This story is dedicated to all the Loganites. Being, like Phyllis, not very computer literate, I am not on Tumblr but I really appreciate all your wonderful blogs or should I say Phlogs! Thank you!
Of course, these wonderful characters are entirely the property of Julian Fellowes.
It wasn't until he saw her face that the full horror of the day struck him. He had heard the verdict, of course. It had been he who had answered his Lordship's brief and sombre telephone call; he who had passed on the bare and bitter fact to her Ladyship: Bates would hang. But, he had not quite believed it, not quite understood the appalling truth of these words, until he saw her standing in the Servants' Hall, pale, exhausted, despondent.
The staff had crowded in to hear the news, pouncing upon the housekeeper and Miss O'Brien as they came through the door. She was speaking when he arrived; her voice cracked and strained,
"With kindness, I hope."
He watched their reactions: shock, sadness, a disbelief mirroring his own, and yes, amongst a few younger ones who had barely known the valet, a frisson of macabre excitement:
"When will he be hanged?"
It felt cruel to ask her, so soon back, before she'd had time even to take off her hat and coat, but he had to do his duty.
"Her Ladyship wondered if you could give her an account of the day?" he said, as gently as he could.
She gave a small sigh, and nodded, "Of course."
He turned to leave, stopping to let her go before him into the passageway, but she had not yet finished.
"I'd like to say,' she said, more strongly, stepping forward, "I may have been called for the prosecution, but I do not believe in Mr Bates' guilt."
She walked out of the hall, then, her hand covering her mouth. He followed as she made her way quickly to her sitting room,
"Let me help you off with your coat."
She paused, allowing him to take it from her shoulders, and began to unpin her hat.
"You'll be tired," he said. "It must have been a most difficult day."
She bit her lip and looked down at her hands, shaking her head slightly.
"I'll just pop to the washroom to make myself presentable, Mr Carson, and I'll be right up."
"Thank you," he said, giving her a small smile, before she hurried away. "Her Ladyship's in the library."
He wasn't below stairs when she returned from her meeting with the Countess. He had been in the dining room, checking the table settings. The circumstances certainly did not warrant multiple wines at dinner.
He went down to the kitchen to remind Mrs Patmore that Lady Rosamund did not take dessert.
"Oh she'll want some when she sees it," said the cook wryly. "She always does."
"Has Mrs Hughes come down?" he asked.
There was a pause.
"Yes," said Daisy hesitantly, "she was..." She trailed off at a look from Mrs Patmore, who walked over to the range.
"Here," the cook said firmly, pouring water from the kettle into a tea pot, "you'd better take her this. She's had a long and tiring day." She placed the pot on a tray laden with cups, a jug of milk, and a bowl of sugar, and put it into his hands. "There's enough for two!"
He knocked briefly on her door, as best he could when carrying a load, and pushed it open. She was sitting at her desk, ostensibly studying her linen book, but her head was in her hands.
"Mrs Patmore thought you could do with some tea," he said. "She's given me a cup too, if you don't mind me staying. His Lordship's not back yet."
She took a moment before turning round to face him.
"Not at all, Mr Carson. Thank you very much." Her voice was steady, but he noticed, her eyes were red. She got up and made to take the tray from him.
"No, don't you worry," he said. "You've done enough for today. Sit down. I'm perfectly capable of being mother."
She smiled fleetingly at this, and went to sit on her sofa. He passed her a cup of tea, then poured one for himself, and sat down opposite her on one of the stiff backed chairs.
"Her Ladyship said they wouldn't be dressing for dinner," she told him, "so I've sent Miss O'Brien to bed for a few hours. She's not one to admit defeat, I dare say, but she looked worn out. I'll call her down once they've finished dinner."
She took a sip of tea, and sighed.
"You should follow her," he said. "There's nothing left to be done tonight, that can't be done in the morning."
She shook her head, wearily, and he could see the grief in her eyes,
"I must be here when Anna gets back. The poor, poor girl..."
He didn't argue, nor did he ask her, once again, to give an account of the day. He didn't need to hear the details. The fear, the anguish, and the tragedy of trial were all written in her face.
"I think I'll send everyone to bed early this evening," he proposed. "I won't have the hall boys sitting around and talking all kinds of nonsense about Mr Bates."
"They don't mean any harm, Mr Carson," she said quietly. "They're just young and curious, and it's natural that they should be disturbed by such extraordinary events. They feel better talking it out."
"Perhaps so, Mrs Hughes," he replied, not entirely convinced. "But I don't think it quite appropriate tonight."
They were silent for a while, the only sound the chinking of china.
She glanced up at him several times, as if she wanted to say something, but couldn't quite summon the words. He waited for when she was ready.
"I..." she began, then stopped and stared at her lap. She tried again, but with little success.
"What is it?" he asked softly.
She took a deep breath,
"I'm frightened, Mr Carson. I don't know what I can say to her."
He gazed at her, confused.
"To Anna? I doubt she'll hear any words that are addressed to her tonight. All she'll need is a comforting arm to guide her upstairs and perhaps something to help her sleep."
She was looking at her lap again. He tried to reassure her.
"Lady Mary is with them. I know what you think, Mrs Hughes, but she's very fond of Anna. She'll be a help, and so will Mrs Crawley."
The housekeeper didn't look up, but concentrated upon the teacup in her hands.
"And tomorrow," he continued, "let Anna take the lead. She'll take some time to recover from the shock, that's for sure, but she's brave. She won't give up hope. I am confident that his Lordship will do everything he can to overturn the verdict."
She did not stir.
"If she needs advice, Mrs Hughes, she knows she can turn to you. Anna knows you're on her side."
To his great consternation, she looked up at him then and her eyes were brimming with tears.
"No, Mr Carson," she almost whispered. "No she does not know that. Not after today."
She bent her head again, and put her hand to her face.
In incomprehension and concern, he reached out to take her other hand, but was stopped by a sharp knocking at the door.
"Mr Carson?" called Thomas' voice. "Mrs Hughes?"
She stood up hastily, and turned away from the door as it opened, blowing her nose with her handkerchief.
Thomas poked his head into the room.
"His Lordship has returned, Mr Carson. He's in the drawing room with Mr Crawley. Lady Mary's taken Anna straight to her room, Mrs Hughes. I thought you'd like to know."
"Thank you, Thomas," he replied curtly.
The housekeeper did not turn round.
The footman lingered,
"Shall I get Daisy to take Anna up a tray?"
She faced him then, face white, mouth set in the thin line, composed and resolute.
"No, no, I don't expect she'll be wanting anything. I'll go up to see her now myself."
The footman departed.
"Mrs Hughes..." he started, but she cut him off.
"I'll go now, Mr Carson."
A jingle of keys and she was gone.
With a heavy heart, he gathered up the tea things and switched off the light.