A/N Here's Chapter 4. Thank you to all my reviewers and followers. A special thank you to MeltMeChelsie, a guest reviewer who does me no favors by feeding my pride and vanity. I'm glad you liked my Downton Labbey post on tumblr. I spent far too much time on it and drew my family into to my web of insanity, but I had a lot of fun. The next few chapters should follow reasonably quickly; I anticipate having some time to work on them soon. Please, please, pretty please, keep reviewing! I daresay I enjoy your reviews more than you enjoy my story!

Chapter 4

Mrs. Hughes read her book until she was sure Mr. Carson was sleeping soundly. Then she crept quietly to the trunk and retrieved his diary. She knew it was a gamble, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted so badly to read more. Of course, she longed to hear the ardent words issuing from his mouth, but seeing his love for her professed in ink on paper was the next best thing.

She settled herself back into his chair and situated her quilt such that she could pull it up quickly to cover the book if Mr. Carson showed any signs of waking. For a moment, she just studied the volume, running her fingers over the leather cover and down the spine. She thought about all the precious words he had written inside, and how he must have thought of her while he had written them, just as she would now think of him while she read them. Finally, she opened the book and began to read:

April 25th 1913

My heart aches, Mrs Hughes. The letters have started again – the ones from your Mr Burns. You've never told me about him, but I remember that he wrote to you when you first came to Downton. I was very jealous that a man was writing to you, for I loved you even then. I didn't know who he was, but after several agonising months, I was put out of my misery when the letters stopped coming.

In today's post, however, I found another letter from him. I remembered his name, of course. How could I forget the name of the man who, I feared, would take you from Downton – from me? I couldn't look at you when I handed you the envelope. I didn't want to see your face, and I hoped you couldn't see mine. The fear has returned now, and the pain along with it. The thought that another man might hold your heart wounds me like nothing else could.

May 29th 1913

Mrs Hughes, you can't imagine what I feel. You went out tonight, to the fair, and you looked so lovely. You offered, before you left, to remain at the house and help, since things here were somewhat chaotic. As much as I wanted you to stay, I told you to go. Your remaining behind would only have served to delay the inevitable.

I'm sure you went to meet this Mr Burns, because you'd had another letter from him last week. When you returned, Thomas remarked that you looked "sparkly-eyed," and I couldn't deny it. You looked particularly beautiful, and it pained me to know that another man was the cause of your exceptional radiance.

I am filled with dread at the prospect that soon you will tell me you are leaving us – leaving me! If I thought for an instant that you cared for me half as much as I love you, I would tell you of my love and ask you to stay. Yet, what right have I to ask? If you love this man, then I shall be pleased for you, no matter my own suffering. I am struck with the ridiculous notion to hope that he is horrible and fat and red-faced, and you can't think what you ever saw in him, but I don't honestly believe that I shall be that lucky. If I am so unfortunate that he is kind and decent and handsome, and you do love him, then it is my fervent wish is that he should care for you as you deserve, for I value your happiness above my own.

May 31st 1913

I have never been so relieved in all my life, Mrs Hughes! When I came into your sitting room earlier and found you so lost in thought, you told me you wanted to talk to me about something. I was sure you would tell me you would be leaving Downton to marry Mr Burns. You told me about him, and, I admit, I have never been so jealous in all my life. My heart was on the floor as you spoke of him so fondly. I asked if he had proposed and if you had accepted. The seconds between my question and your answer were an agonising eternity, and I waited with bated breath.

When you finally told me you hadn't accepted his offer and you wouldn't be leaving, I was overcome with joy and nearly pulled you into my arms. I might have done, had we not been interrupted. I knew you hadn't refused him on my account, but it didn't matter. I was grateful that I wouldn't be losing you, and I found myself able to breathe again.

Mrs. Hughes couldn't believe it. Her eyes filled with tears, and her throat constricted. Mr. Carson had been jealous of Joe Burns! He had even taken notice of the letters and had known when she had gone to the fair with Joe, before she had told him. She hadn't thought that telling him about Joe's proposal would affect him so. She had been flattered, certainly, by Joe's advances - after all, it had been a long time since she had enjoyed that type of attention from a man – but truth be told, the entire time she had been with Joe, she had been thinking about Mr. Carson. Mrs. Hughes had spent her evening at the fair with another man, but her thoughts remained back at the house with the man she loved. And apparently, Mr. Carson had spent his evening at the house, haunted by thoughts of the woman he loved at the fair with someone else. It had never been her intention to make Mr. Carson envious, and her heart was saddened by the thought that she had hurt him. She had never imagined that he might have such feelings for her, but now she held the evidence in her hands.

She sniffled, wiped her eyes, and tried to stifle a sob. As quiet as she tried to be, the small commotion was enough to disturb Mr. Carson. He shifted in bed, opened his eyes, propped himself up on his elbow, and looked directly at her. Mrs. Hughes had just enough warning to be able to conceal his journal beneath her blanket before he noticed it.