Broken Chapter 23, a downton abbey fanfic

Firstly, I have to apologise for the sheer length of this chapter. It's one of the reasons why it has taken me so long to complete because I needed it to be perfect. I wrote it, and then I changed it, and then I realised I needed to do something special to make it come together. Once you get into it you'll see that it splits, and there are two separate dialogues for the same thing (it'll make sense when you read it). The separate dialogues come from one perspective each time, and it tries to give both sides of the story. It was hard, I'm not going to lie, and it took me lots of time to really get into. I'm normally in bed by 11, and it's currently 1am. I've been working flat on this since 5pm when I finished work because I was determined to get it done and out today. I hope this is what you expected. I still have a few more chapters left in me. This one was the one that had given me the most grief, so I hope the hard work has paid off. Please, I hope you enjoy it.

Mrs Hughes was sat on a small wooden bench on the outskirts of the village. Nestled between two oak trees, amidst a small copse, she was shielded from the village, but close enough to be within walking distance of the hospital. It was quiet, nothing but the sound of birds nesting in the trees and the wind brushing through the leaves as the night began to creep in. The sky was painted with pastel pinks and oranges as the deeper shades of fuchsia and purple seeped between the clouds like ink bleeding into the paper. She hadn't been there long enough to calm herself, but she didn't feel as frantic and anxious as she had done just a few minutes before.

When Mrs Hughes had gotten to the front of the hospital, her heart beating loudly in her ears as she felt her stomach flip over and over, she had never felt so scared. At one point, when she was stood completely frozen in her tracks, she thought she was going to be sick. A wave of nausea sat heavy in her throat as she thought about what was going to happen as soon as she had made her way into his room. There would be no turning back because she knew that if she walked away from the hospital now with her tail between her legs, she would never have the courage to do it again. It was all or nothing. The fear that oozed in every thought was thick and penetrating, gripping her core like a vice and making her second guess every word she thought. How would she start the conversation? Would she talk about how he was and somehow slip it in? What if he stopped her before she could get it all out because he didn't feel the same way?

The wind began to pick up and she turned her gaze to the sky, noticing that the pastel colours had been replaced with very dark purples and blues. Oh, how she loved the colours that dusk generated, the way the sky erupted as if a final hurrah from the sun. As much as she would love to watch it finish she knew that It was time to go in. As she leant heavily into the bench, she sighed a guttural and elongated sigh that was pure and raw. When she tried to calm herself she would get a sudden thought that would then cascade into a nervous and stomach-rolling surge of adrenaline, and she would hold her breath. The beating in her chest was hard and fast, the blood rushing to her ears and giving her temporary moments of lost hearing. Mrs Hughes had to remind herself that no matter what, tomorrow would come. If that day was awful, the day after that would come. It was what was getting her through this because the terrifying idea of him turning her down made her want to run for the hills and not come back. As they say, ignorance is bliss.

Before she had left to walk down, Mrs Patmore had noticed that she had been loitering in the passageway that lead to the back door. Mrs Hughes had her hand outstretched toward the doorknob, and she bit her lip as she tried to pluck up the courage to finally take the first steps. Popping out from the kitchen, Mrs Patmore had moved so she was standing in front of her, eyeing her up with those narrow eyes. It had been a busy and stressful day, and as Mrs Hughes had looked at her friend, the orange puffs of hair sticking out in an array of directions, she could see the concern painted there as clear as day. Placing her hand on Mrs Hughes' arm, she nodded her head, and in a clear and strong voice, she said. "Our lives are laced with difficult moments, Mrs Hughes. A lot more than most folk I reckon. I know that you two are meant to be in each other's lives. If I were a bettin' woman, I would put everything I had in my purse on the fact that he would be made up with your words, because he feels the same. Just keep yourself steady, be strong with your words and we're 'ere for you. Do this for you, Mrs Hughes. I watch you all the time, sacrificing yourself for other people. Stayin' up late to help, working on your 'alf day off and going to bed at ridiculous times for other people. This is for you. I don't think you'll need it, but I'll wait up for you." Mrs Hughes didn't say anything back, instead, she lifted her hand to her shoulder and squeezed it. They exchanged a friendly gaze, and Mrs Hughes opened the door once Mrs Patmore was clear. The walk down seemed to take hours, and now she was sat on the bench with her heart in her throat.

It was time. It was getting cold and she couldn't sit there all night. She needed to catch him before he went to sleep. It would throw the biggest spanner in the works now if she had built up the courage to go and see him but he was already asleep. That knock would make her go back up to the house, and she knew that she didn't know if she could make the journey again. It would be easy to rationalise herself out of this situation, telling herself that it was improper, or telling herself that she wasn't the right woman for him like she had done a million times already. No, this was it. It had to be. No doubt she would stumble over her words, so she had to try and remain calm so she remained as explicit and clear as she could.

Standing up, Mrs Hughes pulled her jacket down so that it wasn't bunched up any more, making sure that there weren't any creases. No doubt Carson would notice, and she didn't want to let on that there was anything wrong. The ground that lead her back towards the village was uneven. There were small dips in the land where they had been worn down over time, and because it wasn't a proper thoroughfare to the houses at the back, it had never had any work done to correct it. Carefully she made her way down towards the road, softly placing her feet, straining with her eyes to see where the dips were. The last thing she wanted was to fall over and hurt herself. The village was quite quiet in the evenings, and if she fell over she might end up being there for a while on her own. Only a few more steps and she would be back on the road, taking the journey to baring her soul to him.

When her foot touched the solid floor of the road, she turned her head towards the hospital and exhaled with her lips pushed together like she was going to whistle. There was not an ounce of calmness in her body, it felt, and the electricity that burnt through her veins made her feel like she was going to explode. Pushing her foot forward, and then the other, she began the agonising walk towards the hospital entrance. The small arch that lead to the door was menacing. It towered up over her like a brick-made giant, the rough surface of the bricks giving the illusion of veins as the coming moon cast a shadow from above. The world always did look different when the light changed and the darkness fell. It was like the mirror to the day, with shadows seemingly absorbing the normal shapes of your average objects. Even when she walked up or downstairs at her age in the dark, it still felt like something was going to rush up from behind her and take her by the legs. The way the world was perceived changed dramatically, and as she stood staring up at the arch above her, she focused until she could make them out as what they were once more. Bricks.

When she entered the hospital she made sure that she said hello to the nurse downstairs. Normally, there weren't many visitors to the hospital. In the evening, the hospital didn't allow visitors really, but given everything that had been going on they hadn't enforced anything. The hospital was quiet, with minimal patients inside. They all knew Mrs Hughes by name. Some of them she had recognised from the village in her normal day to day running, but they had become more familiar when she had started showing up every evening.

When her foot touched the first step on the stairs, she hesitated and took a firm grip of the bannister, squeezing it tight as she pulled herself upwards. Slowly and surely she made her way up the stairs as if she was walking to her end. The anxiety raging within her and making her have to swallow down the bile that kept being made readily available to the back of her throat. "Come on, Elsie," she whispered, eyeing up the doorway down the corridor like it was the gateway to her penultimate act. The act that would put her older years either on the map or send it converging into a pit of loneliness or despair. It was time.

Carson placed the finished book on the table closest to his bed, feeling somewhat disconsolate by the ending. It wasn't the best book at all, and he had pushed on whilst he waited for Lady Mary to source him another. It wasn't like him to leave anything unfinished, and so he made sure he completed it because sometimes the ending could take you by surprise. The story was not specifically the usual genre that he spent his time on, being much rather having preference over factual work, or something that focused on previous wars. The last book he had read before that was about the Crimean War, and had left him very impressed. It had taken him a while to complete, as he had to fit it around work, but he was enthralled from the first chapter. The book that he had persevered with was something of a romantic drama, most certainly not something he usually spent his time with. It was the only book he could get his hands on, and he had to keep his mind occupied to prevent him from going stir-crazy. If Carson thought about the usual make-up of his working day and week, he hardly ever had any downtime to give himself room to feel bored. There were nearly always jobs that needed completing, or someone to talk to, so he was rarely at a loose end. In the evenings if he couldn't sleep he would have a book that was by the side of his bed that he could continue with if the chance arose. That happened very rarely, his body accustomed to the way he worked and the average time he would go to bed. Carson was like a Grand-Father clock, reliable and kept time very well. The last time he had struggled to sleep, that he could recall anyway, was when Mrs Hughes had been having the issues with her health. That rattled him much more than he thought it ever would, and he would spend hours at night agonising over how she was, and the prospect of her becoming gravely ill.

The dream he had the days before had left her sitting heavily on his mind. The rationale that it was just a dream was planted firmly at the forefront of his mind, but even then, there was something that bit at him that he couldn't shake. It was like a small annoying puppy clamouring for his attention at his ankles. Mrs Hughes was the pillar that helped keep the home working, and he knew that she had made things slightly better over the years she had been there; not that he would ever truly admit that. The moment he had watched her break in the dream had made him feel listless. Carson couldn't recall ever seeing her so unhappy. The way her face creased up, looking so sad and broken had left him feeling overwhelmed with the need to touch her, comfort her and save her from whatever anguish was plaguing her. Over the hours in the day, he had thought to himself about trying to phone up to the house, if he could, to see if everything was ok. Then he knew she would likely think that he didn't think she could cope without him, which was never going to be the case. Carson knew she was most capable. Not only had he been left worrying about her from the dream, but he also couldn't figure out why she had spent so much time by his side whilst he was unconscious. Carson knew that there wasn't any dire need because he wasn't conscious to communicate with. Why else would she want to be here? Was she struggling? Did she need to be with him because he didn't have anyone else? Did she care enough to want to be with him when he was most vulnerable? So many reasons with no concrete answers. At one point he wondered if she really cared that much for him, which left him feeling embarrassed for questioning her loyalties. They were friends, and she had proven many times over the years that she would help him where she can. "You know me, Mr Carson. I fight the good fight with you. Always." The words suddenly having more of a potential meaning than he first realised.

Carson had been left curious, and annoyingly so, because he liked things to remain in an order he could control. Not knowing the answers and having too many avenues that his thoughts could travel down left him feeling frustrated. Although he was fond of her, more than he could ever process or even admit properly to himself, it didn't stop him wondering if she felt the same. Over the years he had pushed it to one side with great difficulty, always finding himself gravitating towards her or watching her with admiration without even realising. In his eyes it had been improper for people in their positions to become 'intertwined', so to speak, and had even looked down on people who had done like that in other homes. The grapevine between aristocratic households was quick and fierce, and word travelled quickly. Having had the thoughts himself left him feeling very conflicted between the propriety he had stood for over the years in his role, and the key to his heart. There had been relations over the years between the help, and no repercussions, and so there had been a flame of hope ignited within him, even if he had tried to put it out himself.

Carson knew that deep down Mrs Hughes made him happy; it was as simple as that. They worked side by side, day after day, and he had never become sick of her company. There had been other people he had worked with that has left his skin crawling, because he didn't want to be anywhere near them. With her, she made his day better, no matter what. The way she smiled made him feel warm, the way she looked at him made his heart skip a beat, and the highlight of his day was sitting down with her and only her. There had been times they had brushed arms in the corridor if they walked together or pushed past each other in a hurry, and his whole arm would set off into warm electrical charges. Mrs Hughes stood for so much in his eyes. As a person, she was fierce, strong and fearless in her approach to tackling what she felt was right. As silly as it sounded, she reminded him of the tree where he had found Mary. The roots were deep, the trunk strong and it was a key facet of the estate like she was to him. That tree had taken him down, like the way she had taken his heart. It was most unusual to be looking at the parallels of Mrs Hughes and a very old tree, but the concept was pure and true enough.

Carson sat momentarily dazed as his cheeks began to blush uncontrollably as he thought about how she had taken his heart. It didn't hit him at first glance, like the love that had happened in the book he had just finished, but it had most certainly developed over time. Carson remembered the first day she had come to the house, and he had stood at the back door looking at her from head to toe. The hair on her head was immaculate, her clothes straight and proper, and she looked at him with a judging eye as she made her way towards him. A lot of people averted their gaze when he watched them, but she didn't, and she maintained herself right up to the point she stood ahead of him. When she was close enough Carson could see that she was pretty. It was clear that she hadn't had an easy life up until that point, most workers in the house had that look about them if you knew where to spot it, but she was very pleasant to look at. Nothing more came from that, and he never thought she would be the one to hold his heart like the last piece of a hidden jigsaw that his life had spanned. No, he remembered watching her writing a letter, her eyes looking down at the paper with intense curiosity. Carson couldn't remember who it was to, but he remembered feeling in complete awe of her. As he stood there in her doorway, watching quietly as she scribbled away, he felt an overwhelming urge to stand her to her feet and envelope her in his arms. The thoughts were not improper in that respect, as he would never think of her like that, it would be disrespectful. However, he wanted to be close to her, feel her against him and protect her from the world. She was perfect.

Could Carson begin bowing to the modern age and approach Mrs Hughes with his feelings? Could they be one until the end? The near-death experience had put a lot into perspective, and she was always the one he thought of in the morning or before he went to bed. Could she be the one he saw every night before he closed his eyes? and be there every morning when they woke up? It wasn't the first time that the essence of mortality had questioned where she stood in his world. When she had been back and forth to the doctors during her cancer scare, he had felt so completely helpless. Not being in relations meant that he couldn't do what he wanted. When she came back, looking lost but being stubborn in saying she was ok, he wanted to take her by the hand and pull her to one side and see how she was. When she stared back at him, her eyes telling him how worried she was, he wanted to hold her. That had been the last proper time he had wanted to broach the subject of where they stood in each other's worlds. The time he had wanted to tell her how he had truly felt. The thought that he was going to lose her had scared him to the core. Then she had been given the all-clear and the job had got in the way so it had never come to fruition. It had enveloped his chance like a fire, ravaging a parched field in the summer heat. As the days passed he had managed to talk himself out of it because he had fought with himself about it being proper, and he didn't want to feel the humiliation of rejection. Carson was a proud man after all. Now, he sat in the hospital bed, questioning fiercely whether it was time to attempt the subject again because life was short and the times were changing. Carson had never thought he would be as happy as she made him, but if she agreed with him on this subject, he thought his heart would burst. Carson did not want her traversing this life without her knowing what she meant to him. No, he was going to have to tell her. If she came to see him again, he would have to tell her. After all, what if something happened and his head injury hadn't quite healed and he relapsed? She needed to know. He needed to know. Their worlds could be quite different If they were on the same page. The prospect of a lonely retirement could be replaced with a new life.

Carson meandered happily over the image of the pair of them holding hands before pushing it to one side. The wind had picked up outside as the sun began to set. The sky was painted with pastel pinks and oranges as the deeper shades of fuchsia and purple seeped between the clouds like ink bleeding into the paper. It reminded Carson of the colours he once used when he took up painting as a hobby. That didn't last as long as he had wanted, realising quickly that he was not an artist. The hands he had were steady, they had to be, but the intricate detail he had tried to paint couldn't be reached with his broad spade-like hands. As he sat watching the clouds move and swirl amidst the dusk-filled colours, he wondered what Mrs Hughes was doing. It was a beautiful night, and he knew that she loved to watch as the sun went down. The warmth of day morphing into the splendour of dusk. The magic interchanging between night and day. It was funny to him that he could see her in almost everything.

When Mary was having a wander to stretch her legs, she had come across a small pile of books that looked like they could use some dusting off and a read. One of them, after she had a decent look, looked like something Carson would enjoy reading more than the book he currently had in his possession. Dr Clarkson had wandered past and had confirmed that they were from previous patients who had forgotten them, and she was free to do with them as she wished. So she was going to pop it into him so he had something else to pay his attention to. As she rounded the corner she noticed someone stood at the top of the stairs so she held back a little as she tried to focus on who it was. It only took a moment for her to realise that it was Mrs Hughes. Standing there with a vacant expression, Mary could see that she didn't at all look herself. Normally, the older woman held a very strong and fixed facial expression, never really letting on- at least in her presence- how she was feeling. There had been times when she had been able to see the annoyance and displeasure in whatever it was that Mary was doing.

It had been quite a few days since Mary had last seen Mrs Hughes properly, the pair of them having a conversation she had never expected. It was if that conversation had happened years ago, the woman looking tired and sullen as she stood staring off into nothing. Mrs Hughes didn't have a particularly dark complexion, in fact, she was quite fair, but she looked pale and worn down. Maybe things up at the house were tough at the moment? or the hours spent by Carson's side had caught up with her. It wasn't as if she was a young woman any more.

Mary was relatively astute at reading facial expressions, it had always helped her get what she wanted. Being able to place someone's feelings into a pot and work them in her favour had made her life relatively easy in that respect. The expression that Mrs Hughes was painted with was something that resembled terror. The older woman's eyes were wide, and she seemed to be pausing for some unknown reason, focusing on something in the distance. The expression looked like there was also something quite heavy on her mind, her shoulders sagging downwards as she looked to steady herself. The last time she went to speak to her she had used the mantra of 'what would Matthew do?' And it seemed like she needed to follow that. There was curiosity around who Mrs Hughes was, and what she was to Carson, and what he was to her. Too many questions, with it not being the right time to ask them though.

"Mrs Hughes?" Mary called out, gripping the book in her hand and bringing it up to her chest. "How are you? I haven't seen you here for a short time. I hope Papa isn't working you too hard?" Mary smiled and tried to appear friendly. Edith always said that when she forced a smile she looked like she had trapped wind, but that was probably her being her usual charming self.

Mrs Hughes took a step to the side, a little shocked at the sudden sound of Lady Mary's voice. "Oh, My Lady." The unfaltering gaze she had on a distant point was broken, and she returned herself to the space long enough to see Mary come into view. This was the second time she had popped up out of nowhere during the time she wanted to be alone.

Mary peered curiously at her, taking particular note of the eyes. "I asked Papa to send a book down, but I know he probably forgot to give it to you. I found this and was going to give it to Carson. I'm sure he would be quite annoyed if I told you, but he's been reading a romance novel," she left out a light chuckle to see if she could get a response. "It's most certainly his sort of book, so I thought it would be better for him to keep him busy. You know Carson, he hates being bored." Mary paused and watched Mrs Hughes who attempted to smile back, her lips barely moving at the edges. "Well, yes, anyway. I thought it would be nice to give it to him. I assume you're here to see him? He'll be glad of the company no doubt. As you're here I thought it would be nice for you to give it to him. I popped in to see him earlier, and no doubt he's probably sick of me badgering him."Mary held the book out towards her, a small pleasant smile on her lips.

Mrs Hughes glared up at Mary curiously and took the book from her outstretched hand. There was a slight pang of jealousy at how much free time Mary had to spend with Carson. This was something that she knew that she had never been able to do. It must be such an odd thing to have such remarkable freedom. "Thank you," she replied weakly. "If you were going to go and see him, I can come back?" It was not as if Mrs Hughes needed an excuse to go away after all.

Mary's eyes grew wide. "Oh, no, not at all, Mrs Hughes. I can come and see him at any time. As I said, it'll be nice for him to see someone other than me." There was most certainly something amiss with Mrs Hughes, and Mary couldn't quite put a finger on it, but whatever it was it seemed important. There was a lot on her mind. Mary was not stupid or greedy in keeping it from happening. The curiosity was rife though, biting at the tip of her tongue as she held back the question on seeing what the matter was really. It wasn't as if Mrs Hughes would ever tell her considering they weren't the best of friends, barely anything at all in fact. Just two people that shared 2 common denominators- Downton Abbey and Carson.

Mrs Hughes tried to avoid the penetrating gaze of Mary, wondering what she was playing at. It was always Lady Mary's way to ensure that she got what she wanted. Why would she be so kind and let Mrs Hughes take the time with Carson? And give him a book that she had taken the time and effort to get for him? Mary had been pleasant and had apologised before, but still, there always seemed to be something underlying there.

"Well," Mary said cheerily. "Don't let me keep you! I'll get out of your way."

Mrs Hughes nodded and pushed the book into the crook of her arm. "Thank you." The reply was weak, distant and without real conviction. The words were empty to make sure that they were enough to try and end the conversation. Mrs Hughes didn't like to partake in idle chatter at the best of times, let alone with Lady Mary.

Mary smiled. "As I said, Mrs Hughes. He will be very glad to see you." It felt a little devilish, but she was intrigued to see what her reaction was going to be.

Mrs Hughes jerked at the words, her stomach flipping at the way the word was focussed on so strongly. Was there something Lady Mary knew that she didn't? Was she just commenting because Carson was indeed bored and hadn't had any visitors? She tried to squash her brain as it began speeding off like a train once more. Remaining calm was important right now because she had the urge to bolt like a horse if she didn't contain it. "I'll go give it to him now, My Lady."

Mary smiled, taking note of the instant reaction in Mrs Hughes' eyes that added to the bank of evidence mounting in favour of how the older servants feelings were held. The idea of Carson being happy helped make Mary feel a small tinge of happiness, and so it all seemed to be adding up in her favour. "Good Night, Mrs Hughes." Mary turned herself around and made herself scarce.

Mrs Hughes pulled the book out from her arm and turned the leather-bound item around so she could read the spine. It was a book she had heard of, and she knew that it would indeed be something that he would enjoy. It was conveniently placed almost because now she could arrive to see him as if she had a purpose. Rather than turning up and Carson asking questions, she could say that she was here to pass him the book. Carson probably wouldn't query anything in regards to whether it was true or not, because it was just a book.

As she moved towards the door, she raised her hand and held it just next to the wood, carefully waiting until she could pluck up the courage to push her arm to finally bring it against the door. As her hand hovered there, sitting in a ball, she could see that her hand was shaking, and not only that but her arm was too. As much as she was struggling, she knew she needed to finish this. Living in a state of permanent unsurety was hard work mentally and physically. Taking the plunge she rapped her knuckles against the door and waited for the acknowledgement that would allow her to finally start this forward motion.

"Come in?" she heard him say quite firmly, his voice sounding like the same tone he would use on some of the younger hall boys. It was his Butler's voice. It was slightly cold, and not laced with the familiarity that she was used to.

Mrs Hughes placed her hand on the door handle, feeling the metal cold against her skin. "There's no time like the present," she tried to reassure herself as she pushed the handle down and opened the door slowly.

The room wasn't very bright, as the only source of light was coming from a mediocre lamp that was residing on a table next to Carson's bed. There he sat, leaning against some pillows, still managing to look as proud as he did when he was stood outside of Downton. It was natural to him, an air of dignity and strength that even now when he was in the hospital, hadn't faltered. It was as if the role of Butler was made just for him, designed and etched around everything that he was. When he looked up he locked eyes with her and she felt the ice of fear that ran through her veins begin to melt, her stomach tensing as she watched his face move from a puzzled expression to one of happiness and familiarity. The magnificent brows that lined his face, that lead all of his expressions, lifted, as if the guard dogs were pleased with the visitor. People commented often about his eyebrows because they were so dominant on his face, but she loved them. They made his character and were by far one of the most expressional things on his face.

"Mrs Hughes? What a lovely surprise." Mrs Hughes heard him say, his voice peaking and showing the genuine happiness that he was feeling. It helped that over the years she had learnt to read him like a book, and so she knew that her being there had lifted his spirits. It wasn't a surprise really, considering he had been in bed for days with minimal company. "Mr Carson, I'm very glad to see you looking so well." It was the truth, and he looked so much better in contrast to the last time she saw him. It was a wonderful sight.

Mrs Hughes could see that he was tracking her with his eyes, taking in her posture, body and face. The gaze of his never faltered, and she knew that he was taking in as much as he could, his eyes finally resting on hers as he tried to bore into her soul. There he searched for whatever it was he was looking for, not that she was very sure what that was, but it was something he did quite often. Maybe he was trying to see how she was coping considering she was doing two roles? It was hard to keep her eyes on his, so she looked away, knowing that he likely knew how to read her as much as she knew how to read him. That was a scary thought.

"Thank you. I feel quite well, "he boomed happily at her.

The chair at the side of Carson's bed was calling out to her, the aching in her legs making them give out as she bent her legs to sit down. As she did, she lowered her bag to the floor and placed the book on top without thinking. The task at hand had taken over and she had forgotten she was meant to hand it over. The look he gave her was one of puzzlement, he seemed perplexed at something, she could tell by the way his eyebrows knitted together."Are you quite well, Mrs Hughes? You look a little down in the mouth."

At first, Mrs Hughes tried to force a smile, but the edges of her lips wouldn't move up quick enough so she knew it looked like more of a grimace than a smile. "I'm fine, thank you," she lied. "I'm just a little tired. It's been a long week I'll tell you that."This was not a lie.

The nod that Carson gave was slow and included the head-tilt he did when he acknowledged something. It always reminded her of the way a puppy reacted to high pitched noises. At first, she was sure it had quenched his curiosity, and so she tried to think about the best way to begin her conversation with him. It reminded her of a car, the hardest part sometimes was starting it up, but once it was going it just did. She hoped that when she started, with whatever topic it was, that it would just flow out of her until she was confident enough to finally pluck up the courage to finish her quest. As she adjusted her coat she watched as he adjusted himself so that he was sitting at less of an incline, lining himself up so he was more formal. It was clear by the way his eyes were moving that he was thinking, and with that, she knew that he wasn't satisfied with her previous explanation of what had gone on and why she looked so bad. Rather than allowing him the time to ask, she knew she had to fill the void to give him less reason to press. "It's been quite busy at the house without you. It's all running well, we're all just a little tired with keeping up. It has been unusual circumstances."

"I apologise that there is extra added pressure on you all because of this. I'll be back soon enough."

Mrs Hughes shook her head. "Don't be silly. You weren't to know that this was going to happen. We can manage. We would rather you get better and back to full form than come back too soon."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," he agreed, straightening out his bedclothes. Mrs Hughes was slightly amused by that, even though it was most certainly a 'Carson' thing to do.

Carson continued to observe her through furrowed brows, his eyes searching hers, something she knew by the way he tracked from side to side. Whether he was trying to make sense of what her face was telling him, or whether he was looking at her to try and break through her lie she wasn't sure. It made her try and soften her facial expression to something a little more friendly or normal. It wasn't working through, her muscles seemingly fixed like concrete. Then he cleared his throat, and she knew he was going to say something. "I don't want to seem as if I'm being pushy, Mrs Hughes, but are you sure you're quite well?" Why was it when she was trying to seem as opaque as possible was he able to see right through her like she was glass?

It was kind of him to make this about her, but in her own opinion, this was about him and who he was to her. What she needed to do was try and propel the direction of the conversation away from her current state, to something that was about them. Mrs Hughes was used to him being a little less direct when it came to talking about feelings. If he thought that there was something wrong, he would ask, maybe press a little, but then he would retreat when the answer wasn't given. There had been multiple times when he had gone to the next obvious source of information, and that was Mrs Patmore. The cook was a good friend, and would only ever give him anything to toy with if she thought that it would help. Carson did look out for her sometimes, even if she was insistent that he didn't need to as she had always lived an independent life. However, there was a part of her that did enjoy the fact that he took that step to make sure she was ok. It was nice to know someone cared enough to try. Carson was fiercely loyal to those he cared about, and it was a fine quality to possess. If she were to look at herself, she knew that she would also fit into this category, and had been known to get herself into trouble when fighting for something she held dear. Not only was he loyal and protective, but he also wasn't very pliable and frequently stood his ground. As a man, especially in his position, he had issues expressing himself as much as she did. When she would ask what was wrong, he would retort with the same dreary reply as her. It was common for him to try and maintain propriety and a stone face when presented with an issue that bothered him deeply. It was one of the reasons as to why she had honed in on the finite details of his face so she could learn about how he was, even when he didn't want her to know.

Trying to muster up something, she opened her mouth to start. "I-" she paused, wondering if this was the right moment to begin. There was an internal struggle going on where she was battling her heart and her mind over whether this was the right moment. Going through a limited catalogue of talking points, she proceeded to run into the barrier that was planted firmly over her mouth. Looking around she noticed a book on the table. "I see you've been reading something. Was it any good?"

Carson reached for it and lifted it. "Oh, yes. I'm afraid it's not very good. Do not think less of me, Mrs Hughes, for partaking in the genre of romance! I had nothing else to hand, and I couldn't sit here being idle without some sort of stimulus." When he realised what he had said his face dropped. "Oh, I didn't mean THAT," he said nervously, scrunching up his eyes in embarrassment. "I just mean that I needed something to do, to pass the time until Dr Clarkson is happy for me to come home."

Mrs Hughes smirked at his reaction, knowing exactly what he had meant in the first place. It would never occur to think of anything else when speaking with Carson because she thought his mind didn't ever wander in that direction. Thinking about books, she realised that she had completely forgotten about the book that Mary had given her. "Oh, that reminds me," she exclaimed. This was going to be the lead into the reason as to why she was there, and in the end, she hadn't even had to use it because he hadn't asked. "I have this for you from Lady Mary. I assure you that this is certainly more to your taste."

Carson took the book from her hand and read the spine, nodding his head. "Oh yes, I've been looking to read this one for a while. Thank you. This will certainly entertain me better than this other one."

"Well," Mrs Hughes said coyly. "I won't judge you, Mr Carson, for reading that one. If it's all you had and you're stuck here then what else were you to do? Did it all end happily ever after?"

Carson scoffed under his breath. "These things nearly always do, don't they? Not that I've read anything like this for some time to have an accurate compendium of romance novel endings."

"Oh, so you've read some before though?" Mrs Hughes teased, being thankful for the humorous change in tone. It hadn't gone unnoticed that his cheeks had changed to a warm pink colour.

"Well, over the years, maybe once or twice. They don't grip me enough, Mrs Hughes. The story tends to be quite predictable in my eyes. I like something with a little more substance. I always find these things aren't true to life. How often do we see people running off into the sunset to lead a perfect life? No. Relationships are built on mutual respect, on experiences and in most cases hardship. It's what gives them the character and a foundation." Mrs Hughes always noticed when he was comfortable in what he was talking about, and around her, the way he talked changed very slightly. Doing his job as a Butler, he had developed a particular way of talking, but she found that when she was on her own with him he was more likely to take up his northern roots, his accent becoming much more pronounced.

Mrs Hughes had read a few in her time if she was honest, and they did tend to follow a similar pattern. "Usually those books aren't simple either though. They normally toy with you about the characters telling each other their true feelings after some sort of life-threatening situation. I assume that's the case?" When Mrs Hughes finished her words she could hear the relevance in what she was saying concerning her current events. There had been a life-threatening situation, and she was here to tell him how she felt. Would she get her character's happy ending? Or would this be some horrible plot twist that would leave her morose and catastrophically lost?

"Yes, you assume correctly. I like to finish things, Mrs Hughes, and even though I didn't feel that it would titillate me as much as I had hoped, I need to finish it. There's always hope that it could shock me into being better than I thought it was going to be. I'll tell you now, it was not. Thank you for bringing me this one though. This is very good. I wanted to read this a while ago, but you know what happens when life gets in the way. It's the little things that always end up falling to the wayside. I would adore a glass of port right now to settle me in for the evening with a good book."Mrs Hughes watched as he closed his eyes as if trying to conjure the nostalgic sense of a decent glass of port to his mind.

As he paused, Mrs Hughes, allowed herself to fully think about the relevance of this genre and the whole topic of conversation had on her current state. It almost seemed to be the perfect lead-in, as if someone had scripted it. "Mr Carson?"

"Hmm?" She heard him reply as he opened his eyes to look at her.

"I don't want you to think ill of me for asking-"

"Never, Mrs Hughes." The reply he gave made her smile for just a second, giving her the courage to continue.

"Have you ever thought about if you would ever have your happy ending?"The question passed over her lips very quietly, and for a moment she thought she was going to have to repeat it for him. It took a moment, but his face reacted enough for her to know he had heard, and so all she had to do was sit and wait to see what he said.

"Well, in all honesty, Mrs Hughes, I have been very close indeed. I will shamefully admit that I lost the courage to act upon it though." Mrs Hughes could hear the disappointment in his voice, and she watched as he lowered his chin to his chest. The way his face suddenly lost his happy glow made her feel sad for him. This sadness was replaced with a pang of jealousy when she finally absorbed his words. There had been someone that had taken his heart. Who was it? Was there any point continuing forward with her quest when it seemed as if there was no room in his heart for her? No. Regardless of this information, she had to express herself.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she mumbled. "It surprises me, Mr Carson. I've always found you quite direct."

Leaning back into her chair, feeling a little dejected by the new information, she watched as his expression changed as if he was going through memories of this elusive woman. "When someone is so dear to your heart, Mrs Hughes, it makes the task twice as hard. We live in a world that is in the service of others. We face fortitude in respect to the things we give up in the process of doing a good job. Losing courage is difficult, and it has played on my mind almost every day." The air fell flat as he took in a deep breath. Then he looked at her with questioning eyes. "What about you, Mrs Hughes?"

Mrs Hughes sighed, knowing that this was the moment that she was going to go straight into it. Looking at his face from top to bottom, taking in the splendour of the dear man ahead of her, she couldn't help but smile. The glint in his eyes was strong, reminding her that he was the lighthouse that gravitated her to the shore during the storm that was her life. This perfect man, who left her in awe of everything he was, really was her everything. There were things that they didn't agree on, but that was a matter of opinion and perspective and not anything personal to detract from that. When she woke up in the morning and started her day, she looked forward to the idle morning conversations and the quiet familiarity that they shared. They spoke about work and their night sleep, and all the trivial things that made relationships unique. It was what kept the warmth of friendship between them. They cared for each other, no matter what. They had been there for each other amidst many different catastrophes, and they still stood firm to face the world. Thinking about all of that made the worry and coldness that had enveloped her dwindle into something minor. Looking into his eyes she felt him draw the fear away from her because he was always the pillar that she leant on if she needed it. They were friends, regardless, and had built up something unique over the years of working together. It was time.

"I have been very close, Mr Carson. At first, if I'm honest, I didn't think too much of him. There was an air of arrogance about him, and as you know, that's not something that ever sits well with me. We all eat from the same pot after all. In the job that he was in, he was very rigid and stuck in his ways. I understood, to a degree, as he had learnt from someone who had been brought up deeper into the old ways than any of us ever had. Over the years we had understandably had our fair share of moments where we didn't see eye to eye. At one point I even thought that I needed to get a new job because I couldn't work with the inflexibility. It took time, but we began to work better together. There is an elegance to him, but also a strong core of loyalty for those that he works for. There is one, in particular, the eldest daughter of the house, who has a hold on him. I know and understand that he loves her like a daughter, and I always respected that. It was always her though. At one point I felt like he had no room in his life for another woman. I got over that though, I had to because I couldn't bear the thought of not being near him. I had seen through the armour that he stood so proudly behind, and I knew what was underneath and that was worth staying for. I'd be lying if I said that it was love at first sight," she chuckled lightly. "No, no, it was far from that. I remember the moment I really knew though, and it was so unbelievably basic. I was sat by his side with my breakfast in front of me. I felt sick to the stomach. I looked at him and realised that I had never felt anything so strong and pure in my entire life. That man was my world, and he was so dear to me. The warmth that ran through me was enough to keep me warm on the coldest of nights. Seeing him every day was what I got out of bed for. Every evening we would share some time together that I looked forward to every day. That time was the time I cherished. The chatter was nothing special, just your normal run of the mill sort of thing, but it was between just us. It helped me understand him and who he was. I was content with that if that was all we were ever going to be. It's better to have a friend who respects you than not. Then he was in an accident, and when I saw him in the mess that he had gotten into, I felt so frightened for him. Not only that, but I realised that I could never do without him. It was then that I realised that if I ever got the chance, I needed to tell him how I felt. Come rain or shine, he needed to know. If he didn't feel the same then I would sleep knowing where I stood." When she finished she exhaled, feeling a weight lift from her chest. To her, what she had said was obvious enough that even Mr Molesley would put the pieces together. Mrs Hughes didn't know where to place her eyes, so she stared at his blanket as she allowed him to process what it was she had just outlined.

"Did you ever get that chance, Mrs Hughes?" The tone of his voice had changed to something very soft and there was a tinge of hesitation in his voice like he knew but he had to validate it to make it concrete in his mind.

Mrs Hughes choked on the words as they burnt into the back of her throat. This was the part that would pull it all together so there would be no room for interpretation. "I think that's what I'm doing now, Mr Carson."

There was a long and agonising pause. Mrs Hughes couldn't bring herself to lift her eyes to him, the courage had evaporated into nothing. There was a piercing vulnerability that lingered in the air around her, suffocating her as she tried to anticipate what was going to come of what she had said. If he hadn't pieced it together as she had thought, then she didn't know if she could spell it out for him in big bold letters. The coolness of the fear returned to her veins now that she didn't have the warmth of his gaze to soothe her. It was real now. It was in the open and she couldn't take it back. It left her feeling sick, the same sort of sick she felt when she realised she had really cared for him. It was as if she had handed him a piece of her soul. He could either take it, and place it with his own, or he could give it her back. If he returned it she didn't think it would ever fit again and it would be lost for good.

"I'm sorry," she blurted nervously, attempting to fill the agonising void with words.

"Whatever for?"

Mrs Hughes could hear the strain in his voice as if someone had taken him by the throat, and this confused her. As she exhaled, drawing in as much as she could muster, she lifted her eyes to him. What she saw was something she had not expected. Carson's face had almost melted. The sternness and strong resolve that he had about him at all times had dissolved into nothing. It was if he had seen the light of God. The way his eyes stared at her, in what she could only describe as awe, made her think it was if he was seeing her for what she was for the first time. Once her eyes locked with his, she couldn't move them away, and so she smiled. "I don't know," she shrugged.

"I don't want to say something in retaliation to your words without sounding like I'm repeating something cliché I had just read in that awful book. I want to give you something from my perspective to help you know that you should never be sorry."

Mrs Hughes didn't quite know what to do with herself, so she nodded and waited for him to talk. It felt like she was in some sort of limbo between heaven and hell.

"I've had a lot of time to think over the past few days, with all this unaccustomed spare time I've had on my hands. I'm not one to dwell on my past, Mrs Hughes, because it doesn't do anything to change the future. You can't help, when you're in a situation like this, but to think about what you have achieved and who you have achieved it with. Life is made up of experiences, and most memories are focused on something because of someone else. It's those key memories that you find yourself playing over in your mind when you are at your lowest or most vulnerable point. The people that you think of when you have nothing left, or the people you miss when the chips are down, are the people that you are to hold on to. We all want to make something of ourselves, Mrs Hughes. We all want to have a perfect life, and that is never achievable. Just look at Lady Mary, and I don't mean to bring her into this, but it's about perspective. Lady Mary was born into wealth, she can have everything in the world if she so wants it. The happy ending for her was already being written with the inclusion of Mr Crawley and then Master George. That was ripped away from her. It doesn't matter who you are, and what you've done with your life, nothing is ever going to be simple. When I've been sat thinking about my life and the people in it, there was one face that kept coming to my mind. Just one. I've always felt like I've never been complete, and so my sole focus in life was to work. I've always wanted to climb the ladder, and that's what I did, but at the cost of what? I now know that in doing this job I would find someone that meant the world to me, that the wasted years of hard work was in fact, nothing short of the fact. This person would make me so very happy without ever doing a thing. I think about them every day when I wake up, and every day when I go to sleep. They fill my mind, they fill my hopes and I see them in very high regard. I've had opportunities to tell them how I feel, and I've never been able to draw enough strength to do it. Like you, I realised a long time ago that I cared for them. It was a simple moment, nothing special, but I knew then that they were the person that I knew was the missing piece to my life. Life does get in the way, things get pushed to the side, and it's times like these that show you what means the most." There was a pause followed by a sigh. "Oh, I'm making a meal of this. My comprehension of the English Language seems to have evaporated from my tongue. The point I want to make is, never feel sorry for expressing your true emotions because you never know what might come of them. If these chances aren't taken then you will never know the impact that they might have on another person. On me."There was another agonising pause. "What I'm trying to say is," he paused again to swallow and focus directly on her as he did. "Is that I love you, Elsie Hughes. You are the one that I think of when I go to sleep and when I wake up in the morning. You are the one that I have missed whilst I am here, and you are the one that fills my life with light. Hearing you speak like that, and in such a way that is directed to me and not at me, has filled me with inexplicable happiness. I don't want you to think that I'm only saying this in retaliation to you speaking your heart-felt truth to me. I had a stern conversation with myself and said that the next time that you graced me with your presence, I was going to tell you. It seems in some strange story-like twist, that you beat me to the prize."

Mrs Hughes watched him as he reached out to her and took her hand. What she wanted to do was to laugh, and cry, and sing, and shout and let everything out. Pulling his hand towards her she rested it on her cheek and leant into it, rubbing it on the outside as she cradled it with her hand. Then she reached out with the other and took his wrist, making sure that he was as close to her as she could. There were no words that she could say to express how she was feeling, so she let it all bubble up inside before she let out a laugh. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and she felt his other hand come up and wipe one away. Mrs Patmore had been right in more ways than one, the tails and lives of Downton Abbey could be turned into a movie. All that mattered really, is that she had the star she wanted for her show, and now she knew that she was the star in his.

Carson heard a faint knock at the door, and he turned to look at the time before signalling whoever it was to come in. It was likely a nurse or similar, checking in on him and seeing if he wanted anything before he went to sleep. It wasn't at all late, but he felt quite worn down and was looking forward to getting some rest. After these days cooped up in the hospital, he couldn't wait to get out and stretch his legs once more.

The door opened slowly, and he was pleasantly surprised to see Mrs Hughes entering the room. "Mrs Hughes? What a lovely surprise."It felt so long since he was able to talk to her and see how she was, the hours that he had spent in the hotel seeming about three-fold their normal rate of passing. It was a nice surprise, and he suddenly didn't feel at all tired any more.

"Mr Carson, I'm very glad to see you looking so well."

It was customary, and often a force of habit, for him to evaluate people that were in his presence. When she started walking in his direction, he found himself doing just that. It wasn't because he felt the need to for propriety sake, because she wasn't working, but it was more because he wanted to see how she was. Mrs HUghes was a creature of habit, and she also took a lot of pride on herself and how she looked. If there was a hair out of place, then Carson could usually tell that something wasn't quite right. Moving to her face, he could instantly see that there was something wrong, nearly everything about her seemed off. The reasoning became justified even more when he noticed that she avoided his gaze, turning her attention to something obscure in the distance, keeping her head tilted away the closer she got. The skin on her face was pale, much paler than her normally fair complexion. Normally she exuded a natural healthy glow, and she was the pillar of good health and grooming. This seemed to be lost, her skin having the pallor of chalk. This colouring set off the dark circles that encapsulated her eyes and made it seem as if she hadn't slept properly in some time. From what he had heard from Lady Mary about her being by his side for nights on end, this could potentially be one of the reasons. Even her posture wasn't quite right, with her shoulders dipped at the edges and her back slightly arched as if she was being pushed down on by an invisible force. Mrs Hughes wasn't overly skinny or plump, she was just right in his eyes, but he could tell that she had lost weight by the way that her coat hung off of her at the hips. The plumpness to her cheeks had been replaced with a gaunt look, the lighting in the room not helping that as it cast shadows in all the wrong places. It concerned him. Work at the house could be rough, and maybe it had got on top of her more than he thought it could have. The tiredness in her eyes, that he saw as she got closer, looked more emotional than physical. Not wanting to leave too long a pause, he tried to seem happy. "Thank you. I feel quite well."

When she sat down next to him, he looked at her with a puzzled expression, her whole demeanour continuing to make him concerned. "Are you quite well, Mrs Hughes? You look a little down in the mouth?"

When she tried to smile, it didn't stretch out into anything more than a grimace. "I'm fine, thank you," he heard her lie. "I'm just a little tired. It's been a long week I'll tell you that."

Carson nodded slowly, trying to calculate his next move. No, he needed to give her his complete attention, and lying in bed was not the best medium for such a thing. When he leant forward he shifted himself so he was sitting upright, showing her, he hoped, that he was giving her his full attention. Normally when he knew something was wrong he would ask her, and most of the time she would brush him off with some sort of excuse. Not wanting to be a pain, he would likely not press further, but look for some help from Mrs Patmore. Without her at this present moment, he knew that he was going to have to push a little harder to get her to open up.

"It's been quite busy at the house without you. It's all running well, we're all just a little tired with keeping up. It has been unusual circumstances."What he heard was another lie, and this began to frustrate him because he didn't want her to be bothered or upset. If it was because the Abbey was so busy, he knew that it was partly his fault for not being there in the first place, and he would make sure that he was back in work as soon as he could if it meant helping her and relieving this stress from her shoulders. "I apologise that there is extra added pressure on you all because of this. I'll be back soon enough."

"Don't be silly," he heard her exclaim as she shook her head. "You weren't to know that this was going to happen. We can manage. We would rather you get better and back to full form than come back too soon."

Noticing a crease in his shirt, he tried to flatten it out. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

No, he was still not content with her answer. There were things he had picked up on over time with her, and he could tell that she was not being as truthful as he had hoped. As he sat staring at her, seeing it there a clear as day, he was reminded of the dream and how upset she had been. "I don't want to seem as if I'm being pushy, Mrs Hughes, but are you sure you're quite well?"

Carson could see that she was ticking something over in her mind like she was building herself up to tell him what it was. So he waited patiently and watched as she opened her mouth to speak, before closing it again and grimacing. So he sat quietly and patiently, allowing her to put together the words she wanted to say.

"I," she began before pausing again, so obviously battling with herself. "I've seen you've been reading something. Was it any good?" he heard her deflect.

Carson resigned to the fact that she wasn't going to be upfront and tell him what the issue was, so he turned to pick the book up and continue in her favoured topic. "Oh, yes, I'm afraid it's not very good. Do not think less of me, Mrs Hughes, for partaking in the genre of romance! I had nothing else to hand, and I couldn't sit here being idle without some sort of stimulus." Carson realised that his placement of wording was inappropriate, and the context of his sentence could be completely misconstrued. This left him filled with complete horror at the fact that he could even use such a suggestive word in her company. "Oh, I didn't mean THAT. I just mean that I needed something to do, to pass the time until Dr Clarkson is happy for me to come home."

When he looked at her he could see that the comment had generated a smile, and that made him happy, even if it had been at the expense of himself. Oh, how he loved it when she smiled. It left him grinning himself as he looked upon her in that state. There had been many times when he had found himself watching her, especially around Christmas when they all got to let their hair down to a degree. Often, it was also a time when they could dance together. As he had said to himself before, it was the little things in life that made it special.

"Oh, that reminds me," he heard her exclaim. "I have this for you from Lady Mary. I assure you that this is certainly more to your taste."

Carson was intrigued by the book she held in her hand, so he took it gently and turned his attention to the spine. As soon as he read the title, he knew the book straight away and was very pleased to find that it was something he had been looking to read for a while. "Oh yes, I've been looking to read this one for a while actually. Thank you. This will certainly entertain me better than this other one."

That smile reappeared on her lips. "Well. I won't judge you, Mr Carson, for reading that one. If it's all you had and you're stuck here then what else were you to do? Did it all end happily ever after?"

Carson scoffed under his breath. The book itself had been completely obvious on what the plot was going to be very early on, and that was one of the reasons why he didn't read them. "These things nearly always do, don't they? Not that I've read anything like this for some time to have an accurate compendium of romance novel endings."

"Oh, so you've read some before though?"

Carson felt his cheeks begin to burn as he realised he had stepped into a corner. There were things that he had never thought would come into the conversation, and reading romance novels was certainly one of them. The thing is, there was something about the unrealistic expectations that they set that put him off because it let people believe that things would always work out. In the real world, he knew that things didn't always work out in the way that was expected. You had to expect life to throw lemons in your direction, and you couldn't always make lemonade out of them as the saying had said. "Well, over the years, maybe once or twice. They don't grip me enough, Mrs Hughes. The story tends to be quite predictable in my eyes. I like something with a little more substance. I always find these things aren't true to life. How often do we see people running off into the sunset to lead a perfect life? No. Relationships are built on mutual respect, on experiences and in most cases hardship. It's what gives them the character and a foundation."

"Usually those books aren't simple either though. They normally toy with you about the characters telling each other their true feelings after some sort of life-threatening situation. I assume that's the case?"

"Yes, you assume correctly. I like to finish things, Mrs Hughes, and even though I didn't feel that it would titillate me as much as I had hoped, I need to finish it. There's always hope that it could shock me into being better than I thought it was going to be. I'll tell you now, it was not. Thank you for bringing me this one though. This is very good. I wanted to read this a while ago, but you know what happens when life gets in the way. It's the little things that always end up falling to the wayside. I would adore a glass of port right now to settle me in for the evening with a good book."Carson had missed his nightly routine where he would often have a quick drink as they finished for the evening. The thought of the sweetness of the port on the back of his tongue after a long hard day of work was enough to make him close his eyes and wish himself into another time. A time where both of them were warmed by the fire, a drink in their hands and smiles on their faces. The hospital was a far cry from that.

"Mr Carson?" he heard her whisper, bringing him back to the room, making him open his eyes.

"Hmm?

"I don't want you to think ill of me for asking-"

"Never, Mrs Hughes."It was true, he didn't think that there was anything in this world that she could do to make him think ill of her. After everything, she was the reason that he wanted to get up in the morning. Although they would often disagree on things, it was only because they both had strong opinions on how things should be run. It was never anything more than that, and he was thankful to be able to spend the time he could with her outside of the normal day to day tasks. To him, she was perfect, and that was all she would ever be.

The look on her face was one of extreme concentration like she was plucking something out from the back of her mind. The way her eyes glazed over as if she was deep in thought made him intrigued, and he watched as she worked through it in her mind. Then she fixed her eyes on his, the spark that seemed to have been suffocated when she had arrived had reignited to a small ember. "Have you ever thought about if you would ever have your happy ending?"Carson could just about hear her, and he took the time to process what it was she had said. It was a little bit of an odd question, which is why he assumed she had taken so long to come out with it.

In his mind, he wasn't sure if it was the right time to talk about the ending that he wanted in his life, but he knew that she was the only one for him. There had been Alice, but he had never loved her as much as he did Mrs Hughes, so he wouldn't even mention her in passing. If he thought about it, he could be obscure if he wanted to. It reminded him of the time he was going to talk to her about how he felt when she was ill, so he drew upon that as the example. It was the last real moment where he had almost taken the chance at getting it all off of his chest."Well, in all honesty, Mrs Hughes, I have been very close indeed. I will shamefully admit that I lost the courage to act upon it though."The disappointment in himself was strong.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he heard her mumble. "It surprises me, Mr Carson. I've always found you quite direct."

When Carson lifted his eyes back to her, after berating himself in his own special way about how he had acted in the past, he noticed that she had leant dejectedly into her chair. It was true, if he thought about it, he normally was quite direct. In the job, you had to be decisive and direct about what you wanted, especially when you were in control of a house. However, the thought of being so vulnerable and standing up for what you really wanted was not one that you could take lightly. It was no wonder he had faltered at the last hurdle. "When someone is so dear to your heart, Mrs Hughes, it makes the task twice as hard. We live in a world that is in the service of others. We face fortitude in respect to the things we give up in the process of doing a good job. Losing courage is difficult, and it has played on my mind almost every day."Carson took a deep breath as he thought of the moment that she had nearly been taken from him, and it pulled at his heart. Maybe she understood though?"What about you, Mrs Hughes?"

There was a long pause between them, and she gave him the biggest sigh as if she was amassing the strength to talk about it. Did that mean that she had thought about her happy ending with someone else? If that was the case then who was it? Was it someone he knew? When he had told himself that he was going to tell her the next time he saw her, could he compete with the someone that she was currently thinking of? Then he noticed that she was smiling at him, and he tilted his head as he tried to gauge what the smile meant.

"It took time, but we began to work better together. There is an elegance to him, but also a strong core of loyalty for those that he works for. There is one, in particular, the eldest daughter of the house, who has a hold on him. I know and understand that he loves her like a daughter, and I always respected that. It was always her though. At one point I felt like he had no room in his life for another woman." Carson could hear the backwards and forwards from past to present tense as she spoke and his stomach dropped. There was a feeling that he couldn't shake because he had a feeling that he knew now who it was. Was it common for people in roles like his to care for the aristocratic daughters like they were there own? Maybe there were just similarities? Maybe he was reaching for something that he wanted? Whatever it was had left an unusual feeling in the pit of his stomach.

" I got over that though, I had to because I couldn't bear the thought of not being near him. I had seen through the armour that he stood so proudly behind, and I knew what was underneath and that was worth staying for. I'd be lying if I said that it was love at first sight. No, no, it was far from that. I remember the moment I really knew though, and it was so unbelievably basic. I was sat by his side with my breakfast in front of me. I felt sick to the stomach. I looked at him and realised that I had never felt anything so strong and pure in my entire life. That man was my world, and he was so dear to me. The warmth that ran through me was enough to keep me warm on the coldest of nights. Seeing him every day was what I got out of bed for. Every evening we would share some time together that I looked forward to every day. That time was the time I cherished. The chatter was nothing special, just your normal run of the mill sort of thing, but it was between just us. It helped me understand him and who he was. I was content with that if that was all we were ever going to be. It's better to have a friend who respects you than not." Carson could feel the similarities ooze from her story like an odd flavour of deja-vu, making him rationalise it all in his head before he jumped headfirst into the obvious conclusion. It was interesting to see her light up so much as she spoke about the person. The glint in her eye was back, and she briefly locked eyes with him, and he saw it there as clear as day. It was obvious. How had he missed it?

"Then he was in an accident, and when I saw him in the mess that he had gotten into, I felt so frightened for him. Not only that, but I realised that I could never do without him. It was then that I realised that if I ever got the chance, I needed to tell him how I felt. Come rain or shine, he needed to know. If he didn't feel the same then I would sleep knowing where I stood."Carson felt his throat begin to tighten as he let the torrent of emotion and realisation rush through his system like a bullet. There was a tiny part of him that thought that potentially he had read one line too far into this story, and it wasn't what he thought it was. If it really was him, she should just come out and say it now to put him out of his misery.

Carson tried to steady himself as he mustered up the word to ask. "Did you ever get that chance, Mrs Hughes?"

"I think that's what I'm doing now, Mr Carson."

Carson felt as if the world around him had faded into nothing as he looked upon her with awe. It was as if the spotlight from the lamp had moved its focus on her, highlighting her for the amazing human being that she was to him. The skin on her face was delicate and soft, and he smiled as he took in her beauty once more. Even though she didn't look her usual self, he could see through that and knew that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. Like the build-up of an orchestra, he felt his heart pound in his chest like the rumbling of a drum. The excitement began to sing out, like the chorus of a song, in every nerve inside of his body. Not only was this the music that he had wanted to hear, but it was something that he had never have expected to be coming from her first.

"I'm sorry," he heard her blurt nervously.

"Whatever for?" he queried, completely perplexed as to why she was apologising. How could someone apologise for telling him what she had just told him? Carson wanted to lift her and hold her against him as he had wanted for so many years. The fact that she felt the same way as he meant that they could carve out their life together. Was it proper? Hearing it from her lips made him disregard it for the meantime. It was something to broach later, but for now, all he wanted to do was tell her that he felt the same to put her at ease. If she could be so bold in sharing her feelings, then he could do it too. The time had come and gone too many times before, and now he could lead-in, and tell her what she meant to him.

Carson steadied himself and lifted his chin high. No, this was most certainly the moment that he needed to let it all out for her. "I don't want to say something in retaliation to your words without sounding like I'm repeating something cliché I had just read in that awful book. I want to give you something from my perspective to help you know that you should never be sorry. I've had a lot of time to think over the past few days, with all this unaccustomed spare time I've had on my hands. I'm not one to dwell on my past, Mrs Hughes, because it doesn't do anything to change the future. You can't help, when you're in a situation like this, but to think about what you have achieved and who you have achieved it with. Life is made up of experiences, and most memories are focused on something because of someone else. It's those key memories that you find yourself playing over in your mind when you are at your lowest or most vulnerable point. The people that you think of when you have nothing left, or the people you miss when the chips are down, are the people that you are to hold on to. We all want to make something of ourselves, Mrs Hughes. We all want to have a perfect life, and that is never achievable. Just look at Lady Mary, and I don't mean to bring her into this, but it's about perspective." Carson could see a small flash of annoyance at the drop of her name in this situation and he knew it was because, in her eyes, even now, there was no escape from Lady Mary.

"Lady Mary was born into wealth, she can have everything in the world if she so wants it. The happy ending for her was already being written with the inclusion of Mr Crawley and then Master George. That was ripped away from her. It doesn't matter who you are, and what you've done with your life, nothing is ever going to be simple. When I've been sat thinking about my life and the people in it, there was one face that kept coming to my mind. Just one. I've always felt like I've never been complete, and so my sole focus in life was to work. I've always wanted to climb the ladder, and that's what I did, but at the cost of what? I now know that in doing this job I would find someone that meant the world to me, that the wasted years of hard work was in fact, nothing short of the fact. This person would make me so very happy without ever doing a thing. I think about them every day when I wake up, and every day when I go to sleep. They fill my mind, they fill my hopes and I see them in very high regard. I've had opportunities to tell them how I feel, and I've never been able to draw enough strength to do it. Like you, I realised a long time ago that I cared for them. It was a simple moment, nothing special, but I knew then that they were the person that I knew was the missing piece to my life. Life does get in the way, things get pushed to the side, and it's times like these that show you what means the most."

Carson was struggling to make the point he had set out to give, so he sighed, he was just going to have to come out with it. Although he liked to dress up his sentences and create elegance to his words, sometimes it just needed to be said as plain as a blade of grass. "Oh, I'm making a meal of this. My comprehension of the English Language seems to have evaporated from my tongue. The point I want to make is, never feel sorry for expressing your true emotions because you never know what might come of them. If these chances aren't taken then you will never know the impact that they might have on another person. On me." Carson exhaled and fixed his gaze on her. "What I'm trying to say is...Is that I love you, Elsie Hughes. You are the one that I think of when I go to sleep and when I wake up in the morning. You are the one that I have missed whilst I am here, and you are the one that fills my life with light. Hearing you speak like that, and in such a way that is directed to me and not at me, has filled me with inexplicable happiness. I don't want you to think that I'm only saying this in retaliation to you speaking your heart-felt truth to me. I had had a stern conversation with myself and said that the next time that you graced me with your presence, I was going to tell you. It seems in some strange story-like twist, that you beat me to the prize."

Carson couldn't contain the overwhelming urge he had to touch her, so he reached out and took her hand in his. The skin on her hands was soft, even though she had worked so hard for all of those years, and they were warm. To be able to touch her when they were both finally on the same page made him feel the burn of tears at the corner of his eyes. Then she pulled his hand into her face, letting it cradle her cheek as she leant into him. The grip she had on his wrist was strong like she never wanted to let him go, and he felt a tear fall down his face. A small sniff erupted from behind his hand and he made out the free-flowing tears that were running down her cheeks. Whether they were tears of happiness or sadness, he couldn't help but reach out and wipe one away, even though he had his own now making tracks down his face. It took a lot to move him from his normally robust-self, but this was something he had never thought would happen because he put propriety ahead of his happiness. This was like a dream had come true, and a part of him wondered if he had never woken up in the first place from his head injury. The heart in his chest beat for her and belonged to her, but he now knew that this was coming from the other side too. This was going to be Carson's happy ending. Mrs Hughes had sung the song to unlock his heart, and now he was the happiest man on the planet.