:D Number 17! I'm actually shocked that this story has manifested itself into something so lengthy! I've enjoyed it though, and don't worry, there's still more to come! Thanks again for all the people who have taken the time to comment and give me their feedback, it's helped massively.
Anna held the stack of letters in her hand, feeling the fine silk bow wrapped around the outside that had kept them in a neatly piled heap. Although the bow was soft, it was almost razor-like in the way that it kept all this pain and heartache encased within its delicate finery; a juxtaposition of the upmost refined. Holding on to these seemed like she had Lady Mary's world at her fingertips, the heartache and pain right there in her hand for all to read. What she had done was carefully peer between each one to see who they were addressed to and read the names out of intrigue over anything else. There was one for each of Mary's parents, Mrs Crawley, the Dowager, Tom, Carson and finally, a thick one addressed to George. Something about seeing the young boys name on what would likely be another goodbye letter made her emotional. How does someone write down in words a final goodbye for a son who would be left with neither parent? Anna knew that it wasn't Mary's fault that she had been so detached, and the words alone in her own letter were enough to stir up a tear, but something like that would make her cry for a solid hour. It had left her feeling off all day, a low feeling in her chest because it was so painful and poignant. At one point she had walked up to Mr Bates and had him hold her for a few moments, his mouth giving her a soft kiss on the top of the head as he did. There were no questions and no answers, just a loving embrace for when she needed it. Mr Bates was observant and had a habit of sensing she was off well before she could even fathom it herself.
As Anna had been so busy, she had managed to avoid Edith much to her delight. There had been a sense of dread hidden at the pit of her stomach all morning, every creak or feminine voice making her instantly think that it was Lady Edith, out on her quest for information. A part of her was worried about what would happen if Edith found out about Anna having the letters and then handing them over to Mary without giving them to her first. It was the right thing to do though, and that was the main thing. As the house was manic, it was easy enough to get lost in the day to day running of the house, using the servant's stairs, taking on the chores the furthest away from where Edith usually gravitated. It had surprised her that Edith hadn't pressed and called for her by name, but maybe she had but the message had been lost in all the hustle and bustle.
That morning Anna had got up early and had walked up to the house, the air bitter and the wind swirling around her with such force that she had to redo her hair once she got to there. Mr Bates had walked alongside her, his body shielding her from as much of the wind as he could. What she had said was she preferred for him to stay at home and in bed to get some rest, but he wouldn't have that and would rather get started on his work before settling for breakfast. Once Anna had hung up her coat and hat and kissed her husband, she had gone up to the bedrooms upstairs and popped her head into Mrs Hughes' room. Anna was pleased when she saw that Mrs Hughes was all tucked up in bed, whether she had been there for half an hour or two hours, it was going to mean she had had more solid sleep than she had done in days. The older woman looked pensive, even in sleep, and Anna hoped that this would all end soon so things could get back to normal.
Anna enjoyed the house, she had to admit, when there was nobody else there to bother her. It was when it was quiet that she was the most productive and could keep her thoughts without someone barging in or asking her to do something. The thoughts that went through her mind weren't the best given the situation, thoughts of Mrs Hughes, Lady Mary, Mr Carson and a pang of sadness seemed to lace every notion and moment. They would get through this, she knew, no matter what happened they would keep things moving because it's what they were trained to do. Not only that, but the people of this home, whether upstairs or downstairs, were one of the most resilient bunch of people that she had ever met. Over the years she had come across many different types of family, including the help, and there never seemed to be that strong and resounding core strength that she felt within her family. That strength had been a slight undercurrent when she had started all those years before, but then things happened and things came at them, and that core strength manifested itself into the iron fist that it was today. Lord Grantham, although strict and sometimes a little cold, was one of the warmest Lords she had ever known, and she knew his heart was in the right place. Lady Grantham, the outsider from the offset, was one of the softest and kindest women she had ever met, but enormously protective of all those under her reign. Then there was her own Lady Mary, who was stern and cold to the people that did not know her, but again, she was almost a mixture of her Mother, Father with a hint of the old Dowager, harsh but mostly fair. Lady Mary was so much more when you peeled back that outer layer that she had refined over the years to keep people at arm's length until Matthew had melted it away. Mr Carson, the heart and core of the entire house, running things, although a little old fashioned, to clockwork in an intricate and precise manner. Anna had seen the moments when he had worn his heart on his sleeve, and she knew that he was a good man, one of the good ones. Mrs Hughes, the stern Scottish woman, who kept them all running in an orderly fashion but offered the solace in times of need, she was the Mother figure and the warm beating heart of the household. Mrs Patmore was like the old aunt, pushing against the dawning future with a wooden spoon at the ready. They were all wonderful and magnificent people, even Thomas had kindness in there somewhere.
The secret spot that Mary had spoken of in her letter was actually in Anna's old room. There was a loose floorboard in the corner that she had used for her things and Mary in the past. It would be obvious for Mary to hide things in her bedroom, and so she had never felt that it would be safe enough. Whilst Anna was still in the house, they knew that nobody would find it there. The room remained without an occupant, and so it was an easy place to get to that nobody would ever know about. The plan was, if Edith asked, was to take her through several places she had thought about and claim that the letters weren't there. How could Edith prove that she was lying if she didn't know the exact place they were located?
Once Anna had the letters, she placed them behind a book in Mr Carson's pantry because it wasn't in use. The staff had respected the room, the only person that would go in there was Mrs Hughes, and that was when she needed to get a book or something from a cupboard. Due to this, it was the perfect place to keep them. After that, she walked around the house, opened shutters, made sure that the house was ready as best she could. When she finally made her way back down to the kitchen, Mrs Patmore was in full swing, with Daisy helping as usual.
At breakfast Anna was happy to see that Mrs Hughes looked slightly better, her cheeks had a bit more colour to them and her eyes weren't as red. They both exchanged a glance over their tea, and Mrs Hughes had nodded, smiled and mouthed thank you before tucking into two pieces of toast. What Anna hoped for was that this would continue, or at least the rest would keep her going for a few more days. Anna was stubborn, and between her and Mrs Patmore they could no doubt keep the woman going. When Anna had climbed into bed the night before, both her and Mr Bates had had a long conversation about how Mrs Hughes was coping and how they could lighten the load. Mr Bates was more than happy to do whatever was required to help and was fine with battling away at Thomas who would probably have something to say about the whole thing. Mrs Hughes, Anna, Mr Bates and Mrs Patmore were a force to be reckoned with, and they were strong and united when things got hard; this proved it. None of them had an agenda, none of them worked without respecting and supporting the other, and it made their work-life better for it.
Anna stood by the doorway of the room that Mary was in, flicking her fingers over the envelopes, plucking up the courage to walk in and hand them over. Anna knew that by doing that, Mary would know she had read the letter that was addressed to her, and so the admitted truths that Mary thought would be read in her absence would be out in the open. It must be hard to even write those letters, but there was solace in knowing that they would be read, and you would never have to know about it, never have to see and feel the recipient's reactions. The words in these letters would have been pure and from the heart, and would be hard to admit to anyone but yourself. Anna wasn't sure what Mary was going to do with them, but they were not hers to keep, and Mary must make that decision. What would have happened if the initial letter to her had been lost? The heartbreaking words of comfort would sit under that board until the house was no more, that alone was a deep thought that rattled Anna to the core.
Anna swallowed, feeling nervous and a little disjointed, but she knew she had to do it and she knew she couldn't stay for a long time because she needed to get back before the gong. As she walked into the room, she could see Mary stood at the window, staring out into the distance, her face vacant and emotionless. Upon hearing Anna's footsteps, Mary's head turned, and her lips curved ever so slightly into a half-masted smile, but she didn't say anything.
"Lady Mary," Anna said happily, relieved to see her looking so well considering what she had been through. The contrasting image of her lying on the floor after she had been found felt like something out of a nightmare. "I'm sorry I've not been down to see you; it's just been ever so busy the past few days. The time was for your family, and so I didn't want to intrude. You've been in my thoughts and I've been getting updates."
Mary's smile began to grow bigger, and she nodded silently before walking away from the window and getting onto the bed. "Oh Anna," she said quietly. "I'm so very glad to see you, I have to admit. I've had family visit, but it's so hard to face them. I feel like I've let them all down." Mary paused as Anna took a seat in the chair next to her bed. "I know it's different between us and I feel like I've let you down too though, and I'm sorry for that. Truly."
Anna let her words run through her mind and knew that Mary should have come to her with her troubles for that very reason, but in the heat of the moment, it was easy to forget that people are there to support you. "No, My Lady, please don't feel that way. We all care very deeply for you and you could never let us down."
"You're speaking about your own feelings, Anna," Mary chided, fixing her gaze on her faithful friend. "I don't think that it transcends through everyone. I see it in my parent's eyes. I know they don't fully understand or realise-"
"That it all got too much?" Anna had struggled to figure out when she was going to plant the bomb that she had read the letter, and so nervously pushed into the conversation when it felt natural to cut in. Anna pulled the letters out so that Mary could see them in her hand.
Mary's heart seemed to skip a beat, in all the turmoil, the guilt and the visitors, she had forgotten about the letters. Thinking about the intimate words that she had carefully written for each of the people in her life that she cared for, she felt a gush of embarrassment and guilt and looked away, her eyes finding solace in the window once more. No eyes were looking back at her, and she was able to look out without any judgement or nervous glances. Although Mary struggled to fully remember the words written in each of the letters, the haze nearly at the peak of its thickness when she wrote them, she knew she had poured as much of her being into the ink that flowed from the pen and onto the page as she could. They had been, as she had remembered, as heartfelt, brutal, truthful and as naked as any words she had previously put onto paper. "Do you think less of me?"
Anna placed the letters onto the bed and leant forward. "I could never think any less of you, Lady Mary. What you've been through is one of the worst possible situations that someone could go through, and you reacted in a way that you could not help. I could never imagine losing Mr Bates. I'm thankful that they found you though, and pray that you maintain the strength that I know is in there to keep yourself moving forward and not back. Why didn't you come to me, My Lady?"
"Oh, Anna. You've always been so kind to me, and I know that we are friends, and you're so unbelievably loyal. I don't think I deserve it. The run-up to me leaving the house was something of a blur, I just know that I felt like I had no other option, no other way than escaping. It felt that no words I could say to anyone would make it better, or make them understand the coring and penetrating unhappiness that tainted every thought and feeling. The pain was unbearable, and no matter what I did or thought it never eased. When I made that decision to let it overwhelm me, it made me feel calm and at peace. The thought of going back to the house or to face the grief was too much and I didn't want the calmness to go away." Mary stopped when she realised what she was saying. "I'm sorry."
Anna squeezed Mary's hand tight, watching as she tried to swallow down the tears. "No, My Lady, please. You should have come to me; I would have helped you in any way that I could. You know I'm always here for you, always, and I want you to know that I will do whatever you need, even if it's just to listen. I pass no judgement, I couldn't bear the thought of losing Mr Bates, so for you to lose the love of your life after giving birth to your son…well, I couldn't put it into words."
"That's the thing, Anna. I know that you would do all of that, but I wasn't thinking rationally, the things that went through my head were cold and empty. It's all still there, it's not gone anywhere, but after Carson's words I know I have to overcome it for my son and Matthew." The sound of Carson's name made her hesitate. "Oh, that poor man. Between you and him you've both kept me upright time and time again, and I repay Carson by landing him in the hospital."
"I think he'll be ok, Lady Mary. That man has a core of steel. I don't think he could leave us lot to look after the house in his absence," she smirked a little, trying to lighten the tone. "How are you, Lady Mary? I mean, how are you feeling now?"
Lady Mary sighed and returned her gaze to the window in the distance, watching as the wind sent the picked-up debris floating past the window. There was a strange feeling within her, and it was hard to put into words. The unhappiness was still there, deep within her, thrashing around as she tried with all her might to keep it locked inside of her chest. There was a worry that she couldn't fully suppress, and it reminded her constantly of what she had put her family and friends through amidst the chaos that was her grief. Then there was still that look that her Mama would give her whenever she was around, like Mary was going to break at any second, that made her feel even more guilty about her actions. Then there was her son, born into this world to such love and hope, and then he was almost pushed to one side so that Mary could selfishly wallow in her mind and sadness. Mary was going to be his Mother and his Father and bring him up with the love of both parents. She knew she had to. So, in the grander scheme of things the realisation was a power to keep her moving onwards, so that, she supposed, made her better than she had been. "In all honesty, Anna, it's still incomprehensively difficult. I don't wish to try and dampen the fact that I am a complete mess, and still being fuelled by my grief. The pain…it's the most unbearable thing I have ever felt in all my years. There is nothing that could prepare you for it, and when it came it took me from myself and left me stranded in a pool of nothing. I have moments when I want the ground to swallow me whole and make it all go away for good. I then think of the words that Carson spoke to me, the realisations that he made me see, and the fact that he is now in a bed in a hospital to drive me forward. I will get there, but for now, I can't tell you just how hard it is. I thank you though, for giving me these letters."
Anna nodded. "You're welcome, My Lady. Can you promise me something? Whilst I'm here?"
"Promise is such a binding word," Mary answered dryly, lifting the letters into her hand and twiddling with the top of the bow. "You know, I can't remember what I put in these with great detail. It's funny, isn't it? How the brain can just block out certain things. You'd expect the poignant words that are no doubt in here to be completely and utterly rememberable, but it's all a haze."
"The words were sad but beautiful," Anna gushed. "You're very good with words. I cried once I soaked it all in, felt the pain radiate up at me like a flame. That's why I want you to promise me something though?"
"I suppose I owe you that," Mary said calmly.
"Come to me if all feels lost again. If not me, then to Carson if he can. Just have a conversation, that's all." Anna kept her eyes fixed on Lady Mary with an assertive but friendly gaze.
Mary nodded her head, knowing she had to do at least that if only to save herself and allow Anna to feel comfort in it. "Ok, I will. Anna," she paused and let the letter sit flat against her chest. "I'm truly sorry for what I put you through."
"You don't have to apologise to me, My Lady. I'll have your corner. Always."
Mary kept her gaze with Anna, the love and friendship radiating out in a single glance. They both appreciated each other for what they were, the years they had spent together, and how they have been there for each other time and time again. Mary could see it in her gaze that no words needed to be said about the situation, because Anna, as she knew, was as loyal to the bone and would do as she said. "Thank you. Now please," she exclaimed. "Talk to me about the house, about life outside of this building. Remind me of something normal because I'm climbing the walls right now, and although it's justified, it doesn't mean I'm enjoying it."
"Well, even in the house it isn't running like normal," Anna grimaced slightly. "It's hard without Carson. Mrs Hughes is ruling with a strong arm, but it just doesn't seem the same without him. Not that I'm putting Mrs Hughes down, not at all, she's doing a wonderful job, it's just…not the same."
"Carson is the house," Mary replied solemnly. "That man knows every nook, every crack and can anticipate anything we throw at him. I'm also not surprised given how much time Mrs Hughes is spending up here. It's generally like clockwork. I make sure that I'm not around during those hours so as not to get in the way. I don't know how she is managing to run a house, doing two jobs, and then spend most of her free time here by his bedside. It's commendable."
"Yes, well…" Anna turned her head awkwardly away, not wanting to broach the subject anymore. How Mrs Hughes was with Mr Carson was their business. "When do you think they'll let you home?"
Mary caught Anna's awkward glance straight away, seeing her eyes move to the side and away from the topic. This aroused Mary's suspicions even more about the relationship between the two. Should she push? No, not yet, Mary had no right. The main priority was to have Mr Carson well again and back into his rightful place running her home. It didn't seem right to push into their business when Carson was still not back on his feet, so she knew she would wait. It didn't matter though, because if it was something that Carson wanted then she knew that she would back his corner, desperate for him to have some sort of happiness in his life aside from his job that was his whole world. "I'm fine apparently. A clean bill of health. They are just being cautious and want me to be here for a little longer. I know it's because of what I did, so I will accept that if it helps the people around me."
Anna had known Lady Mary for a long time, and it was unusual for her to be so aware and so thoughtful of people. It wasn't that Mary was cold, but she was just very strong-willed and knew what she wanted. This whole situation had affected her more than she had thought, but it wasn't necessarily in a bad way, because there could never be too much kindness in this world. "I'll be very glad when we get to have you home," Anna said happily.
"Thank you, Anna." Their eyes met and they exchanged glances, not of employer and employee but as friends. "I mean it. I'm really and truly thankful."
"Always." Anna smiled and got to her feet. "I better get back to the house before the gong. I hope you'll be home soon, if not I'll try and get away in a few days to come and see you."
"I'll look forward to either of those scenarios." Mary watched as Anna left, a sadness at being left on her own. It felt good to have some sort of normalcy in her day having been inside now for days. It wasn't right for her to complain though, and so she wouldn't. What she had in her lap was a group of letters that she couldn't fully remember the contents of. The thoughts crossed her mind about opening and reading them, giving them to their intended recipients or destroying them so that her thoughts and feelings were lost to the ether so she could move on. The decision was not one she could make just yet, and so she tucked them under her pillow until she could decide what it was she could do, the words making it seem as if the envelopes themselves had absorbed the sadness, the paper cool against her skin.
Carson felt the chill against his neck as frigid air whipped around him, the sharp daggers stabbing into him from every available angle. The collar on his coat flapped aimlessly in the wind, and so he pulled it tight against him as best he could, keeping his meaningful strides moving in the right direction. As he placed each foot down, he tried his best to delicately avoid the roots that sprung up at irregular intervals, like solid worms weaving holes in the sodden earth. Ahead there was a bramble that pointed high in the air, the needles menacing and sharp. As Carson looked around, he could see no other viable route, and so he closed his eyes and pressed himself into the bush, the needles pricking at him through his clothes and scraping against his skin. Carson was used to hard work, and he knew that if this was the way he had to go to save Lady Mary, then he had to trudge on and take the pain.
A shrill shriek penetrated the air around him, and his heart jumped in his chest, making him take a deep breath as the panic coursed through his veins. The thoughts rushing around in his head pointed straight to the worst possible scenario. "Lady Mary!" he bellowed, his voice lost into the whistle and noise of the passing gale, making his words vanish no sooner as they escaped his lips.
The hairs on his neck stood on end as he felt an electrical presence around him, feeling like there was a body pressing against him. "It wasn't meant to be," a voice whispered behind his right ear, making him jerk to see where it was coming from. A chorus of whispers, with words unrecognisable to his ear, twisted and turned in every audible direction and he closed his eyes. A loud bang erupted just ahead of him, and he opened his eyes and was then met with a completely different landscape. Now he stood out in the open, the rolling Yorkshire hills curving into the distance like waves on the sea, bobbing and rolling in a tide of green as far as the eye could see. The sun-blasted out from behind a white fluffy cloud, the rays so bright he had to put his hand over his eyes so he could focus on the landscape. Carson felt confused by what he was being presented with, he felt it deep within him that he had a sense of purpose in finding Mary, but the world kept changing. Was this a nightmare?
"You should have left me to my own devices. You had no right to interfere," the voice hissed above him, sending a chill down his spine. The voice sounded like it should be ahead of him, but it seemed to bounce around like he was stood inside of a tunnel. It made no logical sense because he was stood out in the open when you wouldn't expect any reverberation. Carson felt completely disorientated and decided to put his hands over his eyes to try and rub the confusion away. What was this? What was going on? Was this hell? Was this because he had failed?
Carson tried with all his might to run through the steps of the previous day in his mind, to try and backtrack to figure out what was going on and why he had ended up here. The memories felt like they were locked inside an impenetrable case inside of his mind, and no matter which angle he went to, it just wouldn't budge open. It was almost like Deja Vu, his mind teetering on the edge of realising what had been going on, but it never fully materialising into anything. As he shook his head, annoyed and worried, he felt a pressure on his elbow. Shocked, he peered down to see a hand gripping him firmly, the skin white as it squeezed tightly. As he looked at it closer, he could see that the skin on the fingers was aged, used to hard work, and somewhat familiar.
"You should never have risked yourself for her," the soft familiar tone of Mrs Hughes echoed around him, the gentle squeeze on his left elbow intensifying. A shiver crept up his spine and he exhaled sharply, trying to catch his bearings as the world around him began to spin. There was a massive clap in the air, and a flash, and he felt his body fall back as if he was free-falling from the edge of a cliff. The world around him rushed past and he tried to fix his gaze onto something solid to make the feeling go away.
"Your Lady Mary. It has always been your Lady Mary," Mrs Hughes' voice echoed behind him, the soft tones turned bitter before he landed with an almighty thud. The air became warm and a smell filled his nostrils making him feel a burning in the pit of his stomach that then turned into a butterfly sensation. Focusing on the smell he inhaled as far as his lungs allowed, and he realised that the scent was so very familiar. Working in the Abbey, they didn't have much, but he knew that Mrs Hughes had a small bottle of scent that she kept hidden in her room for times when she was able to go out. They didn't get out much, especially as they had got older, but he knew it and he felt it wash through him like a warm and familiar electrical pulse. It awoke a longing in him that he had been squashing for years, avoiding and filling with other things. It was not the first time he had realised his fondness for her.
Mrs Hughes then stood before him, a ray of sun catching a few stray strands that hadn't been pulled as tight as they should, and a warm auburn reflected like the glow of an ember. Over the years he had begun to notice the subtle beauties that Mrs Hughes held, and it had never been his place to comment on them directly, but it had not stopped him thinking them. There was a glint in her eye that never faltered, strength in her core that burnt as bright as a million candles, and when she wasn't looking at him he would watch the way her face fell into a natural beauty that should have been painted into a work of art. Although he had not known her when she was younger, he knew that she had been a catch, and still was a catch, and would make any man so very happy.
"Mrs Hughes," Carson called out, trying to walk towards her as fast as he could. As soon as he took a step, his body seemed to move back two more, and so he could never quite reach her.
Then it all went black, there was no sound, no noise and nothing he could make out in the deep and absorbing darkness. "Hello?" he cried, trying to move his arms but feeling no movement from his limbs and no voice emanated from his dry and parched lips. Was this what death was? Was this how he would spend the rest of his days?
Thoughts still coursed through his mind, and he thought about the years he had spent working in service, serving the family and giving his life and energy into something that would never be his. The walls, the corridors, the furniture and the rooms would never be his and yet he must keep them standing. The grass, the trees, the flowers and the land would never be his but still, he must make sure they are kept. The hall boys, the maids, the footmen and the kitchen staff would never be more than ants in the colony as they served their leader. Then there was the family, his Lord, his Ladyship, their children and relatives that would never be anything more than his masters. The children that had grown up before his eyes would never be his, and yet with Mary, it had felt like he had gotten as close as he could get to having an actual daughter, but was that enough? Had his energy been spent in vain? Should he have spent his time on a profession where he could have his own family? Of course, this meant that he may not have the luxuries he has now, but he could have been happy and had a daughter that he could have doted on with every fibre of his being.
No. It didn't matter how and what he thought about, there was nothing he could do to change his destiny now, but he was thankful for the connections that he had made and the way he had been able to watch and help Mary grow into a fine young woman. Carson knew that he shouldn't dwell on what couldn't be changed. If this was the end of his time, then he had done well and made a difference to at least one person. What did all of this all mean?
The air around him seemed to reverberate and hum as if he was sitting on a train, small patches of light poked into the darkness like the stars that shone in the night. "You'll always be there for me won't you, Carson?" Mary called out sadly. "You'll never let me fall again?"
Carson fixed onto the brightest star in the sky and shouted, "As I live and breathe, my Lady, as I live and breathe."
Directly ahead, like a train light in a tunnel, an orb appeared in the distance, it's light soft in contrast to the pinpricked darkness. There were shadows that seemed to twist and turn in the orb and propel it forward as it began to increase in size, moving towards him at an increasing pace. Carson was then catapulted into his pantry, and he landed on his feet with a firm and satisfying thud. Ahead of him, he could see Mrs Hughes hunched over on one of the small chairs, her eyes downcast and sad look in her eyes, a small slither of paper in her hand. There was a light above them that hit her features in such a way that it seemed as if she was glowing, and Carson gave himself an extra second to admire her for everything that she was to him. As he did, however, he noticed a tear track slowly down her cheek and he did something unceremonious and got down on his knee, his stomach somersaulting unhappily at the sight of seeing her so unhappy. "Mrs Hughes?" he whispered softly, his normally hard and baritone voice reduced to a gentle and soothing hush.
"I can't do this without you, Charlie," she sniffed, another tear moving along the other side of her face. "This place will not be the same, and I don't think I can do this without you by my side." Then the tears began to fall in quick succession.
"You are a strong woman, Mrs Hughes. You can do anything you set your mind to." Carson tried to reach out to her, but his arms were fixed at his side like stone. It hadn't occurred to him that she was talking to the air around her, and not actually to him. Was she even aware of his presence? Was this moment spent on her own in his pantry without him? Why would he be witness to this if he could not act and help? There was a pang of frustration and sadness within him that he could not control because it was perhaps the only time he had seen her so openly vulnerable, and his heart broke for her. Even when they thought she was ill, even when she was having a hard time, she never backed down.
Mrs Hughes stood from the chair and wiped at her face with her hand before removing tissue from her pocket. Quickly she wiped her face and moved over to the door, her hand resting on it as she pressed her forehead against the crook of her elbow. Carson could feel the pain radiate out of her like the heat from a fire, and he got back to his feet to move towards her. If he couldn't interact with her, maybe he could at least try and get to the bottom of it. As he walked behind, he noticed again that it didn't matter how much he pushed forward, he couldn't keep up and trailed behind her. Panic rose in his chest, a pain pulling at his heart as he tried to break past the invisible barrier that was pressing into him like a bull. "Mrs Hughes," he yelled after her, his legs almost at a running pace but no distance did he cover. "Mrs Hughes!"
The air vibrated, humming against his skin as Carson plunged into the darkness again. The room around him seemed to spin off into a vortex, like water down a plughole. "Elsie!" he cried as he fell to his knees, something grabbing him from behind and ripping him backwards.
Mary sat at Carson's side with his hand in one and a book in another. It had been a few hours since she had turned up, the daylight waking her from her restless slumber and preventing her from falling back to sleep. Cousin Isobel had brought her a few books to read and a message from her Grandmother that she was going to be visiting her later that day. The book had come as a pleasant surprise, and it had offered her some sort of distraction. In her mind, she thought that she should go home now that she, in Dr Clarkson's words, was physically well. However, Dr Clarkson being as cautious as he was wanted her to stay at least one more day, and given the pain and worry she had put her family through she had obliged because she could be there to check on Carson and also appease her Mama who still kept giving her that worrisome gaze.
As she sat quietly reading the final words of the chapter, Mary felt an unexpected twitch from one of Carson's fingers and she stared at it intently, wondering if she had imagined it in a state of wishful thinking. Mary, distracted, dropped the book to the floor and got to her feet, keeping her eyes completely fixated on his hand, checking for signs of life. The finger twitched again, and she felt a nervous excitement build in her chest. This had to be a good sign, she thought to herself, this had to be something positive. Moving her gaze to his face she saw his lip purse and twist to the side, small movements popping up from his limbs like a dreaming dog, oblivious to his real surroundings as he moved in unison to what was going on in his brain. "Elsie," he whimpered, his hand then gripping Mary's hand tightly.
As Mary stood there completely transfixed with these movements, she realised the unfamiliar name was Mrs Hughes' first name. It had taken her a moment to realise that she had heard it a few times before, but had never directly called the Housekeeper it in all the years that they had been there together. It was foreign, but clearly, Carson had called it her before, and Mary knew now, without any shadow of a doubt, that there was more between them than she had ever thought. Out of all of this, the whole upheaval of the past few days, and the first word from his mouth was that of his co-worker.
Mary felt Carson twitch once more before pulling her hand free. Dr Clarkson needed to be here, this was big and something important. Wrapping herself up she moved the chair out of the way and shot out of the room to try and get someone. This had to be the end of all this turmoil and worry. It had to be
