Disclaimer: First name not Julian, last name not Fellowes.
A.N.: After reading every single Carson/Hughes fic in this website, I decided to have a go at it. This piece takes place during episode 2 of series 1, when we learn about Mr. Carson's past on the stage. Most of the dialogue was taken from the episode itself. As English is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes, and if you see one, please let me know so I can correct it. I hope it's not too much OOC, and I hope you like it.
X
She stared at her reflection in the mirror, trying not to dwell in the recently acquired lines around her eyes and mouth. She knew she was no young lass anymore, and had not been for quite a while, but at times, she could not help but wonder why was it that life seemed to go by quicker when at Downton. She certainly did not remember getting so...old. Shaking her head, she decided now was not the time to be thinking such things. Busying herself with the collar of her dress, she did not notice Mr. Carson standing in the doorway to her sitting room until he shyly knocked on the door. She turned to look at him, and tried to hide her smile - unsuccessfully, she imagined. It seemed she always felt like smiling when she was around him, a terrible habit she needed to learn how to suppress.
"If you're going to the ceremony, I thought we might walk together." He said.
"Certainly I'm going; I want to see the old bat's face when they announce it. I must try not to look too cheerful. Or shouldn't I talk like that in your presence?" she said mockingly, fully expecting him to come to the aid of the Dowager Countess, whom he always made a point of saying he respected oh so very much. She did not expect, however, the way his face fell and shoulders slumped, before he said, in a crestfallen voice:
"Do you find me very ridiculous, Mrs. Hughes? Putting on airs and graces I've no right to?"
She turned fully to him, taking in his eyes filled with what she could only describe as regret "What's brought this on?"
"Nothing" he sighed, and she knew he was lying "Except at times I wonder if I'm just a sad old fool."
She took a deep breath, hoping to hide the sadness that threatened to wash over her. How could this man, this honourable, respectable man, think so little of himself? Lord knows you think highly of him enough for the both of you said a small voice in her head. It was true, she admitted to herself; no one could ever measure up to Charles Carson in Elsie Hughes' eyes. Not that she would ever say that aloud, of course.
"Mr. Carson, you are a man of integrity and honour, who raises the tone of this household by being part of it. So, no more of that, please" she turned her back to him, before she said anything else, or worse, before he saw anything. True, she had been a housekeeper for years, and thus had learned how always have her emotions in check, but she had not had nearly as much experience as he had in keeping her emotions out of her face.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror once more, adjusting her hat. She knew he was still there, standing in the doorway, and she risked a quick glance at his reflection, not wanting to be caught staring. She needed not have worried; he seemed to be very intrigued by the floor. But one thing she noticed lightened her thoughts considerably: even though his shoulders were still slumped, there was a very small smile on the corner of his lips. She sighed contently.
"I'll be waiting for you outside, if you don't mind, Mrs. Hughes," he said, after a few moments. She merely nodded, relieved to hear that his voice had gone back to its usual deep rumble.
Charles Carson had never been the kind of man to dwell in the past. He knew he had made some unfortunate choices in the course of his life, but he had managed to turn it around and leave the past where it belonged: behind. At least, that is what he thought when he started working at Downton. However, not in a million years would he have imagined that his past would come back and try to ruin the almost impeccable life he had created for himself.
Mr. Carson, the dignified butler of Downton Abbey, had spent the last week or so in utter distress, caused by a man named Charles Grigg. But His Lordship had, most generously, taken care of it, and the butler was now free of his latest worry. That did not help, however, to quiet the little voice in his head that insisted in saying that he was, quite simply, a fool; that no matter what he did or accomplished in life, he would never be able to erase his years of silliness and folly on the stage.
It did not surprise him in the least when, attacked once again by his doubts, he had sought comfort from the ever so reliable Mrs. Hughes. Smiling to himself as he closed the back door behind him and stepped outside, he thought about all the times she had been able to put his mind at ease; all the times she had helped him, maybe without even realizing she was doing so. They had been working together for years, too many to count, and it was no wonder they had become close after so many late night meetings to discuss the next day's menu and other household matters. And it was no wonder, he told himself, that she had turned out to be most likely his best friend; she had to be – whom else could he possibly turn to? Not that he made a habit of running to her with every small problem he had, but he knew he could talk to her in strictest of confidence. He knew she would always try to comfort him, as it was her nature to do so.
Looking up when he heard the back door open, he saw her shy smile as she stepped out and walked to him.
"Shall we go, Mr. Carson? I would be most disappointed if we were to miss it." she said, and he knew she could barely control her enthusiasm over the prospect of seeing the Dowager Countess in an awkward position; but, alas, it would not do for the housekeeper of Downton Abbey to be seen jumping up and down in excitement as she walked into town, so she kept very still.
He said nothing, merely offered her his arm, and she promptly took it. They walked in silence; years of living in the same house had taught them sometimes words are not needed. But as they neared the hospital, she paused, and looking at her from the corner of his eye, he could see the hesitation on her face.
"Mr. Carson" she started, looking not at him, but at the many people walking into the hospital "Are you... alright? I mean, are you feeling better than you were before, at the house?"
It was, and he understood it, her way of asking him if he needed anything from her. It was also an invitation to tell her what had been on his mind lately, what had brought on his unexpected and confusing question to her earlier.
"I am, Mrs. Hughes. Thank you"
It was, and she knew it, his way of saying he did not wish to dwell further in whatever it was that had been plaguing him. She also knew that it did not mean he would not think about it again.
"You are most certainly not a sad, old fool, Mr. Carson. Do remember that." She said, hoping it would help. Smiling slightly, she removed her arm from where it had been resting on the crook of his elbow, and slid it down his arm to hold his hand. A bold move, she thought, as she squeezed his hand momentarily; but, as she saw the smile in his eyes, she decided it was worth it.
Releasing his hand, she walked ahead of him to the entrance of the hospital. Following her moments later, he could not help but think that, for little moments like this, seeing the softer side of the stern Mr. Hughes, perhaps he would not mind being the biggest sad, old fool who ever walked upon this earth.
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