It was a glorious spring morning full of sunshine and the promise of warmer weather and new life. Trees, no longer bare and forlorn looking, were draped in splashes of green, here and there sprouted colors of yellow and white as daffodils bloomed while buds on shrubs and bushes promised an array of more color, and the air had that fresh scent of newly plowed fields. Mrs. Hughes had taken advantage of the weather to walk to the post office herself rather than send one of the footmen and thinking that there was nothing dire requiring her speedy return she took a detour to the garage.

As she ambled down the path towards the garage she wasn't sure why she had this motherly concern for Downton's newest employee. He wasn't under her supervision but then as chauffeur Mr. Branson wasn't part of the usual breakdown of servants into those working in the house and those working on the grounds. In many ways he was the most independent of the servants.

Until she had brought him to the garage that first day of his employment she hadn't ever visited the garage. Recalling how appalled he had been at the state of the garage she was curious as to what changes he had made. As befitting the weather the garage doors were wide open allowing the sunshine to flow in. From the doorway Mrs. Hughes saw the young lad sitting at the workbench, his hands busy with a rag cleaning something. Before interrupting him she looked around noting the cleanliness of the place, some tools hanging neatly from a peg board that had been nailed to one wall while other things were stacked neatly in the far corner. Both motor cars were shiny as if just recently polished.

"It is allowed for you to enter." There was a hint of amusement in the Irish voice.

Mrs. Hughes turned to face him as he rose from his chair, the smile on his face welcoming. "You look like you've settled in here. I see you've put things in order here" she said as she stepped into the garage.

"It's nice to have the space" he replied as he looked around the garage. "I've been pleasantly surprised at all the tools that were here and I've been able to stock up on some needed supplies." He looked back at her and then reaching for his green jacket which was neatly draped on a hook on the wall asked "am I needed for something?"

Shaking her head she replied "you needn't put on your jacket. I was just on my way back from the post office and thought I'd take advantage of this fine weather and bring you your post."

Taking the letter from her he smiled as he noted the Irish return address on the envelope.

"We're both a long way from home" her Scottish accent a bit more pronounced than usual but there was a bit of sadness too as she realized it had been a long long time since she had been home but then again she didn't really have much family left.

"Is this your first time away?" she asked.

"First time so far away" he responded as he laid the unopened letter on the workbench. Instead of looking at her he stared out the window over the workbench. "At least my last employment was close enough that I could come home on my days off. And several times a year she went to Dublin for shopping and stayed overnight so I'd see my family then."

Watching him look forlornly out the window her heart ached a bit. She didn't need to ask him why he had left home to come here for she knew, just like her, his family needed the money.

Hoping to change the conversation she asked "How about your cottage … is there anything you need there?"

He turned to her and smiled, a smile that was genuine and lit up his face and she couldn't help but think there could be trouble if he looked at the young housemaids like that. "My last employment I had a tiny room up in the attic and I grew up sharing a bedroom with my three brothers so having a house all to myself is a treat. It's nice having some place quiet to read at the end of the day."

He looked back towards the window. "But sometimes it reminds me how alone I am."


"You look rather harried Mr. Carson" said Mrs. Hughes as she watched him lumber down the hallway.

"As if I don't have enough to do now I'm a library monitor" he gruffly replied.

Raising her brow as she tilted her head "oh?" she murmured.

"Mr. Branson informed me that he'd taken his lordship to the railway station and said it might be a good time for him to use the library. As if I should drop everything to see if the library was available for him." He wasn't getting any calmer as he talked.

"I think it's rather admirable that the lad is interested in reading."

"Books on capitalism and socialism and … and" Carson shook his head "who knows what he's planning."

"I very much doubt he's planning a revolution."

Carson glared at her. "I wouldn't count on that. You've heard some of that political nonsense he's spouted in the servants hall."

"Oh yes. Better working conditions for factory workers and school for children rather than working. My my we can't have that."

"Are you becoming a socialist Mrs. Hughes?"

"Hardly. But certainly even you can see that an eight year old child has no place working in mill."

"But I haven't told you the worst of it."

"Now you do have my interest."

"When I went up to the library to see if he had left do you know what I found?"

"He was sitting in his lordship's chair drinking a brandy?" She was actually rather amused at how perturbed Carson was.

Unbelievably Carson's glare sharpened. "He was talking to Lady Sybil."


It had become somewhat of a habit these days for Mrs. Hughes to take a walk, just a short walk, just time enough to enjoy a few minutes of sunshine. It was soothing, like having a cup of tea, to take a few minutes to put aside all the cares and worries that came with being the housekeeper and concentrate on nothing but the sun and the sky and the landscape around her.

She was surprised to see him leaning against the split rail fence. She craned her neck a bit to see what might have captured his interest and as she drew nearer to him saw in the distance a doe and two fawns.

He jumped at the sound of her voice even though she had practically whispered. "Mrs. Hughes" he said in surprise. She in turn was surprised that the normally buttoned up chauffeur was jacketless, his tie was loosened and dangled down his shirt of which the top button was undone. His normally slicked back hair was tousled as if he had been running his hand through it. "I wouldn't expect to see you out here."

"I could probably say the same thing about you" she replied.

"Someone recently told me that one couldn't feel down or upset when they looked at the beauty of the nature around them."

His statement caused her to quirk her brow. "And are you feeling down or upset?"

He took a deep breath. "I've … I've just spent over two hours in the motor car with Lady Mary and Lady Edith." Then realizing what he had said he ran his hand around his forehead and then through his hair. "I guess I shouldn't have said that."

She gave a slight chuckle. "No worry lad" she said as she patted his hand. Then added "I'm not Mr. Carson" causing him to laugh.

They stood in silence watching the doe and her fawns chew contentedly on the grass.

She tried thinking of something diplomatic say. She wasn't like Mr. Carson who thought the world of the family. To him they could do no wrong especially Lady Mary. "Lady Mary and Lady Edith can be a handful just don't let it get you down."

Once again he ran his hand through his hair. "Lady Sybil was right. It does help to take in the beauty of the nature around you."

"Lady Sybil dispensed this wisdom?"

He turned and faced her before quickly looking away. "Sometimes they do talk to me you know… at least some of them." Certainly not Lady Edith and definitely not Lady Mary.

Lady Mary was the last of the family he met for she was in London the week he arrived at Downton. He had overhead snippets of gossip in the servants hall and had concluded that the consensus was that she was beautiful but haughty, could be difficult and that much of the staff was rather afraid of her.

He was delayed getting to the railway station by five or ten minutes since at the last moment he had to drive old lady Grantham home.

It was quite easy for Tom to determine that the well-dressed woman standing on the end of the platform, impatiently tapping her foot was Lady Mary. As he approached her he noted that although she had the dark hair of her mother and youngest sister, she didn't have their sparkling blue eyes. Her eyes looked as black as night, especially with her very pale complexion, and there was certainly no warmth in them as she looked at him.

"I'm sorry my lady but .."

"Taylor was always on time" she growled cutting off Tom in mid-sentence as she marched passed him to the open passenger door of the motor car where she then stood waiting for him to help her into her seat.

There was no conversation during the short ride from the railway station to the abbey. Tom kept glancing at her through the mirror noticing that she sat with her back ramrod straight and her head turned facing the window.

Arriving back at the abbey, "Welcome home my lady" Carson gushed as he opened the passenger door.

"I don't expect to be kept waiting at the railway station Carson" Mary responded. "Maybe you need to impress upon the new chauffeur of what is expected of him."

Carson glared at Tom. "I'll ensure that it won't happen again my lady."

As Tom waited for the footman to finish unloading her suitcases, he watched the back of Lady Mary and Carson as they walked towards the open doors of the house. Those descriptions were only partly right he thought, she is haughty but the beauty in the family is the lovely Lady Sybil.

"If we're alone his lordship will often talk." He chuckled "you'd probably be surprised Old Lady Grantham can be quite chatty."

"Old Lady Grantham?" Now that was astonishing thought Mrs. Hughes.


"I knew he would be trouble. I told you that." Mr. Carson stood in front of Mrs. Hughes' desk. "I told you that when he first arrived."

Whereas she had laughed off Carson's alarm at Branson wanting to read his lordship's books and calling him an Irish radical, this was a bit more serious.

"He'll be lucky if his lordship doesn't fire him."

"Mr. Carson I'm not sure all the blame rests with Mr. Branson."

"Wh.. wh…what" a flabbergasted Carson mumbled.

"You know well Lady Sybil is quite capable of finding trouble on her own. Surely you can recall times you sat here and bemoaned her childhood antics."

"This is quite different Mrs. Hughes from putting a frog in her sister's crayon box."

"Wasn't it just a few weeks ago that you told me about Lady Sybil going to hear the Liberal candidate speak and although his lordship thought it was Branson's idea Lady Sybil stated that wasn't the case."

"I don't understand Mrs. Hughes why you are defending the man. Lady Sybil was hurt."

"I just think it may not be all his fault."

Tom watched as the last of the servants scurried off to complete their assigned tasks. Sitting alone at the large wooden table in the servants hall he had a second cup of tea and a day old Yorkshire Post on the table in front him but he sat starring off into space.

"You look quite pensive this morning." Tom looked up to see the face of the kindly housekeeper.

"I … I … I didn't take her there. I'm not a lunatic." Tom looked down at his cup of tea. "She told me she had some charity meeting." He looked up at Mrs. Hughes. "That's where I thought we were going."

Mrs. Hughes sat down beside him. "I think his lordship realizes now it wasn't your fault."

"She could have cost me my job" the pain clear in his voice as he slowly shook his head.

"Lady Sybil has many wonderful qualities but she is also very headstrong and very stubborn." Mrs. Hughes reached out and laid her hand on his arm. "And she is very young and in many ways rather naïve."

She patted his arm. "Learn from this my lad."