The family decided to cut their Season short this year after Rosamund expressed her desire to spend the first several months of her mourning in Yorkshire. And so, when Mr. Carson saw Mrs. Hughes off at the station the day after the funeral, it was with the unspoken promise of seeing her again in less than a fortnight.

They had not spoken further about the incident in the cemetery. There was no need. Their understanding was not something they could ever discuss, but it was something they could never doubt.

"I hope you enjoyed your brief stay in London, circumstances notwithstanding." Carson made small talk as they waited for the train.

"I enjoyed the change of pace. It's interesting to observe how another housekeeper runs things from the inside. Though, I feel your influence over Grantham House outweighs Mrs. Jones'."

"She was a spitfire in her day, they say. And I'd lose an eye if I ever adjusted her staff rota."

"You work well together. Though I imagine you'd work well with anyone, Mr. Carson."

"Better with some than with others." He smiled. "There are certainly people I prefer working with."

When the train arrived, Carson opened the carriage door for Mrs. Hughes and handed her the small bag he'd been carrying for her.

"Pleasant journey, Mrs. Hughes."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson. I shall see you soon."

"Yes, very soon."

-00-

A rare July storm accompanied the carriages from Downton's station to the door of Downton Abbey. Rivulets of water cascaded down from the overtaxed gutters around the castle. The gravel pathway was littered with large puddles. The occasional flash of lightning preceded the accompanying dark rumble of thunder.

Geoffrey and two hall boys met the family with umbrellas ready and escorted them inside. Carson was surprised when Mrs. Hughes failed to greet the family at the door. In this weather, he did not expect the staff to wait on the outside stoop, but there was plenty of room in the front hall. He went downstairs searching for her at the earliest possible moment. Was she well? He wondered. When he found her, his heart stopped. She was at her desk and she was crying.

"Mrs. Hughes?"

"Oh my God! Is the family back?" She stood to hurry out of the room.

"They've just arrived, but that doesn't matter now. They've all already gone up." Carson held up a hand to stop her. "Will you kindly tell me what is wrong, Mrs. Hughes? Something has clearly upset you."

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Carson." She retrieved an open letter from her desk and handed it to him. Carson looked at her in confusion.

"Read it."

He looked down at the letter, noting the fresh drops of tears on the stationary.

'Dear Mrs. Hughes,

I regret to inform you that my sister, Christine Georgina Pearson, has passed away. She was apparently sick for some time, but kept her illness from her family until near the end. I am sorry that I did not have time to warn you.

She always spoke so fondly of you and of Mr. Carson and of Downton Abbey. I know she would be grateful if you would attend services in her honor this coming Saturday.'

The breath left Carson's body and he swayed slightly. His mind barely registered the details outlined in the letter. She was gone. She'd been sick and hadn't told anyone. He had failed her.

'Thank you for all you have meant to my sister. I look forward to meeting the people she called her downstairs family.

Mrs. Stephanie Royston'

By the time Carson had read the first sentence of the letter for the twentieth time, he had regained his composure. The air filling his lungs felt like air again, rather than mud.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. I will inform His Lordship. I assume you plan to attend." He sounded cold and distant, even to himself.

"Yes. I would like to attend. Northallerton is only fifteen miles or so."

Was it so close as that? He wondered. The knife of self-recrimination twisted in him. "Very good."

"Mr. Carson?" He was just standing in her office, making no signs of leaving.

"Hmm? Oh, my apologies, Mrs. Hughes, I'll be going."

"No apology necessary, Mr. Carson. Are you going to be alright?"

Carson shrugged, "Why not?" With those incongruous words, he left.

-00-

Though they had not made specific plans, Mrs. Hughes had hoped that they would resume their tradition of taking a few moments together at the end of the day. After the last of the maids had gone up, she knocked on the butler's door nearest to her own.

"Come."

She found him at his desk, staring into a cigar box full of papers, photos and knickknacks.

"Help yourself." He gestured to the glass and decanter sitting on his desk. He had anticipated her arrival. "I was just going through some old papers, to see if I could find anything pertaining to Mrs. Pearson."

"And?"

"Not much." He looked down into the palm of his left hand.

"What have you there?"

"My first pair of cufflinks." He held them up for her inspection. They were made of dingy brass. She saw the insignia of an anchor and a crown and recognized it at once.

"When were you in the Royal Navy?"

"Never."

"Your father?"

"No. Mrs. Pearson's husband."

This was news to Elsie. "She really was a missus then?"

"Mmhmm." He nodded. "Before he died, they were married for five years; most of which he spent at sea. She never even had to leave service."

"I hope he was an excellent correspondent."

"I believe he wrote often, if that counts. She didn't speak of him much, but when she did, it was with obvious affection and sadness. She had a stack of letters she would read when she was down."

"It is difficult to imagine loving someone you can only reach through letters."

"Not really." Carson said sadly, but seemed to catch himself. "That is, sometimes it's easier to write something than to say it."

"When did Mrs. Pearson give them to you?"

"When my father died. I left Downton to live with my uncle and she gave them to me then. She wanted me to look properly dressed for the funeral. She told me to continue my education and make her proud."

Carson tightened his grip on the cufflinks.

"I should have visited her." He said, out of the blue. "She would have told me she was sick."

"She didn't tell her own family." Mrs. Hughes reminded him.

"She would have told me."

"I don't wish to be cruel, Mr. Carson, but that would not have changed anything. You couldn't have saved her."

"But I could have seen her, I could have said goodbye." His eyes were dry, but his voice was full of tears. Elsie could tell that he was struggling to keep his feelings in check. Nothing she said could be of any comfort to him now. As much as she loathed to admit it, he was better left to himself tonight.

"I won't impose any longer, Mr. Carson."

"I am sorry to be such poor company tonight, Mrs. Hughes."

"Nonsense, I have not known Mrs. Pearson as long as you have, but I have known her for many years. This is a very great loss."

"That it is, Mrs. Hughes, that it is."

She left him as she had found him, staring down into his cigar box of momentos.

TBC…