Getting a lot of mileage out of that little seashell. There's at least one more still in this.
He arrived back at Downton as he nearly always did, a day ahead of the family, with the luggage. The remainder of the Season had flown by, but he was still relieved to be home.
Mrs. Butte had returned to Grantham House a week after the staff outing to Brighton. The petite, affable woman was a ball of energy. They got on perfectly well, but had had little time to chat informally during the years she had worked at Grantham House. She deferred to his advice on matters involving the female staff who travelled to London for the season, and she handled her seasonal maids well. Though she mostly stayed at Grantham House during the season, she steadfastly went home on her half-days to, in her words, "make sure Mr. Butte hasn't starved to death or burnt the house down." Carson had always found her to be remarkably competent, considering she didn't do the job year-round. He had certainly never found fault with her work.
But this year he couldn't help but compare her energetic, constant-moving busyness to Mrs. Hughes' calming, sure presence. On the surface, there was no good reason for it — Grantham House ran equally well with either woman at the helm, whatever their style of management. But it had been a rare treat for him to have Mrs. Hughes there, even if only for a brief time. The last time she'd been there was before the war, the year they hired Mrs. Butte. It felt like a different life.
Grantham House had never felt like 'home' to him, and he tried not to think about why, this year, it had felt noticeably homier.
Tried, and failed.
Times are changing, Charlie. Everything is shifting under your feet. Is it so bad to need someone to help keep you steady?
He took off his hat, slung his overcoat over his arm, straightened his tie, and reached into his vest pocket, where he felt the small, cool seashell. A deep breath, and he stepped inside. The main hallway downstairs was already bustling with the arrival of the luggage. He could hear Daisy humming in the kitchen. The smell of baking bread filled the air. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply once more.
Elsie Hughes stepped out of her sitting room as he opened his eyes, her smile causing her eyes to crinkle with happiness.
"Welcome home, Mr. Carson."
I'm home.