I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas!
Carson sat at this desk, looking around at his pantry with happy eyes. There was an innate feeling of contentment as he appreciated everything that he had, everything that he still had and everything that he had gained. Even the feel of his chair against his body filled him with an overpowering sense of familiarity. The years that the chair and his body had changed with each other meant that even that piece of furniture felt like home. It all did. Even though it was an occupation at best, it was so very much more than that for him. There was a sense of pride at maintaining such a building, and keeping everything functioning rightfully so that the occupants, his family of sorts, were content, filled him with job satisfaction, happiness and enjoyment. Yes, there were moments where it was stressful, like everything in a person's life could be, but in the end, it was what drove him. Carson craved perfection. In years to come when the Abbey stood in its rightful place, he would feel, if he was still around, that he helped it there. An architect of the fate of Downton Abbey.
Carson put in the key, twisted and opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out some blank paper so that he could begin to note down anything pressing that needed his attention as soon as he returned to his post. Also, he knew having something tangible that he could take in his hands and use when Mrs Hughes came in would help. It would help him keep focused on the task, and although he didn't want to because he wanted to give her as much attention as he could, he knew that work was work. It was already hard enough to keep his thoughts on a straight path, his heart wanting to detour to anything Elsie related. It made him chuckle a little, because never had he been in such a state. The old Carson would scold him on such distracting behaviour.
Putting the pieces of paper to one side, he then leant back into his chair and placed the tips of his fingers together and pressed them to his nose. It had been years since he felt so alive. There was a burning torrent of emotion still coursing through his body, reminding him with every breath that his life was changing. There was something of greater importance to live for. It wasn't just getting up to work. It wasn't just living for his work. There was someone that came above that, someone that he would cherish with every moment of his life. The relief that he could have those in tandem was intense. For years he had never acted upon his desires and feelings through fear on the lack of propriety associated with it. Maybe if he had acted upon it sooner then it may have not have turned out how he had wanted? Maybe the ill-fated occurrences had created the perfect environment for his longings to be accepted? So many questions that he would never have answers for.
Carson felt a yawn begin at the back of his throat, and he scrunched up his face as he tried to hold it back. It was unusual for him to yawn, because he was so used to a certain schedule, and it was not looked upon in the greatest regard. But then, after everything, his sleep schedule was haywire. The night before he had barely slept either, kept awake by the adrenaline of the days unfolded events. In his mind, he had gone over the direction that his life was going to take. The new boundaries, the new course and how his life had taken a perfect detour. He pictured the potentials of his life with Mrs Hughes, and how they might be when they were finally married. The perfect existence of husband and wife, because no matter what could be thrown at them, the fact that he had his perfect woman was enough to make everything else fall into that category. It had been a long long time since he felt the burning of excitement about the prospect of his future. Walks together, nights together, waking up with her by his side and wrapping his arms around her body without anyone to raise an eyebrow. The endless potential and possibilities would be enough to keep anybody awake.
Carson sighed. It was contented and unhindered by anything. As he brought his hands down into his lap he smiled to himself, letting his mind drift to the scene that unfolded the night before between them. The way that Mrs Hughes had looked at him when she had found out that they were going to be able to achieve what they had wanted. The way her eyes sought him out, the way her hands touched his body, the perfect way she looked under the dim light of his room and the way his whole body had burned in her presence. It was indescribable the way that he felt. Never, ever, in the history of his entire life had he felt such warmth, happiness and love. It made sense now, in his mind, at how things had not worked out in previous times because he was meant to find his way to the wonderful woman who now held his heart. Mrs Hughes was meant to be the person who he finally lay his head with, and nobody could ever match the feelings he had for her.
Carson twisted to lean and open his drawer again to grab one of his ledgers, and as he did he heard the faint crackle of an envelope contorting with him as it sat in his top pocket. It was the letter from Lady Mary. When he had finally climbed into bed he hadn't been able to pull himself from his happy revelling to give it the attention it deserved, and so he had picked it up in the morning intending to take the time to read it when he had a moment. What he didn't want was to not have read it if he was to encounter Lady Mary on his travels again, and so it made him think that he should open it and read it now whilst he waited for Mrs Hughes. He had come down earlier than he had thought, and so she might not be there for a short while. So he grabbed the letter and folded it out on the desk.
Carson leant forward on his chair as he looked at the delicately written name of his that was on the top. Then he turned it over and looked at the unsealed envelope and ran his fingers over it before he pulled it open. When the flap of the envelope came open, he could see that it had been sealed before. There was a rough patch where it had been pulled open, which made him wonder even more about the contents. Then he pulled out and unfolded the small sheets of paper and looked down at them carefully.
"My Dearest Carson,
I sit alone in my room wondering about the path that my life has taken, thinking about the key stages of my life and where they have gotten me. The thing that I think of is that you have been there for them all, so diligent and gracious with everything you have offered me. To some, I am cold, ruthless, bitter and unreachable. I am a product of my own callousness. I know deep down that even my own family struggle to understand me as a person, and so although I love them in their own way, I have always found it hard to create an understanding that transcends deep enough. And yet you have always understood me, and sometimes even without words, you have been able to comfort me by just your presence alone.
My darling Matthew was able to understand me, he was able to nurture the softer side of me to the point that it became visible to bystanders. Without him, I feel so lost that I do not feel that I can continue moving forward as I am intended. I'm in pain, Carson, and I know that you know that. I also think that you feel it too, deep down in the pit of your stomach. I know that I have often caught you looking at me when I am in a sorry state and I have been able to see it behind your eyes. You feel what I feel in some way or another.
The other evening, when you told me I was letting myself be defeated, I know that you were trying to help me release myself from the prison that grief has encapsulated me in. I was hard on you. I was cold to you. For the first time, I treated you as I had treated people for years- in a cold, ill-mannered and dismissive fashion. I could see behind your eyes that I had hurt you, and like I held a sharp knife, with my words I pierced your heart. Seeing that pain behind your eyes that I had so viciously created wasn't even enough to make me come to my senses. I want you to know that I am so very sorry. You would likely have gone downstairs, and with a sad face thought about how much my words had hurt you. At the same time I know you wouldn't hold it against me, and I often question why I deserve your loyalty and care that you so freely offer me. You of all people have never deserved my coldness because you have been one of the constants in my life. Never faltering. For years you have watched over me above the role that you play in this house. I have taken advantage of that, and you have allowed me to because I feel that you care for me and understand me more than perhaps I understand myself sometimes. I have never been in a position where I have needed to hide myself from you. I have never been in a place that you have not been able to fix my internal troubles to some degree. Until now. That is no reflection upon you, but the reflection of the agony that has encompassed every part of my mind and body.
I don't want you to blame yourself for the events that may unfold. I do not want you to feel that you should have done something to stop this from happening. This is what I want. I know that you will hurt. I know that you will feel it deeper than most and it will likely break your heart. As it would break a Father's heart. You are the pseudo-father that I never expected to have. You have picked me up more times than possible, more times than my own Papa even. I say this to you now with the respect and care that it reads, but also in a way that I would not like to speak ill of my own Papa. Carson, my dearest Carson, I think of you like a Papa and I know that you have no children of your own. I know that this might be the reason you have been able to extend your love and kindness to me. Know this, I care for you as a daughter would and I know that if you had ever had children of your own that you would have made the greatest Father to them.
George. My son. The son of Matthew. The constant reminder of my husband who was cruelly taken from this world. I would like you, Carson, to be his Godfather. I know it is not customary or proper, but I know you will lead him and guide him and offer the support that you have done to me. I trust you with my whole heart. I know that he has godparents set out, but I have also asked Anna to be a part of his life in the same way. I know between you that you will offer him a semblance of grounding as Matthew would. I know you'll do it properly and with love. You'll show him things that aren't in the nature of our lifestyle to share. You have no children and no grandchildren, but I hope that my son can bring you something that will fill the void that you may have in that area.
You have been a great source of comfort, guidance and love in a world and within a family that haven't been so generous in the like. I have always meant to be Lady Mary Crawley, and my life has been set up in a way that most of my paths have been already etched into my timeline. I know that you were never meant to be a part of that plan because you are a servant of the house. I do know that the family are thankful, and are in your debt for what you have given to me. I think they can see how much you mean to me, and the other way around, even if they do not understand it fully. You have given and given and given and never asked for anything in return. Ever. I am eternally grateful. For everything. You have helped shape me into the person that I am today, and I hope that makes you feel proud in some aspect or another.
I care for and love you, Carson. If you take anything from this letter, I want it to be that. And remember, this is what I want. See in this letter a little something that I want you to have.
Mary."
Carson moved the papers around and found a small photograph nestled between the sheets. Instantly he recognised where it had been taken. It was from many years ago when they had set up a small fete of sorts on the grounds. It was when Mary was just a teenager and just about to hit the cusp of womanhood. There she was, smiling happily with her arm holding onto Carson. She was wearing her most favourite dress at the time. It was a light blue dress with white lace and frills on the edges. Carson knew that she would never wear anything like that now, but then it had been her absolute favourite and she had been distraught when it no longer fit her, even after the alterations had been made. It had been a candid photo. The photographer had been stood waiting for people to come so that he could take his images but had resorted to taking people in passing. It had been most unusual and Carson had been unsure if it had been proper to have been taken, and if he thought about it he never thought that it had been developed. But there it was in all its physical glory. Carson could see in the photo that he was smiling, looking at Mary who was grinning at something nearby. Then he turned the photo over and saw scrawled delicately at the bottom was a little message. "Never forget the importance that you hold in my heart, Carson. To the good times. Mary."
Carson then lifted the letter back up and looked at the last part he had got to, trying to see through the tears that had begun to pool in his eyes. At the bottom, it looked like there had been an addition to the letter, and he realised that it was likely the reason as to why the letter had been reopened.
"I could have destroyed the letter because I have obviously not achieved what I set out to. However, I want you to read and feel the sentiment that I tried to portray to you. I want you to understand how much you mean to me. My life and Downton would not be the same without you. You have been the steady source of comfort in my life and I can not do without you. I now owe you something significantly greater, because you saved me from myself. You saved me from my actions. Everything in this letter still stands and I want you to be a part of George's life in whatever form it may take. Thank you again, Carson. My debt to you keeps increasing and I hope that I can one day repay that to you- even though I know that you are detesting this in your head and telling me that I do not owe you anything.
I wish you all of the happiness on your new journey in this life. I know Mrs Hughes and I have never really seen eye to eye, and I don't think she has ever understood the relationship that we have shared. Over the days previous I have seen some of what you see in her, and I believe that you are a perfect match. You both care deeply and I can tell that she makes you so very happy. If that is even a slither of the happiness that I had with Matthew then I know that she will make your world complete. I hope that she will come to see me in the same view that you have of me because I'm not as bad as people make out deep down. I want us all to get along because you are my family and now she is yours.
Mary."
Carson wiped at the tears that had fallen so silently down his face. The past week had been a complete and utter roller coaster of emotion, and it felt like the wall that he had built so well over the years had temporarily fallen. When he had come down in the morning he had felt like he was stood on a cloud, everything in his world being in almost perfect order. The letter had the sentiments to add to that, but at the same time, it reminded him of what pain Lady Mary had been through. Of course, he had been there when she had completely broken in his arms. He had been there when she had demanded that she be left alone. Carson had also been there when she had started to pick herself up, taking on board his advice and, although she had faltered, had made excellent progress. Inside he knew that it was the words and sentiments that had caught him off guard. To see, in writing, how much he meant to her and how she cared for him like a Father made everything he had ever done for her seem worthwhile. There had never been any requirements for him to have anything in return because that was not why he did it, but it felt wonderful. The letter, the things it had said to him and told him, as well as any underlying sentiments had gripped him like a vice. A part of him wondered if the heightened emotional state that he had been in had contributed to how he was now feeling.
As he held the paper in his hand he could see his hand shake, and he sniffed and placed the piece of paper on the desk so that he didn't ruin the ink with any stray tears. As he stared at it through the tears that clung to his eyelashes, he pictured Lady Mary's face through the years. Watching her grow had been one of the proudest moments of his life. It was right, after all, he had no children and she had been the closest thing he had to one. It was similar to all of the children, but the connection he held with her was something stronger. Whether it was because he had felt that she needed more of his time than the others, or that she needed soothing and shielding as much as he could from the path her life was destined to take, he didn't know. Children should play, teenagers should grow and young women should set out their lives in the direction that they wanted. Mary had always been set in her life and the pressures had been hard on her as she had grown and learnt to understand what it was she had to do. Most people would roll their eyes at that because she had been born into wealth, but Carson knew from working in homes like these that money does not make happiness, especially in young children.
Carson fixed his eyes on a word that he had never expected to see- Godfather. Not only did she think of him as a father figure, but she was willing to entrust some semblance of responsibility for her son. That young child who had nearly ended up without any parents. Of course, he was glad that it hadn't come to that, but he would have done whatever he could have to help guide the child. Carson exhaled sharply and rubbed at his face again, conscious of the mess that the tears might have left. Crying was a sloppy business, and for a long time, he hadn't properly shed a tear. As a man with an ugly cry and a proper job, there had been no place for emotion. It seemed that things had changed, even if temporarily because hopefully moving forward he would have no reason, unless happy, to cry.
Outside of his pantry, he could hear the shuffling of feet and the murmur of voices, a few of the early risers beginning their duties for the day. The noise of normalcy helped draw him back in, and he folded the letter and placed it into his pocket. Then he let out a sigh and ran his fingers over his forehead as he tried to compose himself. It was a mistake reading the letter down here, and maybe it was his own ignorance to assume that he could keep himself in check. What he had to remind himself was that Lady Mary was getting better by the day, and above all else, she thought of him as a Father figure. That in words meant more to him than almost anything. Maybe that was why it had pulled his heartstrings so hard?
There was a knock at the door that made him jump, and he grabbed the pen from its place and began to write notes of some description so it looked as if he was doing something. Not that anybody knew that he was in his pantry apart from Mrs Hughes, but he couldn't be concrete in that assumption. "Come in," he bellowed, his voice ringing in his ears slightly from his overzealous projection
"Good Morning," he heard Mrs Hughes say, her voice high and happy. Realising it was her he knew he didn't have to hide behind a pen and piece of paper, so he placed the pen down and looked up at her as he heard her push the door to a close. Then he watched as she walked over to his desk and place a cup of freshly brewed tea in front of him.
Carson kept his eyes on hers as she looked down at what he was writing, waiting for her to look up at him so he could greet her with his own gaze. The look between them was more powerful than a simple good morning. It didn't take a moment before her deep blue eyes connected with his, and he watched as her eyebrows knitted together. The smile she had on her face withdrew and she moved over to him so she could reach out and touch his shoulder. "What's the matter, Charlie?" she said with solicitude, her voice gentle and soothing.
Carson reached up with his hand to cover the one that she had rested on his shoulder, and he gently moved his fingers underneath so he could hold it. The warmth of her hands sent soothing waves through his skin and he had the sudden urge to hold her, to feel that soothing calmness through his entire body. Keeping his hand on hers he stood up and turned towards her. As he did he could see that her eyes were following him with the same concerned expression. Then he tugged her arm ever so gently so she could take a step forward. As she did he enveloped her body like a wave on the shore, letting her body fit in against him as it did so well. Carson could not help but sigh. Then he felt her arms instinctively reach around his back and begin to rub gently, soothing him as she did, feeding him with the energy he needed.
After a few moments, Mrs Hughes tilted her head back so she could look up at him. "Charlie?" she whispered, keeping her arms soothing his lower back. At the bottom of his eyes, she could see the pool of tears that had failed to fall and so she leant up to kiss him on his lower jaw, offering him some reassurance. Inside she could feel that he just wanted comfort for a moment, his body seeking hers as his arms pulled her in. So she nuzzled her nose into his neck, offered the skin there a kiss before flattening her head against the top of his chest. There was no rigidity to his posture, but his grip was firm and soft at the same time. It was like the way you would hold the finest antique vase. The grip needed to be firm so as not to drop it, but it also needed to be soft so your own firm grip did not do the item any damage. There was a slow exhale and inhale of his breathing, and his heart, which had started off beating at a fast rhythm, had slowed right down in the few moments she had been able to feel it. Mrs Hughes waited patiently.
Carson kissed the top of her head as he felt her give him a reassuring squeeze, and he took that moment to explain himself. "I read the letter, that's all," he mumbled softly, thankful for her presence at that moment.
Mrs Hughes didn't say anything at first, letting her body feed him with what he needed, allowing him to continue holding her. The letter must have been emotive, and a part of her hoped that there wasn't anything in there that could hurt him. That is something she did not want. The brief pause gave her a moment to think about those days earlier where she had found him sat at his desk with the most painful and lost look she had seen in a long time. It had been the night that Lady Mary had exploded at dinner, and the same night she had verbally kicked him for trying to help her. The way he had sat so down-faced and hurt because of how she had spoken to him. It didn't seem likely, but Mrs Hughes hoped the letter hadn't done just that. It also dawned on her that when he had sat there so glum and sore, he had allowed her to see through his emotional suit of armour. Now, as he held her tight in his arms she had realised how emotionally connected they had become and how fast. It was like the floodgates had opened and they had allowed each other to mix in a way that she hadn't realised was possible.
It had been hard before when she had had to read him, but she had been able to pick up the subtle hints about his state of mind due to her familiarity with him, rather than the openness of him to her. Now he openly allowed her to see him at his most vulnerable. If this had been a few weeks before he would have kept his head down and told her he was busy. What she would have done was have picked up in the sound of his voice that he was bothered by something. However, she would have granted him space and sought him out later to see if he was doing well. Now she could hold him and offer him comfort when he needed it, rather than playing a game of guessing. Nobody would come in at that time of the morning, and if they needed to they would knock, so she was confident that she would be able to hold him for a short while longer.
After a while, Mrs Hughes felt his grip release a little, and she leant back so she could gauge if he needed a few moments more.
"I'm sorry," Carson whispered, giving her a wry smile.
"Don't ever apologise," she returned in a strong tone. "You don't need to. It's what I'm here for."
Carson smiled, tilted and kissed her on the forehead before letting one of his hands loose from her back so he could take the letter out of his pocket. Once it was in his hand he leant himself backwards so he could offer it to her, signalling to her that she could read it. "Please," he said.
"Are you sure?" Mrs Hughes said, not sure if Lady Mary would be so content with her words being shared so easily.
Carson waved her words away and pushed the letter back towards her. "I think you should read it too."
Letting go of Carson, her body instantly missing the warmth, she took out the pages and held them up in front of her face so she could read them. Carson came up beside her and wrapped his arm around her waist, a part of him still seeking the comfort of her presence.
Mrs Hughes read every word carefully, and she could feel the sincerity and hear the truth screaming out of them. They were truthful and pure as they tried to explain themselves as if Lady Mary had pulled them from her own heart. They were open, honest and unhindered, and Mrs Hughes could understand why. When someone was in that frame of mind in which they would no longer wish to appear in the world any longer, to fade away and walk away from everything that they cared for, they did not fear repercussions. There was no fear of upset, no fear of retaliation, and so the words could freely course onto the paper as if nobody was ever going to read them. Of course, she could see why the letter would be so emotive to her Carson because they spoke things that had been unsaid between them, they were things that he never thought he would hear. As she read the words carefully and slowly she could see her name at the bottom, and she read that paragraph with even more care. It was a nice surprise. "It's a painfully beautiful letter, Charlie," she said, taking her hand to where his hand was on her hip so she could hold it. "Painfully beautiful."
"It is," he exhaled, taking the picture so he could look at it once more before holding it out for Mrs Hughes to see. "Look at how happy she was."
Mrs Hughes looked at Carson first, seeing his slightly younger face smiling down at Lady Mary. Not much had changed about him really. There was slightly more darkness to his hair, the grey still nestled in there but in a much more sparse capacity. It also seemed like his hair was a little fuller. The eyebrows that lined his gaze were still as full and domineering as they had been, and his nose still sat proudly on his face. The lines on his face still looked the same, and she could see that he looked very happy at that moment. That smile on his face was also one that he had given her on numerous occasions and she knew that it was a smile he used when he cared. "It's a lovely photo. Very lovely."
"A picture speaks a thousand words, doesn't it?" Carson reached for the letter in her hand and placed it onto the desk before letting go of her. There was somewhere that he wanted to put them both, somewhere that he kept things like that. Taking a step to the side so that he could sit back down in his chair, he leant down to the bottom drawer in his desk. At the back, underneath piles of organised items, was a small unassuming book. Once it was in his grasp, he lifted it and placed it onto the desk before moving everything in the drawer back into their rightful places.
Mrs Hughes stood behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders as she peered curiously at it. Then, she moved to the side slightly, dragging her hand with her so that it was on the nape of his neck, her thumb rubbing delicately. Then she watched as he flicked open the cover.
Once the cover was open Mrs Hughes could see a small piece of paper. It was rectangular, with straight edges apart from a side that showed that it had been removed from a book. It was a drawing that looked to have been done by a small child, and it showed two people drinking tea. It was basic, as it would be if someone young had drawn it, but she could see that one was bigger with a large nose and the other a small girl in a dress. Mrs Hughes assumed, especially by the nose, that it was Carson and Lady Mary and they were both drinking tea. "How lovely," she said quietly.
Carson plucked it with his fingers and held it up so he could gaze at it. As he did he let out a little chuckle. "Lady Mary drew this for me once. I remember, and it's quite ironic really. It had been a stormy night, much like the one that I found Lady Mary at the tree. She was small, and it had been the first time she had properly heard a storm. She didn't understand and so she was terrified. When I walked into the nursery she clung to my leg and then wanted to be picked up. We came downstairs and I explained what it all was and how she shouldn't be scared of it. After a while, I asked her if she wanted to go to bed, but of course, she didn't. Then she drew me this, asked me to take it out of the book and told me that I MUST keep it forever. As you can see, I did," he smiled.
Mrs Hughes smiled and watched as he tucked it back into the book. "I didn't realise you were that sentimental."
"Yes. Yes. There are things that I have kept over the years that most people wouldn't." Carson turned the page and there was a small leaf. You could tell that it used to hold such a vibrant colour, picked in autumn as the trees shed their leaves for the winter. The integrity of it had wavered, and if you tried to remove it it would likely crumble. "Lady Sybil gave me this when she was small. She told me it was her lucky leaf. I hadn't been very well at the time actually, just a cold, and she had told me to keep it safe and it would make me better. Lady Sybil has...had always been such a caring and beautiful soul. That child soothed everything and anyone. I felt for her being there between the squabbling between Lady Edith and Lady Mary."
"And is that book full of little things like that?" Mrs Hughes said, watching as the pages turned carefully. They showed pictures, little notes and various keepsakes.
Carson nodded. "Yes. Do you think me soft?"
Mrs Hughes chuckled lightly and gave the back of his neck a gentle rub before leaning into his ear. "I've always known you're soft, Charlie. But this is why you're you. I didn't like you for that rigid exterior you use for your job. I like you for what's beneath all of that. The real you."
Carson smiled, letting her kiss his cheek. Then he picked up the letter and the picture, finding a place at the back where he could place it. "I'm running out of pages."
"Might we get you another book? Make it a bit more organised? Get the items attached to the pages properly so that none of them gets lost or falls out?" Mrs Hughes had noted how haphazardly that some of the things had been placed in. It made sense that it hadn't started as a memento book, but over the years he had obviously accumulated lots of little things. It would be a nice album for him to keep. If he wouldn't get one then she would get one for him.
"Yes. Maybe. I just worry that some of these items might break if I tried to move them," he grumbled, thinking about the leaf.
"Where there's a will there's a way, Charlie," Mrs Hughes said happily, her hand gently rubbing his shoulder.
Carson nodded and placed the book back underneath the items in the bottom drawer, tucking it at the back so that it kept out of the way of the normal traffic within his drawers. Things at the bottom were used the least, whereas things at the top warranted more attention. "I suppose we should get to it then? Go over everything that needs going over?"
Mrs Hughes shook her head. "There's no rush, Charlie," she said as she watched him get up off of his chair. "I can write you a handover so you've got it for the morning if that would be better?"
Carson shook his head, turning to look at her as he moved to his other seat so they could sit together. "No, I'd rather do it today. We can spend some time together and go over everything so it's done. I'd rather hear it from you and spend time going over it with you than read it off a piece of paper." What he really wanted was to just be in her presence. These moments, until they were officially married, would be the times that he savoured and craved. It was time for just them. Although it would mostly be about work, it would still be enough for them to have time to themselves.
Mrs Hughes moved to take the seat opposite him like she normally would in the evening and watched as he held his paper and his pen ready to note down anything pressing. "Well, if you're sure."
Carson lifted his eyes to Mrs Hughes, and he could sense his furrowed and tense face. When he looked at her he softened it and smiled. "I would like to spend some time with YOU and go over whatever needs to be gone over. I assure you, if I'm being honest, the pretence of being here so early was more about being with you near rather than going over work."
Mrs Hughes smiled. "I know, Charlie," she said with a little blush. "I would have pushed against the idea if I thought it was just about the work."
There was a moment of silence between them, and they both sat quietly looking at each other. It was a comfortable silence, the type that they had grown to enjoy over the years. It wasn't about words sometimes, it was about being in the presence of another person. The comfortable atmosphere was because they knew each other. It was a little different though like there was an electrical charge between them now. One of them feeding off of the other emotionally and physically where apt. In Carson's mind, he envisioned hours sat by the fire with her, reading books and newspapers with their own armchairs to sit in. They would sit there and laugh together, joke together and enjoy the companionship and each other. Carson would hold her hand sometimes, and sometimes she would wrap her arms around his neck as he peered over a book.
"Are you ok, Charlie?" Mrs Hughes said, watching as he zoned out, thinking that he was worrying over the letter. "It was an emotional letter."
"Oh," Carson said. "I wasn't thinking about that," he said smiling. "I was thinking about our future."
"And?" Mrs Hughes said, intrigued by his words. It still caught her off guard a little, that she was a subject of such thoughts from him.
"I was thinking about how we would spend nights by the fire reading in our own little armchairs. How we would read books and papers and the like. Side by side in our own little world." Carson smiled happily.
"That sounds wonderful. Although, I do wonder about this fire that we sit in front of. Where will it be? Not that it matters as long as we are together," she said a little shyly.
"I have a few things in mind," Carson said confidently. "We will have nothing to worry about."
"As long as I'm with you, Charlie, I know I'll never have anything to worry about." Mrs Hughes kept her gaze firm, keeping his eye as she watched his expression grow warm. For a moment she thought she could see a few tears begin to sit at the bottom of his eyes as he processed her words. When he blinked, they vanished, and he reached out a hand to her.
"To us," he whispered gently, running his thumb over the top of her hand.
Then they sat together, both smiling happily as Mrs Hughes went over the outstanding jobs, things that needed looking at and work that she had completed in his absence outside of the normal running. Carson made notes, not really needing much for him to chase with urgency when he started up again. What he would do was do a walk around as one of his first jobs and get his bearings back. The rhythm of the house was unique, and although he had been out of it it still worked to that beat. As with certain songs, it was important to join into that beat at the perfect moment, and by walking around he would be able to do that. In the meantime, he would do what he could to spend time with Mrs Hughes.
It still amazed him as to how their paths had finally combined. It also made his heart warm to think about how Lady Mary had written about him in her letter. It was as if all of the things that his heart had craved had come into fruition. A perfect world out of a most disastrous time and storm. If all of this could have come about without the loss of Matthew Crawley then it would be the most perfect situation. Sadly, that was not the case, and so they all had to move forward in the shadow of his absence. Lady Mary would come out into the daylight soon enough, and both he and Mrs Hughes would start their journey properly. For now, they had to make the most out of the situation at hand and do what they could to be together when it wasn't quite the proper time to do so. Life was funny, unpredictable, harsh, sad and yet often amazing. Carson knew you had to take the bad with the good because the world could not exist without them both. Mrs Hughes would be the light in his life now, and she would push aside the darkness with nothing but a smile. Their future was bright. Their future was blinding.
