Mrs. Hughes treaded the familiar path to Mr. Carson's pantry. Her feelings were very different this evening than they had been last night as she made her way down the same quiet hallway. Last night she had thought her dear friend was leaving Downton. Now she knew that he was not. Her step was a little lighter, and a weight she had not known she was carrying seemed to have been lifted from her shoulders.
She could see that he was there by the sliver of light that glowed from under the door, but he did not answer at her first knock. She knocked again and opened the door without waiting for his response. He sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped across his stomach, looking into the distance with a melancholy expression on his face. He tried to smile when he saw her, but she could tell that his heart wasn't in it. She closed the door and approached his desk.
"What's the matter, Mr. Carson?" she asked. She thought it likely that the reason for his gloom and the reason for her own cheer were one and the same.
He looked at her across the desk and attempted another smile. "Nothing's the matter, Mrs. Hughes. I'm just a little tired." She knew that he wasn't telling the truth, and before he had even finished speaking, he knew that she knew. He hoped, however, that she wouldn't press him to talk.
"Very well, then I won't keep you long," she said. "But come sit with me for a few minutes." She gestured toward the two armchairs they usually occupied when chatting over a glass almost every evening. Mrs. Hughes found the decanter and poured two glasses of sherry. He remained seated at his desk, now watching her movements absentmindedly. "Come, Mr. Carson," she coaxed, holding his glass out to him, just far enough away that he had to get up from his desk to take it from her. Once on his feet he followed her obediently to his armchair.
"Now tell me what's made you so tired," she said when they were both seated.
"Oh, nothing in particular," he said, avoiding her eyes.
"You told Lady Mary today, didn't you?" she asked gently.
His shoulders slumped. "I should have known you wouldn't let it go," he said, but there was no anger or irritation in his voice.
"Not when I can see it's made you so unhappy," she answered.
For quite some time there was no sound but the ticking of the clock. "She was very angry," he said at last. "She said I've disappointed her. I expected the disappointment, but not the anger."
"Did you tell her the real reason?" Mrs. Hughes asked, remembering her own astonishment at hearing Anna's tale last night. She'd never liked Sir Richard, but it seemed he was even worse than she had thought.
"Not at first, but she insisted upon knowing everything. Even when I told her what the man had done she had no mercy on me."
Mrs. Hughes clicked her tongue, shaking her head in sympathy. The poor man.
He looked up. "You shouldn't be surprised, Mrs. Hughes. I know what you think of her."
"Yes, you do, so there's no need for me to repeat myself."
"'I thought you were fond of me.' That's what she said to me, Mrs. Hughes," he said, looking utterly defeated.
It took a great deal of effort for Mrs. Hughes to suppress the angry words that sprang to her mind in response to this account of Lady Mary's cruelty. The girl had no conception of the turmoil this man had gone through as he made the decision to tear himself from Downton for her. But it would do no good for Mrs. Hughes to say just what she thought about Lady Mary's treatment of Mr. Carson, so she held her tongue until she was able to speak civilly.
"Can she really doubt that I am fond of her?" Mr. Carson said.
"Mr. Carson," she said firmly, when her initial ire had somewhat abated. "I don't think anyone who knows you could doubt it, least of all Lady Mary Crawley."
"Have I done right, Mrs. Hughes, in refusing to work for that man?" he wondered aloud.
"I'm not sure I'm the person to ask," she hedged, not wanting to give vent to her anger, yet unwilling to lie. "You must do what you think is right. Lady Mary knows how highly you think of her, whatever she may say in anger."
"I suppose you're right," he said, sighing.
"She'll forgive you, Mr. Carson. Just give her a little time. She's not used to being thwarted."
"Can she really be happy with a man like that for a husband?"
"I don't know. But truthfully I'm not at all concerned about Lady Mary right now. She will manage her own affairs. I only want to know that you will be all right. I don't like to see you brought so low, Mr. Carson, even if the reason proves me right. I'd rather be wrong than see you hurt."
He studied her face intently. "Do you mean that?" he asked.
"Why else would I have said it?" she responded simply.
At this he smiled a little. He was still wounded by Lady Mary's words, but one corner of his mouth lifted and she could see that he was truly cheered by her words.
"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. That is a great comfort to me."
The End.
