A/N I originally posted this as a one-shot, but one of my reviewers (thank you, Mona Love!) thought that I might be able to get some more life out of it. I think she may be right. I'll give it a try, any way. Also, I saw a recently released Series 4 picture of Carson comforting Lady Mary, and (along with Mona Love's kind words) it inspired me to revisit this. I've redone Chapter 1 slightly (if you read it the first time I posted it, you might want to read the updated version) and posted Chapter 2.
I thought it might be a good idea to take a short break from my other story, "Small Advances." The reviews have dwindled, so I'm not sure people are liking it any more. I will finish it, because it goes against my nature to leave anything unfinished, but I'll have to return to it in a bit when I think I can do it justice again. It might be good to "switch gears," so to speak.
In the meantime, please let me know what you think of this. A huge part of my enjoyment in writing comes from finding out that someone out there is enjoying reading it, too. So write me a review, please, even if you hate it! That's ok. Then at least I'll know.
Oh, the disclaimer! Of course I don't own any of it or them.
Chapter 1
"Are you all right, Mr. Carson?" she asked when she found him sitting in the armchair in his pantry, gazing vacantly at the floor. He didn't even rise and offer her a seat, as he normally would have done. She moved to stand in front of his chair.
"How will she ever manage? How can she possibly carry on?" Charles wondered aloud, still looking down.
"If there's one thing I do admire about your Lady Mary, it's her fortitude. Life has dealt her some difficult blows," Mrs. Hughes reminded him, "but she's endured and overcome them all. No matter what else I may think about her, she's a strong young woman."
"But this is different. This was the man she loved. To lose the one person you love so much, someone who is your whole world, your very life - " he trailed off and looked up at her helplessly. He wanted to say more, but he couldn't. He was talking about Lady Mary, but was thinking of her, of the paralyzing fear he felt when he thought she might be ill, when he thought he might lose her. He knew exactly what Lady Mary must be feeling; he had nearly faced the same agony himself.
"It will be painful," Mrs. Hughes agreed, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Very painful. To live without the love of the person you hold most dear is almost unbearable. Almost. But she can bear it, and she will, because she must. She's got a family who love her. Her parents and grandmother will look after her. Mr. Branson will certainly share her sorrow. I daresay even Lady Edith will be uncharacteristically sympathetic in this situation. Anna will be devoted as ever. And if that isn't enough for Lady Mary, she's got you. I do believe that that girl would have a much more difficult time with a great many things if she didn't have her most loyal protector and staunchest supporter. If anyone can ease her burden, I know you can. She knows there's nothing you wouldn't do for her."
She raised her hand to his cheek. At this, Charles broke. Her touch was too much for him. He began weeping bitterly - great, heaving, visceral sobs. Mrs. Hughes hesitated, seemingly unsure what to do. Before she could respond, he grasped both her hands and carefully pulled her down into his lap. Still sobbing violently, he arranged her so that she was sitting sideways across his knees, wrapped his arms around her waist, and buried his face in her shoulder. Her own tears now falling, she looped both arms around his neck and drew his head even closer, cradling him to her bosom as a mother would comfort a child, caressing the back of his neck and his hair. He moved his arms up around her shoulders and clung more tightly to her. She gently kissed the top of his head and rested her cheek there.
Oddly enough, he wasn't embarrassed - not with Mrs. Hughes. He would never allow himself to be so vulnerable with anyone else, but with her, it was different. He needed to hold her, and he needed her to hold him. He wouldn't normally be so bold, but tonight, he desperately needed the physical comfort he otherwise would never allow himself. Only she could unburden him, with a simple word, a mere look, a light touch.
They remained thus, crying, holding onto each other fiercely, bodies and hearts intertwined, for a very long time. When both had calmed somewhat, they pulled their heads apart just enough to look at each other. Charles slid his arms back down around her waist, settling his hands on her hip, and Mrs. Hughes rested her hands together on his shoulder, her arms draped loosely about his neck. He managed to pull a handkerchief out of his pocket with one hand while still holding her with the other. After tenderly drying her tears, tears shed not for Mr. Matthew, not for Lady Mary, but for him, he wiped his own eyes. He returned the handkerchief to his pocket and resumed his hold on her. Somehow, the knowledge that she was crying for him made him feel both better and worse.
When he had composed himself enough to speak, he sighed heavily and smiled at her meekly. "Thank you for that, Mrs. Hughes. You'll never know how much it means to me."
"Oh," Mrs. Hughes dismissed his gratitude. "It was nothing, Mr. Carson. I just hope I've been able to help. But if you're feeling a little better now, perhaps you should let me up. I'm perfectly comfortable, but I'm afraid your knees will not thank you later."
He realized then that he was still holding her firmly and became a bit flustered. "Oh! Yes, of course. I'm so sorry," he apologized as he recovered himself and released his grip on her. He would gladly have held her all night, aching knees or not, but he knew he couldn't.
"It's quite all right. I don't mind," she assured him as they both stood up.
After studying her for a moment, Charles lifted his hand to her face and brushed her cheek with his thumb. He looked earnestly into her eyes as he told her, "You've been a great comfort to me tonight, Mrs. Hughes. I do believe that I would have a much more difficult time without my staunchest supporter. I don't know if I can ease her burden, but you've certainly lightened mine. I'm very grateful. It's true I would do anything for her ... but I would do the same for you. Anything. I hope you know that."
"I do, Mr. Carson, but thank you for saying it," she said. "And I hope you know the reverse is also true."
"You've shown me time and again," he replied sincerely. "How could I possibly think otherwise?"
He leaned closer and reverently kissed her forehead. She placed her hands on his chest and laid her head between them. He circled his arms around her shoulders, pulled her closer, and nestled his chin atop her head.
Charles was content to remain in this position, not speaking, just holding her and being held, but eventually, they had to separate, and it was Mrs. Hughes who spoke first.
"I'll say goodnight now, but before I go, do one thing for me, Mr. Carson, please," she requested.
"Anything, Mrs. Hughes," he echoed his earlier sentiments.
"The coming days will be very trying, with the family back from Scotland, and Lady Mary coming home from the hospital, and then, of course, the funeral - the luncheon and all the guests. I would like to relieve some of your sorrow, if I can, or at least share it with you. Promise me, when it all gets to be too much for you, you'll come to me. I'll be waiting," she said.
"And where else would I go?" he asked, smiling weakly.
She smiled back affectionately and kissed his cheek before leaving.
