For momentinparadise on tumblr who requested it. I owe many thanks to chelsie fan for encouraging me, for getting me hooked on tumblr and most of all for her excellent beta skills.
A short history lesson first:
"Auld Lang Syne" is a Scottish song based on the poem of the same name by Robert Burns (1788) and set to the tune of a traditional folk song. There are more modern English lyrics, but still today the original Scots verse is still sung by many (including my family) every year at New Years. As in Scottish tradition, everyone crosses arms and joins hands during the final verse.
I use the Scots verse here (as it is the one Mrs. Hughes would be familiar with), so if you don't know what the words mean, do look up a modern English version. The imagery is lovely. Failing that, just know that it's about not letting old times be forgotten.
That's more than enough preamble. Happy New Years. I hope you enjoy.
New Years Day, 1923
Mr. Carson had decided to clear up the wine from the servants New Years toast himself, sending the rest of the staff off to their beds after a long and tiring day. He didn't mind in the slightest; in fact, he took delight in being the last one to see everything in order at the end of the year. It had been a lovely celebration both upstairs and down, as it should have been. Carson always enjoyed New Years immensely because he saw the dawn of each January the first as a beautiful, fresh, clean slate. The year was blank and primed to be filled with all the meticulous order and style he could provide.
He'd put the last of the glasses away in the pantry and was almost to the stair when he felt a frigid draft and heard the distinct sound of the servant entrance door clanging shut. Who could be sneaking out at this hour, after he had expressly sent them all to bed! All his thoughts of his warm bed abandoned, he set off down the hall to investigate.
There were crisp footsteps in the snow that wound through the gardens - just one pair, mind you, which eased Mr. Carson's mind slightly. He followed them until he spotted her: Mrs. Hughes standing beside the pond staring up at the stars. Despite the temperature she had not elected to wear a coat, hugging a well-worn shawl around her shoulders for warmth instead. She was beautiful, even merely as a silhouette in the moonlight, and for a moment Mr. Carson forgot himself and simply stared at her.
She shifted her weight, and he sidestepped hastily behind a shrub, lest she see him staring. He hadn't meant to spy on her, and he wondered if he might sneak back to the house before she turned around and caught him. Something kept him rooted to the spot instead, the cold seeping into his boots. He couldn't see her face with her back to him, but the way her shoulders moved he feared she might be crying.
That was no way to start the New Year, crying alone in the snow. In his heart he wanted nothing more than to run over to her, but he wasn't sure if barging in on her private moment would make things better or worse.
His dilemma was solved immediately because he heard a familiar melody drifting through the garden and realized she couldn't possibly be crying. Far from it in fact, she was singing.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne?
Her voice was low and sweet but it carried nicely through the chilly air. It wouldn't reach the house of course, but from where he was standing he heard it quite clearly. Her words went up into the night like a forlorn prayer for days and people gone by.
For auld lang syne, my jo,
for auld lang syne,
we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
She'd stopped, her heart too heavy to continue. Mrs. Hughes would be the first to tell you that she was perfectly happy at Downton, and it would not be a lie. It didn't mean that she didn't mourn for what she'd left behind: for the family she might have had, for her sister on the coast, for her mother long deceased. At the turn of the New Year her thoughts turned back to them, and she remembered them in the way she knew best:
And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp!
and surely I'll be mine!
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
Her voice quavered but she carried on, determined to finish the memory she had started. Carson couldn't stand to watch her any longer. Auld Lang Syne should never be sung alone; it should be sung with family and friends. Perhaps he wasn't family, but he was thoroughly certain of the their friendship. He stepped out from behind the shrub, and in his deep rumbling bass he joined her chorus.
For auld lang syne, my jo,
for auld lang syne,
we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
She'd given a little start when she'd heard him, but she'd managed not to turn around. There was no mistaking Mr. Carson's voice, and she found his presence pleased her immensely. By the time the chorus was over he was standing behind her, as close as he dared, willing her to turn towards him.
She didn't oblige, choosing deliberately to sing the next verse out to the trees and the flowers before her, but he heard the smile in her voice and knew he'd done the right thing.
We twa hae run about the braes,
and pu'd the gowans fine
But we've wander'd mony a weary fit,
sin auld lang syne.
Her Scottish lilt had never been more pronounced, and Carson was quite taken by it.
For auld lang syne, my jo,
for auld lang syne,
we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
Hearing him over her shoulder made her want to grin and weep simultaneously. She hadn't been particularly silent in her sneaking out of the house, and perhaps on some secret level she'd hoped he would follow her. Of course he would never let her be so lonely. She couldn't imagine why she'd thought he would.
She turned to face him, this man who had come to stand in the freezing winter air with her. The sight of her smiling at him made Carson completely forget the words to the next verse, leaving her singing alone once more.
We twa hae paidl'd i' the burn,
frae morning sun till dine
When gazing into her eyes the words carried a weight he'd never heard before. His mind flashed through years of mornings and evenings spent together…from morning sun until well past dinner, he thought. She paused, waiting expectantly for him to finish the line. Finding himself again he replied:
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
sin auld lang syne.
When she'd sung of the roaring seas before she'd always imaged the expanse of ocean between her and her cousins overseas, but tonight the only distance she could fathom was that of the few feet between them.
For auld lang syne, my jo,
for auld lang syne,
we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
It was he who crossed his arms first and reached out to clasp her hands, as was tradition. She smiled, delighted that he remembered the custom and followed suit. Taking a deep breath they plunged together into the final verse.
And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!
and gie's a hand o' thine !
And we'll tak a right gude-willy waught,
for auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my jo,
for auld lang syne,
we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
The last note faded away into the darkness. They stood there motionless, as if staying stock-still would mean the moment would last forever. She was crying in the end, he noted. The moonlight had illuminated the sheen of the tears on her cheeks, but her eyes were smiling.
"I believe," he said softly, "that we are meant to unknot ourselves now."
"Quite right, Mr. Carson." Holding tightly to her hands he guided her under his arms and back round so that they were facing each other once more, arms untangled.
She gave his hands a grateful squeeze, "thank you Mr. Carson. That was very kind of you."
"Any time Mrs. Hughes, any time at all."
Happy that her remembrance of old times had been suitably marked, the pair of them walked arm-in-arm, back to the house. The bright New Year could now begin.