(for sensitivebore)
"There's no need to get sentimental, Mrs. Hughes."
She hadn't knocked, of course, but rounded the corner and entered his pantry with barely even a jingle of keys, not looking up, her mind on the business of the household.
The sight that confronted her stopped her in her tracks. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't move. Couldn't move.
The big bear of a butler, softly rocking a swaddled, sleeping newborn in one arm, his other arm lightly around Lady Mary, who was sobbing quietly into his shoulder.
"What will I do without him, Carson? It's so unfair. We fought so hard to finally be together, only to…"
"Life is seldom 'fair', my Lady," he murmured gently, so gently. "But you were together, in the end, you had that time, and that is worth something. You loved, and were loved."
He looked up and locked eyes with the woman standing silently in the doorway. Don't question this, please, his eyes pleaded. Let us have this. Let me have this. She should have backed out of the door quietly right then, but found she couldn't. Her eyes were beginning to fill with tears. Oh, you dear man. You great big, sentimental fool of a man.
"But I can't do this without him. I can't…"
Gaze still fixed on the housekeeper in the doorway, he murmured again in that warm, comforting rumble, patting the young woman's shoulder.
"There, now, my Lady. You can. You are one of the strongest people I know. And I know it's not a comfort right now, but you still have us."
Elsie tilted her head slightly and wiped away a tear. His eyes had never left her. She nodded at him, and he acknowledged it with a touch of a smile.
"You always have us."
She backed quietly out of the doorway, and pulled it further closed behind her.