I am soooo sorry for letting you wait so long. There was a lot lot lot going on and I just got some new reviews and bumped into FanFiction again remembering I had some other chapters finished but nit published. Here we are!

Have fun!

Short reminder: I don't own any characters :)

CHAPTER 3 – The counterpart

Alice Neal. It had been quite a time since she had played a role in his life. He would not say he lost her to Grigg then, she had made her decision and he had accepted it. He had coped with it and closed that chapter of his life now, but somehow he felt that a completely new one had opened. The new one definitely had nothing, absolutely nothing to do with Alice. She was dead now, he could not get her back and he must admit to himself – he did not want her back.

When Grigg had told him that she had always loved him instead of the man she had shared her life with he was astonished and ashamed.

"She has always loved you. You

It was not his fault, Alice had chosen. He had gone to Downton, but he felt almost guilty that Grigg had spent a life with a woman who had never truly loved him.

When he had told the story to Mrs. Hughes some days earlier he had found himself a bit clumsy. But once it was out he had been relieved and felt better. It had been awkward to discuss this with her, he never had talked about matters like that. He respected her to much and had not wanted to make her feel uncomfortable for saying something inappropriate. Yet, she was the only one he could talk to if he really needed to. He had locked that story away for enough years and he had to put an end to it.

He had gone to bed before she locked up, but he had just put on his pyjamas and when he had been sure everyone was asleep he had gone down again. Fetching himself some tea he had tidied up everything of his mess so no one noticed anyone had been in the kitchen during the night.

Sitting at his desk with his tea in front of him he sighed and kept starring at nothing. He let his gaze wander around the room, searching for anything to tidy up or to polish, but he had done everything earlier and therefore missed his sherry with the housekeeper.

"When exactly will the family leave tomorrow", she had asked politely. He did not respond, so she repeated the was busy at the moment too, he could tell without a doubt. He had sent Thomas and James ahead to prepare everything for the family to arrive in London tomorrow. He was glad he did not have to go, they had enough butlers at the hotel and two of the footmen were already there. Most of the staff would travel to London, but there was no need for him to be there. Yet, he did not know if she was going due to organisation and knowing what was going on. The whole situation was spontaneous and he had missed the moment to ask her and she had not told him.

It did not usually occur that he did not know what her working plans were about. Strangely, this time he did not have a clue. He knew Anna and Ms. Baxter were going, but there was no need for Mrs. Hughes to join them. The feeling of ignorance did not suit him. They shared so many things regarding work, not only information and head positions, but time. Yet, it sometimes seemed they were strangers.

Although they were working together for decades they knew very little about each other. Strange, he thought to himself. Despite their shared life at Downton and the few moments they had together when they met in her sitting room for a wine or a sherry they had never spoken of their relatives, alive or not, nor their lives before their occupation at Downton Abbey.

He knew about Mr. Burns – Joe Burns, was it? – who had proposed to Mrs. Hughes. They had known each other before she had come to the Abbey, but she had refused. Twice. That was everything he knew about her. She never told some old stories or spoke about her time growing up in Scotland. She had grown up on a farm, she had mentioned that once, nothing more. But what had he told her about himself?

Nothing. Well, now she knew the matter concerning Alice. There she was again. His eyes searched for the frame Mrs. Hughes had given to him. With the photo of Alice. It felt so wrong to him to receive a photo framed from a woman who was not the same as on the photo. A strange thought came up to his mind… should he confront her?

"Mrs. Hughes, I wanted to ask you something."

"Well then, here you go."

"It is about the frame…"

"I told you it was a gift and I don't want the money for it."

"To be more precisely about the photo."

"Oh?"

That was the point. How should he explain himself.

"…I would like to change the photo.. but therefore I needed one… from you…"

He realised this was a lot more complicated than he had imagined.

One of the two women had to go, well, not to go, but he thought the woman to give him a photo should be matching with the woman on the photo.

It felt a bit odd to think about this, but he had had the thoughts earlier this day and they kept returning for some days. Despite the fact that Alice was dead now and therefor he could not have her back he did not want her back. It was a nice reminder, her photo on his desk, for the good times they had had together, for their shared laughter and friendship. He liked it, he really did. But if he could have chosen a picture… instead of her he would have wanted another picture he thought, somehow surprised by himself. Yet, he was sure he must admit to himself a bit sheepishly.

He reached for the frame and touched it with his fingertips. He could only imagine how a photo of her would look on that frame. It had been expensive, that was for sure, and he really appreciated that. It was one of the dearest presents, one of the kindest gestures he had received in private. The frame was not a gift from the housekeeper, it was a gift from Elsie Hughes. It took some time for him to see through his foggy thoughts, but he saw something different in that object now. He did not see the photo anymore, he saw the frame … which reminded him of her.

He kept starring at it for ages and sometimes he caught himself wishing for a photo of her. He did not know if she kept some in her pantry, but he would not search for them or steal one. Shaking his head on that disgusting thought he took the frame and held it with both hands. Stroking the edges with his thumbs he closed his eyes and imagined a photo of her inside the frame. He sighed, opened his eyes and carefully put the frame back to its position on his desk. For now he had to live with his imagination, but was reminded of it every time he looked at the frame.

Looking back on his thoughts of the past few minutes he was concerned about himself. He, the butler of Downton Abbey dreaming about such things. If people knew… he was ashamed of himself to let those nearly disgusting and dreadful thoughts dominate his mind. He needed to stop this, right here, right now. Shaking his head he tried to forget about everything. Of course he could not, thus he had to keep it inside, hidden from everybody. Sadly, even from her.

A strange noise made him unsettled and he got up from his chair as quiet as possible. He had closed the door earlier to be certain to be not interrupted or annoyed, but he also could not see if someone was outside. He tiptoed to his door and pressed his ear against it. With his hand on the handle he tried to breath slowly to hear most of the noises outside. He could not make out what the noise had been, but he guessed it had been the kettle. Thus, someone must be down here.

Hearing the shuffling of the kettle he reassured to himself he had been right. Shortly after, he heard footsteps getting closer to his door. Anyone who had noticed his door was closed would know he was down there, anyone who knew him would know. The footsteps were very quiet but after all this time he could tell that these certain footsteps could only belong to one person. Elsie Hughes, the housekeeper of Downton Abbey.

He frowned at the thought of her noticing his closed door, but maybe she had picked up something from the table in the kitchen and had gone the other way round. When the footsteps disappeared he let out a deep exhale noticing he had hold his breath for a while. He did not hear her closing the door, thus he guessed she had gone upstairs again. What a coincidence that both of them were down here at the same time. But maybe he was interpreting too much in this situation. She had a lot to plan for the trip to London and she always needed to reassure that everything was settled and well planned.

He went back to his desk and finished his tea. Smiling to himself for no reason he placed the cup at the edge of the desk to fetch it in the morning. Some notes and contracts caught his attention and somehow he felt the urgent need to do something. Thus, he arranged them and a few minutes went by. He had done some paperwork and there was not too much left for the following day. He could spare that time for a talk with her, a nice chat with some wine… He really had missed that earlier and he felt his heart drop a bit by the thought of missing it. He hoped he had not disappointed her or let her down.

Shaking his head he grumbled and called it a day. He opened his door quietly and put off the lights. When he headed down the hallway he passed the pantry of Mrs. Hughes. He looked a the closed door and went straight forward, heading for the stairs. When he wanted to turn around he stopped. Her door, it was closed. He knew it had been open when he had come down, but who had closed it? He could not recall if he had heard the click of the lock or not, shuffling with his papers had distracted him from other noises.

He guessed she must be in there, but it was almost 2 a.m. and in general everybody including himself would be fast asleep. Something must be upsetting her, he thought, or she is sick… or she was working on preparation things. He did not know, and he did not like it when he did not know. He had to check what was going on, otherwise he could not get a wink of sleep. He cared and began to worry, though there was no reason to. She was a grown-up woman and knew what she was doing, but still… he worried. He cared.

Turning on his heal he listened if there were any noises, but he could not make out a thing. In front of her door he doubted his actions. What if she did not want to be disturbed? But he could justify himself, wondering about a closed door, maybe there was a burglar inside. He knew that it was the most ridiculous excuse, but he did not care about that.

He raised his hand and was about to knock when the door swung open.

Thinking did not really help her at all. She either ended up in tears or would come to the same result – that she was mad or had way too strong feelings. She shook her head and got up from her armchair, putting her cup on the little cupboard. She folded the blanket, lied it on her chair and headed over to her door. Time to go to bed now, she thought as she saw how late it was. But she felt better, the tea had done some calming and getting out of her bedroom had been a relief, too.

She held on to the handle and gazed back across her room as if she had forgotten something. Opening the door she slowly turned her head and wanted to step outside right away but could stop just in time as a shadow covered her body.

"Oh, Mr. Carson!"

I hope you liked the contrary. Stay tuned! I really try to finish some more within the next time :)

Meanwhile I'd be glad about a review!