They got on well enough, he thought, without having to share stories of long lost loves. Not that there would be many. Only Alice. He had shared a bit about Alice with Elsie Hughes and he didn't want to know much about Joe Burns - not more than her first kiss and that he had come back.
But words keeping streaming through the grate and he cannot help hear about the less happy times involving intimacy in both women's lives. Of being harassed, assaulted even and his fingers twitch. Not just because it happened, but because he had not been there to stop it from happening and then the quiet defeat in both their voices stings worse than salt in an open wound.
Thankfully they move to more cheerful topics. They make fun of Jos Tufton and his wandering hands, they discuss Edna Braithwaite and Nanny West - neither getting a glorious report. Then the conversation takes an unexpected turn.
"What was all that with Mrs Crawley taking in an old friend of Mr Carson's?" He hears the teapot being stirred - they probably added more hot water.
"Oh… just something for Mrs Crawley to help her get past her initial depression." She answers and he can hear it is a blatant lie simply from how her voice lilts.
"Hmm… what will she do now this little project is finished?"
"Oh, I've no doubt something will pop up and things will go back to normal."
"And will Mr Carson go back to normal?"
The silence is deafening. He can only imagine what is happening in the other room and he holds his breath. He didn't think he had been acting any out of the ordinary, but apparently he had failed to keep his feelings and thoughts to himself.
"I suppose."
"Will you?"
She sighs. Her voice is soft, he has to strain himself to hear.
"A heartbreak or two before we can move on, Mrs Patmore. Nothing more."
Late that night he asks her to join him, like he always does. Leftover wine, discussing the day. Making plans. He feels uneasy. He has overheard private things, things that were not supposed to reach his ears.
"You are very quiet tonight." She remarks.
"I have a lot to think about." He answers. It's nothing but the truth.
"Well, Mr Grigg is going to be fine, he has a job and you two have made up - sort of - and everything this back to normal. We have a big houseparty to plan over the coming week." She dismisses his answer easily.
"Yes." He says and scrapes his throat. She is leaning back in the chair, her glass in hand and for a moment he can easily imagine her a lady upstairs. Or on a settee. With a cup of tea. Away from here but close to him.
It's a startling discovery she is more to him than just a friend, that she is much more than a Housekeeper. That he doesn't want to her to be hurt and much less that he be the cause of it.
"I agree. We have a lot to plan, Mrs Hughes." He smiles at her and refills his glass.
He has a lot to plan indeed.