A/N Thank you so much for all of the kind comments. I appreciate the reviews. I'm sorry it's been so long since the last update. I offer no excuses, only a legitimate reason: life has been very busy, and there's no way around it. I do appreciate all of the nice requests for more of this story, and I'm pleased to be able finally to have something for you.
The next morning, as he was dressing in his room, Mr. Carson frowned. The seam at the shoulder of his morning coat was coming apart. He'd have to mend it. Fortunately, he did have a few minutes to spare. It was, of course, his habit to rise and ready himself early enough to allow time for such unforeseen delays. As he gathered his sewing supplies and sat down on his bed to mend his torn garment, his mind drifted away from the tasks of the day ahead, wandering instead in the direction of days past.
November 1905
Mr. Carson had just returned from an errand in the village and was removing his overcoat. "Blast!" he cried as one of its buttons fell to the ground at his feet. He hung the coat on a hanger on the back of his pantry door, and as he bent to retrieve the button, Mrs. Hughes appeared at the other door to his pantry, which he'd left open.
"You're back, then. Is everything all right?" she asked. "You were gone longer than I thought you'd be."
He stood and turned to greet her, still holding the errant button. "Yes, well, unfortunately, there's been a problem with our order, and it's been delayed. Mr. Thomas says it won't be ready until Friday," he told her with some annoyance.
"Well, that's certainly inconvenient, but I daresay we'll manage," she said soothingly.
"I suppose we must," he said with a resigned sigh. "Everything all right here?"
"Yes, all is well, only his lordship would like to see you when you've a moment."
"Nothing's wrong, I hope. Did he say why?" Mr. Carson worried.
"I don't think it's anything serious," she told him. "Something about the arrangements for the shoot next week."
"Right. I'll go up straightaway."
He set his button down on his side table and went in search of the earl.
That evening, after an exceptionally busy day, Mr. Carson finally had a few free minutes in which he might sew his button back onto his coat. He approached his table, expecting to find the button where he'd left it, but he was dismayed not to find it there. He looked everywhere on the surface of the table, checked the floor beneath the table, and searched the surrounding area, but the button was nowhere to be found. He huffed in frustration. Since he had no extra button to match the ones on his coat, he would need to replace them all. He only hoped Mr. Watson* might have some suitable buttons in his sewing kit and would be willing to part with them.
Mr. Carson went to get his coat from its hanger, intending to remove a button so that he could show Mr. Watson and ask if he had some similar articles. But when Mr. Carson inspected the coat, he found that the button in question had already been replaced. At first, he was confused, wondering several things at once: how anyone would even know that it had come off, who it was that would be bold enough to go snooping about his pantry, and why that person would fix it for him. It didn't take him very long, however, to recall that Mrs. Hughes had been there when he lost it and to surmise that she must have been the one who replaced it for him.
He was decidedly uncomfortable at the thought that Mrs. Hughes had mended his clothing. It seemed a very intimate gesture, and Mr. Carson had always been determined to avoid any hint of intimacy. In his position, any closeness or personal attachment only proved a liability. It was wiser to keep his distance. He thought he should be upset with Mrs. Hughes for being so presumptuous: after all, she'd entered his pantry and disturbed his personal effects! Still, he could not find it within himself to be cross with her. She'd done him a kindness, as she had so often before. And so he obtained a few necessary items and went to her sitting room.
When he knocked on the frame of her open door, she turned from her desk to greet him. "Oh, Mr. Carson. Do come in."
He held in his hands a decanter and two glasses. "I wonder if I might join you. Would you care for a glass of sherry?"
Mrs. Hughes looked pleased at the prospect. "Why, thank you! That would be a welcome treat. Come in, and let's have a chat." She set aside her work, stood, and met him at her table, and the two sat down. Mr. Carson poured two glasses of sherry and handed one to Mrs. Hughes.
As they sipped their drinks companionably, he said, "I want to thank you, Mrs. Hughes. I presume it was you who sewed the button back onto my coat."
She deflected his thanks with a wave of her hand. "Oh, think nothing of it, Mr. Carson. I saw that it had come off, and I knew you were busy this afternoon. I had a few minutes to spare, and so I thought I would take care of it for you. It was no trouble."
"Well, I'm most grateful," he told her sincerely.
As they continued to chat for a few minutes about household matters and about topics of personal interest, Mr. Carson reflected that he'd become better at graciously accepting Mrs. Hughes's benevolent deeds instead of responding with his usual bluster and ingratitude. He was proud of himself, and he hoped that he might also find opportunities in the future to return her kindness.
Unfortunately for Mr. Carson, there were still occasions when he forgot the progress he'd been making and later regretted his unkind behavior.
September 1912
Coming down from upstairs in a foul mood, Mr. Carson arrived in the servants' hall and barked, "William? Are you aware the seam at your shoulder is coming apart?"
"I - I felt it go a bit earlier," the poor footman admitted sheepishly. "I'll mend it when we turn in."
"You will mend it now," demanded Mr. Carson, "and you will never again appear in public in a similar state of undress!"
"No, Mr. Carson," William replied dejectedly.
The butler, unable to calm himself, continued his lecture. "To progress in your chosen career, William, you must remember that a good servant at all times retains a sense of pride and dignity that reflects the pride and dignity of the family he serves. And never make me remind you of it again!" And with that, Mr. Carson left the poor lad to lick his wounds.
Fortunately for Mr. Carson, however, his lapses were usually temporary, and he almost always found ways to soften his misdeeds.
Later that evening, William knocked on the butler's door, and Mr. Carson called, "Come in."
"Mr. Carson, you wanted to see me?" said the footman.
Mr. Carson stood from his seat behind his desk. "Ah, William. Yes. Do come in. I wanted to speak to you about the incident earlier this evening. Have you mended your seam?"
"Yes, Mr. Carson. Daisy helped me. I'd have done it myself, but she insisted."
"That was kind of her." Mr. Carson came around his desk to inspect the repaired seam at William's shoulder. "She's done a fine job."
"I'm sorry about it, and it won't happen again," promised the lad.
"I'm sure it won't," the butler said gently. He paused and looked at the younger man seriously before continuing. "William, I understand that sometimes these things happen: seams tear. But you must take care to remedy such problems at the first opportunity. You play the piano well, and everyone was enjoying your music earlier. I won't deny you that, and I won't begrudge you a few minutes of enjoyment. But it should have waited until you'd taken care of the business with your coat."
"Yes, Mr. Carson."
"You're a good worker, William, and a fast learner. You have great potential, and I want to see you succeed. You must always do your best – and look your best. Now, I've got my eye on you, and I expect great things. I'm confident you can live up to such lofty expectations."
The footman smiled slightly, understanding the trust and faith his superior was placing in him. "Yes, Mr. Carson. You can count on me."
"I know you won't disappoint me. Very well, then," returned Mr. Carson with a nod. "Be off with you. It's getting late."
"Thank you, Mr. Carson. Good night."
"Good night, William. Sleep well."
Mr. Carson reluctantly relinquished his musings, finished mending the seam in his morning coat, inspected his work, deemed his efforts satisfactory, and headed downstairs to begin the day's work.
Sometime later, as he sat as his desk, taking a moment to himself and drinking a cup of tea, Andrew came into his office.
"Morning post, Mr. Carson," announced the footman.
"Thank you, Andrew," the butler replied, taking the stack of envelopes from the lad. "Is everything all right upstairs?"
"Yes, Mr. Carson. It's all well in hand. Mr. Barrow is attending his lordship right now."
"Good, good. Then go see if Mrs. Patmore and Daisy need anything. If they don't, then you're welcome to take a few minutes for yourself until you're needed again."
"Right you are. Thank you, Mr. Carson," Andrew said, and he hurried off to do as he'd been instructed.
As Mr. Carson sorted through the post, he found the very item for which he'd been anxiously waiting: a response from Mrs. Hughes. He held the envelope in his hands for only a moment before he slit it open and removed the paper within. Mrs. Hughes's reply was short, but it pleased and reassured him.
Dear Mr. Carson,
You are entirely too kind, as you always have been. When I wrote asking you to meet me, I didn't dare to hope that you might be able to make arrangements so soon! I sincerely hope it's not too much bother; I trust you haven't inconvenienced yourself on my account.
I shall be very happy to join you at the tea shop on Monday afternoon. I must admit that when I wrote, I doubted whether you'd be willing or able to see me at all. And now to discover that our reunion is to occur much sooner than I could have anticipated! Well! It makes me happier than I can say to know that I shall see you again so soon.
I look forward to our meeting. Thank you, once again, for your kindness.
Ever yours,
E. Hughes
Mr. Carson sat back in his chair for a moment, staring at the note: the tangible confirmation that he would indeed be seeing Mrs. Hughes again in two days. Until recently, he'd been almost afraid to allow himself to believe he would ever see her again. But now, he allowed his heart to believe, and that hopeful belief filled him with an irrepressible joy … and a resulting impatience for Monday afternoon to arrive.
A/N * You'll recall that Mr. Watson was Lord Grantham's valet before Mr. Bates arrived. I'm not sure whether he was around as early as 1905, but for the purposes of this chapter, I'm going to pretend that he was.
I can't promise when or how frequently this story might be updated. I can promise, however, that I won't abandon it. Please review if possible. I know I say it all the time, but it matters to me. It's true: knowing that people like my writing makes me want to write more. And it's also true that I'm extremely grateful to everyone who takes the time and makes the effort to leave some comments.
Oh, and I do promise we're getting to their reunion very soon. It will probably occur in the chapter after the next one or possibly the one after that.