Mrs. Hughes walked along the south gallery, a hall boy following her obediently. She knocked on the door at the end of the gallery before opening it. Lady Edith and Mr. Mason were with William, who was asleep. Both of his caretakers were looking a little sleepy, Lady Edith seated on the periphery of the room with her head leaning back against the wall, and Mr. Mason nodding off to sleep in his chair beside William's bed. Lady Edith blinked a few times and took a deep breath when Mrs. Hughes entered. William's father turned to see who was there.
"Mr. Mason," Mrs. Hughes said gently. "You must be very tired. I've made up the bed in William's old room in the attic if you'd like to go up there and get a little sleep. That way you won't have to go all the way home. Jeffrey will take you up."
Mr. Mason was too tired to argue with this generous offer. He nodded to Mrs. Hughes and followed Jeffrey out of the room with a heavy step.
"I think you could use some rest, too, milady," Mrs. Hughes said to Lady Edith. "I'd like to sit with him for a little while."
"You're probably right," Lady Edith agreed. "How long can you be spared from your duties?"
"Why don't you come back in an hour, milady?"
"Very good, then. I will see you in an hour." Lady Edith tried to stifle a yawn as she left the room. "I'll be in my room if you need anything."
"Thank you, milady."
Mrs. Hughes turned her eyes on William. If it weren't for the rasping, rattling sound of his breathing, she might have looked at him and supposed he were perfectly well, if a little scratched up. She knew better, though, and it grieved her, more than she could say. She took the chair vacated by Mr. Mason and sat for a long while, just watching William sleep.
She remembered when William had first arrived at Downton as second footman. He was a quiet lad at first, not speaking much to anyone, but before long his sweet nature became apparent to everyone downstairs and he never lacked friends. His presence made the house a better place, in Mrs. Hughes's view at least, and she tried to soothe his homesickness when it came over him. She wasn't always successful, but she tried anyway. She had seen many young men and women come through the servants' hall at Downton in her years as housekeeper, but only a few had captured her heart like William. She had no use for regrets, but she couldn't help thinking that if she had ever had a son of her own, there could be no greater blessing than to have one like William. But when he came to Downton, he had a mother and a father, both living. When his mother died, Mrs. Hughes took him even deeper into her own heart, though only privately. She might sometimes play a motherly role with William and the other younger staff at Downton, but she was still not their mother, and she knew she would do well never to forget it. That way only lay heartbreak for her, for they would all leave her one day, and without looking back.
Mrs. Hughes took William's hand and after a few moments she began to sing; he slept on.
Blow the wind, blow;
Swift and low;
Blow the wind o'er the ocean.
Breakers rolling to the coastline;
Bringing ships to harbor;
Gulls against the morning sunlight;
Flying off to freedom!
All of the other songs of her childhood suddenly deserted her, and she found herself talking to William, though she knew he couldn't hear her. She told him how brave he was, how proud his father was, and how many people cared about him. Mrs. Hughes closed her eyes and felt the long-expected tears falling at last. It was difficult for her sometimes to let herself grieve, when she knew how important it was for her to be a figure of strength in the household.
"Please don't cry, Mrs. Hughes," William said quietly.
Hey eyes flew open. She had not noticed him wake. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you, William."
"It's all right. I hoped you might visit."
"Did you?" Mrs. Hughes allowed herself a little smile at this.
William nodded and smiled. "I know, Mrs. Hughes," he told her. "I know I'm going to die." She swallowed hard and watched him, waiting for him to speak further. "I don't regret anything, though."
"Nor should you," she said shakily. "You've served your country bravely and there's many glad to call you friend."
"I know," he rasped. "And I'm so thankful. There's many here that love me."
Mrs. Hughes nodded and unconsciously began stroking his hand with her thumb. She couldn't quite trust her voice.
"They love each other, too," William remarked.
"Don't try to speak too much, William," Mrs. Hughes murmured. "We don't need you wearing yourself out."
He shook his head. "It doesn't matter now, Mrs. Hughes. There's nothing to save my strength for."
Again, she could not speak.
"You know how important Daisy is to me. And I can see how much so many people in this house care about each other."
"That's true," she managed.
"All I can see is love. It's everywhere, Mrs. Hughes. I think even Thomas must love someone in this world."
Mrs. Hughes smiled at William's cheeky grin. "Perhaps."
His face became serious, then, and he looked at Mrs. Hughes with eyes both gentle and piercing. There was something very wise and almost otherworldly about his face as he spoke, and she thought he might be able to see into her very soul. "And you do, of course, Mrs. Hughes. You love many of us like we're your children, but I think there is someone else. I've sometimes wondered who takes care of you, but now I know that someone does."
She opened her mouth to speak, but wasn't sure what to say.
"You don't have to say anything, Mrs. Hughes. But will you stay a little longer?"
"Of course. Shall I tell you a story? Or sing a song, perhaps?"
William nodded. "Yes. I'm tired now."
Mrs. Hughes searched her memory and found a lullaby to sing.
Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell,
Angus is here wi' dreams to sell o
Hush my wee bairnie an' sleep wi' oot fear
Dream Angus has brought you a dream my dear
Can ye no hush yer weepin'
A' the wee bairns are sleepin'
Birdies are nestling, an' nestling' the gither
But my bonnie bairn is waken yet
Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell,
Angus is here wi' dreams to sell o
Hush my wee bairnie an' sleep wi' oot fear
Dream Angus has brought you a dream my dear
Hear the curlew cryin' o
An' the echoes dyin' o
Even the birdies are cuddled up sleepin
But my bonnie bairn is weepin' greetin'
Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell,
Angus is here wi' dreams to sell o
Hush my wee bairnie an' sleep wi' oot fear
Dream Angus has brought you a dream my dear
Soon the lavrock sings his song
Welcoming the coming dawn
Lambies coorie doon the gither
Wi' the yowies in the heather
Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell,
Angus is here wi' dreams to sell o
Hush my wee bairnie an' sleep wi' oot fear
Dream Angus has brought you a dream my dear.
William was sleeping soundly before she was halfway through the song, but she sang it through anyway. By the time she reached the end, she was weeping, her song almost unintelligible. She didn't hear the door to the room open and close, but after she finished singing and sat in silence for a few moments, she felt a large hand come to rest on her shoulder. She knew whose it was, and she laid her free hand over his. When she had calmed her tears, she turned in her seat and looked up into his solemn face.
"They told me you were in here," Mr. Carson said gently.
"Is there something you need?" she asked. "Lady Edith will be back soon."
"No, nothing," he murmured.
Mrs. Hughes nodded and turned back to William, observing him as he slept. When Lady Edith returned a few minutes later, Mr. Carson's hand slid from her shoulder and fell back to his side. Mrs. Hughes rose from her chair.
"Did you get a bit of a rest, milady?" she asked the younger woman.
"I did, Mrs. Hughes. Thank you." She turned to the butler. "Have you come to fetch Mrs. Hughes, Carson?"
"No, milady. I happened upon Mrs. Hughes when I came in to visit William for a few minutes."
"I believe we must both be on our way now," Mrs. Hughes remarked.
"Of course," Lady Edith agreed. "Thank you for coming."
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Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes walked silently down the south gallery together. Mr. Carson had been affected by the sight of poor William, but he thought he might be haunted for a long time to come by how Mrs. Hughes had looked when she had turned her face up to him as she sat by the poor young man's bed. Her eyes and cheeks were wet with tears, but her expression looked so bleak and sorrowful that he could feel her pain, almost physically. She was sad to be losing William, likely the closest thing to a son she would ever have, but she also looked weary and used up and, for a moment, almost hopeless.
He could see her composing herself as they walked to the stairs and he opened the door for her. They descended to find the servants' hall and the kitchen mostly quiet, and Mrs. Hughes went directly to her sitting room. She stood in the middle of the room, her back to the door. She made no sign of surprise when the door clicked shut behind her. Mr. Carson stood just inside the door, watching her, but Mrs. Hughes was almost completely still. Her shoulders rose and fell so imperceptibly he wondered if she were breathing at all. He crossed the room and came to a stop facing her. Her face was stony and though her eyes were open, they did not focus on him. Mr. Carson could see that she was still trying to master her emotions, but was having great difficulty. He hesitated for a few moments before gently wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her to his chest. Mrs. Hughes did not resist, but simply raised her hands to rest on his chest. She was still for a few moments, but then a shudder passed through her body and she let go of her self restraint. Her shoulders shook and she struggled to keep her cries from being heard in the corridor. Mr. Carson didn't try to quiet her; he just held her as she cried until she couldn't cry anymore.
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Mrs. Hughes was in the servants' hall with Daisy and some of the others when Mr. Carson came in with a bouquet for the bride. Anna took a few flowers from it and put them in Daisy's hair. Mrs. Hughes might have wept again as she watched Mr. Carson offer his escort to Daisy, but she didn't have any tears left at that moment. She wondered if the others saw what she saw: the proud and dignified butler giving his arm and his support to a lowly kitchen maid on her way to wed a dying man.
Upstairs, in that same room at the end of the south gallery, Mr. Travis performed the ceremony uniting Daisy and William in holy matrimony. The indoor staff, as well as Lady Edith and the dowager countess, were present for this somber event. Mrs. Hughes thought the Crawleys were fair masters, but as regards William, she felt she must give special credit to those two ladies for all they had done. She wondered how a second footmen could have secured the notice of old Lady Grantham, to the point of inducing her to use her considerable influence on his behalf. The dowager had facilitated his transfer from a Leeds hospital to Downton Abbey, as well as brought about this very unlikely wedding, and Mrs. Hughes was grateful, just as she was grateful to Lady Edith for volunteering to nurse him. No one in the room was unaffected by the scene before them, but even the grandest lady present was not too grand to shed real tears for the poor young man as she watched him marry his sweetheart.
Mrs. Hughes looked around the room circumspectly, but her eyes were drawn to Mr. Carson's face. She was shocked by what she saw. He was crying; there was no mistaking that much. His bottom lip trembled and his eyes shone with tears. She had never seen him anywhere near so distraught. They had endured some tragedies together and she had seen him grieve, but never like this. Mrs. Hughes supposed that there was something peculiarly intense and poignant about this particular tragedy. Here they all stood watching a wedding that was very like a funeral, but for a man who still lived. She might have been ready to crumble herself if Mr. Carson had not comforted her after her visit to William. She stole another glance at him and felt the pain of his loss. She knew it wasn't quite the same as her pain, but she could understand well enough what he was suffering.
When the wedding was over, the witnesses filed silently out of the room, the staff scattering to their various occupations. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes were the last to leave; together, they made their way downstairs. When they reached the downstairs corridor, Mrs. Hughes followed Mr. Carson into his pantry and closed the door. He stood in the middle of the room, staring at her but not really seeing her. A few tears had now trickled down his cheeks, but he had made no move to dry them. Mrs. Hughes drew nearer, pulled out her own handkerchief, and wiped them away. She slipped it back into her pocket and stood looking up at him, wishing there was something else she could do.
Mr. Carson blinked a few times and she could perceive that he had returned to the present and was really looking back at her now. All of a sudden, he reached out and took her in his arms. Mrs. Hughes was surprised at how fiercely he embraced her this time, but he was not rough; he did not hurt her. She wrapped her arms around his middle, holding him just as tightly. He kissed the top of her head and buried his face in her hair. Before long she felt his hot tears on her scalp, though he made no sound apart from the occasional sniffle. Mrs. Hughes wept again, wetting his shirt with her tears. She didn't try to catalogue all the emotions she felt, but a few she could easily identify. There was grief and heartache for William, but there was relief in letting the tears flow. More than anything, though, she felt gratitude that neither she nor the dear man now holding her to his heart would have to bear this anguish alone.
The end.
A/N: This story is part of a long-term goal I set for myself last year - to write a full scene (not just a few lines) between Elsie Hughes and each other Downton Abbey character. Some of these scenes have been one-shots and some have been part of longer stories. This was what I came up with for William, who I still miss dreadfully. I have only written about a half dozen of them so far, but it has been an interesting exercise which I definitely plan to continue. I have accepted that fact that Charles Carson will likely appear in most of these, whether I want him to or not.
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