Starting to Understand
A/N: Sequel to I Don't Understand You.
Charles Carson learns about Mrs. Hughes's past and it opens his eyes to the future.
My choice was simple. Either I gave up work, and we lived on a pittance, or I went on working and paid for her to be care for.
But that must have cost a fortune.
It cost every penny I could spare. So there ye have it. I've got no savings because I've got no money. I'm a pauper.
But what about your retirement? Have you not paid into any schemes?
I can't retire. I must work for as long as anyone will let me. I wish you very well with your house, Mr. Carson. You've earned it. But there's no place for me in the project.
C*E*C*E*C*E*C*E
With a heavy heart, he slowly climbed the stairs to his room. His elation at the prospect of buying a property with Elsie Hughes, facing their retirement years together as partners, of tying his life with hers in their waning years had vanished with just a few short words.
Pauper. Pittance. Sister. As long as anyone will have me.
He slumped onto his bed and cradled his head in his hands to stop the pounding behind his eyes. He had always considered her to be his best friend, his one true confidante in the house … in the world, if truths were told. And yet, he knew so little about her. He had shared his burdens with her, though sometimes more reluctantly than others, and yet he had only just learned of her sister, her hardships, her prospects for the future.
He had told her of his time on the stage with Grigg. She had learned of his heartbreak over Alice, and she had helped him see the truth of that situation. He had learned through that encounter that old wounds could be healed and his heart could learn to love again. She had nursed him through so many illnesses, yet when she needed him the most, she hid herself and her worries away from him for fear of being less in his eyes. He had tormented them both with the idea of moving to Haxby for Lady Mary, though in the end, he made the correct decision for everyone involved. She had been a constant source of happiness in his life, pushing him to explore new boundaries, learning to live a little while she held him steady.
And tonight, the night when they should both be celebrating, he found his heart aching, his eyes weeping for the woman on the other side of the wall. He did not pity her or her situation. She had stepped up to the mark and faced her troubles with a calm and steady head. She had found a solution to her circumstances and had stuck with it for decades, giving selflessly and thinking only of another's care and happiness. The very last thing in the world she would want was his pity or his sympathy. No, he was crying for himself, for not noticing little things before now, for never asking more about her life, for a thousand little things he could have done to make her life better, easier, happier.
His mind drifted back to the expensive photo frame she had given him after Grigg had left. He remembered making a remark about the expense of it, but he accepted her gift with a grateful heart. No doubt, it had cost her a fair penny, yet she had lovingly given it to him. Now, the same frame sat on his bedside table but the picture of Alice had been returned to his box of memories. He had not wanted to pack away the beautiful frame, though, and he did not have the right to place a picture of Mrs. Hughes on his bedside stand. So, the empty frame served as a constant reminder of his past, his present, and his future.
It wasn't until Mrs. Patmore began to speak of her retirement years that Charles Carson began to seriously contemplate his life after Downton. He'd once told Mrs. Hughes that he felt he would never leave, would die there and haunt it ever after. That was no longer the case. As soon as they had started looking at properties, his excitement had grown exponentially, his enthusiasm for retirement growing more and more each day. And with each new day, the idea grew stronger and stronger, the image of sharing a cottage with Mrs. Hughes and building a life together, either as friends or something more, became clearer and clearer.
Tonight, though, she had all but shattered that image, though in the nicest way possible. She wished him well with his house. She truly looked saddened as she gracefully bowed out of their business venture. She was sincere in hoping he would purchase the cottage without her, but that had never been an issue for him. He had more than enough money to buy any of the cottages they had visited. He had never truly wanted her money nor needed it. No. What he needed was her in his life, in whatever capacity she wanted to claim … business partner, friend, perhaps even something more.
As he slipped beneath the cool sheets, his mind drifted back to countless conversations of home and family, parents, friends, his time on the stage, her childhood on the farm. At no time had she confided in him about her sister. Did she truly believe he would think less of her or look down upon Becky, regardless of her mental state? Maybe not, but she had kept it private, not secret … but private, just as Anna had once said of Gwen's typewriter.
But now he knew, now he understood her a little better. And with that thought, another shockwave rocked his world.
The workhouse! Grigg. I'm a pauper! I've got no money!
He would have to wait until morning to talk to Mrs. Hughes, but there was no way he was going to hurt her feelings again. He would be delicate but contrite. Now, he finally began to understand her, and he would tell her as much, if she would only listen.
She had helped Mr. Grigg, not out of some sense of obligation or a duty to keep scandal from the house. She had helped him out of a sense of compassion, one born from a life lived in fear of perhaps one day seeing the same fate. All those years of living meagerly, sending most of her money to care for her sister, never knowing what the future might hold … those were the reasons she wanted to help him … and Ethel, too, perhaps. She had risked everything to see that that fallen woman had been given a second and even a third chance at life. Knowing now what that could have cost her, especially when he informed Her Ladyship of the ordeal … he shuddered to think of what his actions could have caused.
It would be a long night without sleep, but he would think of just the right things to say. The last thing he wanted her to think was that he pitied her, looked down upon her sister, or in any way thought less of her. Quite the opposite in fact. He wanted her to know that he admired her for her sacrifices, was jealous of the amount of love she had to give, not only to her own kin but to those in need around her, was in awe of the courage she showed when others were in need. In some ways, he wished he was more like Elsie Hughes … kind, compassionate, warm, loving, tender, brave. Then again, maybe she saw a bit of those things in him. She had, after all, called their cottage shopping a little dream, "our little dream." If she hadn't enjoyed his company, she would never have gone as far as she did with the notion of buying a house together, retiring there, and living with him, or at least off of a shared investment.
Maybe she was right. It was a little dream, and they had both enjoyed it. But now that he understood the truth … both about her life and his feelings for her … with luck, maybe he could show her that that once little dream could turn into a beautiful reality. With Christmas on the horizon, anything was possible.
But starting tomorrow, at the first opportunity he had, he would make one thing very clear. It would all start off with a simple statement.
"I'm starting to understand you, Mrs. Hughes."
The End … no really, I mean it!
A/N: After reading I Don't Understand You, a few people asked for a follow up story exploring Charles's reactions. I hope this has not disappointed you. HUGS all around! xoxo