Chapter 10

He'd been up all night. The young hall boy had been very helpful. Together they had done something he hoped would get him back into her good graces. As he'd stood in the hallway the night before listening to young boy talk about carrying big things he knew how to make it up to her.

Simple apologies work for simple mistakes. Big mistakes needed big gestures. Michael had been key to his plan. Looking at his handiwork he hoped it would be enough. Looking at the clock he realized how late it was. He needed to get back to his room to change before his day began.

Again she'd woken early, but surprisingly well-rested. Getting out of bed she took her time dressing and was still walking out of her room before the maid knocked on the door. Carrying her tray she made her way carefully down the stairs.

In the kitchen, she washed her dishes and left them on a towel to dry. The kettle was already hot so someone was about. She made a quick cup of tea then headed to her sitting room. She would use the quiet to begin working through all of her invoices from the garden party.

Opening her sitting room door she was already making a mental list of the things she needed to do. When the door swung open, she stopped, almost dropping the cup of tea. The over large, manly desk which had consumed the room was gone. In its place was the smaller desk she'd found in the attics.

Except it wasn't filthy as it had been in the attics. It was pristine, possibly cleaner than when it was new. She was stunned. Moving closer to the desk she started opening drawers. Her things were neatly tucked into each drawer, just the way she would have done it. Every single item in the perfect place.

She set the tea cup down and turned in the room. It was exactly as she'd imagined it. The smaller desk opened up the room, made it more inviting. The two chairs on the other side of the room drew her eye. They weren't the ones she'd had before. These were slightly bigger, cushioned and just as gleaming as the desk.

Cautiously she sat in one and almost laughed as she realized how much more comfortable they were. She'd picked the other chairs because they were lovely but she had to admit they were dreadfully uncomfortable. Except for the night Mr. Carson had come to her sitting room for tea, that dreadful night, she hadn't sat in them. Since then she would sit in her office chair and let others sit in the blasted things. She'd planned on returning them to the attics after the garden party, replacing them with more comfortable chairs.

"Might I offer you a cup of tea?"

She looked up, startled. "I already have a cup of tea Mr. Carson."

Holding up the tray just a bit higher, "Yes, but it's all the way across the room. I've included a few shortbread biscuits."

She nodded and he sat, "How did you do all of this?"

He smiled at her across the table, "What makes you think I did?"

"I suppose elves did it?"

Nodding, he shrugged, "Possibly, or perhaps ghosts?"

"I don't, for a moment, think either of us believe in fairies or ghosts."

"Probably not."

They sat in silence for a moment. Finally she turned to him, "I thought we were going to have tea."

Looking down, sheepishly, "I'm afraid I don't know how you take your tea."

Her laughter filled the room, a sound he found quite intoxicating. She proceeded to make a cup for each of them, explaining each step to him. Once she had prepared each cup, she handed one to him then lifted her own, "Now you know Mr. Carson."

He took a sip of his tea and sighed in contentment. Several minutes passed then she heard his deep breath, "I am very sorry Mrs. Hughes."

"What exactly are you sorry for Mr. Carson?"

"I am sorry for not listening to you. I am sorry for losing my temper with you. And I am sorry for raising my voice to you."

She felt a blush creep up her neck. She hadn't expected him to be quite so effusive. Was it possible Mr. Carson had a, dare she think it, passionate side about him? "Well I think this proves one thing wrong Mr. Carson."

He looked at her, confusion filling his eyes, "I don't understand."

She waved her hands around the room, "You do listen. How else would you have known about the desk?"

He looked away from her, "I might have had a bit of help with that."

"Of course you had help. But you listened to me about the desk."

He nodded, "I wish I had listened to you about the other things. I truly am sorry."

"Apology accepted Mr. Carson." She paused for a moment, making sure she'd caught his eye, "I think if we work together, we are going to be a formidable team."

"I do too, Mrs. Hughes. And if you would like, I would like to toast our first successful event together. Or rather, your first successful event."

She raised her tea cup to mock salute him and he laughed. A deep, rumbling noise that echoed through her sitting room. It was a thrilling noise that took her breath away. "What is so funny Mr. Carson?"

"I meant a proper toast, this evening. I have a bottle of sherry, or wine if you prefer. I thought we might share a glass or two." She sat back in her chair, stunned by his proposition. Seeing her movement, he continued, "I think we've both earned it and who knows, perhaps we can start a tradition."

"Tradition?"

"Yes, every time we host a successful event we share a glass of wine. I never did with Mrs. Cross, she always brought her overly sweet tea. This can be our tradition."

"Does it only have to be after an event? We do have many things we need to discuss."

"Nothing says we can't do it more regularly?"

"Then I agree Mr. Carson."

Hearing movement in the hallway, he stood and lifted the tray, "After dinner, in my pantry, or in here if you prefer?"

"No, Mr. Carson, you came to me. It's only fair I come to you."

The day passed quickly. Mr. Carson had his tea made by Mrs. Hughes at breakfast. Mrs. Hughes ate the toast he placed gently on the edge of her plate. They each went about their day with an extra spring in their step.

At the end of the night as the last of the servants were heading upstairs Mrs. Hughes tapped lightly on his door. When she didn't get an answer she pushed it open. Fast asleep in his easy chair was Mr. Carson. The decanted wine and two glasses were on the table beside him.

She watched him sleep, a small smile playing across her lips. She should wake him but she knew he would feel compelled to stay and have a glass of wine with her. Instead she returned to her sitting room and removed the small throw she kept tucked away for when it was chilly.

Returning to his pantry she gently draped it over him. A single, dark curl had fallen over his forehead. She was tempted to brush it back but stopped herself at the last moment. Checking the fire was safe, she snuffed out a few candles then quietly backed out of the room. As she closed the door, he shifted in his chair pulling the throw more tightly around him.

She smiled to herself all the way to her room. Wine would wait for another day, they had many of those in their future. All that mattered, for now, was Mr. Carson had apologized and they had a new tradition. The idea of a tradition made her think of the journal. Racing to her room she dug it out of the bureau.

Sitting at her desk she turned to Rule 2.

Mr. Carson takes events held at Downton very seriously. Over the years, he has determined the best way to hold these events. You might have other opinions but making changes will require a battle. There are battles worth choosing, this will not be one of them. It is best to simply let Mr. Carson have his way. You might be able to change minor things but only over the course of many years.

Laughing to herself she scratched it out. She replaced it instead with her own words.

Mr. Carson can be exceedingly stubborn. In no uncertain terms is he to be allowed to win every battle. He needs to be stood up to on a regular basis. Push him to change, especially when it will ultimately help him. He might argue back but when he is proved wrong, he is surprisingly kind. Make sure you are kind to him in return.