A/N: Thanks for all the lovely reviews. They mean the world.

Chapter 3

As it had happen with so many things before this, he told her first. Sitting in her parlour they shared a cup of tea. He'd offered her some wine, but where she had once enjoyed their nightcap, she now found her stomach didn't agree as well with it as it used to and it caused her to wake up even more groggily than she was already accustomed to these days.

"His Lordship was kind enough to offer me a cottage in the village," he told her with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Or on the estate if I preferred it, but he thought it might be a bit too remote."

"That's very considered of him," she replied, trying very hard to swallow down the lump forming in her throat. She had expected this after all, she really had. But now that he spoke the words it suddenly all became frightening real. "Have you accepted his offer?"

"I've requested some time to think it over," he admitted. "It seemed a too… momentous decision to make in spur of a moment."

"Of course," she nodded. "But you are thinking about it, aren't you?"

"I am," he conceded. "I've always thought I would stay here till the very end… die in the harness, so to speak. I never quite expected my body to fail me this way. I can't continue fooling people, pretending that I can maintain the standards of the house while I can't even… stand up straight myself at times." His voice turned a tinge bitter at the last words, his frustration clearly showing.

"You're not fooling anyone, Mr Carson," she jumped in straight away, determined to dispel any kind of self-judging nonsense the man was sprouting about himself. "You've given the best years of your life to this house and its family. You deserve some rest now."

"Still, it's not how it is supposed to go," he countered stubbornly.

She huffed at that and decided to go from another angle to make him see sense. "Have you ever stopped to consider that the family might want to do this for you? That after all these years they have come to care for you in return just as much as you care for them?"

"Oh… well…" he stammered a little at that, his ears turning pink and she knew she had struck a chord.
"Really," she pressed on. "If Lady Mary knew the condition you were in, she'd came barging in here, demanding you'd get off your feet and not take no for an answer. The girl is becoming more like her grandmother each day."

This caused him to laughed out loud. "Is this praise or rebuke on Lady Mary's address?" he teased her.

"Oh, I don't know," she gave him a crocked smile. "I've told you once that I didn't think she deserved your affection. But I will say now that I am certain she returns it at least."

It was their old squabble. And if in recent years, in the light of her support of Anna, she had warmed up a little to the eldest Crawley daughter - just a little, mind you – she was careful not to show it too obvious.

He quickly turned serious again. "Do you think I should retire?"

She ignored the fact that her heart sank to the pit of her stomach at the thought of him leaving. This wasn't about her after all.
"You're the only one who can make that decision, Mr Carson. But I hope you will make it with your own best interests at heart."

In another fortnight his mind was made up. He would retire after new year and move into one of the estate cottages, the one near the village. Surprisingly enough there seemed to be a certain amount of peace about him once his decision was made. Without having to pretend any longer that nothing was the matter it became easier for him to accept his declining health.
He even started to plan his life after retirement. He had always been interested in history of the British gentry and he resolved to make a study of it once he was at leisure to do so. The thought of spending the reminder of his life pursuing his own interests was a lot less daunting than he had feared even a few years ago.

Just the thought of being able to sit down when he wished it if his gout was troubling him became a rather blissful prospect on the evenings he almost couldn't stand the burning pain and the confinements of his shoes any longer.
Thus he consistently tried to focus on the benefits of his retirement and attempted to neglect any other feeling of regret or apprehension.

Until one evening, about two months before his retirement.
He had escorted the Dowager Countess outside and helped her into the car.
She had aged significantly in the last year, her hair was turning white and her once imposing figure became decidedly more fragile. Yet her mind and her mouth were as sharp as ever.

"Are you looking forward to your retirement, Carson?" she inquired, indicating to the chauffeur that he wasn't to pull up just yet.

"I am, your Ladyship," he answered with a small bow. "Although I will miss Downton most keenly."

"I thought I´d feel the same when I moved to the Dowager House," the former Lady Grantham replied thoughtfully. "But Carson, you'll probably find, as I did, that in the end a house is just that. A house. The sense of incompleteness is generally caused by something else altogether."

"Your Ladyship?" he asked frowning, not really comprehending her meaning. Then his gaze fell on lightly intertwined hands, the fingers of her one hand gently stroking the two wedding bands she still wore on her ring finger.

"Living alone can become very lonely, Carson," she spoke quietly. "Keep that in mind."

The weeks seemed to slip away between her fingers. And with every new morning she realized with a sharp pang that it was another day closer to the day he would leave. Oh, she would see him regularly. She´d met him in church, she´d go and see him on her half-days off, but it wouldn´t be quite the same as living under the same roof. As spending every evening together. As living together, working together and generally being an extension of the other.

His Lordship announced early November that Carson was to be succeeded by Mr Molesley, a prospect that, quite frankly, filled her with dread. She supposed Mr Molesley was a good sort of man in his sort, but she doubted sincerely that he would ever be able to fill the shoes of his predecessor. She remembered the wine fiasco last year and shuddered at the thought. She´d have to be more on top of things to ensure the house would be running as smoothly as before and she very much doubted Molesley would command the same amount of respect and obedience Mr Carson had.

She still felt uncommonly tired at the end of each day and she worried how she was ever going to muster up the energy to familiarize herself with working alongside a new butler.

He wouldn´t be there anymore to listen to her ramblings about incompetent new maids, or to raise her spirits after a particular tiresome encounter with one of the merchants from the village. She wouldn't have him to take care of anymore. To fuss over his health or to ensure he wasn´t working himself half to death. She´d never been as devoted to the family as he was. She respected and cared for them well enough, but her focus had always been her little family downstairs. William. Gwen, Ethel, Anna… and her unbendable, reticent, stubborn-as-a-mule butler.

She tried to enjoy these last weeks she had with him as much as she could, tried to imprint every moment they had together in her memory, knowing that once he had left, it would never come back. Sometimes she wished she could just hold on to these moments so that she would never have to face the cold and harsh reality that would come in January. All her beloved birds had left the nest. One of them she´d had to give back to heaven. She had always rallied from it, because he had always been beside her, strong and steady and ever present.

She had to rally again this time. Only she didn´t believe she had the strength anymore to do so.

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