A/N I'm sorry, friends! I lied! I thought I would get to Mrs. Hughes's cancer scare in this chapter, but I didn't quite make it. This chapter covers only the wrap-up of Haxby and Mr. Carson's bout with the Spanish Flu. I hope to have the next chapter, dealing with the cancer scare, done soon. I know in recent chapters, there hasn't been much action in the present. It's all been reading about and recalling past events, but I hope you don't mind reliving some of our favorite scenes. Well, MY favorites, any way; I'll speak for myself. I promise some current action soon! Please tell me you're all still with me!

Thank you again for all your support and encouragement in the form of reviews, favorites, and follows, as well as reblogs, comments, and likes on tumblr. You're all very kind.

Chapter 10

Mrs. Hughes wanted to press on further into Mr. Carson's diary, but she needed a few moments to recover from reading about the whole Haxby ordeal. She had been beset by so many swirling emotions that she could hardly describe what she felt.

First and foremost, she was elated to know that Mr. Carson had never intended to leave Downton without her. She could never bear to be separated from him, and she was thrilled to have discovered he found the possibility just as distasteful. He had actually asked Lady Mary to offer Mrs. Hughes a post a Haxby, and he had been willing to remain at Downton if she did not accept it! This unexpected evidence of his love moved her perhaps more than anything else she had read so far.

At the same time, she was disappointed that he never had asked her to go with him. She would have said yes, despite her disapproval of Lady Mary. If Lady Mary herself had asked her, Mrs. Hughes might not have been so keen, but knowing that it was Mr. Carson's idea, and knowing that he wanted her there with him …well, she could never say no to him! If he had asked, and she had agreed, perhaps they would have declared their love then and there. Perhaps they would be together right now. Perhaps … But pondering "perhaps" was pointless, so she pondered no further.

Lastly, Mrs. Hughes was only mildly hurt that he had not shared his suspicion (which ultimately had proven prophetic) that Lady Mary would sack Sir Richard in the end. She would have been greatly consoled during those dark days if Mr. Carson had only told her that he had never expected Lady Mary to go through with the marriage in the first place. She understood, however, why he had not told her. As he had written in the last entry she had read, she could never comprehend his particular affection for Lady Mary, but she could abide it. He would never reveal anything that might cast an ill light on Lady Mary's character or might suggest less than honorable behavior. If Lady Mary were acting as if everything were rosy between her and Sir Richard, then Mr. Carson would not refute it.

Finally accepting everything that had happened during that bleak period and consoling herself with the fact that ultimately, all came right, Mrs. Hughes searched for and found an entry dealing with another unpleasant time, albeit one of shorter duration – another time she had feared losing Mr. Carson:

April 17th 1919

Mrs Hughes, once again you find yourself my nurse and caretaker. I have been struck with this abominable Spanish Flu, the very same that has claimed Miss Swire and nearly took Her Ladyship, as well. I consider myself very fortunate indeed to have made it through, and I attribute my recovery solely to your tender ministrations.

Just as you did last time I was ill, you have attended to me with a devotion that warms me inside. I would like to believe that devotion to be exclusive, but I've seen how you care for others just as lovingly. If you were not so kind and compassionate by nature, I might think myself special in your eyes. When you do these things for me, oddly enough, the fact that you hold me in no special regard makes me love you even more. If you loved me, your care would not be so remarkable; any woman would do the same for the man she loved. To run yourself ragged for someone who is merely a friend and colleague, however… well, that makes you an extraordinary woman, indeed.

I have been rather delirious with fever these past days and am only now feeling somewhat myself again. I cannot recall a great deal of what has happened, but every recollection I do have involves you: your feeling my face for fever, dabbing my brow with a cloth, administering my medicine, bringing my meals, keeping my water glass full, and adjusting my pillow and blankets. I seem to remember enjoying, even in my diminished capacity, occasions when you helped me to sit up, positioned my pillow behind me, and arranged my blankets. In the process, you leaned near me and even placed your arms about me to support me. Your proximity was maddening and your touch entirely too tantalizing. Had I not been in such a weakened state, Heaven knows what I might have done! But no good can come from my dwelling on those thoughts now, so I shall simply say that when I have recovered completely, I shall try to find some way to repay your kindness.

Mrs. Hughes thought back to those days when she had thought she might lose Mr. Carson. When she had first found him ill in his pantry, she had thought it nothing serious, but after others had begun to take ill and Dr. Clarkson had determined it was Spanish Flu, she had begun to worry in earnest. By the time they had feared losing Her Ladyship and Miss Swire had succumbed to the illness, Mrs. Hughes had been beside herself. Outwardly, she had maintained her professional demeanor, of course, and no one had suspected just how frightened she had been for her beloved butler. She had tried especially hard to be cheerful around Mr. Carson himself, but when she had found herself alone in the privacy of her sitting room or her bedroom, she had let her tears fall freely. During the working day, she had checked in on him as often as her work had allowed, bustling about and fussing over him when she could. The first two nights, when the fever had been at its worst, she had stayed with him all night. Then, after the fever had broken, she had sat with him during the evenings until he had fallen asleep for the night. At a certain time, she had had to retire to her own room, but sleep had failed to overcome her anxiety, and she had often crept back to his room during those restless nights just to reassure herself. After several days, Mr. Carson had recovered fully, and Mrs. Hughes had been able to breathe easily again, but she would never forget the feeling of dread that had haunted her when she considered the hole that would be left in her life and in her heart if anything had happened to him.

Mrs. Hughes knew that she was reading on borrowed time. Mr. Carson could wake at any moment and find her missing. She had been listening carefully for any sound from the direction of the men's corridor, but all was silent. She couldn't resist delving deeper into the volume before her, and she knew exactly what she wanted to read next.