Lord Grantham Announces the News

"I think that was one of the happiest of those occasions I've ever attended," Cora declared, as the family made their way to the library for Christmas luncheon.

It was a Downton Christmas tradition that the family distribute gifts to the servants before they separated for the midday meal. The female servants routinely received bolts of cloth from which to make themselves a new dress. Cora enjoyed selecting patterns and cloths for the different women and they were almost uniformly grateful for her interest. She had good taste as well as a practical streak that made her choices appropriate to their needs. Gifts for the male servants usually included implements for their shaving or shoeshine kits, purchases that were much less interesting to make (or receive) and were often delegated to Mrs. Hughes, who had a better idea of what to get them anyway. Cora was resigned to the fact that responsibility for the servants fell exclusively to her with the single exception of Carson. Robert took some pleasure in seeking out books for Carson and several of the volumes in the butler's personal collection had come to him this way. They were almost all historical in nature - royal genealogy, heraldry, or accounts of the rise of the British Empire. This was perhaps to be expected of Robert. Cora was less forbearing of the fact that he left the family to her as well, unless he was seized by some rare inspiration. After all, they were his daughters, son-in-law, and grandchildren, too.

A second and long-standing practice of the day was that the family retired to a cold, informal repast in the library and the servants to a rather more elaborate than usual luncheon downstairs. The family would eat their sumptuous Christmas meal at dinner. This was not the practice in every house but it was one that the Granthams embraced as a manifestation of their regard for their employees.

"It was indeed!" Robert said heartily, responding to Cora's remark. "What with Bates's return and..." Cora tightened her arm around his and gave him a meaningful look, "and ... everything," he finished lamely. But he grinned at her, enjoying the secret.

"Did you notice Carson's boutonniere and Mrs. Hughes's corsage?" Edith asked, as the family spread out around the library. "Hers was nicer than yours, Mama. Where would they have gotten them?" Edith's severe expression suggested she did not think these colourful accents were at all appropriate for members of staff.

"They were from me," Mary said coolly.

Cora exchanged gratified looks with Robert, and then smiled at her eldest daughter. "Well done, Mary."

"What did they do to deserve such consideration?" Edith demanded, casting an incredulous look at Mary. From the sound of it, Edith thought the reward unwarranted by the recipients while at same time regarding this act of generosity as beyond her sister.

Robert cleared his throat. "That gives me the opening I needed," he declared. "Now that we're all together, everyone, I want to make an announcement." He stood in front of the Christmas tree and waited until every eye was upon him. "You already know that Bates is back and that is a cause for celebration in itself. But we have more good news. The fact is that Carson and Mrs. Hughes are going to be married!"

A cry of delight escaped Isobel Crawley. A rather more strangled gasp emanated from the Dowager Lady Grantham, who groped at her throat. "A glass of water!" she rasped, as though choking on something. Tom hastened to the sideboard to fetch it for her.

"That is so sweet! One must seize hold of love wherever one finds it!" Rose exclaimed and she turned immediately to Atticus and leaned up to nuzzle him. "Only," she added, drawing back from him, her perpetually radiant smile dimming a little, "what a tragedy, too. I mean, imagine waiting all of your life to find the love of your life!" She was almost moved to tears.

Atticus swiftly wrapped her in his arms to remind her that she had been reprieved from such an awful fate. "What wonderful news for Carson and Mrs. Hughes," he said, almost breathlessly. "I said bravo to them!"

Rose, overcome at the greatness of his heart, melted into him.

Mary glanced at them with mingled feelings of amusement and distaste. "I was never like that," she said in an aside to Tom, distracting him from Robert's announcement. "Please tell me I was never like that."

"It seems a bit ridiculous to me," Edith said. "Why would anyone that old bother getting married? Can't they just hold hands by the fire as friends?"

"What good questions," Mary responded acidly. "Perhaps we could call Sir Anthony Strallan and ask him. Oh, wait, you were going to marry him. We could just ask you."

"Mary!" Cora said with some exasperation. It occurred to Cora that one Christmas without Mary and Edith at each other's throats would be welcome.

Mary tossed her head in indignation. "She started it."

"I beg your pardon, Edith," declared the Dowager, the shock of the news itself now jarred by her granddaughter's reaction. "What do you mean by that remark? Are you suggesting that love is only for the young?"

"Oh, granny."

"Don't 'oh, granny,' me, my dear."

"I'm afraid I'm with your grandmother, there, Edith," Isobel Crawley put in cheerfully. "Love does not have to dissolve into cordial friendship when one passes a certain age. In fact, it is still possible for passion and romance to..."

"I think this conversation has gone far enough," Robert interceded, with a look of consternation on his face. He was always uncomfortable with sensitive personal detail. "Crikey. I thought this was a piece of good news that we could all celebrate."

"And so it is," Mary said smoothly. "I think it's lovely, and Carson, and Mrs. Hughes, too, have my full support."

"What a surprise," Edith said. "You and Carson have had a mutual admiration society for years."

"Jealous?"

"Of your relationship with the butler? Hardly." Edith shook her head. "Does this mean they'll be leaving Downton, Papa? Now that would be a problem."

"Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?" Mary demanded.

"That's the pot calling the kettle black."

"I am happy to say that they will not be leaving service," Robert said quickly, trying to recapture the happiness of the moment. "Your mother and I have told them we would be pleased to make accommodations for them to remain here."

"Dear me," sighed the Dowager, having recovered from the initial jolt. "This is not just a matter of another brick in the wall, but a question of the whole edifice itself caving in. How can Carson do this to me? He was my last ally in the battle against change!"

"I would much rather have Carson and Mrs. Hughes leading a revolution, than put up with Denker and Spratt sniping at each other," Mary intoned impatiently. "And what's so wrong with the idea of the staff having a life? We've already established the precedent with Anna and Bates anyway."

"Hear, hear," Cora echoed her.

"I think it's wonderful news," Tom declared, finally finding an opening to inject his views into the conversation. "And I, for one, will be glad to congratulate them at the first opportunity."

"As will I!"Isobel declared with her characteristic enthusiasm.

"Butlers didn't marry in my day," Lady Grantham declared.

"But that kind of attitude is something for the past, surely," countered Isobel.

"Do you take issue with everything I say on principle?" the Dowager responded. "Why must the fact that an idea or a practice originated sometime before yesterday afternoon be in itself a reason to discard it? Ought I to be set adrift on an ice floe merely because I wasn't born yesterday?"

"Cousin Violet, we're not talking about human life here. We're talking about attitudes, and surely they must change and progress as time unfolds?"

"Why? If it was right in the past, then why is it to be assumed that it cannot be right now?"

"Because things change."

"Oh, dear. There it is." Lady Grantham shifted in her seat that she not have to look directly at Isobel, a physical indication of what she thought of that unsavoury term. "Change." She said it with all the disgust she could muster.

"Seriously, Cousin Violet, are you truly opposed to Carson and Mrs. Hughes marrying and continuing to work at Downton?"

"In principle, of course. In the specific case, no, not really. But I think their marriage would only prove my point."

"Which is?"

"My dear, they know their place. They have lived two lifetimes in service and they know what that means. I don't imagine much of anything will change at Downton whether they are married or not, including with them. But they are the exception that proves the rule!"

Isobel stared at her with a look that was halfway between disbelief and amusement. "I don't think you're really as disapproving of the issue as you pretend," she said with some exuberance. "You just like to take a position for effect."

Lady Grantham gazed at her with undisguised exasperation. "I never pose. And it would be a refreshing start to 1925 were you to begin to take me at my word." Before Isobel could launch a further attack, the Dowager executed a flank assault to derail it. "Are you quite all right, my dear?" She spoke in a surprisingly sympathetic tone.

Isobel allowed herself to be diverted. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, only that news of this nature must recall your own less fruitful dreams of late?"

"That's done now, Cousin Violet. I'm not...over...Lord Merton, not yet. But I will be. And I'm happy for Carson and Mrs. Hughes and will go down and tell them so after luncheon. I might be a bit envious, knowing that they have to answer to no one about their decisions and are thus free to act. But we all have different challenges and I'm glad that theirs are, in this at least, less onerous than mine."

Tom found it odd that Isobel, of all people, should put it this way. To his mind, the servants had much greater barriers to overcome than she had faced. After all, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes confronted a social system. Mrs. Crawley had only to deal with two rude men. He followed Mary as she moved across the room.

"It's been a very good day," Mary said to him. "First we find out that Bates is back and then the luncheon news is about Carson and Mrs. Hughes. It's almost enough to make me forget that you and Sybbie are off to America in a few days."

Tom decided to dodge the sore subject of his departure and focus on happier things. "You knew, of course, about Carson and Mrs. Hughes."

"Yes," she said with a pleased look. "Carson told me this morning after he and Mrs. Hughes spoke to Mama and Papa." In other circumstances, Mary might have been tempted to make a flippant comment - "It was quite an emotional scene" - or something to that effect. But her feelings for Carson were sincere and no such thought crossed her mind. Indeed, she was still recovering a little from her own emotional investment in that conversation and by the fresh evidence of Carson's love for her. She did not often pause to contemplate how fortunate she was in him.

"Are you happy for Mr. Carson?"

The question seemed an odd one to Mary. "Of course, I am. What must you think of me to suggest otherwise?"

"Not a little jealous of Mrs. Hughes for stealing his affections?" Tom teased.

Mary saw the glint of mischief in Tom's eye. "No, Tom," she said firmly, but with a smile. "Jealous, no. Envious, perhaps. The look in his eyes when he spoke of her. Matthew used to look at me that way." She swallowed that sentiment with some difficulty and turned to humour to assist her. "We're not good friends, Mrs. Hughes and I. But Carson has assured me that that won't matter and it won't. She loves him too much. I saw that when I spoke to her afterward."

Tom was a little distracted. "But you've seen that before in the two of them. How much they care for each other."

Mary shook her head. "Not at all. In fact, it was quite the surprise." She frowned a little at the expression on Tom's face. "Well, how could I have known? I hardly ever see them together."

"Of course." Tom tried not to react overtly, but inwardly he was shaking his head in wonder. How was it possible, he thought, that people who lived in such proximity to one another could be so wholly oblivious to the dearest concerns of the other? And it was even more of a perplexity in the specific case of Mary and Mr. Carson, for Tom had long been aware of the affectionate relationship that existed between them. But, then, it wasn't a reciprocal relationship, was it? for the obliviousness only worked one way. Mr. Carson, he suspected, had known of Mary's love for Matthew Crawley at least as long as Mary had. It occurred to Tom to be glad that Sybil had not been Mr. Carson's favourite, or their courtship might have been even more turbulent. Lord Grantham had been quite enough to tackle.

"Well, did you?" Mary demanded, watching the subtle shifts in Tom's countenance.

Tom leaned in toward her as a matter of discretion. "They've been in love for years, Mary. At least ten. Probably more."

Mary was a bit taken aback at the idea of Tom knowing something about Carson that she did not, especially something so intimate. She stared at him with her mouth open just a little in shock.

"They might not have put it that way," Tom went on. "Him in particular. Because they could not even consider acting upon it at the risk of imperiling their jobs. But it's been there all along, just the same."

"What do you mean?" Mary asked, almost a little indignantly.

"Mary, even I know that butlers and housekeepers aren't allowed to marry. Or weren't, anyway. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes have spent their working lives trapped in an archaic and oppressive economic and social system that's denied them a fundamental aspect of human existence, kept them celibate that they might better serve their betters." Tom didn't want to sound bitter, but it was an effort not to do so. He often wondered that the English working class did not rise up in revolution as the Russians had.

She found his words confusing and not a little insulting. "They aren't slaves, Tom. None of them are. Carson was always free to walk away if he'd thought another life would suit him better."

"You make it sound so easy." It was on shoals such as these that Tom found his cultivated complacency with life at Downton Abbey breaking. Mary, Lord Grantham, and the Dowager Lady Grantham would just never understand that it wasn't a matter of choice that the lower classes lived as they did, but rather that there were larger forces that circumscribed their opportunities. The Granthams were, perhaps, incapable of such understanding. America, he thought, was going to be a breath of fresh air.

"Well, you did it," Mary observed defensively. She had always believed that the lives of those who worked at Downton Abbey had been positively influenced by the experience. She was more than a little discomfited by the idea that it was not uniformly so and, worse, that Carson might have been adversely affected by it.

"Mr. Carson and I are very different men," Tom said quietly.

For a moment, Mary was distracted. She liked the way he said that. She could tell from his tone and his manner that he meant nothing derogatory about Carson. Indeed, Mary had never heard him speak to or about Carson with anything but respect, while she had certainly observed Carson struggling to suppress his disapproval of Tom on more than one occasion.

"Mr. Carson believes in the system, Mary. I never did. And it wasn't that easy for me either. He chose the life and accepted its limitations. All I'm saying is that they were stupid limitations. It was unfair to make him live the life of a priest as a prerequisite for running Downton Abbey."

"It's unfair to make a priest live the life of a priest," Mary quipped, unable to resist the opportunity to exercise her wit. "I think I can agree with you, Tom, to a point. The system may not have its merits now, but I'm sure there was some practical reason for it in the past." Even as she said it, Mary realized that that sounded a lot like something her grandmother might say.

Tom smiled humourlessly, not wanting to sound patronizing or to hurt Mary's feelings. "It was all about making sure that the servant never thought about himself so that he might give heart, mind, and soul to the interests of his master."

"You make the aristocracy sound evil, Tom."

"This isn't an interpretation, Mary. It's a reality."

"And I thought Carson has been happy at Downton."

"I think he has been," Tom said congenially, trying to prevent the Christmas spirit from evaporating completely. "But I'm certain he's going to be a lot happier after he's married Mrs. Hughes."

Cora joined them then, and as she did so Robert summoned Tom from across the room. Tom nodded politely to the women and walked away.

"Mary, you look cross and Edith is on the other side of the room." Cora did not usually use the conflict between her daughters as a source for humour, but there really was no other obvious answer to Mary's frown.

"Tom's just been making me feel like an ogre because Carson and Mrs. Hughes didn't marry a hundred years ago," she said bluntly. "Mama, did you know that they cared for each other?"

The thought of the morning's conversation with the butler and housekeeper brought a warm smile to Cora's face and her always animated eyes glowed. "Well, not exactly. I mean, Carson has said a few things over the years, usually expressing a concern about Mrs. Hughes's health or well-being. She's a bit of a dark horse, always much harder to read. It never crossed my mind that they might marry until I saw them before us this morning and then suddenly that's all I could think. Your father was sure they were going to announce their joint retirement. He might have had a heart attack right there had they done so."

That did not offer much solace to Mary. "So you are supportive of their remaining here once married?"

"Of course, we are. Aren't you?"

Mary didn't even bother to grace that with a response.

"When did you learn the news?" Tom asked Robert, as the latter enthusiastically poured himself a shot of whisky.

"Robert," Cora called from across the room. "Celebrating Christmas is one thing. Drinking for the sake of drinking is quite another."

Robert ignored her and sipped blissfully of the fiery drink. "Carson and Mrs. Hughes spoke to us this morning."

"So you've not had time to discuss logistics with them, where they'll live and so forth."

"No, of course not. We spoke only of the fact itself."

"And you're pleased by it? Even though it flouts tradition?"

Robert knew that Tom was teasing him, but that there was a serious element to his questions as well. And his own cheerful expression faded into a more reflective countenance as he considered his response.

"I might have been troubled once, Tom. But right now I can't remember why. I was raised to believe that love should always yield to social convention - that the chauffeur ought not to aspire above his station, that butlers and housekeepers must not marry, that other... indiscretions..." It was not the word he wanted to use and he frowned in frustration at the inaccuracy of it. "...must be hidden away or erased altogether." These last words he spoke in a harsh tone, his eyes focused across the room.

Tom followed his gaze and found himself looking at Edith. His eyes came swiftly back to Robert's and he saw in them a glint of tears and watched as Robert visibly called himself back to a more composed mien. He turned to Tom with a tight smile.

"I think differently now, Tom. And thank God for it. And you have played a part in my evolution. I treated you abominably when you and Sybil announced your intentions and it took me a long time to overcome my opposition. I learned to appreciate the fact that you made her very happy. And in everything you have done at Downton in the past few years, you have made me very happy. Everyone has benefited. When Carson made his announcement this morning I felt only joy for him and Mrs. Hughes, and relief for myself. I'm not completely without selfish thoughts," he added, with a brief smile. "But more so than that, Tom, you made it possible for me to accept and welcome instead of reject and wound in other circumstances that are very close to my heart. You helped me see that it is the things of the heart that we should cherish. I am very grateful to you."

Tom was staggered by the open emotion in Robert's face, and even more astonished by his words. It was a moment before he could speak. "Take some credit for yourself, Robert," he said, calling his father-in-law by his first name for the first time. "Your heart was open to such a transformation. Not everyone's is." And then, feeling the necessity of bringing them both back from this profound revelation, he added with a bit of a smile, "We may make a revolutionary out of you yet."

Robert just grinned at him. "Now, look!" he declared, with sudden enthusiasm. "I had Carson bring up champagne for today that we might celebrate our family in style!" He reached for one of the chilling bottles. "Help me with this, Tom."

Between the two of them, they distributed the crystal glasses of the sparkling wine and called for the attention of all. And then Robert raised his glass to make a toast.