Jimmy came into the kitchen looking annoyed. "What's the matter with Mr. Carson?" he said to no one particular, leaning lazily against the wall.
"What do you mean?" Daisy asked him.
"He's in his pantry with the door locked."
"Is that really so strange?" Ivy wanted to know.
"Mrs. Hughes is in there with him." Jimmy shuddered. "I hate the thought of being locked in a room with that old harpy."
"Kindly show some respect, James," Mrs. Patmore scolded angrily. "I daresay Mrs. Hughes would care even less for the idea of being shut up in a room with the likes of you!"
Jimmy scowled.
"I guess you'll just have to wait for him to come out of the pantry," Ivy told him. "I'm sure he won't be in there for long."
"That's just it. When I knocked on the door he shouted at me to go away, and said I should come back in about three years!"
"Three years!" Mrs. Patmore exclaimed. "That doesn't sound like something Mr. Carson would say. You must have heard it wrong."
"Still, it does seem odd that he locked the door," Daisy observed. "I don't think he normally does that."
Just then, Mr. Molesley came in, looking even more bewildered than usual. "Uh, Jimmy, do you know where that small tray is? The one Mr. Carson likes us to use when Mrs. Patmore serves asparagus?"
"I just tried asking Mr. Carson, but he didn't want to talk to me," Jimmy answered.
Mr. Molesley's eyebrows rose. "I had the same problem."
"What do you mean?" Ivy wondered. "What did Mr. Carson say to you?"
"Mr. Carson didn't say anything to me," Mr. Molesley answered. "I knocked on the pantry door, but it was Mrs. Hughes that responded. Said something about, 'can't you lot leave us alone for five minutes?' and when I asked about the tray, she called out that I should come back in three years!"
"I told you!" Jimmy said to the room in general. He didn't fancy challenging Mrs. Patmore directly.
Mr. Molesley shrugged. "Well, I suppose I'll go up and check the servery. Maybe it got left in there by mistake."
#####
Neither Mr. Carson nor Mrs. Hughes left the pantry for the rest of the day. Mr. Barrow was happy to play cock of the walk and took on all of Mr. Carson's duties almost gleefully. Anna told the head housemaid to mind her own business and keep the rest of the housemaids in line. The senior staff managed to give vague answers to the family's queries about the whereabouts of the butler and housekeeper. They didn't really know what was going on, but no one wanted to give an honest account to the earl or countess of what precisely was going on downstairs. Lord Grantham was a bit put out that Mr. Carson had apparently disappeared, but his wife and family didn't find it so terrible or strange that Mr. Barrow was running dinner service for one night. When Mr. Barrow served him in the library after dinner, Lord Grantham was still thinking just how irregular it all was. When he went up to dress for bed, he hoped he might get some answers from his valet, but Mr. Bates was evasive.
"Fine," the earl fumed. "You won't tell me what's going on under my own roof? Then I shall just have to find out myself." Lord Grantham hurried down the gallery in his pajamas and dressing gown, angrily pushed open the door to the servants' stairs and descended in pursuit of answers.
The kitchen and servants' hall were nearly deserted. Some of the lights had already been switched off and no one ever expected to see him downstairs in his dressing gown, so Lord Grantham unwittingly escaped detection and made his way purposefully to Mr. Carson's pantry. He tried the knob and found it locked, which was the last straw.
"Carson! Mrs. Hughes!" he shouted, pounding on the door. "What in God's name is going on?!" There was no immediate response. Then an odd variety of sounds could be heard from inside the pantry - shuffling feet, someone bumping into a piece of furniture, whispering, rustling clothing. Lord Grantham lost patience. "Open this door at once!" he ordered, pounding on the door again.
Finally, the door swung open and the earl found himself face to face with his butler and housekeeper. Mr. Carson's tie was a little askew, and Mrs. Hughes' hair was slightly mussed, but otherwise they looked just as they always did, aside of being dressed in their morning clothes at eleven o'clock at night.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Lord Grantham demanded.
Mr. Carson spoke up first. "Well, milord, Mrs. Hughes and I-"
"Mrs. Hughes and you - yes, I can see that much!" he replied indignantly, working himself up into a dither. "I am appalled by your total indifference to the needs of your employers, your lack of response to the needs of your staff, and your very indecorous behavior! I might very well be forced to-"
"To ask us to retire, milord?" Mrs. Hughes interrupted. "Oh, that would be a shame, but I suppose your lordship must do what's right for the family. Very well, we'll go. But we won't be far - just in a cottage on the estate. Your lordship will always be welcome to visit us." She gave Lord Grantham a friendly smile and a nod, before stepping around him and into the corridor.
The earl watched her walk away from him in some shock before turning back to face his butler. "Well, Carson?" he challenged.
Mr. Carson looked thoughtful for a moment before he spoke. "I'm very sorry your lordship is not satisfied with our work. However, I do know that keeping up standards is of paramount importance in this house, so I understand completely why we can't stay. We'll say no more of it, milord." Mr. Carson gave Lord Grantham a firm nod and made his way down the corridor in Mrs. Hughes's wake. The earl stood dumbfounded in the doorway, looking into the empty pantry. He soon turned back down the corridor, but was too bewildered to notice Mr. Carson giving Mrs. Hughes a pinch on the bottom as they hurried up the stairs together.
The end.