A/N This website was misbehaving yesterday when I posted the previous chapter, so if you missed yesterday's installment, please go back and read that first. There's a little a matter of a proposal ... if you like that sort of thing.

Thank you for all your kind support in so many forms - reviews, favorites, follows, PM's, tumblr reblogs, likes, and replies ... I appreciate every one. Please do share your thoughts and leave me a review. It helps to know whether or not you like what I'm writing.

Thank you to caddydrummer91 and HB rules, who have helped tremendously with Mr. Carson's heart ailment.

Chapter 25

Mr. Carson came to Mrs. Hughes's sitting room that afternoon, just before they needed to go upstairs, and closed her door.

"Are you ready, love?" he asked, feeling less than ready himself, but finding comfort in her embrace.

"As ready as I can be," she answered. "You know how much I hate an 'atmosphere,' and this will create a real atmosphere, for sure."

"All will be well in the end, I think," he said, trying to convince himself as much as her.

"Charles, do you feel confident about taking the stairs? We can ask them to come to your pantry," Mrs. Hughes suggested.

"And summon His Lordship, as if he were my butler?! Certainly not!" he insisted, appalled at the thought.

"All right. Calm down, now, or you'll suffer a collapse before we ever get there!" she said, gently petting his chest. "Let's get on with it, then."

She took his hand and guided him toward the door. Once they were in the corridor and nearing the staircase, she held his arm with both hands to steady him. This was no different from what she'd done previously when he'd been ill, but now Mr. Carson found it so much more proprietary. One of the fingers wrapped around his arm now wore a ring which he'd offered and Mrs. Hughes had accepted. (She'd refused to take the ring off, but had succeeded in concealing it from curious eyes by keeping mostly to herself for a few hours.) Formerly, this supportive, affectionate gesture was one of a kind-hearted colleague caring for a dear friend, or so he thought. Presently, though, it was the devotion of a woman to her man, and her love made him warm inside. Charles Carson would admit that he was a proud man, but he was not ashamed to be led about and fussed over by Elsie Hughes; instead, he felt very fortunate.

Still, as they began their slow ascent, he experienced a sense of trepidation when faced with the magnitude of what he was about to do. He was going to tell his employer of forty years that he was no longer fit to serve his house and his family. It would be humiliating to admit his frailty. He felt as if he were letting the family down. As thrilled as he'd been last night and this morning with Mrs. Hughes, he currently felt … insecure, frightened even.

As always, she sensed his unease and stopped him after the first two stairs. She looked around hurriedly to see if anyone were within sight or earshot, and no one was. Still holding his arm, she stood one step above him so that their faces were level and she could look him in the eyes. Leaning closer, she spoke softly, "I know how difficult this will be for you, but it will be fine, my love. I'm right here - always," and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, dear. I know you are. I couldn't do it without you," Mr. Carson told her, reaching out to cup her face in his hand.

Mr. Carson moved one step higher so that he stood beside Mrs. Hughes, and they continued to climb the stairs. Though their progress was measured and gradual, his heart beat faster and his breathing became more labored with each step. Mrs. Hughes watched him carefully and held him tightly. By the time they had finally arrived at the first-floor landing, he was in significant discomfort. His chest was tight, and he was short of breath. Wasting no time, she led him to a bench in the hall, eased him down, and sat next to him.

"Where's your medicine, Charles?" she asked. The concern in her eyes betrayed the calm in her voice.

"Here … " he rasped, pulling on the lapel of his morning coat, "in my … pocket."

Mrs. Hughes removed the vial from his breast pocket and called to a hall boy to fetch Mr. Carson a glass of water, admonishing him to be quick about it. While they waited for the water, she loosened his cravat and removed the front stud from his collar. She held his hand, and his heart rate and breathing became more a little more regular. The hall boy returned with the water, Mr. Carson took a nitroglycerin tablet, and within a few minutes, he was much improved.

"Are you feeling better, now, Charles?" she asked, her delicate fingers caressing his face.

"Yes, love, I think I'm all right," he said, giving her a weak smile.

"You gave me a fright," Mrs. Hughes now admitted, tears springing to her eyes. She threw her arms about his neck and buried her head in his shoulder. In response, he wrapped his arms around her and ran his hands over her back.

"I'm sorry, Elsie," he apologized, kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry I frightened you."

"Don't apologize," she said. "I just glad you're all right."

By now there was a gathering of maids, footmen, and hall boys, all looking on from a distance. The noise and the commotion attracted the attention of Lord and Lady Grantham and Lady Mary, who emerged from the drawing room to see what was causing the disturbance. The crowd gaped at the afflicted butler and weeping housekeeper, openly embracing. The earl was the first to recover the power of speech.

"I know I may not be the most observant fellow, but for once, everyone else looks as shocked as I am. What on earth is going on here?" he demanded.

Mr. Carson rose, slowly and weakly, supported by Mrs. Hughes, and addressed His Lordship with as much dignity as he could muster, "Begging your pardon, My Lord, we've an urgent matter to discuss."

"So it would seem," agreed Lord Grantham. "Do you think you can make it to the drawing room so we can have some privacy?"

"I think I can manage," Mr. Carson told him.

"You lot go about your business now," Mrs. Hughes told the assembled servants, making a shooing motion with her hand.

Mr. Carson, leaning on Mrs. Hughes with his arm about her shoulders and her arm about his middle, gingerly made his way into the drawing room to have what quite possibly would be the most difficult conversation of his life.