After crossing from the West Cemetery to the East, Carson finally slowed his steps and let the others gather their breath. He led them silently back towards the simple grave that held Paul Farrimond and his family. Miss Randall was still sniffling slightly, but she had gathered herself together enough to move about without clinging to Mrs. Hughes.

Carson could not bring himself to look at Mrs. Hughes. He had seen something in her flushed countenance that he could not or would not let himself consider. He had seen a heat and a passion that mirrored his own in that moment. If he had not been so worried about frightening Lady Sybil and if Miss Randall had not been there, occupying Mrs. Hughes' arms, Carson was unsure what his next actions might have been.

Now, the blood had cooled. Reality and shame set in. He gave the girls the final directions to the Farrimond family plot and let them run ahead. Miss Randall shuffled sadly after them.

"I feel that I need to apologize, Mrs. Hughes." He began when they were alone. "I have no excuse for my behavior just now."

"I should think it is Roger who owes me an apology, Mr. Carson, but I won't hold my breath." She smiled at him. "I really ought to thank you, Mr. Carson. It's been a long time since anyone defended my honor."

Carson smiled gratefully at her. Once again, she had found a way to make a misstep feel like a triumph. "I shouldn't think your honor required much defending, Mrs. Hughes. What is more, I am sure you're quite capable of defending it yourself."

"I am, but it was nice to let someone else do the dirty work this time. It does get tiring sometimes, defending one's honor."

"Are there really so many men foolish enough to impugn your honor?"

"You would be surprised at the number of fools in the world, Mr. Carson." Elsie looked sideways at Carson. He was reading the names on the headstones as they passed. He was just a man again and he seemed to have returned to his usual size and self, though the memory of the feral beast into which his anger had transformed him was fresh in her mind. Elsie set this blood-stirring memory aside and took refuge in professional matters. "If I might venture to defend a fool, you could surely find it in your heart to give Roger a reference."

Carson looked at her in disbelief.

"For as long as he worked at Downton, doesn't he deserve that much?" She argued.

"If you call what he did at Downton working…" Carson huffed.

"Don't be petty, Mr. Carson. It's beneath you."

This appeal to his ego did the trick. His rant died in his throat, which he cleared loudly as he was thinking. "You are too good, Mrs. Hughes; to defend him even now." Carson shook his head. "He must have left Downton immediately after you left for your sister's. How could he have expected to get away with it?"

"We all do foolish things for love, Mr. Carson."

He considered this for a moment. "I'll tell you what, Mrs. Hughes. I shall write a decent reference for Roger and I shall give it to you. If he has the guts to come to Downton and apologize to you, then you may reward him as you choose. He will receive nothing directly from me."

"That seems more than fair, Mr. Carson."

They caught up with the girls and Miss Randall at the bench beside the Farrimond family plot. Lady Edith was reading the names out to her sisters. "…Gregory James, Victoria Louise, Elizabeth Eugenia."

"What do the numbers mean?" Sybil asked.

"Those are dates." Carson knelt beside her and pointed. "This first is their birthday and the second is the day they died," he explained.

"Everyone but Mr. Farrimond died on the same day." Edith pointed out.

"There was a terrible fire."

Sybil was looking closely at the dates beneath the name of Elizabeth Eugenia. "1888. 1895." She counted out on her fingers, "Eighty-nine, ninety, ninety-one, ninety-two, ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five. She was seven. She was my age."

"Yes." Was all Carson could say. He wished that he could tell them that it was uncommon for children to die, but he could not.

"People have left coins on the grave." Mary said, looking curiously at a small line of pennies along the main marker. They all looked as though they had been there for a very long time.

"I think Mr. Farrimond must have put them there for his family. I don't know why exactly." Carson said.

"The Greeks used to put coins in the mouth of the dead so they could pay the ferryman on the river Styx." Mary supplied. "I read about it in one of my mythology books."

"But they aren't Greek." Edith protested.

"Maybe Mr. Farrimond had heard of the tradition and wanted to leave something for his family. Flowers wilt and would get expensive to replace. A coin would certainly last longer." Mrs. Hughes commented.

Edith counted the coins, all of which looked quite old. "There isn't one for Mr. Farrimond. May we leave one?"

"I think he would have liked that." Carson reached into his pocket.

"No." Mary stopped him. "I have a six pence, Carson. We can use that."

"That's appropriate," Sybil smiled. "Since there are six of us."

"Very good." Carson nodded.

Lady Mary took the coin out of her tiny purse. She didn't know what to do exactly, so she handed it to Carson. He closed his had around the coin and closed his eyes, saying a brief, silent prayer for his friend before passing the coin to Mrs. Hughes, who did the same. When the coin came to Lady Edith, she looked confused.

"Am I to pray?"

"If you like. You may speak to God or to Mr. Farrimond or you can just remember. There's no wrong answer." Mrs. Hughes answered gently.

The coin thus passed around the circle of visitors and returned to Lady Mary. She closed her eyes, but did not pray. She didn't know how to speak directly to God. She hadn't really known Mr. Farrimond very well. Instead, she thought of her own family. She thought of her Aunt Rosamund and her Uncle Marmaduke; one now in Heaven and on still on earth.

With each of them thinking their own thoughts, they watched Lady Mary lay the coin on the head stone beside the other coins and just under Paul's name.

"Now, I think that is enough death for one day." Carson said after a few reverent moments. "You are children and children are meant to laugh and play. Let's go over to Waterlow Park and see if we can find a swing."

This cheered everyone up instantly. Unbeknownst to the girls, they skipped past the graves of great men and great families, of literary and political giants, but their only thought was of swings.

Lady Mary was not skipping with her sisters, but walking pensively by Carson's side. A thought had arisen to plague her.

"May I ask you a question, Carson?"

"Of course, My Lady."

"What if Aunt Rosamund wants to remarry?"

"I doubt she is thinking of that today."

"But some day, she might."

"She might."

"What does that mean for Uncle Marmaduke? When she gets to Heaven, who is her husband?"

Carson looked to Mrs. Hughes for help, but she just shrugged and looked as perplexed as he felt. "I'm not sure what the Church has to say on that, My Lady."

"Is it the Church's decision then?"

"It is the Church that sanctions marriage. I know they are very clear on divorce and remarriage." That's why the Anglican Church was established, after all. "I've known widows who marry, but I don't know that I've ever heard what happens when they reach Heaven."

Carson seemed to be giving this a good deal of thought. "I suppose if she remarried in the Church, that, in Heaven, she would have two husbands." Carson concluded. "It's not like every love is the same. I have to assume there is no jealousy in Heaven. As I said before, there is room for everyone. The scripture says, 'In my Father's house are many rooms.'"

"Apparently, some rooms will just be more crowded than others." Mrs. Hughes could not resist adding under her breath. Mr. Carson shot her a blistering look, but when he realized that Lady Mary had not heard her, he relaxed and even smiled a bit.

Mary had lost interest in the conversation the second Carson had begun to quote scripture. Not only because she largely disdained scripture, but because they had emerged from the cemetery and the other two girls were trotting towards the entrance to Waterlow Park.

"I will leave them with you for a moment, Mrs. Hughes. I need to pop over and tell someone where the girls are." Mr. Carson informed Mrs. Hughes as he turned back towards the West Cemetery. "If, that is, you think you can refrain from telling Lady Mary anything about the crowded rooms of Heaven."

"I make no promises, Mr. Carson. You'd best hurry back." She teased as he dashed across the street.

TBC…

AN/ Educational (touristy) moment: People of note in Highgate Cemetery include Karl Marx, George Eliot, Charles Dickens' parents and descendents of Shakespeare, amongst others.

The third and final death in this story will be revealed in the next installment. Rest assured, it will keep our Chelsie together. Thank you for your many reviews. They do shape the story.