As always, my thanks to chelsie fan.

The next day she was not permitted to sleep in. Anna woke her before breakfast, and the day was a whirlwind of endless tasks. Despite her meticulous organization, many of her things were scattered, and it took her and Anna considerable time to ferret them all out. Suitcases were packed with her clothing and a few treasured belongings. Most of it was straightforward; Mrs. Hughes did not have a great number of personal possessions – though how she had amassed so many coats in her life was a bit of a mystery. She felt nervous as Anna rummaged through the pockets of each of them, though she couldn't imagine any of the contents being embarrassing. It just was strange to have someone else go through all her personal effects, while she sat idly awaiting questions or instructions.

Her photographs posed more of a problem and Anna had been avoiding them until she couldn't any longer. Mrs. Hughes had Anna put them all in an envelope, tucked into her copy of the King James Bible, with strict instructions to put it on Mr. Carson's desk after she'd left. She didn't think she could suffer through the daunting task of giving it to him herself, but she meant for him to have it. It didn't make much sense, really. Some of the pictures of her family would be meaningless to him. She should keep them, maybe give them to Douglas when he visits – if he visits, she thought darkly to herself. He very well may not. There were other people who might recognize the faces in the pictures that weren't her own, but she still felt that they belonged to him. He would appreciate most this little treasure of hers that she had no use for. Something for him to remember her by.

Anna had been very careful when tucking each picture away. She tried to look through them as best she could without slowing the task to a halt. There was one…a candid shot of very young Mrs. Hughes dancing at what was clearly some sort of village dance. She looked blissfully carefree as she spun about. Anna smiled for a moment at the rare glimpse of a very different Mrs. Hughes. On the back was scrawled "Elsie Hughes. May, 1881."The maid slipped that particular photograph on top of the pile before closing the envelope.

"Would you like me to write a note to go with them?" the maid asked.

If there were words to explain to him why she wanted him to have this, they were not to be spoken to Anna. Besides, she was sure that he would understand. "No, thank you, Anna."

That was the end of that. The two women moved on to sort out the remaining contents of her closet.

Daisy spooned leek and potato soup into a bowl and put it on a tray. Not the greatest farewell lunch, the assistant cook thought, adding a roll of bread beside it. Mrs. Hughes still refused to eat in the servant's hall with the others. Daisy didn't see any reason for her to be embarrassed, and personally would have liked to see her more, but Mr. Carson had instructed them not to press the issue, and no one dared disobey.

She decided to the deliver the meal herself instead of delegating the job to anyone else, but Mr. Carson stopped her in the hall.

"Thank you Daisy; I'll take that." He said, relieving the girl of the tray.

"It's no trouble, Mr. Carson," protested Daisy.

"I'll take it all the same. Go on. Servant's luncheon is in ten minutes. I'm sure you've things to do."

He'd been looking for an excuse to speak with Mrs. Hughes, and this seemed as good as any. She'd needed space after last evening to absorb everything; he could not blame her for that, but he was not about to let her leave without speaking with her again. He had a feeling their conversation would be a lengthy one - if he were lucky.

He found her in her room, having just finished going through all of her personal belongings with Anna. He sent the girl downstairs for luncheon politely but firmly, ensuring he might have a brief word with Mrs. Hughes by himself.

"I've brought you something to eat," he said, setting down the tray on the table in front of her.

"Thank you," she said somewhat stiffly. She took a deep breath, but the words came out too fast anyways. "I owe you an apology for the way I behaved last night."

"It's quite all right. I understand."

She didn't think he could possibly understand, but she was not about to dismiss his kindness, nor his forgiveness. "Thank you."

He looked around, frustrated that he had to leave her to see to things downstairs. He leaned in and lowered his voice, even though there was no one else in earshot. "Listen. I cannot stay now, but perhaps tonight we might talk?"

She nodded. She had no intention of doing anything else with her evening. Mrs. Patmore had been right; they had to come to some kind of closure with each other. "Come find me after supper? When everything is sorted?" she asked.

"Very good. Do you need any help with that?"

She was already poking at her lunch, "Soup, bread, and a glass of water. Is that right?" she asked, feeling around for the spoon.

"That's right. Not the greatest I'm afraid. Perhaps we'll see about something more interesting for dinner."

"You will not!" she returned sharply. She made a conscious effort to soften her voice. "I will live. Please thank Daisy for me."

"I will." He felt rather terrible, leaving her to eat alone in her room, but there was no way around it; he had to get back downstairs. He descended the stairs feeling decidedly guilty anyways, wishing to be with her, resenting the call of duty in a way he never had before.

This is what it would be like if she stayed here. It wouldn't work, much as he wanted it to. The mere thought of her leaving made his heart clench. He'd thought over and over again about asking her to stay. She had seen from the beginning that it wasn't an option, and Mr. Carson knew now it would only hurt her more to ask. He stopped trying to find a way to convince her to stay, and started thinking of all the things he wished to say to her before she left.

"So that's everything?"

"Everything I can think of at the moment. I can't teach you the job in three days Anna, but that should be enough to hold things together until Mrs. Bute arrives." Mrs. Hughes heaved a great sigh. It had been an exhausting day, and she was quite worn out. She sank into the chair in her sitting room, relieved to have finished running through every day to day household affair they could think of.

"You're tired," Anna observed.

"I don't need you to tell me that," returned Mrs. Hughes, leaning back into the chair.

"Would you like to go upstairs? Have a nap before supper? We've got an early start tomorrow."

"I don't think so. I'd like to stay here for a few minutes…" she said, waving her hands vaguely at the room. "I'll rest in here, I think. It will give me a chance to…say goodbye to it."

"If you like," said Anna softly. "On that subject…some of the staff would probably like to see you before you go … say their own goodbyes."

Anna had been the one charged by the others with broaching the subject, and she did so tactfully, but Mrs. Hughes heard the weight behind the words. She'd been avoiding them, all of them. She had started to feel guilty about the way she'd closed herself off. She was being cowardly, she knew, but what did one say? She'd never liked goodbyes at the best of times, and this was certainly the worst of times. Everything usually said in such situations sounded tinny or cliché or impossible. She wouldn't see them again. It wasn't for the best. She wouldn't write. She'd racked her brain for something warm and comforting to offer them and come up short.

"Tomorrow," she told Anna. "I will say goodbye to them tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, then." said Anna firmly, as if she could turn the housekeeper's dismissal into a promise using that tone. "I'll see you later."

"Thank you, Anna. You were a marvel today." That much at least, she could say sincerely, and Anna smiled.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. Enjoy your supper."

Mrs. Hughes nodded, and Anna left, letting the door close behind her with a muted click. She breathed a small sigh of relief. It had been such a chaotic day, and she'd had no time alone with her own thoughts. Anna was right about the staff; she would need to say goodbye to them tomorrow, whether she wanted to or not. How she chose to handle that was up to her, but surely she could manage.

There was another goodbye she dreaded more than the rest of them put together. She drummed her fingers idly on the arms of the chair. She'd made a mess of things last night with him, but he'd been remarkably understanding about it today. She remembered back to when she was so sure that he would kiss her - how badly she'd wanted him to, even though she'd known it would be a misstep. Mrs. Patmore had been mistaken; there was no possible way she was going to leave him without regrets. There was only leaving with fewer of them or more of them. To be honest, she wasn't sure which one she'd prefer.

TBC...