First Thing
He was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, something he had never done before. As soon as her eyes fell on him, Mrs. Hughes knew everything would be all right. Everything had changed between them, and yet it was all so reassuringly the same. There he was, immaculately attired as usual, all creased and starched and imposing. His hands were clasped behind his back, his shoulders squared, and his head lifted just a little that he might catch a glimpse of her as soon as she rounded the bend in the stairs. He might have been waiting on royalty, so professionally dispassionate was his bearing. But his eyes gave him away. They were alive with the joy her answer had lit in them the night before and they were a sight to behold.
My, but he is handsome! she thought to herself as she descended the last few steps. She was relieved that the internal jangling of nerves that she had been unable to stifle when they had returned to the Christmas celebrations last evening did not return. That kind of excitement was exhilarating, and she had relished every minute of it, but one couldn't pursue a normal day's activities feeling like that. Nor would it be as special as it was if it were an everyday occurrence.
"Good morning, Mr. Carson," she said, and her voice sounded normal enough to her. She did favour him with a warm smile. It was the least she could do. She was so glad to see him.
"Happy Christmas, Mrs. Hughes," he responded, bowing slightly. His dark eyes were fixed on her, conveying to her by the most effective means at his disposal that every sentiment he had expressed the previous evening remained intact. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, as they turned slowly down the corridor in the direction of the kitchen. His query was polite and conventional, but there was an undertone of meaning there that did not escape Mrs. Hughes.
"Well enough," she said airily. "Eventually." And she gave him a mischievous glance. "And you?"
"Not a bit," he admitted, and a knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'm afraid I shall be asleep in their soup tonight," he added, almost as an aside.
Mrs. Hughes's jaw went slightly slack and she stared at him. Mr. Carson, whose world, as he had once noted, rose and fell on the style of a dinner, had just blithely confessed the possibility - no the likelihood - that he would not be performing at his best on a formal occasion, and he did not seem at all perturbed. Although this surprised her, at the same time a slightly different apprehension came over her, one awakened within her by their changed relationship.
"You can't go on like that today. There's too much to do." She might have said the same thing to him a week ago, but now her words and her feelings had more claim on him. His well-being had become their shared responsibility.
He allowed himself to smile at her concern and then dismissed it with a casual gesture. "Mr. Barrow can manage things this afternoon for a few hours while I get caught up. Nothing to worry about, Mrs. Hughes."
"I'm not sure Mr. Barrow will be so obliging," she said, only somewhat mollified.
"He will be," Mr. Carson said lightly. "I've given him the morning off. I thought it best that I deal with His Lordship myself. For a number of reasons," he added, with a meaningful look.
Mrs. Hughes nodded, but she was distracted by what he had said about the under-butler.
"You spoke to Mr. Barrow last night?" She was more than a little impressed with Mr. Carson's presence of mind. Last night she had been so disoriented that she'd been lying on top of the bedclothes for half an hour before she'd realized why she was cold. And she hadn't given a thought to anything about Christmas day other than the anticipated conversation with the Granthams and seeing Mr. Carson again.
"Oh, no," Mr. Carson said, intruding on her thoughts. "I spoke to him before I came down this morning."
"At...?"
He squinted as he gave the matter some thought. "About five o'clock, I think. I told him he could have a bit of a lie-in this morning. As a little Christmas present." He said this as if he had done Mr. Barrow a great favour and was pleased with his own generosity.
"And he was grateful?" Mrs. Hughes could only imagine Mr. Barrow's reaction to being dragged from the last hour of a short night's slumber to be told that he could go back to sleep. But Mr. Carson was oblivious to this perspective. "What about Mr. Barrow's duties?" she asked. She didn't want to press him, but there were practical matters to consider here.
"Mr. Bates will attend His Lordship this afternoon and Mr. Barrow will see to the butler's duties," Mr. Carson explained.
"And when did you speak to Mr. Bates?" A vision of Mr. Carson also pounding on the door of the Bateses' cottage in the early morning darkness was more than unsettling, especially after Mr. Bates's dramatic reappearance during the Christmas Eve festivities.
"I sent a hallboy over with a message just before you came down. The Bateses were already astir and sent word that they would not be joining us for breakfast. Anna will be here in time to assume her morning duties and Mr. Bates will have an hour or two to get himself reestablished."
Mrs. Hughes was taken aback at all this activity. "You've been very efficient, Mr. Carson."
This brought him to an abrupt halt outside the kitchen door. "I've been running a great house for thirty years, Mrs. Hughes," he said with an almost patronizing tone. "I think I can stage manage an announcement," he added more softly, glancing about cautiously as he did so.
They stepped into the kitchen and almost collided with Mrs. Patmore who was in full-blown ogre mode, as was her wont on high days and holy days when the staff was cutting loose a little and she still had several major meals to prepare.
"You're not back again!" she cried sharply, as her eyes fell on Mr. Carson. She rounded on Mrs. Hughes. "He's been under my feet for an hour already!
"I was getting a tonic for His Lordship!" Mr. Carson retorted indignantly, his manner changing abruptly from that on display in his conversation with the housekeeper.
Mrs. Hughes surmised from this exchange that it was not the first conflict of the day between the other two. "Mr. Carson knows you're very busy, Mrs. Patmore," she said soothingly, taking Mr. Carson's elbow and gently steering him out of the kitchen once more. She jerked her chin in the direction of his office and with a slight grimace he obliged her and moved off. "Good morning, Mrs. Patmore," she said pleasantly, in an attempt to smooth over the damage. "And Happy Christmas."
"It'll be a Happy Christmas for some, I imagine, but the eggs'll probably be cold!"
The cook's scolding ran off Mrs. Hughes like water off a duck's back. Mrs. Patmore's moods were as predictable as the rising and setting of the sun. But her next words caught Mrs. Hughes up short.
"What announcement is he talking about then?" Mrs. Patmore might have the entire royal family waiting on her for their next meal, but would not let that stop her from exploiting an opportunity to gather the news.
In a supreme display of self-control, Mrs. Hughes managed not to roll her eyes. Mrs. Patmore, she knew, had the eyes and ears of a wild creature. Not even the slightest ripple in Downton Abbey's social fabric escaped her notice. She did not always draw the correct conclusions, but she almost always knew when something was amiss.
"You must ask Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes responded briskly, knowing that this would put Mrs. Patmore off, at least in the short run. "Now, you'll have to excuse me. I've got maids to supervise." She beat a quick retreat to prevent further discussion.
Breakfast
Breakfast was more relaxed than Mrs. Hughes had anticipated. With Mr. Barrow mercifully absent and the Bateses also not in attendance, there were fewer eyes to notice any differences between them. Mr. Carson caused her a few moments of dismay. When he strode into the servants' hall, prompting the usual scraping of chairs and leaping to feet that deference to his authority demanded, he waved them all to their seats with cheery good wishes for a Happy Christmas. Despite their earlier contretemps, he complimented Mrs. Patmore on every food item, and while he often remarked on his satisfaction with a meal, his attentiveness in this instance drew a somewhat subdued response from Mrs. Patmore, who peered at him suspiciously. And when the hallboys became uncharacteristically rambunctious at the far end of the table, it was Mrs. Hughes who called them to order. And then Mr. Carson softened the blow by reminding her that it was Christmas morning, after all, and boys would be boys.
Observing this last exchange, Daisy, who had been on her way out of the hall bearing an empty platter, paused by Mrs. Patmore, who was on her way in with more eggs.
"I thought Mr. Carson didn't like high spirits at breakfast," Daisy noted, puzzled.
"He doesn't," Mrs. Patmore agreed and as she spoke she caught Mrs. Hughes's eye.
This exchange momentarily caused Mrs. Hughes some discomfort about the fact that Mr. Carson's knee had been pressed against hers for the duration of the meal. Apart from this new intimacy, he had given few other direct hints of the changed nature of their relationship. Mrs. Hughes admired his discretion, especially now that she had seen the extent of his emotional range. It made it much easier for her to keep her own counsel. And as she was beginning to focus more on the anticipated conversation with the Granthams, she was grateful to avoid distraction.
Mr. Carson was not unmoved either by the new world into which he had embarked with Mrs. Hughes the evening before or her physical proximity to him as he ate Mrs. Patmore's delicious Christmas morning repast. His outward serenity was only a reflection of a more complete inner peace. For weeks past he had been preoccupied, anxious, perhaps even occasionally irritable, because he had been living in uncertainty. Resolving that uncertainty had brought him to tears the night before with the poignancy of the moment and the sudden release of long-guarded deep feelings. His heart was still filled with passion for the woman who sat next to him, but he was able to present a calm face to the world now because those feelings had been so completely validated. She had steadied him, and the challenges of Christmas day at Downton - whether the conventional ones of managing the day's usual tasks or preparing for a formal meal, or the prospect of discussing an unprecedented proposal with the Granthams - had no effect on his composure. Nor was he moved to fawn on Mrs. Hughes as a result of their communion. He knew exactly where he stood with her now, and it was precisely where he wanted to be. So he might glance at her every minute or so and remind her with his eyes of his love for her, but nothing else was either necessary or appropriate in that moment. And he thought she was pressing her knee against his.
After breakfast, he disappeared promptly, taking with him some medicaments to address what he assumed would be a raging hangover in Lord Grantham. And after that he had to attend the family in the dining room, so it was just short of nine-thirty before Mrs. Hughes found him in the kitchen, testing Mrs. Patmore's patience again.
"What's going on here?" Mrs. Hughes asked, taking in the disturbingly similar expressions of aggravation on their faces.
"He's getting in my way again!" Mrs. Patmore fumed.
"I'm doing my job, if you don't mind!" he fired right back at her.
"Could you do it somewhere else?"
"I was just going!" Clutching a bottle, a glass, and an assortment of other items in his hands, he turned abruptly on Mrs. Hughes. "Might I see you for a moment?" he asked, in a tone that was almost uncivil.
She followed him to his office, anxiety growing within her. He must have had a conversation with Lord Grantham by now and this turn of temper on his part could only mean it had not gone satisfactorily. Mrs. Hughes was not at all surprised. Had she not anticipated ill humour on His Lordship's part as a result of his indulgence on Christmas Eve? She closed the door behind her as Mr. Carson deposited his burden on his desk. Mrs. Hughes took a deep breath and prepared for the worst.
But when Mr. Carson turned to her, he was transformed. It was the first time they had been alone all morning. A warm smile traversed his face and he came right up to her, stopping only inches away. His eyes were sparkling with the exuberance she had first seen there in this very office the night before. "We're to meet with His Lordship and Her Ladyship in Her Ladyship's sitting room at ten o'clock."
She smiled in a distracted sort of way, but could not move so abruptly from the previous exchange to this one, nor register his sudden shift in mood. Frowning, she nodded in the direction of the door. "What was all that about?"
He made an inarticulate sound of impatience and rolled his eyes in an exaggerated way. "I needed some things to make up a tonic for His Lordship. Mrs. Patmore objected to my presence," he added with a note of sarcasm.
"His Lordship is still...under the weather, then?" Mrs. Hughes asked discreetly.
"Oh, no. He's much better, thanks to my ministrations this morning." There was a note of pride in Mr. Carson's voice. "I've had some experience in dealing with a gentlemen's... indisposition, Mrs. Hughes. Although," he added, "not much in recent years."
Despite herself, Mrs. Hughes had to smile at him. His eager countenance and smouldering eyes told her that the feelings he had unveiled so recently were as lively as ever. But she managed to draw her attention back to the matter at hand. "Why the sitting room?"
"The children are in the library and while His Lordship is feeling much better, he will welcome a break from the...high spirits around the Christmas tree."
That sounded right. "And you've no reservations about speaking to him...both of them...this morning."
"None at all, Mrs. Hughes. All is well."
"It's not all well down here, Mr. Carson," she responded, and once again nodded toward the door. "I'm going to tell Mrs. Patmore," she said. "Before everyone else."
A shocked look descended on his face. "Not before Lord Grantham!"
"No, not before Lord Grantham!" she said with an exasperated huff. It was not news to her, of course, that he should cling, even in this, to the conventions of rank and deference to which he had been wedded for so long. "I mean after that and before we tell everyone else. It's only right."
He was immediately restored to calm. "Agreed."
"And the rest of them at our luncheon, then? Anna and Mr. Bates will have joined us by then."
"And Mr. Barrow."
"Yes, and Mr. Barrow, although whether he's there not is not of much consequence for us."
"Again, agreed." They neither of them had any great fondness for Mr. Barrow. "And you don't want to wait a few days to make a general announcement?" He was trying to accommodate the desire she had expressed the evening before to savour their secret.
Mrs. Hughes shook her head. "Policing a secret is more trouble than it's worth. And it's unfair to ask His Lordship and Her Ladyship to keep it to themselves."
"And we know Mrs. Patmore can't keep a secret," he said drily, an allusion to that time when he had extracted from her information about Mrs. Hughes's medical tests.
"That's not fair," she said, a little reproachfully. "You tricked her."
"Well," Mr. Carson said, moving on, "if I may take your leave, Mrs. Hughes, I must prepare the tonic for His Lordship and take it up to him. Then I'll come back down and we can go together to Her Ladyship's sitting room."
"Why not bring it up when we go?" she suggested. "Save yourself a trip."
Her words prompted a sudden shift in Mr. Carson's demeanour. His eager light-spiritedness faded to a more serious countenance. "When I speak to His Lordship about our intention to marry," he said gravely, his eyes fixed on hers, "I will address him as a man, not as a servant."
He continued to astonish her with the magnitude of his love. Not ordinarily given to impulsiveness, Mrs. Hughes reached up quickly to kiss him, her hand coming up to caress his cheek as she did so. She felt his shoulders tense even as he responded to her kiss, and she thought she knew why. Reluctantly withdrawing from him, she was not at all surprised to see a look of mingled shock and alarm on his face.
"Anyone could walk in on us!" he hissed, his gaze darting to the door behind her and then to the second one closer to his desk.
Mrs. Hughes only smiled at him. She knew his apprehensions arose entirely from his lifelong devotion to propriety. He might have a romantic heart, this man, but he was still the stuffy butler she had known for a quarter of a century, and she loved him for that as much as anything else.
"Go see to His Lordship," she said, ignoring his anxiety. "Come for me when you're ready to go up."
Anticipation
"I hope you're not going to be disappointed," Mrs. Hughes said, as they made their way down the corridor to Her Ladyship's sitting room. "They may not approve."
Mrs. Hughes did not care one way or the other. Her preference was that they both go on working at Downton Abbey for some time yet. She liked her job well enough and she was too practical ever to throw off gainful employment for an as-yet-untested future. But if either Lord or Lady Grantham objected to their senior staff members marrying, then she was prepared to shake the dust of the Abbey off her feet and change completely the direction of her life. It would be different for Mr. Carson. He loved the place and the family in a way she had never completely understood. Mrs. Hughes knew that Mr. Carson would walk away from the Crawleys and Downton Abbey rather than surrender his intention to marry her. Had he been at all ambivalent about the choice, he would not have proposed. But their disapproval would hurt him all the same.
"Mrs. Hughes." Her words had brought him to a halt and he gazed at her with a slightly impatient look on his face. "I know His Lordship."
Then he stepped forward and opened the door.
