Conversations with the Man Upstairs

by BorneToFlow

Mrs Hughes struggles with the idea of becoming a property magnate with Mr Carson. Mrs Patmore lends some friendly and timely advice. Consistent with my particular headcanon. I need to account for Elsie turning down the option to buy the property, given that she harbours no fiscal/sisterly burdens in my version of who Elsie is. Some canon dialogue will be rejigged to suit my S5 aims

13. Ch 13—Inevitable Interruptions

Conversations with the Man Upstairs. Chapter 13—Inevitable Interruptions.

Dear Readers,

I have been away from this for a very long time and I have to admit that I have struggled with editing this latest chapter together. It does contain many italicised lines of dialogue from S.5. Ep. 9, and many characters' subtle perspectives on many things. Not all of this is completely Chelsie-centric, but there are concomitant story arcs that have popped up in this household full of interrelated people that will need to be wrapped up by the end of this particular fiction. I do hope Chapter 13 does work well enough as a bit of a bridging piece before I can jump forward to the days leading up to the famous S.5. Christmas Special and my particular take on every Chelsie fans' favourite scene.

I do seem to move as slowly with my large fictions as our dear old Boobies! Thanks to those who are willing to stick with this. If I try really hard, I might be able to have the Christmas night scenes between Charles and Elsie posted in time for our actual Christmas Eve. I dare not promise it though… By NYE seems more likely, truth be told: /

Merry Christmas to all Chelsie fans, if I do not get to say it again before the 24th/25th!

Regards,
BorneToFlow.

Given that it has been a while, this chapter begins with a brief reprise from the end of Chapter 12—The Golden Hour:

oOOo

"What is it you are reading, Mrs Hughes?" he intones softly, not wanting to break the quiet reverence of the moment. He likes being wrapped within this slowly floating instant with her alone— somehow wishes that it could all last forever.

Sensing the same deep need, Elsie opens to the page in her tome that is marked by her finger and without preamble, she reads softly for them both.

oOOo

Glory be to God for dappled things –

For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;

Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;

And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

ooo

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;

He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:

Praise him^^^

oOOo

"Amen" Charles breathes out low as he keeps his eyes fixed in awe upon the sweet dappled blush of light across her cheekbones until she slowly turns her eyes up to his and liquid amber streaks across blue as her pupils dazzle-widen at the beauty that is without change and that she can see inside the depths of his sweet eyes.

"Quite," is all that she can whisper in return as they float, pure and white and together before Joseph's stone stunned eyes within this Golden Hour.

oOOooOOooOOooOOooOOo

Still Wednesday, 2nd December 1925

Very late afternoon of the day after the round table dinner. Downton Abbey

"Mr Molesley. It's alright, you may come in." Mrs Hughes directs towards the nervous man she spies in her periphery vision, and as a means to halt Mr Carson from acting upon a notion she thinks she has just registered in the depths of his eyes.

"Ghrrm. What have you got there, Mr Molesley", Carson turns to ask gruffly and with far less charity in his tone than Mrs Hughes had affected, since their timeless moment within the Golden Hour has had to face the inevitable interruption of a household interloper. Carson feels wrenched and peevish…and just a little flustered that this intensely private and precious moment with his beloved has been observed by an… underling. He takes solace in the fact that Mr Molesley seems to be mimicking the expression of one of the colour plates of a common trout from Carson's favourite reference book on fly fishing and so it appears the man has not necessarily put two and two together about what had just passed between the two heads of staff.

Joseph flinches slightly at Mr Carson's tone such that his hands fidget and he narrowly avoids dropping the envelopes he is holding.

"Urrmm,.. arh… th-they are some letters, Mr Carson, from-from Mr Bates. He was here…briefly… I-I think they are important.

"What you think is of little matter" Carson continues being snippy, but not uncharacteristically so to anyone's ears but Mrs Hughes' and she knows better than to roll her eyes at Charles' slightly exaggerated response and potentially undermine him in front of his staff.

Ha! Charles again is he, Elsie Mae?

Instead, she deftly covers for him and somehow soothes the frayed nerves of both men by cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

"Here Mr Molesley, let us see what you've got there," she commands with that smooth steel of authority she wields so effortlessly, while also flicking a glance to Mr Carson to ensure that he actually does reach out for the letters rather than her usurping his right to correspondence that has clearly been addressed to the man himself —No sense risking that particular path with him again…—"I take it Mr Bates was not long back from London," she surmises correctly, while, under the barely registered gesture of direction from Mrs Hughes, Carson decides to forego demanding some sort of fumbling explanation from the visibly squirming Mr Molesley.

"Let's see what's to be found out. Thank you… Mr Molesley."

Joseph continues to nervously hover to attention nearby as Mr Carson quickly reads the disturbing note Mr Bates addressed to him. It goes without saying that he must have Mrs Hughes fully cognisant of this development so he quickly hands the paper over to her when he is done. And as ever, Carson is soon affirmed in his instincts in doing so, for the contents are surely beyond his current capacity to handle without her insights and steady guidance.

Joseph finally musters up the courage to speak again as he can see Mrs Hughes finish reading the note, "M-Mr Bates left as soon as he gave these to me."

"Well I never," Mrs Hughes sighs out on a breath. "When was that?"

Joseph swallows hard, having hoped he would not have to confess to his tardiness, but it is done and better that it comes from him than Mrs Patmore filling in the details of his silliness to Mrs Hughes later tonight, "Ahh-A-about an hour or so ago."

Worse than an open reprimand, Mrs Hughes glares somewhat frustratedly at him, and Mr Carson appears rather incredulous at the ineptitude of his first footman.

"Well…" Mrs Hughes breathes out on a sigh that is heavy with a sudden exhaustion as the reality of this fraught situation shatters any equilibrium and peace she had actually found on this pleasant afternoon spent quietly in Mr Carson's steady and silent presence. "Hmmm… well, he obviously did not want us to follow him. But I think we ought to go down and share these with Mrs Patmore. Perhaps Mr Bates alluded to some plans when she was seeing him towards the door after dinner last night."

oOOo

"Thank you for the tea, Mrs Patmore." Mrs Hughes offers now that they are all settled at the servants' table and have each read through Mr Bates' note. "Soh, What are we to make of it all? The letters to His Lordship and Mr Murray must tell the same story."

"But Why confess?" Mr Carson expresses a level of consternation that all at the table feel to some level. Mr Bates actions just seem to have thrown another large spanner into the works and not one of the adults present can think that messing with the British justice system in such a way is a viable way out of the troubles that Mrs Bates currently faces. All of them having been raised to live by the edict that honesty is indeed the best policy…and that perhaps only the timing of releasing any honest professions is what may need to be wrestled with. "It makes no sense. The police said someone short pushed Mr Green." Mr Carson has steadily moved from consternation to low-level frustration as his thoughts have finally coalesced into speech. "Mr Bates isn't short!"

"Didn't he spend that day in York? The lost ticket was never used." Mr Molesley offers.

"If only it wasn't lost." Mr Carson abhors the disorderliness of such a thing happening, even though he knows it is the height of ridiculousness to think that an outdated train ticket should be put anywhere other than in a wastepaper basket.

"Do we know what he was doing there?" Mr Molesley asks with an air of terrier-like interest that is not entirely customary in the man, but after last night, he feels he actually does have a voice that will be heard on heftier matters, plus he feels a strong need to contribute to fixing this because of how he had hesitated to be a man who would take whatever actions was necessary when the need arose, as Mr Bates had alluded to last night over dinner.

"He said he had lunch in a pub, but he couldn't remember which one." Mrs Patmore offers, though how she came to know this little germ of information is anyone's guess.

"There are hundreds of pubs in York." Mr Carson points out the scale of the issue they face if they actually think that any useful enquiries might come of that piece of distant historical information.

"But Mr Bates had lunch in one of them." Mr Molesley with a tenacity borne of dogged earnestness…and some small belief that he has the wherewithal to be methodical in his research of all the various sides of a historical problem.

"well, I don't believe he's guilty, whatever he's written there." Mrs Hughes smoothes her fingertips over the open parchment again as she focusses on her recollection of the determined set of the man she saw disappear into the cold dark of night and away from the illusion of feeble warmth dripping from the back porch light last night. "He just wants Anna out of prison, and I don't blame him for that." She adds somewhat forlornly. "He said last night he could not bear for even the first Mrs Bates to be imprisoned, so why would he ever abide our Anna lingering there for so long?" She finishes with sad wisdom.

Mr Molesley is quite determined now. He offered to help Mr Bates in any way he could, and he suspects that now is his chance to take whatever action is needed of a man. He feels the exciting rush of something that he thinks might be akin to valour when he tries to keep his spirits bright for the sake of the household leaders who, in all honesty, seem to be somewhat at a loss at the moment. Joseph recalls overhearing Mr Carson saying to Mrs Hughes on the day of the Memorial dedication that 'one must always travel in hope ', after she had quietly mentioned the state of the sorrows that seems to follow the Bateses, but even Mr Carson seems overly listless this eventide, and certainly bereft of any clear ideas to move forward with at the moment

"Might I have the key for Mr Bates' cottage?" Joseph pipes in "You never know, he might have left a clue as to where he was going."

"Well, I'm not sure what we'll do with it if he has, but you can have the key. "Mrs Hughes replies in a lacklustre fashion, well knowing how ill things may turn if the British justice system continues to chew at the wrong end of the stick on this—much as they did when Mr Bates was assumed guilty of a crime he did not commit and Mrs Hughes own words were twisted beyond recognition inside the court of truth and the supposed realm of justice. She never did quite believe Mr Carson's ongoing trust in British Justice that day of the Memorial service—the reminder of far too many lives having already been lost to the powers-that-be and their illusions of might and right was far too clear for her to be fully soothed by Charles' valiant attempt to buck her up again. But Mr Molesley is already on his feet and awaiting her action to retrieve the key from the parlour, and so Elsie misses the slight and quite automatic gesture Mr Carson makes to reach somehow for her and an offer her another gaze of sympathetic encouragement. Charles clenches his hand into a small ball when he realises what he was about to do in front of everyone and instead looks after her retreating figure trailed by the strangely determined Mr Molesley who at least seems to have some sort of plan in mind. Carson feels old and dithering in comparison until he finds himself surreptitiously prompted to action by Mrs Patmore's next turn of phrase.

"Well, I'd best be getting on and seeing to clearing up all of this mess."

"Quite right, Mrs Patmore." Carson stands and abruptly to wrench himself in to some sort of action." Allow me to help you clear away."

"Right you are, Mr Carson" Mrs Patmore offers him a kind smile that morphs into an all-knowing one as she turns in front of him with the biscuits platter in hand and leads him into the kitchen carting a tray holding the remains of their soiled dishes.

oOOo

Monday 7th December 1925 Mid-afternoon

The Front Entrance courtyard of Downton Abbey.

Molesley and Carson are milling about in a semi-relaxed form of attention as they await the arrival of the cars from their long journey back from Moorlands. Both stiffen noticeably now that the cars are approaching on the final sweep up to the front door, standing fully to attention in enough time for any of the car's occupants to actually spy them at their duties.

"Welcome back, My Lord," Carson intones with the true relief he feels at his Master's return hidden as he sees His Lordship and Her Ladyship out of their motor.

"Carson."

The children are bundled towards their parents' cars by the Nannies, and as much as he would like to scoop his little treasures up like any good Donk should do, Lord Grantham sees that Carson has some sort of important news for him to attend to first.

"There's been a development while you were away. Mr Bates has gone." He gravely informs His Lordship.

"I don't understand. Gone where?"

"We don't know, My Lord, but he's left you a letter."

"How very mysterious." Robert side glances towards Cora to check she is abreast of this latest announcement, knowing that he will need her sound counsel as he faces this latest battlefront.

Barrow overhears with eagle ears but he must continue his role of loyal Under butler without flaw there is too much at stake for him, given how he may still be called to account by His Lordship for the part he somewhat imprudently played in almost exposing Lord Sydenham's sins while at Brancaster. Only Lady Mary stands between him and yet another brush with professional ruin, and when Under duress, without her Angel Anna Bates nearby, Lady Mary is just as likely to shoot and take him out with one word as she is to understand and protect him.

"Come on" Barrow Signals to the hall boy waiting in the background and must regrettable leave behind any chance of overhearing what this latest development about His Greatness the Valet Long John Bloody Bates.

oOOo

Downstairs

Having gleaned the bare bones of when John Bates disappeared from Daisy and Mrs Patmore, and itching to know more, Barrow accosts Carson with dogged questions as soon as he spies the man descending from the Green Baize door.

"Mr Carson. So, does that mean I stay on as valet?" he asks with a slight smile that he just brings under control in time, for there is still the chance that Barrow will have the privilege of working a little more closely to His Lordship for longer and possibly gaining some information of use, if not of favour. "Or am I expected to double up?" Even with the perceived advantage of the situation at the forefront of his mind, Barrow cannot help but play the most hard done by party in all of this current mess.

"It all has to be thought through" Mr Carson replies with an air of frustration and some annoyance at himself that he had not actually given thought to how his rostering of staff would all play out once his Lordship returned. He feels once again as if he is losing his touch—that there are just too many balls to keep up in the air…and still no word from Murray about Brounker Rd!

Barrow scuffs a mental foot at in annoyance at the fact that Mr Carson is unwilling to make a firm decision in Barrow's favour yet again. Oh, he is firm enough when needs be, but sometimes Barrow wishes that Old Carson had benefited from some time in the military…. Still, at least Carson is not a Stowell-like character. It is, after all, a much easier prospect to work with a man who is inherently honest than not, Thomas thoughts slink deftly around his own hypocrisy. Still, even in his absence, Bates still seems to thwart all Thomas' ambitions as the favoured son that he is to His Lordship it seems.

"They must release Mrs Bates now that they've got a confession." Miss Baxter offers sympathetically,

"No doubt His Lordship is telephoning Mr Murray as we speak."

…Perhaps he will ask to speak to me as well! Carson has never felt time drag as much as it has this last week as he awaits some sign that his far more important issues about the house purchase will fall into place. So much of his future is riding upon this one decision that he is finding it increasingly difficult to focus clearly on all of the work that still needs to be done on the lead up to Christmas. However, the air of purposefulness in his tone has been just enough to let all and sundry know that there is no more to be known, and even if there was, that there is no more that Mr Carson is willing to divulge about any of his concerns.

oOOo

In the main library after the divesting of many a stately hat.

"Will he be hiding somewhere?" Edith takes on the air of a dogged reporter after a hot lead.

"In Ireland, I presume," although Robert actually suspects there is much more than one degree of separation between the message in the letter from bates and the means by which he may be contacted and found. "He has family there and the English police are not too well regarded if they try to find him."

Edith internally cringes at this fraught political allusion and she is aware in the periphery of her vision that Tom has looked aside with a clear expression on his face that fairly shouts 'And it's no bloody wonder!' However, he somehow manages to hold his tongue. Since Edith's confirmation about Marigold, Tom is once more set further along the path of being more prudent with expressing his opinions within this household. Edith internally sighs in relief at how stalwart her brother-in-law is. Her secret shall remain safe from Mary for the time being at least.

But, of course, it is mere seconds before Mary has something to say about the current news to hand.

"Why hasn't Anna been released?" she cries out with high strung concern, "Why did Carson wait?"

Grim and to the point Robert deftly cuts Mary short without an answer, "I'll telephone Murray now." Not wanting his man to be under any unfair scrutiny from his daughter, no one knows the full story, but one thing is sure, both Carson and Robert know that Bates does not want to be found and that he must have some sound reasoning behind his actions. They both trust the man and Carson was as prudent as Robert could desire. Unfortunately, Mary can tend, at times of stress and intricate complexity, to not to act in the most becoming manner towards others. "He'll be able to get her out." Robert finishes on a more determined and supportive tone. For there is action to be taken, and Robert is pleased that he is still the man to be able to take it in this situation.

Cora looks after her husband with an appreciative look, but her ever-present concern tinges her expression for him, for she does worry that he will become too stressed with all of this news and not take care of his current fragile health well enough.

"I don't believe for a moment that Bates did it," Cora says with her customary balance and kindness.

"No! But neither did Anna". Mary cries indignantly once more—Still unwilling to be placated in her concerns "So, it won't be unjust to set her free."

"Of course not, Dear" Cora soothes, now in her fully concerned motherly tone.

oOOo

Downstairs once more

"Have you caught up with yourself? Mr Molesley smiles shyly at Miss Baxter as they meet in the hallway at the base of the back stairs.

"I'll be straight by the time they finish dinner," Phyllis cannot help but smile for his asking after her. He truly is the kindest man she has ever met she thinks as he turns to be about his business. Then she calls after him and she catches the full light of his smile from their little exchange and thinks again of what a dear he is…realises how much he actually wants to check on her lowly concerns.

"Mr Molesley, when you said earlier about what you were planning to do for Mr Bates, using his photo…" Mister Molesley face has fallen as she speaks into an aspect of slightly tragic concern, and as it always does tend to whenever he awaits any new information that might knock him off the happy tack he had just managed to set sailing upon.

"Yes? ," he breathes out, trying to sound steadier than he feels.

"I'd like to be helpful." Miss Baxter continues, "I'd like to …come with yeh'.

"Would you? Incredulously – genuinely shocked that Mis Baxter would give up her time so freely to help the Bateses, for he knows that they have been fairly open in their disdain for how Miss Baxter might inadvertently 'help' their situation in the past. "Because that would help a LOT! "Mr Molesley continues on nervous laugh, suddenly relieved that Miss Baxter will be present as he works his way through the list of public houses in York where Mr Bates may have stayed for lunch on the fatal date in question.

Joseph had spent all of yesterday there traipsing into as many pubs as he could, only to find that the fact that he is a man trying to find another somewhat swarthy looking fellow with a described limp meant that most publicans smelt trouble afoot and they promptly wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. With a lady in tow, despite the ignominy of having to drag a lady such as Miss Baxter into so very many pubs being undesirable for her reputation, Joseph knows that her way of framing the inquiry after Mr Bates will be met with far more honest responses. She could perhaps pretend that Mr Bates is her brother she has lost contact with. He just hopes that they will not think too often that Miss Baxter might be some hard-done-by wife of the man in the photograph, and that any kindly publican is merely hoping that a chap that would cheat on such a lady deserves all that he has coming to him.

And so, he says what any gentleman would in order to protect Mis Baxter from anyone casting aspersions on her character again, should they find out that he escorted her to so many ale houses in the course of a few days. "But I don't want anyone else to know.

Not unless it works." Joseph's nervous laughter vainly attempts to cover himself for the real reason he wants their trips to remain secret— he really is just so rapt that Miss Baxter would agree to spending time with him in whatever form it may take— even in charitable industriousness. But the way that she also nervously smiles and looks down at her hands does give Joseph some hope that Miss Baxter does actually want, at least in part, to spend the time with him in York.

"Well…Mr Molesley," Miss Baxter continues, "we will have to tell Mrs Hughes at the very least, for she is the only one that can change our rosters to coincide…but she is one for a secret, Her Ladyship always maintains, we can trust her to keep Mum on all of this."

"You're brilliant, d'you know that? You think of everything that I don't" Joseph knows that he is gushing now, but cannot seem to help himself.

"Well, I don't know about that, Mr Molesley." She looks down shyly once more and strokes at her ladyship's fine overcoat in her arms before she turns away to let them get back to their respective work.

IS it wrong of me to want to go to a hundred pubs with Mr Molesley? Phyllis cannot help but wonder.

oOOo

Later that Monday evening in Cora and Robert's bedroom.

Cora sits in an attentively upright posture as she watches Robert's graven shoulders as he ties his robe about him, knowing that he wants to unburden himself a little of his concerns from today within their most private space together. He always does when he has had to be somewhat stern and commanding in front of his daughters. His British stiff-upper-lip does have its limits, and of course, she does relish his renewed trust in her since the Bricker uncomfortableness and his candid reasoning for selling the della Francesca. And the practical capitalist American in Cora cannot deny that she is relieved on another front, now that she knows the estate can more ably fund its plans for developing and potentially repurposing some of the older cottages. It does sometimes seem that her whole life has been an endless stream of trying to keep the behemoth that is Downton Abbey fiscally afloat…not to mention her husband's internal resolve… but she does relish the latter with a joy deep enough that the former concern is but a trifle in the trajectory her life has taken. And as much as she has sometimes internally questioned the wisdom of their ongoing support of the Bateses, she knows firsthand that Anna can be trusted implicitly with all of her errant family's somewhat untoward secrets: and she also accepts that any man that Robert asserts to having saved his life, even once, is worthy of their support. These last days have sadly reminded her of just how much she stands to lose if ever anything happens to her Robert. If only he would take more care of himself…she muses for the hundredth time this last week. He is so very stubborn at times. She soon focusses all of her attention solely on him now—for she also knows instinctively that there is much he would not say in front of Mary earlier in the library, and right now, Robert needs her full open-mindedness as he traverses this latest drama in the household's life.

"Murray's sure he can get her out at once." Robert finally voices the beginnings of his concerns. "He's coming up tomorrow."

"Well, that's something." She attempts to prompt without actually prying.

"Yes." He is all grim and downcast again.

"What is it?" She cannot help but jump on the chance to directly prod him into further dialogue. Robert's shoulders relax the moment he knows that the burden of his next decision will actually be shared with his wife and so he is able to settle opposite her dressing chair on the ottoman near the end of their bed.

"In his letter to me, Bates has left instructions for how to get a message through to him.

…An Irish address and telephone number."

Her interest peaks at this first notion that there is actually some small hope for finding her husband's chum and maybe dragging the household, once and for all out of this latest sordid mess. She does feel so very weary with it all, what with the spectre of dear Tom and her darling little Sybbie leaving soon playing at the edges of her mind as well, wondering how on Earth she will be able to support Robert to accept all of that in a semi- gracious manner— the girls, she knows, are already coming around to it, Edith a little more easily than Mary, as is generally the case.

"Has he told anyone else?" she still manages to shield the bulk of her true concerns from him.

"Not as far I as I know…Not Carson." He looks up at her somewhat plaintively, "What do you think I should do?"

Cora's eyes almost roll and glance heavenward as she cannot help but think that if Carson were better informed about all of this from Bates…and Mrs Hughes in her turn, that Robert would feel much more solid about what it is he has to do right now. She swallows down on what would have been an audible sigh and remains flawlessly steady as she offers her eminently sound advice. "What you should do is easy— tell the police. But what I would do is keep it secret until we know more."

Robert looks up at her forlornly, and then down again as he does release an audible sigh for all of this— for all that he must, unfortunately, become to be able to deal with all of this. "Thank heaven we both have a criminal turn of mind" before he looks down somewhat helplessly at the letter in his hands again.

"Come—you are the military man, Lord's Lieutenant Colonel Crawley. Let us just think of it as a tactical manoeuvre. Hmm? Now come, Robert-dear."

Robert looks up at his wife who is already rising and reaching out her hand. As always, she is leagues ahead of him as she leads him towards their bed. And Cora knows the truth of it all right now— that all Robert really wants is to climb into bed and wrap his dear wife up in his arms so that he might be able to forget about this latest battlefront for a while.

oOOo

Tuesday 8th December 1925 Mid-afternoon

Anna ducks her way out of the motor looking pale and wan. She tucks he overcoat and scarf more warmly about her neck as the sharp sunlight pierces her face as she looks up at the lofty clean heights of Downton shrowded in a layer of crisp snow. She squints as if it is a far sharper pain afflicting her, for the sunlight hits like a cloying fairy tale compared to where she has just come from- the grimmest hollow of the grimiest streets of London. Life feels very little like a fairy tale to Anna—inevitably it seems, for in her story-world, it appears she is not destined for a happily ever after with her Nutcracker Soldier Prince with the broken limb.

"I should go in round the back," she says flatly to Mr Murray, glancing past Mr Carson and not meeting the Butler's eye as he exits the main door. She knows Mr Carson is shielding her from any of his judgement by being a perfectly impassive servant, but he also seems to be strangely distracted in his mien. In a way, it is all for the best, for she knows it would be even harder for her if Mr Carson were to show her any pity or concern. It would not be appropriate for either of them and she would likely weep.

"No, no, no. Come this way to say hello to His Lordship," Murray insists, ignoring a slightly raised eyebrow from Carson at the suggestion that it is at all the lawyer's place to offer as much to the staff.

But Murray also knows full well that Robert Crawley would not stand on any ceremony in the case of Anna and John Bates. Murray has worked on their various cases long enough to know that in another world these particular servants would be called family in a heartbeat to many of the Crawleys. Besides which, he knows where Carson is pinned right now and how much he is relying upon the lawyer to come through with the goods on his particular property law case in a timely manner— and he has been more than willing to pay whatever is required to have his plans completed before Christmas. Well-schooled in recognising the best and worst that people can try to hide, Murray also knows that Carson was surreptitiously signalling to him for a quiet moment of his time. He reads it just as well as he could read between the lines of their recent meeting in York. And as old and cynical as Murray has become over the years, and as much as the Bates case has commandeered most of his time and efforts this last couple of months, and this last week in particular, Murray feels a strong need to do something good and true and right for the Christmas season. A man of advancing years like Carson should not be alone, George Murray well knows, as his own dear Milly has been such an absolute brick for him as he has chased hither and yon across the countryside trying to solve this latest dilemma for the Crawleys. Sometimes Murray wonders why he does it—the Crawleys seem to always live more by the skin of their teeth than some of his other aristocratic clients. They have certainly given him more than enough work to be getting on with! Still, they have always paid their bills…. in the end. But aside from the fact that snubbing a member of peerage at this level would prove reputationally imprudent for the firm, George Murray's old Dad always vouched for the integrity of the 6th Earl, and he knows that the 7th Earl follows in his father's footsteps to a very large degree. They all of them must traverse some murky waters in their work, Murray figures, but there is something about the Crawleys that keeps George devoted to their various causes on a more than professional level. He actually does like them...Especially the Old Bat—She could have made a fearsome QC*. And Carson deserves as good a turn as the next hardworking man, Murray figures.

"I saw the car. What a relief." His Lordship smiles so kindly at Anna that she is certain she will weep if he carries on in such a fatherly manner, and then Lady Mary looks as if she might even break through all societal ranks to hug her. Under Carson's stern but unnoticed gaze, Lady Mary just manages to curb her enthusiasm for having her dearest confidante back safely. "We were waiting for it," Lady Mary qualifies unnecessarily and Carson slips back to impassive front-facing attention as soon as he is assured that no untoward outpourings of emotions are about to occur on the front steps of this noble Abbey. Thankfully, Anna is throwing off an edginess and reluctance for human contact that Carson recognises as being similar to the way Mr Bates was when he was first released from hard labour and back into normalcy at Downton.

Anna is perfunctory and to the point, "Yes, but I'm not released, M'Lord. I'm still on bail," the perfect servant she has always been. Carson also recognises this latter factor in a flash and he is ever so glad of it. Their Anna is one tough nut and she will prevail, even despite his recent inability to reassure Mrs Hughes otherwise, Carson knows that he is right to always travel in hope for the beleaguered couple.

"Maybe. But with a signed confession and a man on the run, they could never hope for a guilty verdict." Lord Grantham states with greater surety than he actually feels. It is just like leading good men into battle, Cora was right, he muses.

Carson notes Mr Murray's eyes widening and the clenching of his jaw, which suggests that the lawyer realises more clearly than perhaps His Lordship does at the moment that what Bates has done is hardly a wise move in any pragmatic man's eyes. Murray knows that John Bates will hang this time around once he is caught and there is little Murray can possibly do to stop it.

"And if they find him and prove him innocent, do I go back to prison?" Anna manages to say past the rising lump in her throat. But she will not cry— she will not. For she has spent too many nights on her hard cot in her cold cell doing just that. She just wishes to confirm facts, even though she is too far along this path to think that what John would very easily be found innocent. Vyner has had it in for one or both of them for far too long for her to hold out too much hope that both of them will make it out of this mess alive.

"It is a very frustrating situation." Murray offers, cap in hand and in an understated manner that barely hides the helplessness he actually feels about the current state of affairs. The whole process is bound for tragedy. They all know it but daren't articulate their fears lest they definitely come true too soon.

But Anna soldiers through where others fear to tread, "If he's guilty, I'm innocent.

And if I'm guilty, he's innocent. Except neither of us did it."

"Which is what we must prove." Lady Mary offers, taking up her father's hopeful banner as she sees Anna on the verge of breaking.

"Well You're home now, that's something. At least we're going forward, not backwards," Murray follows up more hopefully and as a means to gird himself for the next onslaught that he will face in this sordid case file. He must be getting on with it. "Ahh-Now, can the car take me to the station?"

"Stark will drive us both," Lord Grantham offers as he flicks a directive eye towards Carson and the butler has clearly pre-empted it and moves immediately to see to the car doors, his face is grimmer than usual as he begins processing all that has happened in these last minutes and still concerned for how he can get a word in with Murray "I have to be in York in half an hour, so I'm leaving now." Mary registers her father's wishes with concern for him and how much he might be hiding from them all about the pain he is in, especially since he had to give up on several days of good shooting at Brancaster, but Anna needs her too and so Lady Mary tries to trust that her Mama has her Papa well in hand with all of that for now. "Ah. Carson, will you tell Her Ladyship where I've gone?" Lord Grantham requests.

"Certainly, My Lord," Carson assures His Lordship, although with some of Lady Mary's concern creeping into the edges of his own current concerns— that perhaps all is not as well as it seems with His Lordship. If only Bates were back! He'd know in seconds if anything were ailing His Lordship. Two appointments in York in as many weeks! But Carson pushes these thoughts aside quickly, even as he has one eye seeking some sort of sign from Murray about his plans, and one ear still on Lady Mary as she appears as antsy as a little school girl wanting to help her friend hurt out in the play yard.

"Do you want to come in this way?" Lady Mary once more curbs her desire to give Anna a hug, for she looks so heavy and forlorn even though she has visibly lost some weight since she has been away. And Mary internally curses, yet again, her particular station in this world when it comes to any sort of close human connection. It is in moments like this she always thinks of her beloved Matthew never returning to her side. But, at least it is a weight in her pockets that she is getting somewhat better at carrying of late.

"No, I'll go 'round by the kitchen courtyard, M'Lady. Might as well get back into the swing of things," Anna assures her, and Lady Mary realises that Anna knows very well the weight of the world, yet she feels impotent in her ability to comfort Anna in any way like the way that her Lady's Maid did when Matthew first died. All she can do is nod in acquiescence, understanding that Anna must feel the need to keep busy right now. She supposes she can offer more to her in the privacy of her bedchamber later this evening when she readies for dinner or her bedtime. She will bide her time until then, knowing that at least Mrs Patmore and Mrs Hughes will likely smother Anna enough in welcome and comfort in the meantime.

Meanwhile, Murray speaks to Carson in a suitably private and hushed tone. "As I am sure you can appreciate, Mr Carson, I have had much to handle on His Lordship's behalf at the moment."

"Of course, Mr Murray."

"However, my young intern, Mr Davis, is very keen to make his mark within the firm. I have entrusted your file to him, and I can assure you he is working as quickly as he is able to. I will, of course, be checking all of his documentation personally before finalising, but I would think we should have a confirmation ready for you within the next fortnight."

"Thank you, Mr Murray. That is good news."

"Yes,…well… I would say this whole house needs some right now…"

"Indeed," Carson agrees in a suitably grave tone, even though he feels flushed with a rising and barely contained elation. Then in the next moment, he feels that he is in dithering despair once more as He catches Lord Grantham's questioning eye upon him and the possible nature of Carson's exchange with Murray.

As Carson closes the door after Murray, and Stark sets the motor in gear, Carson manages to send His Lordship a rather impassive nod in half salute to reassure him that he will 'know when he needs to know' regarding this particular secret. He sees His Lordship release a small sigh of tension that his man can still be trusted to not bowl another googly* at him in the way that Bleeding Barrow did with Stowell and Sinderby at Brancaster.

As the car rubbles of on the driveway, Carson turns a quick heel to see if Lady Mary should need anything from him right now, for if he were to see Mrs Hughes at this moment, he knows that he would be blurting out his news before anything is truly certain about their little house on Brounker Road.

oOOo

A/N: *Googly- a method of bowling a cricket ball that can deceive the batsman into thinking that it will be a leg break, but which then pitches in the opposite direction towards an off-break and possibly getting him out. Readers of my work will know that I have been developing Carson, and even Robert's personas as avid cricketing sportsmen. For more on Carson in relation to cricket, see "Calling Stumps". For more on Googlies, in particular: en. wikipedia wiki/Bernard _ Bosanquet _ (cricketer)

Regards,

BTF :)