The evening post the next day brought two letters from Mr. Carson. One was delivered upstairs to Lord Grantham. The other was delivered to Mrs. Hughes, downstairs.

Dear Mrs. Hughes,

I am sorry to begin our Seasonal correspondence with such sad tidings, but I am afraid the news I have to share is bittersweet. I did make it to St. James's in time to see Paul before he died. I hope my presence was a comfort to him, but I am not sure that he knew me. His fever was very high when I arrived and never broke. He mistook Jack for his son and seemed unsure of who I was. Still, he was not alone at the end, but surrounded by friendly faces. I think there must be nothing so frightening as facing the unknown alone. At least he was spared that final distress.

Whatever the next life holds, he has made his peace with this one, which treated him so cruelly.

Services are to be held on Saturday, just as the family is due to arrive. I am not sure I shall be able to attend, but I can be comforted by the knowledge that I was able to be there when my friend needed me most.

I appreciate that this has created more work for you, but I know it will not prove too much for one as capable as yourself. I could never have abandoned the family at this time if I did not have full faith in your abilities.

Sincerely, C. Carson

"Mrs. Hughes?" Elsie was startled to see His Lordship in her office doorway. She rose quickly, dabbing at her eyes.

"I see you've heard from Carson." Lord Grantham observed. "I just wanted to tell you that the family will be leaving as scheduled on Saturday, but I will be going on the early train tomorrow. I wish to pay my respects to Mr. Farrimond and to assure Carson that he can do the same. I shall take Geoffrey with me. I am sorry we have put so much on you for your first Season sendoff."

"It could not be helped, My Lord. And the staff know their business. Leave it to me."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. And may I say my initial misgivings at your relative youth for such a position have certainly proven unwarranted." He smiled at her, confident that he'd offered a very flattering accolade.

"I thank you for saying so, My Lord." Elsie answered in a saccharine tone. Inside, she scoffed at him. How patronizing was it to have a man almost ten years her junior comment that she was not too young to handle her responsibilities? Honestly. The daft man thinks that was a compliment. Still, it was sweet that he was taking the effort to allow Mr. Carson to attend Paul's funeral without worrying about the family. Not for the first time, Elsie saw a distinct similarity between master and servant. Both Lord Grantham and Mr. Carson could be as disarmingly charming as they could be naively harsh.

-00-

The morning of the funeral the air was bitterly cold as Winter gasped her last frigid breath in the face of the strengthening Spring. Mourners filled the Anglican Chapel at Highgate Cemetery to pay tribute. Of course, Jack and his whole brood were there. Most of the assembled were from Paul's life before the fire. There were former colleagues and employees; people he had purposely avoided when he disappeared. A large contingent from his old club sat together near the front of the chapel. Carson recognized a few Earl's Court residents who knew Paul only as the local bum, but had treated him with kindness. Paul had always been polite and gentle. Even those who had not known his history could sense that he had once been a gentleman. He was the cautionary tale, the living embodiment of 'There, but for the Grace of God, go I.' But he was living no more.

The service was brief, there was little to be said about a life mercifully ended. Before the service, a select few bore witness to Mr. Paul Farrimond's ashes being laid to rest in the family plot. Now, the others patiently waited their turn to file respectfully past the headstone, laying flowers and tokens upon the reunited family.

Very few of the hundreds who came to pay their respects knew why the stone bench beside the family plot was smooth from wear. They did not know that the bench was the one place in London that Paul had considered home. The Highgate Cemetery caretakers knew Paul and sometimes let him sleep in the cemetery when the weather was dry. It had been a caretaker who had found him, shaking with chills and coughing blood, the day before he died. The corner of the plot that had waited patiently for its occupant was freshly filled. The grave's collection was finally complete.

Having visited the grave before the service, Carson and Lord Grantham lingered in the chapel as the majority of the people filed across Swan's Lane towards the East Cemetery.

"There's no reason to hurry back to the house, Carson. Lady Grantham and the girls will be happier settling in without us underfoot." He sensed that Carson was not yet ready to face the exuberance of Grantham House's new occupants. "Do you know, I've never visited the Lebanon Circle here? I always wanted to visit as a child, but Mama thought cemeteries were gauche."

They walked west, towards the Egyptian columns of the West Gate. How incongruous it felt in modern London. Hieroglyphics that said nothing covered the faces of the crypts that lined the path that led deeper into the cemetery. Lions and angels stood sentinel over their charges.

The two men walked the gravel path, neither of them speaking. Carson was grateful for the time to collect his thoughts in peace. The soft quiet of the trees felt more reverent than the hard silence of the chapel. Eventually, they reached the rows of doorways of the Lebanon Circle. It felt like a miniature street of London.

"I think they took the phrase 'Houses of the Dead' too literally." Lord Grantham commented, looking at the oddly quaint looking row of entryways. "One feels the urge to knock on a door and leave a card."

"I wouldn't knock on one of these doors." Carson cautioned.

"Why ever not?"

"Someone might answer."

The two men exchanged wry looks and chuckled. "Perhaps Mama was right; this is gauche." Lord Grantham finally admitted. "And more than a little macabre. Shall we return to Gratham House?"

"I think we should, My Lord. Thank you for allowing me to come today and for accompanying me."

"Think nothing of it, Carson. We should all be able to pay our respects to our friends."

Carson was grateful to work for an employer who understood that even butlers were sometimes just men.

TBC…

AN/ Thank you for the reviews, follows and favorites. I hope you all enjoy this story as much as you seem to anticipate;)

I really love Robert/Carson moments. I know I made him something of an ass in some of the stories, but I don't think he's bad at heart.

SPOILER FOR ANYONE WHO HAS NOT READ 'MOVING ON' - For those who don't recall, Carson and Robert are half brothers in this AU, though they don't know it yet in this story.