A/N This is my very late offering for Week 6 of our Unofficial DA S7. It's the story of how Mrs. Hughes becomes Mrs. Carson. It's just a little snippet in time that you can fit into the canon storyline if you'd like, but it doesn't necessarily have to be canon. It's pretty non-specific, so it can fit into almost any story setting you'd like to imagine. Enjoy!
Mrs. Hughes was exceedingly eager to become Mrs. Carson. She'd awakened that morning as a housekeeper – mistress of the downstairs world; married to a house, a family, a position; beholden to the needs and desires of her employers and to a system that put her services at the disposal of others. But that night she would retire to bed as a wife – mistress of her own life; married to a husband; beholden to nothing and no one but him.
As the time drew near the appointed hour, she mused over the decades she'd spent working by Mr. Carson's side. She and the butler had grown fond of each other quickly. Within months after her arrival at Downton as head housemaid, they'd become well acquainted. By the time she became housekeeper, their respect for each other, similar work ethic, and corresponding values and beliefs had laid the foundation for a deep, abiding friendship. They'd got on well together from the start, and after a time, she'd concluded that their arrangement was very much like a marriage. They worked together to run a house. She mended his clothes, ran errands for him, helped him organize his personal affairs, and worried and fussed over him whenever he was ill or injured. He carried heavy things for her, reached items in high places, moved the furniture in her sitting room for her when she wanted a change of scenery, helped her in and out of the wagonette or on and off the bus, and offered his arm to support her whenever they walked somewhere in bad weather or over uneven ground. How many husbands and wives did far less for each other on a daily basis?! For Heaven's sake, she and Mr. Carson lived in the same house, took almost all their meals together, and spent nearly every evening sitting close and talking intimately!
And yet, their arrangement was completely unlike a marriage in the most important aspect: as close as they were, they couldn't devote themselves fully to one another, because the demands of their positions took precedence over any personal attachment. The needs of the house and family always came first. When Mr. Carson had had his nervous attack and collapsed, Mrs. Hughes couldn't tend to him immediately because she'd had to keep matters running smoothly. When Mrs. Hughes had feared she might have cancer, she couldn't throw herself into Mr. Carson's arms, seeking the comfort she so desperately craved, because she'd had to remain strong and carry on with her household duties. And each night, after their nightcap and chat, she climbed the women's staircase to her modest bedroom, and Mr. Carson climbed the men's staircase to his equally humble quarters. And each morning, she awoke alone in her little room; on the other side of the dividing door, his day had a likewise solitary start.
At first, she'd thought her friendly dealings with the butler would be enough for her. Though she'd wanted more, she'd believed more would be impossible. And so she'd contented herself with the amicable terms of their relationship. She'd known that she could never retire, and Mr. Carson had always seemed perfectly happy to spend the rest of his life in service. She'd thought she could draw enough satisfaction from spending the rest of her days alongside him, in whatever capacity she could, even if that capacity were purely professional.
But after many unfulfilling years, she determined that Mr. Carson's friendship and his companionship were not enough for her. She'd concluded with stark certainty that she wanted – needed – his love. And fortunately for them both, at about the same time, he'd had an analogous revelation of his own. Much to her surprise and delight, he'd proposed; and to his equal astonishment and great joy, she'd accepted.
After they became engaged, their priorities had shifted somewhat. They still were still subject to the demands of Downton Abbey and the Crawley family, but their status as a betrothed couple was openly acknowledged, and they were free to express their devotion to each other (albeit in the most tame and proper ways). For months, Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson had progressed in this manner, with divided loyalties; and though it was far more fulfilling than their previous arrangement, this, too, was unsatisfactory. She wanted to be his, completely, and she wanted him to be hers and hers alone. And that was why Mrs. Hughes found herself grateful beyond words that on this day, their lives would change for the better. From this day forward, she and her beloved would belong only to each other.
So engrossed in her contemplation was she that she startled at the knock on her sitting room door. It was time.
"Are you ready? I believe it's time to … retire … to our cottage … Mrs. Carson." The booming voice of her husband echoed through the small room when he emphasized the words "retire" and "Mrs. Carson."
She turned to greet him with a smile. "Yes, Mr. Carson. I do believe I am quite ready to retire."
Mr. and Mrs. Carson spent a few more nostalgic moments in her sitting room and then several sentimental minutes in his pantry. They'd already removed their personal effects from both rooms and handed over their keys, ledgers, and other necessary items to Mrs. Baxter and Mr. Barrow. They'd said their goodbyes earlier, after a small celebration in their honor. And they'd reminded their downstairs friends and the family upstairs that they would be only a short walk away, had promised to visit the big house often, and had extended to everyone an open invitation to call on them at their cottage. The couple exchanged a few more words, nods, and smiles with two or three of the staff whom they encountered on their way out the back door, and then they walked through the evening twilight home to their cottage.
As they sat on the settee in their parlor late that night after a lovely dinner and a celebratory drink, Mrs. Carson addressed her husband seriously. "I'm sure you miss it already, but I hope you're not too sad, love."
"What!? No! Of course not!" Mr. Carson was surprised, but he offered his a wife a sincere smile. "I will admit that in the past, the prospect of my retiring on my own would have been wholly disagreeable to me – terrifying, even. But now, the reality of retiring with my darling wife is more pleasing than I ever could have imagined." He leaned over to kiss her temple. "What about you, dearest? How are you feeling?"
"I might, at some point, miss being Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper. But right now, I'm feeling very happy finally to be Mrs. Carson, your wife."
"I was quite fond of Mrs. Hughes, you know," Mr. Carson informed her. "As a matter of fact, I fell in love with her. But I'm definitely partial to Mrs. Carson now. And do you know why?"
"No. Why?" She smiled at him.
"Well, for one thing, I can kiss her any time I'd like." And he pecked her cheek.
"Is that so?" asked Mrs. Carson with a smirk.
"Yes, it's true. And for another thing, I won't have to tear myself away from her tomorrow morning so that we can both go to work. I can hold Mrs. Carson in my arms all day long. When we wake at the usual time, as I'm certain we will, I intend simply to pull her closer and not get out of bed."
"Hmmm … " she pretended to consider. "I think I prefer Mr. Carson, my husband, to Mr. Carson, the butler."
"Oh, do you, now?" Mr. Carson wanted to know.
"Certainly I do!" she told him. "Mr. Carson, the butler, would never have dreamed of lazing about in bed all day with the housekeeper!"
A glorious laugh bubbled forth from deep in his belly. "Oh, my love! How wrong you are! I can assure you that Mr. Carson, the butler, did in fact dream – quite often and very happily – about that very thing!"
"Did he really?" She pretended to be shocked.
"Well … " he admitted. "Perhaps in my dreams we weren't exactly 'lazing about' … "
Playing the coquette, she prodded, "Oh? What exactly were we doing in bed all day, then?"
"Perhaps … since we'll have nowhere else to be and nothing else to do, I'll show you tomorrow," he ventured, waggling his eyebrows at her. And he pulled her to him for a fiery kiss, a giving her foretaste of what she could expect the next day.
"Oh!" she breathed raggedly, pulling away slightly to speak. "I've decided already that retirement agrees with me!"
"Oh, yes," he agreed. "This will do quite nicely." And he kissed her again. After a moment, he stopped abruptly and spoke again. "I've changed my mind," he announced gravely.
"About retirement?" she wondered, confused.
"No. About showing you what we were doing in my dreams. I don't want to wait until the morning. I'd rather show you now."
"Well, then," she panted as his lips caressed her neck. "Perhaps we should … retire … to bed for the night."
"And the morning … " he added between kisses, " … and the afternoon."
And after a long day – after many long years – Mr. and Mrs. Carson did indeed retire together.
A/N I dislike the fact that Mrs. Carson is still called Mrs. Hughes when she's at work. I almost get it, a little. A housekeeper is called "Mrs." not only out of respect, but also because she (normally) can't marry a husband; she's married to her job. But our housekeeper is married to a man. She has an actual husband whose name she can take, as was traditional in England in 1925. It wouldn't bother me a bit if the story were set in the present day, because women frequently keep their maiden names today, particularly if they're well established in their careers and keeping their names consistent might be important. But we're talking about 1925 in England! And we waited six seasons and thirteen Downton years for this! And so … But whatever. Rant over.
This is my meager attempt to turn Mrs. Hughes in to Mrs. Carson. If they're going to insist on calling her Mrs. Hughes while she works, then the only way for her to become Mrs. Carson is for her to retire.
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