Note: Story was edited 1/15/15.
1905
The offer had come quite unexpectedly. It was common knowledge that Mrs. Sullivan, the housekeeper of Downton Abbey, had a sister whose health was quite poorly. An affliction involving her nervous system now affected her ability to walk or feed herself. Mrs. Sullivan had no choice but to retire and move to Harrogate in order to care for her widowed sister.
Elsie Hughes had a cordial enough relationship with Mrs. Sullivan, their paths crossing at church and sporadically in the village. She, of all people, knew what it was to have an infirm sister and her empathy ran deep for the woman.
Elsie, now addressed as Mrs. Hughes, had served as dual lady's maid and housekeeper at Dower House for ten years, surviving a rather tempestuous two years when both living dowagers, Lady Agatha Crawley and the newly widowed Lady Violet Crawley, had shared the house. Lady Agatha was primarily bedridden during this time, a nurse constantly by her side, this however, didn't keep Violet Crawley from resenting the old woman's presence in what she considered to be her house.
It was a credit to Mrs. Hughes' patience and disposition that during this time she hadn't left her post given how incredibly difficult it had been to deal with Violet Crawley. Mrs. Hughes had been careful to remind herself that the woman was grieving the loss of her husband, and perhaps even more so the loss of her position as the Lady of the house at Downton Abbey. It had to be difficult to watch the lovely and vivacious American Cora Levinson Crawley assume not only her title, but control over the well-respected house. She took the harsh words and knit-picking in her stride, while doing her best to shield the rest of the staff from Violet Crawley's wrath. Mrs. Hughes wouldn't admit it aloud, but it had been a blessing when the older Dowager slipped away in her sleep, at rest from physical pain and the disparaging company of her daughter-in-law.
It was Mrs. Hughes' perseverance and positive attitude that had resulted in the offer to take over for Mrs. Sullivan as head housekeeper of Downton Abbey. Cora had always found the Scottish woman a bright spot among the drab atmosphere of Dower House. She knew it would be a blow to Sarah O'Brien not to be promoted from lady's maid to housekeeper, but Mrs. Hughes was at least five years older and had taken care of the household accounts at Dower House for several years. She also knew that her mother-in-law would never admit it, but was quite pleased with Mrs. Hughes' work at Dower House. Upsetting Violet by stealing away Mrs. Hughes was a small victory for the American who found herself the primary target of the Dowager's ire.
Cora Crawley held out high hopes that Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson would complement each other as housekeeper and butler. Mrs. Sullivan had chosen to always take the path of least resistance and deferred to Mr. Carson in all matters. Cora secretly hoped the cheerful Mrs. Hughes would stand up to the butler and challenge his rather severe, and as far as Cora was concerned, sometimes antiquated views.
More than once she had witnessed the butler react more harshly towards a member of staff than she deemed necessary. Her concerns, however, fell on deaf ears when mentioned to her husband as Robert Crawley trusted the butler's judgment implicitly.
She had seen Carson lower his guard on occasion, particularly when he was interacting with her children. Her eldest daughter Mary was particularly drawn to him. He never lost his sense of propriety when around the girls, but did somehow soften. Having witnessed a particularly sweet exchange between Carson and the girls in the form of a tea party, she had confided in her husband, "It's nice to know Carson is a real person, Robert. I was beginning to wonder if there was a heart inside the morning suit."
The timing of the offer to become housekeeper couldn't have been more perfect. Mrs. Hughes had watched the account that held the farm money dwindle to almost nothing just after the turn of the century. She would have to approach the Dowager about a raise in wage if she was to keep Becky in the same nursing home; even a generous raise would leave her a few pounds short each month. The substantial increase in salary as housekeeper of Downton Abbey would allow her to pay for Becky's nursing home and have just enough money left to keep her wardrobe up to date and respectable given her new title.
She was a little leery of the large, stern butler that ran Downton Abbey. More than one housemaid had told her of his penchant for perfection and propriety at all times. Elsie Hughes had no qualm with hard work and professionalism, however, her mother had deeply instilled within her the Golden Rule and she felt it only right to afford everyone respect and kindness as she, in turn, expected to be afforded. If perfection or propriety had to be mildly compromised for the sake of someone's feelings, so be it.
The night before she was to report to Downton Abbey, she stood behind the Dowager Countess and nimbly plaited the older woman's ginger hair tinged with silver. "I want you to know I only relented to Robert's wish to take you from me because I know you will stand up to the American and any whims she has regarding the running of Downton."
Mrs. Hughes focused on tying up the end of the plait as she bit her lip in amusement the Dowager's reference to her daughter in law as "the American" rather than "Cora" or "Lady Grantham." Mrs. Hughes couldn't imagine the "whims" to which the Dowager referred. "Yes, milady."
"Carson is a good man. You will have a solid ally in him, Mrs. Hughes. Truth be told, I have more trust in Carson than Robert when it comes to the success and survival of Downton." The Dowager was quick to follow with, "I know that is a terrible thing for a mother to say and I will call you a liar if you ever repeat it."
"I would never, milady."
Violet Crawley looked at the housekeeper's reflection in the mirror for more than a moment, "I know that, my dear. I think of all your many qualities, secret keeping may be chief."
Mrs. Hughes wasn't sure if the comment was a compliment, but she decided to take it as one. "Thank you, milady. Is there anything else you need tonight?"
"I've my hot water bottle and you've stoked the fire. I believe you have taken care of my needs, Mrs. Hughes. Now get a good night's sleep. You have quite a day ahead of you tomorrow."
Mrs. Hughes was almost to the door when the Dowager called out to her, "Oh, I forgot. I have something for you." The older woman opened a drawer in her vanity and withdrew a small box. "You deserve this. You don't need to open it here. Good night."
Mrs. Hughes took the box and gave the Dowager Countess a smile and thanked her before wishing her a final, "Good night." Tucking the box into her skirt pocket, she left the room to begin a last tour of the house to extinguish any remaining candles and gas fixtures before she made her way to her own small room in the attic. She quickly plaited her own hair and slipped into her nightgown, pulling the box from her skirt pocket just before climbing into bed.
Removing the lid from the box, she carefully drew back delicate paper to discover an ornate chatelaine. Elsie felt tears well up in her eyes. The Dowager was certainly not one for flowery compliments, well any sort of compliments, but in gifting the heavy silver chatelaine, she had finally demonstrated that not only could she could show appreciation, but that she would quite miss Elsie Hughes.
Mrs. Hughes smiled through her tears, "Oh, you funny old bat." She quickly dried her eyes and blew out the candle as she waited for sleep to carry her to dawn and the beginning of her new life at Downton Abbey.
She had assured Lord Grantham she could easily walk from Dower House to Downton Abbey that morning having only two small bags accompanying her, but he had insisted on sending the cart and two footmen to assist her. She found herself growing angry as the two young footmen exchanged silly grins and snuck looks at the attractive new housekeeper. Although closer to forty than thirty, she knew she had maintained a trim, attractive figure and was quite a bit younger than the newly retired Mrs. Sullivan. These facts, however, did not give the young men license to act this way in her presence.
"Did you giggle when you accompanied Mrs. Sullivan to the train station yesterday?" Her words were sharp.
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"No, Mrs. Hughes."
"I am going to give you two options. You may either let it sink into your thick heads that I am now the housekeeper of Downton Abbey and therefore deserve your respect, or you may carry on like silly school boys and upon arriving at our destination, I will step off this cart and report your behavior directly to Mr. Carson. What will it be?"
The young men immediately looked at their feet as their ears turned quite a severe shade of red.
"I apologize, Mrs. Hughes."
"I apologize, Mrs. Hughes."
She felt a surge of confidence and pulled her shoulders back, "Very well. We shall not speak of it again."
They were soon deposited in the yard at the back of the house. Mr. Carson stood erect at the back door, his hands clasped behind his back.
He had occasionally crossed paths with the housekeeper of Dower House at church, but had been too preoccupied with policing the behavior of his own staff to pay her much mind. She had spent time with Mrs. Sullivan over the last week, but they had primarily stayed in the housekeeper's sitting room or had been out of sight as they toured the various floors of the house. He had been too preoccupied with visiting guests to spend any time with her. Watching her climb down from the cart, he noticed she was much prettier and had a much more voluptuous figure than he remembered. He shook the thought out of his head and plastered on a polite, but measured smile. "Good morning, Mrs. Hughes."
"Good morning, Mr. Carson." Mrs. Hughes turned to thank the driver as Mr. Carson directed the boys to leave Mrs. Hughes' bags in her sitting room. He would have a housemaid deliver them to her bedroom on the women's corridor.
"I trust your trip over was a pleasant one."
"Yes, Mr. Carson. Thank you. It was kind of his lordship to send over the cart. I could have walked."
"Well, you are here now and there is plenty to do. I suggest you drop your hat and coat in your sitting room and gather your maids. I am afraid they have taken license what with not having a housekeeper for the first few hours of the morning and you are already behind. Here are your keys."
As he thrust the heavy ring of keys into her hand, she realized that while only having spent a short amount of time with him, she quite despised the man with whom she would be spending the foreseeable future.
She gritted her teeth, "Thank you, Mr. Carson. I will attend to them directly." With a tight smile, she gave him a nod and quickened her pace, her coat and hat were hung on pegs in her sitting room and she was halfway to the gallery by the time Mr. Carson reached the kitchen.
"Was that our new housekeeper or a shooting star?" Mrs. Patmore crossed to the corridor where Mr. Carson stood, noting his red cheeks and neck.
The butler turned his head as if his collar were too tight, "I wouldn't get too attached, Mrs. Patmore. I don't know if she is quite housekeeper material. We will have to wait and see."
"The Dowager kept her on."
"As I said, we shall wait and see."
Mrs. Patmore watched Mr. Carson take the servant's stairs two at a time. "You mean she's too pretty to be housekeeper material, you old goat." Mrs. Patmore smiled before turning back to the kitchen, "Mabel, the raspberry torte won't make itself!"
Mrs. Hughes finally retreated to her bedroom at two o'clock that morning. She had spent the hours between midnight and two locating the previous week's receipts. They had mysteriously made their way under the coal box next to the fireplace in her sitting room. Her keys had also been labeled incorrectly, as well as half the beds in the guest rooms short sheeted. It had prevented her from partaking in both the servant's lunch, but she had managed to check and remake every bed that was to be occupied by a guest or family member. She spent the dinner service testing the lock of each door in the house and assigning the key a letter and number correlating to a code which only she could follow.
Mr. Carson had made a point of stopping and watching her at various times throughout the day. He never uttered a word, but simply followed her every move. She found his presence unnerving and undermining.
She hadn't even had time to unpack by the time she pressed her day dress for the next day and took a quick sponge bath at her wash stand. She decided it would be detrimental to report the receipts, keys and sheets to Mr. Carson. He would simply deem her incapable of doing the job and tell his Lordship as much.
She tried to ignore her growling stomach as she blew out the candle next to her bed and slipped her feet under her sheet and counterpane. She had only pushed her feet halfway down the bed when she felt a strange sensation against her skin.
She quickly relit her candle and threw the covers back. A heavy sprinkling of what appeared to be dried bread crumbs, dirt, and pebbles covered the entire bottom sheet.
Tears streamed down her face as she carefully drew the sheet up into a ball and deposited the littered linen on the floor. She lay the thick counterpane on the mattress, the sheet on top of that. She pulled on her dressing gown and blew out the candle before sliding under the sheet. She forced herself to think of Becky and how happy she had been on Elsie's last visit. It was vital she remain at the home.
Her tears having finally ceased, her thoughts drifted to Joe Burns and she wondered what woman was now curled up against his warm body across the sea.
Making his way towards his pantry early the next morning, Mr. Carson was surprised to see light coming from the housekeeper's sitting room as he made his way towards the kitchen.
"Good morning, Mrs. Hughes."
She looked up from her ledger, there was no hiding her swollen eyes, as well as the tired bags that accompanied them, but she was determined to greet him with a bright smile. "Good morning, Mr. Carson."
"I hope we will be treated to your company at this morning's breakfast. We were surprised not to see you at lunch or dinner yesterday."
"I am very much looking forward to sharing breakfast with the staff this morning. I am sorry to have missed meals yesterday. Mrs. Sullivan was kind and thorough, but there were a few unexpected details to which I had to attend."
"I see. I hope today is more productive for you, Mrs. Hughes." He didn't smile before turning and leaving her alone.
"I made eighteen beds, turned a key in every lock in the house and corrected the accounts that were kept by a woman who apparently couldn't count past five. I don't know how, barring building a pyramid, I could be more productive," she whispered to no one in particular.
She took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes before looking down at her chatelaine. "Who would have thought I would miss you, you old bat?"
Hearing voices and footsteps in the hall, she made her way towards the servant's hall.
She laid eyes on the two footmen who had accompanied her from Dower House first. They immediately lowered their heads and busied themselves with their already fastened buttons. Housemaids Gretchen and Joyce looked at her and then quickly at one another as they fought to stifle giggles. Sarah O'Brien, her ladyship's maid, looked over her shoulder but stared straight though her as if she wasn't occupying space in the doorway.
She quickly made her way to the seat next to Lord Grantham's valet Adams.
"Good morning, Mrs. Hughes. I am afraid I didn't have the chance to welcome you properly yesterday. We've met at church. I am Lord Grantham's valet Adams."
Mrs. Hughes'voice was strong and clear, "I appreciate your welcome, Mr. Adams. It is by far the kindest I have received since I arrived."
Mr. Carson stood just outside the doorway as Mrs. Hughes spoke to Mr. Adams. The entire room had grown silent. He felt a twinge of guilt as he was unable to think of one bit of kindness he had offered her since her arrival.
The staff stood at attention as Mr. Carson entered the dining hall. "Good morning, everyone. I would like to take this opportunity to formally welcome our new housekeeper, Mrs. Hughes. First days being busy ones, she was unable to join us for lunch or dinner yesterday, but I am sure you will all join me in letting her know how pleased we are to have her with us." The staff offered a weak round of applause; Sarah O'Brien didn't even bother to lift her hands out of her lap.
"Thank you, Mr. Carson. I appreciate your kind words." As Mr. Carson sat, she instinctively retrieved a piece of toast and buttered it before placing it on his plate.
"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes." Mr. Carson looked at her in surprise.
"Tea, Mr. Carson?" She placed a quarter inch of milk in his cup before adding tea. "No sugar, is that right?"
"It is." He looked at her in astonishment. "How did you know?"
"You shared tea with Mr. Spratt the last time you accompanied his Lordship to Dower House."
"That was months ago."
She only offered a polite smile and attended to her own tea. She peripherally noted the angry glare on the face of Sara O'Brien.
Mrs. Patmore stood in the door way to Mrs. Hughes' sitting room at half past ten, a tray laid with teapot, cups and biscuits in her hands. "I was hoping you might have a moment."
"Oh, Mrs. Patmore, please come in." Mrs. Hughes was pleased to see the little red ginger cook. She had always enjoyed exchanging pleasantries with Mrs. Patmore when they met in the village. She offered a bright smile, "Of course. I was hoping we would have a chance to visit today. I apologize for neglecting you yesterday."
"Not at all, Mrs. Hughes. First days are always hectic…," she looked up at the housekeeper's face, "…and trying."
"Was it that obvious?"
"No, not at all. I just know how nasty that particular piece of work can be. What did she do to you?" Mrs. Patmore's eyes lit up.
"You mean Miss O'Brien, I take it?"
"Of course. She is a horrid thing. I would be lying if I made her out to be anything else. She was fit to be tied when her Ladyship announced you were to be the new housekeeper and not her. So, what mischief did she cause?"
"She couldn't have carried it all out on her own, Mrs. Patmore."
"She sneaks cigarettes to the housemaids Gretchen and Joyce. I am sure they did her bidding."
Mrs. Hughes shook her head in dismay, "They earned their cigarettes. They short sheeted half the guest beds, all my keys were mislabeled, the week's receipts were hidden under the coal box and my own bed was littered with bread crumbs, dirt and stones."
"Goodness, they got you good and then some, Mrs. Hughes."
"I didn't expect the welcome wagon, Mrs. Patmore, but I think I would have received a kinder reception in a lion's den. Oh, speaking of which, Mr. Carson wants me here as much O'Brien does."
"Oh, I can tell you why that is." Mrs. Patmore took a sip of tea.
"I wish you would. I don't mind being chastised for making real mistakes, but being told I am already behind in my duties before I darken the door seems a little much."
"Have you noticed anything about the housemaids and lady's maids, Mrs. Hughes?"
Mrs. Hughes thought for a moment. She recalled each woman and thought their primary correlation lie in their being tall, boney, flat-chested and rather homely in the face. She was too kind to voice such a judgment.
"I am afraid I don't know, Mrs. Patmore."
"You do. You're just too kind to say it. They all have match sticks for figures and ugly faces with tiny eyes and big noses."
Mrs. Hughes had to put her hand over her mouth to hide her smile.
"I knew you noticed. Mrs. Sullivan always let Mr. Carson have the final say in the hiring of the female staff. He never hires the pretty maids. He always picks the homely ones. He won't be tempted that way, you see."
Mrs. Hughes couldn't believe her ears, "You are saying Mr. Carson doesn't like me because I am not a matchstick? You've curves, does he like you?"
Mrs. Patmore laughed, "I was here as a scullery maid before Mr. Carson was even a footman at Dowton. He wouldn't look at me twice, Mrs. Hughes. But I saw him just after you arrived yesterday. His face was flushed and he didn't look half off kilter. I think you reminded him of something he has tried to forget."
"And what is that, Mrs. Patmore?"
"That he is a man, Mrs. Hughes."
Mrs. Hughes blushed as she drained her tea cup.
"By the way, Mrs. Hughes, I wanted to speak with you about getting a copy of the store cupboard key…."
The rest of the day went fairly smoothly. She made a point of keeping a strict eye on the housemaids, as well as Sarah O'Brien. She had locked the door to her bedroom after making up her bed with clean sheets early that morning. Her own sitting room door remained locked when she was not on the servant's floor.
She had met Mr. Carson occasionally in a corridor, but he refrained from monitoring her work as he had the day before. He met her in the middle of the servant's staircase just after the evening gong was run.
"Good evening, Mr. Carson."
"Mrs. Hughes. I trust your second day is running quite smoothly. All appearances suggest it."
"Yes, Mr. Carson, thank you." she smiled politely. "I am meeting with her Ladyship to discuss next week's tea. Do you have any messages you would like me to relate to her?"
"Thank you, but I can't think of anything, Mrs. Hughes. We can discuss the tea in detail later."
"Very good, Mr. Carson. I'll get on, then."
He gave her a polite nod and continued on to the kitchen. He was almost to his pantry when he heard Mrs. Patmore's voice, "May I have a word, Mr. Carson?"
He motioned her into his pantry, surprised when she closed the door behind her. "It's about Mrs. Hughes…"
O'Brien didn't hide her dismay as Mrs. Hughes knocked and entered her Ladyship's dressing room. "Good evening, milady. You wished to discuss next week's tea?"
"Mrs. Hughes, good evening. I would, but please tell me about your first days at Downton."
Mrs. Hughes smiled warmly at the pretty woman, "Yesterday was a whirlwind, but I feel like I have my bearings today."
"And everyone has been kind and respectful?"
Mrs. Hughes felt O'Brien's eyes on her.
"Very much so, milady. I couldn't have asked for a nicer reception from Mr. Carson and the entire staff."
O'Brien's mouth fell open.
Cora Crawley turned to offer her maid a smile of appreciation, but was struck by the woman's countenance, "Are you all right, O'Brien?"
O'Brien quickly shut her mouth before replying, "Yes, milady."
"Good. Now the tea, Mrs. Hughes…"
Mr. Carson felt angry and guilty as he watched Mrs. Patmore depart from his office. Hidden receipts, mislabeled keys, short sheeted beds, not to mention littering her bed with dirt and bread crumbs; it was a wonder the woman hadn't departed in the night after such terrible and uncalled for treatment. He himself hadn't helped matters by telling her she was behind in her work before she even had the chance to take off her coat and hat. And how had she reacted? She had remade all the beds by herself, managed to correct the key labels, stayed up half the night locating the receipts and was still up before him after only a few hours sleep in what must have been an unmade bed, all of this on top of it being her first day of work in a strange house. He felt sick at the thought of what he and members of the staff, particularly Miss O'Brien, had put her through.
He suddenly remembered that Mrs. Hughes was meeting with Lady Grantham. Cora Crawley would certainly tell her husband of the trials Mrs. Hughes had encountered. He had no defense. He would simply own up to his unkindnesses.
Cora Crawley, dressed for dinner, was approaching the library as Mr. Carson suddenly met her just outside the door. "Could I possibly have a brief word, your ladyship?"
Mrs. Crawley smiled, "Of course, Mr. Carson. I actually wanted a word with you."
They stepped into the breakfast room. Lady Grantham began to speak before he had the chance, "I just wanted to thank you for assuring Mrs. Hughes had a warm welcome upon her arrival yesterday. I was concerned that O'Brien in particular would be less than kind; I know she was disappointed when she wasn't promoted. Mrs. Hughes was very complimentary of you and the staff. "
Mr. Carson looked at her with disbelief, "She…she was?"
Lady Grantham gave him an odd look, "Yes, very. What is it Carson? You look quite shocked."
" No, no, not at all, milady."
She continued to give him a puzzled look, "You had something to tell me, Carson?"
"I…well, I was just going to relate that Mrs. Hughes was settling in quite nicely and appears to be quite an asset to the staff."
"Well, great minds, Carson. I am glad you are pleased with her. Shall we return to the library?"
"Yes, milady."
The house was mostly quiet, after-dinner entertaining had ended and most of the staff and family had gone to bed. Mr. Carson was making his way towards his pantry for a small sherry when he noticed light coming from Mrs. Hughes' sitting room. He lightly rapped on the door as he stepped inside the doorway, "I don't mean to disturb you."
"Not at all, Mr. Carson. How may I help you?"
"I wanted to know if you would be interested in sharing a sherry before bed?"
Mrs. Hughes smiled warmly. "What a kind offer. That would be lovely, Mr. Carson."
He watched her carefully mark a spot in her ledger and rise to join him. He noted that the neckline of her dress seemed higher and her hair was pulled back more severely than it had been earlier in the day. These adjustments didn't, however, detract from her attractiveness. He made a conscious effort to focus on the area of her forehead just above her eyebrows. It would be a practice he would maintain for many years to come.
Mrs. Hughes followed the butler into his pantry, taking the chair he offered near the fire.
"I owe you an apology, Mrs. Hughes." He handed her a small glass of amber liquid and took the seat opposite her.
"You do, Mr. Carson?"
"Yes. I am afraid your arrival coincided with my being in a particularly bad humor. You deserved a kinder welcome."
"Change is a trying thing, Mr. Carson. I appreciate your apology, but it is quite unnecessary."
"You have every right to sack O'Brien and whoever assisted her in her actions."
"I don't know what you are talking about, Mr. Carson."
He looked at her in surprise, "But Mrs. Patmore said…"
"Mrs. Patmore is a kind woman, although I think she is a quite upset with me for not agreeing to make her a copy of the storage cupboard key."
"She knows she has no right to a copy of that key."
"She also knows she isn't getting one. It is in hand, Mr. Carson."
He smiled in appreciation of Mrs. Hughes' simple statement of command.
"So you don't wish to pursue any punishment of O'Brien."
"As I said, I don't know what you are talking about, Mr. Carson."
He tried to read her expression, but she hid her feelings masterfully. It was a skill he we would come to both admire and resent in the years to come.
"And if I were to say something to Miss O'Brien?"
"As the housekeeper, I appreciate that you are conferring with me before you talk with a member of the female staff. If you know of something about which she needs to be corrected, please feel free to speak with her."
"Very good, Mrs. Hughes." Mr. Carson took a sip of his sherry,enjoying the idea of giving Miss O'Brien her what for in the morning. He smiled at Mrs. Hughes and briefly looked into her eyes before shifting his gaze above her eyebrows, "I think we shall work quite well together."
"I do hope so, Mr. Carson."
The butler and housekeeper finished the first of what would be many late night glasses of sherry.
It feels like it could end here, but I think I will keep going to cover more of their history...