The Return of the Native
Spring 1920
She vowed to love John for better or for worse—this was his worst, there was no doubt about it. She hoped it was... and she prayed to God, and to whoever else listening, that he would never have to see her at her own worst. Because seeing him unjustly locked away in prison was torture for her. Part of her was thankful they were dealing with his worst and not her own. He was so passionate when it came to his love for her—he could be capable of anything in the wrong moment, in his worst moment.
"So, Lady Edith is getting married," he said, a gentle smile forming on his face. He did his best to hide his worry, his exhaustion, but the dark bags under his eyes gave him away.
Nevertheless, he would never admit to her he had worries, and he needed a distraction from it all, so she retorted: "Lord Grantham isn't too pleased about it, neither is the Dowager Countess, but Lady Edith seems very much in love with Sir Anthony."
His hand slid over to find hers. "No touching," ordered the guard watching over them. Reluctantly, he pulled away.
"And that's all that matters," he said.
"Yes," she agreed, wanting only to kiss him, "that is all that matters." She sighed, looking up at the officer, who stood dutiful and tall near the door. "Of course everyone downstairs aren't too thrilled about it, either—Mrs. Patmore, especially. We've only got a couple months to organize the perfect wedding. Everyone's running around trying to do things last minute. And with Hughie coming Monday—"
"Hughie?"
"Oh, it slipped my mind. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes's son will be staying at Downton for a bit."
"Their son?" he said. "He's still just a boy, isn't he?"
"I think he must be about twelve now," she said.
"It will be nice having a child's presence at Downton," he said.
"I hope so," she said. "No one's quite sure why he's coming, but Mr. Barrow has Daisy and the maids all in a frenzy about it." Earlier that morning, before Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes arrived, he was going on about how people like Hughie were caged up and treated like animals, and he suspected the poor boy was beginning to think and act like one too, so the school had no choice but to "release him back into the wild," as Mr. Barrow put it. "He can be so cruel sometimes."
John's smile faded. "I'm afraid some people do not know how to live any other way."
"Isn't it all exciting, mama," said Edith. "It feels like our lives are changing so quickly. Sybil's pregnant—Mary quite possibly is too. And I'm getting married." She looked around the room, a look of wonder on her face. "Soon this room will be filled with all of our children, laughing and playing, and performing little puppet shows in the corner like we did when we were little."
All Cora could do was smile at her dear Edith as Robert turned from them, hiding his expression of doubt from his middle child's eyes.
Sybil and Tom entered the room with Mary following close behind.
"Has tea not yet arrived?" asked Mary as the three of them took their seats across from Cora and Edith.
"Carson's bringing it up now," said Robert. He turned back to them. "Is Mathew not joining us?"
"He's having tea with cousin Isobel..." she said, then flinched slightly. "I suppose since we are married now, I should be calling her something else—but mother and mama don't feel quite right to me."
The door opened and Carson entered the room with Alfred behind him holding the tea tray.
"I'm sure you'll both come to an agreement on something," said Cora sweetly. She turned to Carson and watched as he and Alfred prepared their tea. "Carson, have you settled a date on when you'll be getting Hughie?"
"We have, milady," he said, dutifully handing her a prepared cup of tea. "We'll be retrieving him on Monday. I do apologize for the inconvenience—it was the only available time."
"That's quite all right."
"Is Hughie coming for a visit?" asked Sybil.
"That's wonderful," said Tom politely. "I should be glad to meet him."
"Hughie?" questioned Robert, giving Cora a quizzical look. Alfred handed him his tea and he sipped it.
There was a quick beat of silence before Mary said, "Surely you remember Hughie, papa. Carson and Mrs. Hughes's little boy."
Cora watched as recollection sprung on her husband's face, then discern, before finally settling on a neutral look. "Oh, yes of course," he said. "The b... Hughie." He coughed. "Why's he coming to Downton?"
Cora and Carson shared a quick look—to respect Mrs. Hughes's privacy, she kept silent about her possible illness to Robert. And the dinner the other night distracted her from telling him about Hughie's visit. She gave her husband an apologetic look.
"This is Hughie's home, papa. Why should there be a reason?" said Sybil.
"Will you and Mrs. Hughes be gone the whole day?" asked Cora.
"We should be back after luncheon, milady," he told her. His eyes went to Robert. "I am sorry, milord—I thought surely her ladyship would have told you."
"No, of course she did," said Robert. "It just... slipped my mind for a moment." He waved to the door. "That will be all, Carson—we can manage ourselves now."
"Yes, milord," he said with a bow.
"You could have been a little less rude about it, papa," said Mary with a roll of her eyes after Carson and Alfred had gone.
"The one true reminder that my butler is not as loyal as other butlers in other great houses is about to make an appearance at Downton," he said. "I think I have the right to be as rude as I please."
"I would think, if anything, Hughie is the one reminder that your butler is as loyal as all the other butlers," said Edith. "He was sent away so he would no longer interfere with their work here, wasn't he?"
"I am sorry for not telling you, dear," said Cora to Robert. "With everything going on, it slipped my mind."
"I'm not sure I know the full story," said Tom. "I only know they have a son and that he's blind."
"Blind and dumb," said Mary.
"Oh, how I hate that terminology," said Sybil.
"Carson and Mrs. Hughes married some years ago," explained Mary. "My stubbornness allowed Carson to stay—and eventually Mrs. Hughes."
"And no one expected there to be a baby. They were quite old, you see," Cora continued on. "Mrs. Hughes resigned shortly after finding out. The baby was born and she stayed home to care for the poor thing while Carson remained butler here. Eventually, I suppose, it became too much for her to handle. She was fifty with a blind four year old in her care—she must have been exhausted. They sent him away to a school for special children near Sheffield."
"And after much persuasion from Carson, we rehired her as Housekeeper," said Robert. "It also helped that her replacement was a complete maniac—what was that woman's name? Mrs. Digby?"
"Horrid woman," agreed Mary with a shiver.
"How long will he be staying?" asked Robert to Cora.
"For as long as they want him to," she said firmly.
He sipped his tea. "I hope it isn't too long. I suppose you offered to hire someone to take care of him."
"I offered, but Mrs. Hughes declined."
"Good," he said. "I doubt we could afford it, anyway."
"I can look after him," offered Sybil.
"That is very kind of you, Sybil darling," said Cora.
"I should think Mrs. Hughes would want to care for him herself," said Edith. "She is his mother, after all."
"But if Mrs. Hughes is busy taking care of Hughie," said Mary, "who will plan your wedding, Edith?" She sipped her tea thoughtfully.
"I will, of course," said Edith with a pained expression.
Robert sighed and placed his now empty tea cup back onto the tray. "This whole world has gone mad," he muttered. "I'm just thankful my grandfather is long dead—and not here to see Downton as it is now."
"If he's not able to speak properly, how will we know what he needs," asked Alfred.
Mrs. Patmore sat reclined in her desk chair with a tea cup in her hands. Daisy stood scrubbing a dirty pan at the sink, her face as pale as a ghost.
"He had no trouble voicing his dislikes when he were little," said Mrs. Patmore, remembering all too well the young boy's terrible tantrums. "I'm sure if he needs something, he'll let everyone know in his own... special way."
"What if he has to use the toilet, but he isn't able to speak up about it," said Daisy, "and he just wets himself?" Alfred began to snicker. "It isn't funny, Alfred—I'll be the one having to clean it up probably."
Alfred laughed even harder. Mrs. Patmore was tempted to join him when she saw the large figure of Mr. Carson enter the kitchen.
"And what, may I ask, is so amusing, Alfred?"
Alfred's face went neutral and he stood tall with his eyes facing forward, like a soldier waiting on orders from his commanding officer, and Daisy started scrubbing the pan in her hands even harder, avoiding Mr. Carson's frightful eyes.
"Nothing, Mr. Carson," said Alfred with a slight shakiness in his voice.
Mr. Carson's eyes looked curiously at Daisy, then back at Alfred. "Not spreading tasteless gossip, I hope," he said.
"No, Mr. Carson," said Alfred with a slight cough.
"Right." He pulled at his vest, making sure it still looked tidy. "If you're looking for something to do," said Mr. Carson, "might I suggest giving the silver a good polish."
"Right away, Mr. Carson," said Alfred with a nod.
"You're a hard worker, Alfred. I see butler material in you and I would hate to see that potential go to waste."
"Thank you, Mr. Carson."
Daisy glanced their way, then her eyes immediately retreated back to the pan in her hands.
"Are you quite well, Daisy?" asked Mr. Carson, raising one of his thick eyebrows.
"Yes, Mr. Carson," she said, refusing to look at him.
He turned to Mrs. Patmore for answers. "She's just a bit distracted at the moment," she said, placing her tea cup on her desk and standing.
"As we all are, Mrs. Patmore," said Mr. Carson. "As we all are." He led Mrs. Patmore out of the kitchen. "Might Mrs. Hughes and I have a quick word with you in my pantry?"
"Of course," she said, feeling an uneasiness settle in her stomach. Perhaps she should have put an end to Daisy and Alfred's gossip.
"A lump?"
"Yes—but I'd prefer it if you kept your voice down, Mrs. Patmore," said Mrs. Hughes. "This isn't exactly something I want to have shouted in the great hall... or anywhere else, for that matter."
"Well, what do you want me to do about it? I'm not Dr. Clarkson," said Mrs. Patmore. "You should be telling him all this. Not me."
"We already have," said Mr. Carson. "And we're waiting for the results."
"So, it hasn't been confirmed whether it is... cancer," said Mrs. Patmore. "Not yet?"
"No, not yet," said Mrs. Hughes, her eyes drifting to the floor.
"Is this why you're wanting Hughie here with you?"
"It is," confirmed Mr. Carson.
"Well, to tell you the truth, we've been wanting him back home for quite a while now," said Mrs. Hughes.
"We had only been discussing it," said Mr. Carson firmly.
"But—why are you telling me all this?" asked Mrs. Patmore. "Do you need me to take a peak down there—get a second opinion on it?"
Mr. Carson looked horrified. "We most certainly do not." His hand found hers and she gently stroked the top of his hand with her thumb to calm him. He let out a deep sigh and started again: "With Lady Edith's wedding drawing near..."
Mrs. Patmore nodded in understanding. "You want me to take on some of Mrs. Hughes's duties for her, is that it?"
"That's not quite what Mr. Carson is wanting from you, no," said Mrs. Hughes.
"I just want you to keep an eye on her, Mrs. Patmore—only when I'm not available to do so myself," he said. "In case she should start feeling tired... or worn down."
"I'm not dead yet," reminded Mrs. Hughes gently.
"I'm so happy Hughie's returning to Downton," said Sybil as she climbed into bed and into her husband's loving arms. "I was beginning to lose hope I'd ever see him again."
"You were fond of him, were you?"
"I liked him very much," said Sybil. "Mrs. Patmore called me the Hughie whisperer because he would always quiet down once I held him in my arms."
"I've heard stories—gossip, really," said Tom. "He was blind and... and mute, and he caused a lot of chaos while he was here at Downton."
"I think he once bit Dr. Clarkson," she said with a slight chuckle. "No one quite understood him while he was here. Not even me. He was something new, something different. He did things his own way—ignoring all of society's rules and values."
Tom smiled. "Then I suspect we'll get along famously."
Charlie and Elsie stood side by side on the nearly empty platform—only a few other people occupied the area: a young woman in an extravagant red dress, looking much too fanciful for catching an early train; two men in suits, perhaps on their way to a business meeting of some sort; and a young couple with their small children.
Charlie let out a deep sigh as he reached for his watch. "The train's late," he commented with a hint of irritation, placing it securely back into his vest pocket.
"We're in no rush, Charlie," said Elsie.
"Were you able to speak with him? To prepare him beforehand?" he asked. "You know how he is with sudden change."
"I know how you are with sudden change," she said with a gentle smile. She shook her head. "Mrs. Shelton wouldn't allow it—but she made sure he knew we were coming."
"I don't wish to shock him, Elsie, that's all," he said.
"I don't believe this will shock him," she said. "Confuse him maybe, but not shock."
He cleared his throat. "And... are you certain you wish to remain silent about the real reason he's leaving Lloyd Andrews?"
"The real reason is we miss him dearly and we want him home with us," she said. "Besides, I don't want to worry him—not when there might not be anything for him to worry about."
Anna entered the kitchen with the intent to have a cup of tea and perhaps a conversation with Mrs. Patmore and Daisy, but the crowd of servants all bundled together stopped that idea in its tracks. "What's this?" she asked one of the maids.
"They should be here any moment," said the maid, "Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes, and their... boy."
Alfred and Miss O'Brien entered the room after her, looking as curious as all the others.
"I heard he's awful to look at," said Daisy.
"Perhaps when the fair comes 'round, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes will put him up on display," said Mr. Barrow. "Five pounds to look at him. Ten to poke him with a stick."
"They're coming up the path now," Mrs. Patmore called out as she rushed back into the kitchen.
Daisy looked almost sickly as she paced the kitchen floor. "Maybe I shouldn't be here... I haven't got strongest stomach."
"If he's as disfigured as everyone says he is, I reckon you'll be dead the moment you lay eyes on him, Daisy," said Mr. Barrow. He eyed Miss O'Brien. "Perhaps he'll do the opposite for you and bring you back to life."
Daisy let out a nervous breath.
"Don't listen to him, Daisy," said Anna softly. "I'm sure it's all an exaggeration."
The room fell silent as the servant's door creaked open in the distance and footsteps drew nearer.
Mr. Carson was the first to enter the kitchen, his coat open and his bowler hat pressed against his stomach. He looked surprised to see them all standing there, and his hand fidgeted slightly as he greeted them with a gentle wave of his hat: "Hello all," he said.
Everyone mostly retorted various forms of greetings back to him, all except Daisy, who remained silent. Mr. Carson took notice.
"Daisy, are you quite well?" asked Mr. Carson.
"Yes, Mr. Carson," she managed to utter out. "Only... I think I might have caught something. Might I go and rest for a bit?"
"Yes, of course," he said.
"But before you go up, Daisy," said Mrs. Hughes's voice. Mr. Carson stepped aside. She entered the kitchen holding the hand of neither beast or demon but rather a small boy. "Come meet Hughie," she said, a gentle smile springing to her face.
He was short, standing just below his mother's shoulders, and skinny. Around him he wore a faded red coat too big for his stature. He had Carson's hooked nose and Mrs. Hughes's pale skin, and his eyes were all his own—Anna knew that much. But in that moment they were shut tight and facing the direction of the floor.
Atop his head he wore a grey cap—and when his father, with an uneasy cough, removed it from his head, it revealed untidy dark brown hair instead of demon horns.
Anna looked at everyone around her—Daisy looked greatly relieved; Mr. Barrow looked disappointed; and everyone else seemed a mixture of both. She turned back to the young boy.
"Hello Hughie," Anna greeted kindly.
They all waited, but the boy did not respond—and his head did not lift, or even twitch, to indicate he had heard her.
Mrs. Patmore placed her hand onto the freshly clean table before her. The gentle tap on the hard surface was what got Hughie's attention, for he moved his head towards her instead.
"Have you had anything to eat?" said Mrs. Patmore after a moment of awkward silence.
"We ate on the train," said Mr. Carson.
"How about some tea, then?" she said.
"That would be lovely," said Mrs. Hughes. "Thank you."
Mrs. Patmore gestured towards Daisy to retrieve the kettle, pulling them all out of the frozen trance they all suddenly realized they had been under.
"Shouldn't you be heading upstairs, Daisy," asked Mrs. Hughes, a concerned look on her face.
"I'm actually feeling a lot better now, Mrs. Hughes."
"I think Mr. Barrow might have scared Daisy into thinking her symptoms were a lot worse than they actually were," said Anna. She looked at Mr. Barrow and he tilted his head, avoiding her gaze.
"Might Hughie want a biscuit or two with his tea?" asked Mrs. Patmore.
"Why don't you ask him," said Mrs. Hughes. She herself looked at the boy, giving his arm an encouraging shake.
Mrs. Patmore nodded nervously before turning to Hughie. "MIGHT... YOU... WANT... A... B—"
"I'm blind not deaf," said Hughie softly—a voice of a sweet child, not a demon. He pulled away from his mother and made to exit the kitchen alone, nearly bumping into his father in the process.
"A biscuit with tea sounds lovely," said Mrs. Hughes, breaking the uncomfortable beat of silence. "Thank you, Mrs. Patmore."
She grabbed Hughie by his shoulders and gently led him to the servant's hall, leaving Mr. Carson to face the others alone.
He cleared his throat and adjusted his coat. "Shouldn't you all be working?" he said sternly, and the servants disbanded quickly until only Mr. Carson, Mrs. Patmore, Daisy and Anna stood in the kitchen.
With a gentle nod aimed at the three women, Mr. Carson followed his wife out.
"That were a relief," muttered Mrs. Patmore to Daisy. "He didn't come in screaming, I'm satisfied."