Sorry for the delay in this one, I've been travelling a lot with work and don't take my personal laptop. I've also rewritten this chapter at least 2 times. I wanted some interaction between the 2 characters, but there were so many options, and I finally feel like it got to where I wanted it. I hope you enjoy it, let me know :)
The sun was setting rapidly in the distance as Mary stared aimlessly out of the window, her eyes focusing on the vast array of colours that filled the sky like patches on a quilt. The world was winding down for the evening, the colours deepening as the sun said its final goodbye from behind some wispy clouds that had crept in an hour or so before. It was time that Mary began to wind down for the evening herself, but there was a crippling electrical current shooting through her that meant she just couldn't relax. A part of her had tried to pinpoint what it was for the previous hour, wondering whether it was a form of restlessness that her body couldn't escape from. Although the months before she had spent relatively static, her mind and body drained of any semblance of energy, there seemed to be something that she could not quell. Rather than fighting the dire need to move whilst sitting in bed, she had resorted to what she was drawn to, and that was the world outside. Looking through the eyes of the house seemed to be some sort of solace to her, the beauty of nature, the constant that was time and the ever-changing landscape seemed to help her. It was a cathartic motion that seemed to be the trigger point to action, whether it be in thought or the body.
The day had passed slowly, with people coming and going and sending her good wishes. Not wanting to dampen their spirit and gesture, she had put up with it because she felt she owed it to them for putting them through the ghastly day before. When her Papa had arrived, the night and exhaustion still resting heavy on him, he had sat with her whilst her Mama went to refresh herself and repeatedly told her how happy he was that she was back with them. Mary had already picked that up by his expression, the relief mixed in his eyes with a fleck of worry; it was something she had also picked up her Mama's eyes. They still worried that she was going to do it again, and although Mary did not know what the future held, she knew that it was not a conversation she yet wanted to broach. There was an essence of shame and embarrassment that she had never really felt before about an action that she had completed; it was alien, having been a force to be reckoned with for some years and not often second-guessing herself.
With the sun almost gone, Mary could feel the temperature begin to creep down, sending a shiver up her spine, sending her mind back to the other night where she had fallen so far. The panic and deep-set grief still plagued her, troubled her and made her wish that there was something she could do to bring her darling Matthew back. It was a painstaking process, letting her mind wander through their memories, their moments alone, the time that she fell in love with him and the love after. There would be a longing, she could tell, to feel him against her, to have him look into her eyes or smile at her that would never fade. Never. That part of her was damaged and shattered into a pile of broken pieces that seemed to rest high in her chest. Now she was back into her head a bit more, focused on Carson, her life, and trying to do Matthew proud she was so very much aware of the hurdles she now had to face. It wasn't just going to be life as normal because there was so much that she had to defeat. Not only were there demons that lingered behind every breath and heartbeat, but the torrent of questions she knew she was going to have to answer, and the struggle to reintegrate herself into the normal running of the house. Over the previous months, she had taken a massive backseat, struggling to maintain her wellbeing, and had skimmed the surface of life so as she had just a hairs touch to the realm of normal. The moment she had taken herself away from that was the moment she fell into the pit of despair.
Matthew would have made sure she kept going, and that was what drove her now to move forward as best she could. What she had to be to George, her darling son, was much more than an aristocratic Mother. On top of that she had to also be his Father, the person that told him tales of Matthew, taught him and showed him the ways that Matthew had waited to eagerly to bestow upon his son. Mary was going to be Matthew in that sense, and she knew it was very much a wish that Matthew hadn't explicitly detailed. Mary knew Matthew well enough to know what he would want to show and teach his son. Tom had done so well without Sybil, and Mary hoped that the pair of them could be a part of what the other lacked.
The hours had passed slowly, and although her thoughts moved to Matthew, to herself, to George and the family, they always came back to her dear friend Carson. Although there had always been a love and respect for him, this had now quadrupled, making the guilt agonising. In the bed he lay silently, his face calm and expressionless in an almost masculine angelic-like way. The appreciation she had for how he had pulled her back to herself, whilst selflessly putting himself in danger and ultimately ending up in the state he was in now, was huge. Earlier in the day she had watched helplessly on from the side of his bed as Dr Clarkson had tried some basic tests, which as far as she had understood, helped to see if the brain stem was functioning at the most basic level. It seemed that if these tests failed, there was a chance that he would never wake up, and she had nearly physically been sick at the thought. Watching on, as Clarkson worked carefully, Mary had stood completely transfixed with his actions, keeping an eye on Carson like a hawk to make sure she could catch any minute reaction that Dr Clarkson could have missed. The basic test where he placed something to the back of Carson's throat to see if the gag reflex remained had her almost vomiting herself. The reflex was solid, and she had gone back to her room with a flame of hope sitting amongst nausea in her stomach. Dr Clarkson said that it was a positive sign, and potentially when the swelling subsided he would wake up as the pressure would be alleviated. All Mary could do was keep willing it so.
There was a thud in the distance that brought her back to herself and she turned to look at the room behind her. The darkness had set in now and the way the lights flickered sent shadows shooting in strange directions. Not too long ago, her Mama had kissed her goodbye and reluctantly headed back up to the house to change and have a solid meal, and now the room seemed strange without her mother's piercing blue eyes watching Mary's every move. It had surprised her that her Mama had been so eager to stay by her side, but she knew that it was massively linked to their family's previous loss of their darling Sybil. There was something that must have shook her Mama at the thought of her eldest daughter ending in a similar fate. There had been a few moments where she had felt her Mama hesitate in conversation, and Mary had instantly looked away hoping that her Mama wasn't going to ask the ever-important question. Thankfully, though, the hesitation became nothing more and Mary knew that it would happen but hoped later rather than sooner.
Again, Mary's mind turned back to Carson and she thought that it was a good time to go and see him again. There was a period in the evening where everything went quiet, with the nurses having finished their rounds and so the wards and corridors were empty enough to allow her some quiet time with him. Part of her worried that he was going to wake up on his own, and she felt that she owed him something for the resilience and determination he had shown in finding her, so it was another reason why she wanted to be with him. It was Carson's way, and it always had, to guide her through the darkness like had so many times over the years, and so she wanted to be something positive that he could wake up to. Carson was the constant in her life that she hadn't realised for many years that he was. There was nothing that he would not do for her, and like her Papa, he adored her and she very much adored him.
Mary pulled her dressing gown tight around her, securing it with the thin cord belt, and moved over to her bed so she could put something on her feet. The floors of the hospital, for the most part, were cold and unwelcoming, and her feet were the parts of her that had suffered the most from being outside in the cold. Taking in a deep breath, she set herself in a forward motion and made her way into the halls. The walk to his room was second nature now, and her feet instinctively guided her to her destination whilst her mind wandered. What if he was awake when she got there? What if he had been for some time? Those were the thoughts that went around in her head every time she walked towards his room, and the disappointment always hit her when she found him in the same pose as always.
As her feet got her closer to the room, the familiar silence was broken by a distinct sniffle that instantly pricked her interest. The sniffle echoed quite loudly down the corridor, with the hospital being so quiet in the evenings, there was nothing to absorb the sound and so it carried. Carefully and quietly Mary brought herself up to the doorway and peered around the corner, trying not to make any noise to disturb whomever it was. At first, she thought that another man had been placed in that room with Carson, and the sound of sadness was coming from a friend or relative. When she peered into the distance she could see a small hunched up figure clutching tightly at Carson's limp outstretched hand. The light was dim so Mary couldn't make out who it was, but she was intrigued. It had never dawned on her, if she was honest, that there would be someone else that cared for him enough to be affected by his current state; which was an awful thing to assume.
As Mary stood there, squinting to try and make out who the person was, two thoughts crossed her mind. What she wondered was whether she should go over and offer some sort of comfort to whoever it was? Or should she allow them their privacy? A deep inhalation from the person and the slight sob then indicated to Mary that it was a woman, and she felt her guilt rear up because she was causing this person their sadness. Feeling that she wanted to comfort them, to do what Carson couldn't, she walked quietly towards the bed.
As Mary walked down the room she could make out the distinct and tight hairdo of Mrs Hughes, who sat with her back to the door, but it was enough for Mary to know who it was. Feeling confused by what she was seeing before her she hesitated and slowed up her pace. Thinking about it, she supposed that there was a deeper underlying friendship between the two of them, having worked together for so long. There was a deep emotional connection to a lot of the servants that Mary had never understood, and she knew it flowed through the lower classes in a way that she had never experienced. They didn't have a lot, but they had each other, and often they would go out of their way for their own and give away their last penny if it meant they could help someone out. Perhaps their friendship came about by the fact that the pair of them are heads of the service within the home? Maybe Mrs Hughes had just arrived and she had been shocked by the state of him? As it was Mrs Hughes she now wondered if she should allow her the space she needed, the pair of them not seeing eye to eye over the years. What would Carson do? What would Matthew do? Nodding her head she knew instantly and so she carried on her slow walk.
"Is there anything I can do, Mrs Hughes?" Mary said softly, hearing the complete topsy-turvy words that came from her mouth as she did.
Mrs Hughes instinctively shot to her feet and turned so her body was facing Mary, her expression aghast with horror as she reacted to the words of one of her employers. "Oh, My Lady," she exclaimed, lowering her gaze and putting her hands together into a ball. "Forgive me. I'll get out of the way."
Mary put her hand up as Mrs Hughes tried to move towards the exit. "No. No. Please don't." Mary went to reach out and place her hand onto Mrs Hughes' shoulder but stopped when their eyes connected. The look of contempt and sadness hit Mary in the chest, and she knew instantly that Mrs Hughes held her accountable for Carson's current state. Mrs Hughes averted her gaze and stopped in her tracks without saying a word, leaving the floor for Mary to make a move.
Silence sat between them for a few agonising moments, Mary chewing on words in her head as she tried to break the tension that sat in the air like a thick fog. This was one of those situations, she knew now, where she was going to have to apologise for what she had done. Since she had been in the hospital she had thought about the various people she was going to have to apologise to, the words she would have to say, and none of those scenarios had included Mrs Hughes. There was a familiarity with many of the people in her life, whom she knew she could have an honest conversation with and not feel too much shame and uncomfortableness, but how do you talk to someone with whom you had never had any connection?
"Mrs Hughes, I have intruded on your own private time and hold no claim to this space. This is not our home, you are not working and you have every right to be here at this time. It is I that should apologise." Mary grimaced and looked down at her feet.
Mrs Hughes didn't look up right away, unsure of what to think or to say. All she felt inside of her was a wave of burning anger that sat under the surface. It had been unexpected, to say the least, to feel that hotness that was now heavily meshing with the worry and unhappiness at seeing Carson lying there in such a state. As she stood there, unsure of what to say and to feel, she felt her breathing catch firmly in her throat as she tried to keep herself in check. It was Mary's fault that Carson was this way, and that was something that she could not keep from her mind. As she kept her eyes fixed on a spot on the floor, trying to keep her Scottish temper at bay, she noticed that Carson's hand was now lying limp at the side of the bed where she had dropped it as she stood up from her chair. Carefully, she moved to pick it up and place it gently back onto Carson's chest, her eyes filling with tears as she felt the sadness overtake every other emotion inside of her. Oh this man, how he made it all feel right for her.
Mary stood still, watching with a deep fascination as Mrs Hughes carefully put Carson's hand back onto his chest. The older woman tried to avert her gaze as she moved her position to where it had been, but Mary was astute enough to notice the woman's eyes fill with tears. The mantra in her head kept asking the question; what would Matthew do? What would Carson do? So Mary tried to be Matthew, the kind and considerate man who never wanted to do ill of anyone. Mary's hand reached out and touched Mrs Hughes' arm. "Are you ok, Mrs Hughes?"
Mrs Hughes shrugged the touch off, so utterly suffocated by the burning rage that ignited as soon as the touch hit. The family of the house didn't touch the help, they were not that way inclined in life, and so it took Mrs Hughes by surprise. Who did Lady Mary think she was? "Don't," Mrs Hughes said sharply, moving her arm clearly out of the way.
Mary swallowed and looked at Carson sadly. "It's my fault, I'm sorry."
Mrs Hughes, thinking that Mary was referencing the touch, shrugged her shoulders and placed her hands back together. It was making her feel impatient now because she wanted her space back, and her time with Carson. "It's fine. You were just trying to be kind, My Lady." And now, Mrs Hughes tried to get herself back into her role as head housekeeper, trying to keep herself from saying something she shouldn't.
"No, Mrs Hughes," Mary swallowed, moving over to where Carson lay and took his hand into hers. "This is my fault."
"Yes," Mrs Hughes said bitterly. "Yes, you're right about that." There was no hesitation as the words fell from her mouth, the restraint had started to evaporate under her exterior and she chewed on the inside of her lip as she looked down at the unconscious man. Lady Mary, the child that had enamoured Mr Carson for years, had manipulated and pulled him down on numerous occasions. If it wasn't for her, he would be back in the house, sitting strong at his desk or keeping the house in working order. It all made her angry, the way that she had been feeling over the past few days, the agony at the thought of losing him, the anxiousness when she didn't know what was going on was all down to her. The fact that she might never get to tell Mr Carson how she felt, how he could be ripped from her in the blink of an eye all because of this high and mighty woman.
Mary didn't recoil at the agreeance but instead tried to embrace it because she knew that it was deserved. Mary wanted to start as she meant to go on, and although she had been avoiding any conversation about what she had done, this felt like a good way to start, no matter how difficult. "May I say something, Mrs Hughes?"
Mrs Hughes peered curiously at Mary and nodded her head. The conversations and actions that were happening between them were not normal, and although it had infuriated her, she wanted to hear what she had to say at least. Was there remorse there? Had this whole experience done something to her and made her into a proper person?
"We are not friends. We do not know each other. We belong to the same house. At first, I thought that we didn't have anything in common but now I think that I am wrong about that."
Mrs Hughes didn't say anything back. Instead, she stood there, eyes locked on Mary as she tried to figure out where the conversation was going.
"We have shared the same home, walked the same halls for years and yet we do not talk, and we do not cross paths often. What I do know is that we both have this man in common. I do not know of the relationship that you have, and I see that I have never asked much about Carson's life to know about that, which is utterly appalling. I can see now, by how you hold yourself around me and how you are at this moment, that he is dear to you. I am not asking for pity, Mrs Hughes, and I'm not asking you to like me because I don't know you and your life to be able to say if you have experienced loss in your life. I'm not justifying my actions, I'm just trying to explain that I completely and utterly lost myself in the grief of my husband. You knew him, Mrs Hughes, he was so kind and so warm and it destroyed everything I was to myself and I feel it inside. That man is more than I could ever be, he had kindness in him that melted the coldest ice, as he did to my heart. Carson knows me, and has known me for many years, and did what he could in the stubborn way that we both know. I wish that this hadn't happened, and I wish that I could take it all back but I can't," Mary paused to wipe away the stray tear that slid down her face. "This is difficult for me, but I owe you some semblance of apology and gratitude, Mrs Hughes. You must be a good friend of Carson to be here and to be so moved by him so I need to give you the respect that you deserve. I'm so deeply and truly sorry for my actions, and personally want to apologise to you for what I have done because I see that this has personally impacted you. As I said, I don't know much about your relationship when I'm not around, and he is a good man that I trust, and so I trust his judgement in the fact that you are friends. I am truly and deeply sorry. It won't make it better, I know that, but all I can do is try and make it right."
Mrs Hughes still felt angry, but this took her by a complete surprise to hear such honest words from the one and only Lady Mary. Was this what Carson saw when she wasn't around? Was this the side that Carson adored? "Well," Mrs Hughes hesitated and took in a deep breath. "I appreciate your words, Lady Mary."
"I want you to be honest with me, Mrs Hughes. Please. I know you feel much more than appreciation of my words. I have clearly hurt you because I can tell by your eyes that I have. I may not know you, but I can read you and see it." Mary moved the collar of the dressing-gown closer to her neck to try and beat the cold away.
Mrs Hughes stood steadfast, unable to think about what words she could put forward. It was an open invitation to speak her mind, but it seemed like a trap because who in their right mind would openly tell her about their dislike, distrust and the anger that coursed inside? But then, this might be the only time she could do it. "Well, if one is being honest about such a thing, then yes, you have upset me, Lady Mary. Mr Carson may have placed himself in the situation of his own free will because we both know the sort of man that he is, but it should never have taken place in the first place. I feel for you, in one respect, because you have lost something so dear to you, but the actions were absent of any real thought for anyone else. I am angry for my selfish reasons, but I am also angry because yet again, Carson has been drawn into one of your messes."
Mary nodded, letting the words wash over her and then sink in. "And I agree, very much with that. I appreciate your honesty. I know it must be hard considering the position we are both in within our day to day lives. At this point, and heavens know my Grandmother would have a fit, we are both the same. We both love Carson and both want him better. It's my fault, and as I've said, I am so very sorry. I couldn't see over the grief, and this is where it has brought me."
Mrs Hughes, at the sound of the word love, felt her eyes grow wide. Did Mary know? Was it that obvious? Did she just mean as a friend? "Yes."
Mary noticed Mrs Hughes' reaction at the word love, and it left her wondering. Not wanting to bring it up, she smiled and turned on her foot to leave the room. They locked eyes once more, and they both felt no further words were needed. Mary left the room, feeling small and feeling an initial relief at having verbally dispelled her apologies to someone. It was not her family, and it was not Carson, but it was the start of her making it all right. Would Mrs Hughes and her ever be friends? She doubted it. Did they understand each other a bit more now? Certainly, and that was one step of many to be grateful for.
When she was clear of the room she held back just a moment, feeling a level of intrigue at Mrs Hughes' reaction, and intrigued by the relationship that she had never realised there was. Letting there be a small delay, she peered very carefully around the corner, hoping to see some sort of interaction and was greeted by something she was not expecting.
Mrs Hughes hadn't sat back down, but instead was leaning down towards Carson's face. Mary thought maybe she was going to tuck him in tighter, but then she witnessed Mrs Hughes lean down and kiss him on the cheek. Mary's eyes grew wide and she finally realised just how their relationship actually was. When Mrs Hughes started doing her jacket up she knew that Mrs Hughes, due to their conversation perhaps, was going to be leaving and so Mary quickly made her way back to her room. That was not what she was expecting, and the dislike and the anger to her, and the loyalty to Mr Carson now made perfect sense. Was the relationship between them a secret? Was it one-sided? Would Carson court someone, especially in Mrs Hughes's position, in secret? There were many questions in her head, but in a surprising way it made her feel an element of happiness for him. Someone loved him as he deserved, and whether he knew that or not, there was a chance for him to be happy. Carson, for all of the man that he was, deserved the world.