When Mrs. Hughes came downstairs the next morning, Mr. Carson tried not to follow her every move with his eyes, as he knew had been his tendency recently. He was well aware that he didn't always read her well, but he could see that she felt a little more fragile than usual today. He wouldn't ignore her, but he would give her some room to breathe. He needed room himself, not to breathe as much as to think. He had been up most of the night thinking, but though he had eliminated some options, he had not yet come to a conclusion about what his course of action would be. Mrs. Hughes smiled wanly at Mr. Carson as they sat down to eat breakfast. He smiled back, studying her face. To everyone else she probably looked the same as she always did, but he could see that she was tired in body and mind. He wished he could tell her he was not going to leave Downton, but his plan was far too uncertain at the moment. He was not ready. He still had a number of things to work out.

A few things were quite definite. He loved Mrs. Hughes and he wanted to marry her. Even if he could not marry her he would never leave her. What was less definite was how he would move on from here. He meant to break his agreement with Lady Mary and Sir Richard and withdraw his notice from Lord Grantham so he could stay at Downton, though he wasn't sure how he would explain his reasons. More importantly, however, Mr. Carson did not know how he might best go about the business of marrying Mrs. Hughes. He still did not think the idea of a married butler quite proper, but his ideas on the subject had been changing rapidly of late, ever since the moment he realized that he would like to be a married butler. The decision would not be his, of course, but Lord Grantham's. If it did not please the Crawleys to have a married butler, he was ready to leave Downton Abbey. He might retire to a cottage on the estate, or he might take what money he had saved and go with her elsewhere, to run a shop or a pub or something of that sort. They were both used to hard work and could certainly manage, even succeed. Of course, all of this assumed that Mrs. Hughes would have him. He did not doubt her affection, but he was uncertain whether she would want to marry him if it meant leaving the high position she had worked so hard to attain. She did not want him to go to Haxby, but perhaps she would be content to simply work at his side for the rest of her life. If that were the case, she might consider a long engagement, an agreement to marry once they were ready to retire together. Now that he had made his mind up to be hers and to have as much of her as she was willing to give, Mr. Carson did not much like the idea of waiting. There was something else he wanted from her, a dark, secret part of her that she would likely never surrender to him unless she were his wife. He was not yet beyond the age of being able to enjoy that hidden treasure, but if they put off marrying for some years it might be different. Really he just wanted all of her, and as soon as possible. It was a little amusing to him, in a sadly ironic way, that he had taken so many years to finally come to the point, but now he had the impatience of a very young man. He could only hope that Mrs. Hughes would feel a similar impatience once he confessed his feelings and told her he was prepared to do whatever it would take to be able to marry her.

#####

Mrs. Hughes was quite low for the rest of the day. She had expected breakfast to be a bit of a trial, but was surprised how long her melancholy mood lingered. She had awakened feeling drained of all energy, which at first she didn't understand, having done nothing after separating from Mr. Carson but shed a few tears and fall asleep. When she really thought about it, though, she realized just how much of her strength was sapped every day by the effort required to appear normal. Weeks of hiding her emotions, keeping her chin up, and trying not to contemplate the truth of a future without him had taken their toll and last night, in the vulnerable state she was always in when she was near him, she had reached her limit. He tried, with his gift and his kind eyes and kind words, to reassure her, and it was too much. For a moment she had wanted to give up and sink to the floor, weeping and wailing like a great tragedienne, but the very fact that she was despondent enough to have such an impulse had sobered her immediately and she got out of the room as quickly as she could. Mercifully, Mr. Carson had shown no indication at breakfast or later in the day that he would press her to talk about it. Those kind eyes lingered on her face with concern from time to time, but he did not speak of what had passed between them the evening before. As difficult as it would be to stop their cozy chats, Mrs. Hughes had decided to forego any further tĂȘte-a-tĂȘte with Mr. Carson. She would not avoid him or be unkind to him, but if he asked her to take tea or a glass of wine with him in his pantry of an evening, the answer must now and forever be "no."

In all of these musings and meanderings through her mind and heart, Mrs. Hughes had also run across a new emotion hidden among the others: anger. She tried to call it unfair and dismiss it, but now that she was struggling to maintain her equanimity, she wondered if this anger might be something to hold onto, something to help her survive the dark night of the next few months. She was angry at Mr. Carson for abandoning her. He was a free man. He had a choice and he had chosen Lady Mary. Mrs. Hughes would freely admit that she believed the earl's daughter did sincerely care about Mr. Carson's welfare, but she also knew that Lady Mary would take from him much more than she would ever give back. That was not the variety of love that a man as devoted as Mr. Carson deserved to receive. It might be as much love as the girl was able to give to anyone, but a heart like his had the capacity for giving and receiving so much more. Mrs. Hughes was angry at him for his sake as well as for her own. She was not overpowered by this anger, and it was mixed with feelings of tenderness and melancholy, but thinking about it made her feel a little more herself. She laughed at this as she sat at her desk that afternoon. How appropriate that the only thing that could restore some of her equilibrium was being angry at Mr. Carson. She wasn't sure what it said about her own character, but decided not to dwell on it.

#####

Over the next few weeks, a routine developed between Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes. After several days of having his evening invitations for a glass of wine or a cup of tea refused, Mr. Carson could see that both receiving and declining made her uncomfortable. He didn't stop asking altogether, but he let four or five days pass between invitations. That way she would not have to refuse him every day, but she would know her company was still sought, in case she ever changed her mind.

Mr. Carson still had not come to a satisfactory conclusion about the best way to proceed, except that he was beginning to think that the one person who might best advise him on his predicament was Mrs. Hughes herself. She was one of the cleverest people he knew. Likely his best course of action would be to confess his feelings to her, lay it all out before her, and ask for her thoughts. He had wanted to present it to her a fait accompli, so that she would only have to answer "yes" or "no" and he would know how to go on. Knowing her, it was probably best not to go at it by that route, though. He was sure she would prefer to have some say in her own future, and he did not blame her.

He needed to find a way to be alone with her, but she kept refusing his invitations for tea and wine. She didn't want to be alone with him, but perhaps if he invited her to have some tea, at a time when some of the others would still be about, to discuss some particular business of the house, she would accept. Then if he could set her more at ease, she might accept another invitation to chat when the others had gone to bed. He did not wish to make her uncomfortable, but he had to find some way of speaking privately to her or they would never move forward. He could write her a letter, but he didn't think it would come to that. If he told her straight out that there was something important he wished to discuss with her alone, he didn't think she would refuse. Mr. Carson was serving drinks after dinner one evening when Lady Grantham asked him to relay a message to Mrs. Hughes. His opportunity had come.

#####

Mrs. Hughes had checked her morning's work and put away her ledgers. She was tired, but satisfied with her day. She had done everything she needed to do and tried, as usual, to keep Mr. Carson out of trouble. She had managed a few footman's tasks out of his sight, and of course she had refilled his pens. She had been a little clumsy today and spilled a bit of the ink on her hand and sleeve. It was one of the days when she was glad of her sober wardrobe; no one would notice black ink on black taffeta. Mrs. Hughes was studying her stained palm and fingertips when Mr. Carson appeared in her sitting room doorway.

"Mrs. Hughes, I wonder if I might have a word?" he asked.

"Of course," she said, smiling. "What is it?"

Mr. Carson hesitated. "Won't you come to my pantry?" he asked. "I've just made tea. You're welcome to join me." Mrs. Hughes looked down at her hands, now clasped in her lap, and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "Her ladyship asked me to give you a message, something about Mrs. Bryant."

Mrs. Hughes looked up quickly. "Mrs. Bryant!"

Mr. Carson stepped out into the corridor and gestured for her to follow. "Why don't you come for a cup of tea, just for a few minutes? I can tell you what her ladyship said and we can have a bit of a chat. I'm sure the bells will start ringing again soon, so it might be best if we hurry." He gave her a friendly smile.

Mrs. Hughes relaxed and, after a pause, acquiesced. "Very well, I'll come with you." She rose from her chair and followed Mr. Carson to his pantry. It had been three weeks since they were last alone together, and she had missed their conversations. Ideally, they could spend a minute or two on Lady Grantham's message and a few minutes having a little catch-up, and then Anna or Jane or some other member of staff would come to the door in need of one of them and she could safely leave him. Most of the time she deplored these interruptions, but at a moment like this such an intrusion would serve her needs perfectly. Mrs. Hughes took her usual seat and settled in with her cup of tea.

To be continued...