A/n: spoilers for s5 so don't read if you haven't watched, don't say you haven't been warned! Just a really short look at what Mrs Hughes might think/feel when she finds the picture of Marigold.
"I'll take those. Let her decide what she wants to do with them."
She was careful as she took the blackened remains of the letters. The room still smelt like smoke and Mrs Hughes wasn't sure where to start. She felt bad enough combing through Lady Edith's room. Like the letters she had just handled, she guessed they had been from Mr Gregson and she felt ashamed to be holding something so personal. Taking apart her life and going through the charred remains. It was too close to real life for her to feel comfortable. Lady Edith would not do it herself as she felt silly about it all, nor was it her place. Mrs Hughes knew the start of the fire was from a book and she knew it was the book she had handed her. A book full of could haves and painful memories. Dusting the thoughts to one side she decided to help Anna start on the task of clearing the bed. Maybe what Lady Edith needed was a fresh start, clearing out the old. She had been ever so depressed of late. Like she was fighting with her emotions, caught in a moment of grief. How hard it must be, your loved one gone but not completely. The grief unfinished, knowing the small chance he could walk back in. Although the chance was slim it was an agonising one filled with sorrow. She had not grieved. The look on Anna's face pulled her back to the present. It was a telling one, she had seen before. I won't tell. She looked down to her hand, a picture, perfect and untouched by smoke. Taking it in her hands she frowned. A small baby, no more then a few months old. She felt the repercussions in her shaking hands. Anna wouldn't say anything but she didn't know if she could keep silent. Was this her baby? She had had suspicions of Mr Drew but now it was clear and she felt sick. Burdened with a heavy secret. She quickly put the small picture in her pocket afraid of anyone else seeing it. Would she put it with her things? Hand it to her? Was there a right thing to do? Even with her years of experience all she could feel was pity and wonder. How foolish but how brave she was. The girl was not only bereft, she was a mother in agony. She had put it out of her mind until much later when she was sat at her desk. Feeling the picture at her side she pulled it out and laid it on the table. With a heavy sigh she let her thoughts wonder to Ethel. Her pain had been as clear as day and she had kept her baby to start with. Mrs Hughes didn't have children but she had cared for many young girls as if they were her own and if Lady Edith was feeling just a fraction of what she did when they had left she was surprised she could even get out of bed in the mornings. If she could, if Lady Edith would let her she hoped she could help her. Make sense of it, a path through the haze. It was just one thought she was left with, one she had shared with Ethel and one she thought was sadly still true. The world may be changing but unfortunately for Lady Edith and her child, it wasn't changing fast enough.