This is a one-shot and my first fan fiction effort. It started as one scene in what I thought would be a bigger Sybil/Branson story, but I found myself just as interested in the Lang issue as the Branson one and decided to keep it a short look at what might have gone on in Carson's head when he decided to not fire Branson.
Mr. Carson sat down in the butler's pantry and breathed a sigh of relief and satisfaction. Despite Mr. Branson's thwarted plan to humiliate General Strutt and Mr. Lang's emotional display at the officers' leaving, the visit and dinner had been a success. Neither His Lordship nor the general were aware of Branson's scheme, and Lang had been effectively blocked from the dignitaries' sight when the tortured valet was overcome by the mental scars of war.
Carson knew what to do about Lang, though the butler dreaded it. It seemed unjust to deprive a man of his livelihood for an affliction he suffered as a result of serving his country. Lang had volunteered for the Army and served honorably. He returned without any visible wounds and appeared physically able to do the work. That appearance, however, had cracked open to reveal the unavoidable truth.
It was certainly unexpected, Carson thought. To compare Lang to his predecessor, Mr. Bates, anyone would think that Lang was the man better suited to the position. But Bates could work well despite an injured leg. In fact, with a few minor adjustments to the division of duties among the staff, Bates had proven to be one of the best valets Carson had known in his career. After more than four years at Downton, Bates' limp had barely registered notice by the rest of the servants.
Lang, however, was not like Bates. Lang's condition worsened over time. The shaking hands and dropped trays gave way to night terrors and fits of panic. Lang couldn't do the work, but more than that, the work was driving him to the edge of despair. He and Downton were a poor match, what with the constant bustle of activity and the officers in and out of the house. Lang needed calm and rest. Lang needed help.
Carson sighed again and said a silent prayer that the country would find a way to provide that help to Lang and the thousands of soldiers like him. The butler then turned his mind back to the question of Mr. Branson. He thought about the look of astonishment and confusion on the chauffeur's face when Carson and Anna accused him of plotting to murder the general just before they saw the vile concoction in the turine. Sitting alone in his office, Carson chuckled, despite himself. It was clear to him that murder hadn't even crossed the young Irishman's mind. Branson held some revolutionary views, that was true, and Carson did not share them, but he had to admit that the young man was basically a good chap, not a violent radical. Branson's idea of a political protest involved cow pats and sour milk, not bullets and knives.
The issue of whether to call the police was fairly simple — Carson didn't want to involve the authorities. The question of whether to send Branson back to Ireland by way of a swift kick to his seat was more complicated. Carson couldn't fire the chauffeur without explaining to Lord Grantham the reason. While the stoic old butler was not above concealing information from his employer, he was not willing to His Lordship's his face. And he certainly couldn't tell him the truth! If Lord Grantham knew how close Downton had come to being the object of the sort of ridicule that would result from such a political protest, he would… well, Carson shuddered to think of it.
Beyond the difficulty of handling the sacking, there were practical matters to consider. If Branson were dismissed, then what would Downton do for a chauffeur? Lady Edith frequently offered — threatened was more like it — to drive her family to and fro, but Carson and Mrs. Hughes couldn't call on her to do errands for the staff. Carson had to concede that certain compromises must be made in the management of the house for the duration of the war, but asking one of the young ladies of the house to fetch supplies from Ripon was out of the question. More importantly, Branson didn't just drive the cars, he maintained and repaired them. Nearly every very able-bodied driver and mechanic in Britain was currently in the army driving ambulances or repairing machinery. Branson was practically irreplaceable.
Mr. Carson was resolved. Branson would stay. Lang would go. And Carson added these decisions to his growing list of things he never would have expected to do before the war when Mrs. Hughes knocked on his door to have a glass of wine and discuss the situation.