A/N: Okay so I shouldn't actually be allowed to write multichaptered fics because I'm a terrible person and I don't update them. I will finish my Harry Potter one at some point and then I PROMISE to either stick to one-shots or only publish multichaps after I've finished them. Anyway, here is the final chapter of Survivor's Guilt: I hope it isn't a disappointment after such a long wait! I don't really deserve it, but please do review if you have time, I'd love to hear thoughts! Lots of love to all of you in the Chelsie fandom, and if anyone has Tumblr please follow me; username's lizcoops! L x
The next morning, Mrs Hughes woke up at the usual time, dressed in one of her usual dresses and arranged her hair the usual way, all with the now usual anxiety in the pit of her stomach. She hastened downstairs and was relieved to see that Mr Carson was already in his pantry.
"Mr Carson?" she asked, popping her head around the door. He looked marginally surprised.
"Mrs Hughes. To what do I owe this very early visit?"
"I wondered if there had been any telegrams…"
His expression softened; she tried to ignore it, because it was threatening to have the effect both of making her weepy and, bizarrely, making her blush. His answer was not a surprise, but still a disappointment.
"No, I'm sorry. You know I will come to you directly I hear news."
She forced a smile. "Of course. Forgive me, it just seems to be dragging out endlessly."
"I feel the same. It shouldn't be too much longer now," he replied, without any real conviction. Still, she appreciated his continued attempts at optimism; they helped her to keep her own chin up. There was a pause, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Then Mr Carson spoke again.
"While you're here, I meant to tell you last night – Sir Richard is leaving on the 9 o'clock train."
"Good," Mrs Hughes answered, not bothering to conceal her satisfaction that they wouldn't be seeing him again, "I'll make sure the room is cleaned as soon as breakfast is over. Talking of which, I'd better go and make sure all the upstairs rooms are ready."
He bade her good morning, and she set about her morning rounds, continuing her resolution to always be busy and allowing her only distraction to be the inviting thought of a strong cup of tea with her breakfast. If she allowed room for anything other than work and trivia in her head, it would undoubtedly be Mr Bates, and occasionally Mr Carson, who occupied her thoughts, both of whom would invariably cause sorrow (albeit for different reasons) and neither of whom she wanted to detract from her professionalism.
When breakfast was over, Mrs Hughes bustled off to the room Sir Richard had been sleeping in to sort it out. Anna was still doing Lady Mary's bedroom and the other maids were all busy with other tasks, so she was on her own. Having stripped the bed, she was busy polishing the bedside table when Mr Carson burst unceremoniously through the door.
"Mr Carson!" she exclaimed, "what-?" It struck her when she saw his face, and she didn't need him to tell her what had happened; she could see by the light in his eyes and the wide smile he so rarely allowed full reign. "He's been reprieved?" she gasped, needing confirmation.
"He has. Where's Anna?"
"In Lady Mary's room." She followed him as he turned and marched out of the room, half running to keep up with his long strides. As they walked, she felt exhilarated by the rush of emotions overcoming her – relief and happiness, mainly. It seemed to take an age to get to Lady Mary's room, despite the quickness of their pace, and when they arrived it was to find both Anna and Lady Mary there.
Mr Carson spoke first. "Excuse me, m'Lady. Anna, you must come at once to the library. There's been a telegram; he's been reprieved."
Anna seemed to sway slightly; Lady Mary moved forwards and took her hand as she looked at Mrs Hughes, who nodded in confirmation. The four of them made their way downstairs as quickly as possible, and before long were standing in a line in the library in front of Lord Grantham, who greeted them with a beam.
"Papa, is it really true?" Lady Mary asked, looking at him earnestly while still supporting Anna.
"It is, thank goodness," he replied.
"How?" stuttered Anna, who looked as if she could scarcely believe it and was gripping Lady Mary's hand.
"The home secretary finds that many details call into question the case of a premeditation. The point is he will not hang."
As Mrs Hughes stood there, hearing those words from Lord Grantham's mouth, the initial euphoria began to dispel and leave a sheer sense of dizzying relief. It rushed to her head like a strong alcoholic drink and she swayed ever so slightly, unnoticeable to anybody except the man standing beside her. He always noticed. She felt him shift imperceptibly beside her; his fingers brushed against hers and remained there. It was more touching fingers than holding hands, but it was all she needed to steady herself.
"But it's still life imprisonment?" Anna was saying.
"Don't dwell on that, not now. It's life, not death. That's all we need to think about." Mrs Hughes' respect for Lady Mary went up a little bit. She'd never liked her very much, but she had to admit she'd been a rock for Anna throughout this whole ordeal, and that was something they had in common.
"We've a task ahead of us, it's true. Bates will live and he is innocent - in time, we'll prove it and he will be free."
Mrs Hughes glanced up at Mr Carson. He gave her a small smile, which she returned, partly because there was now a chance that Mr Bates might come back, and partly because she could still feel his hand against hers.
""I must go and see him, today. They will let me won't they?" Anna looked desperately at Lord Grantham and Mrs Hughes followed her gaze, hoping he would say yes after all Anna had been through.
"I can't believe they won't. I'll get Pratt to run you into York."
Anna, laughing and crying, nodded gratefully and turned to leave with Lady Mary. Mrs Hughes patted her on the arm with a smile as she passed, then she and Mr Carson turned back to Lord and Lady Grantham, who exchanged a look before Lady Grantham said, "I think we can still hold the Servants' Ball. How long do you need to prepare for it?"
Mrs Hughes glanced at Mr Carson, who was looking at her expectantly. She suddenly felt very bold, and replied, "I think we could be ready by tonight, m'lady."
"Excellent," Lady Grantham smiled, "now you'd better go and tell everyone downstairs, they'll want to hear the news!"
"Very good, m'lady," replied Mrs Hughes, trying not to smile too broadly as she and Mr Carson turned and left the room. As soon as they were outside, they both dropped their professionalism and allowed themselves to grin and laugh their way down the stairs, exchanging words of relief and joy. In the hallway, they paused and looked at each other.
"Do you want to tell them?" Mr Carson asked her, eyebrows raised.
"No, you do it," she replied, "you knew first, after all!"
"All right," he straightened his tie and headed for the door. She followed him, trying to mask her excitement at the prospect of their delivering the good news and seeing everyone's reactions. When they entered, she made sure that only a small smile playing around her mouth gave any indication of how she was feeling. Mr Carson cleared his throat.
"I have an announcement to make," he began, surveying the room with a rare twinkle in his eyes, "we have received news of Mr Bates. It seems he has been reprieved." As everyone gasped and excited chatter broke out, he turned and smiled at Mrs Hughes. She felt a not unpleasant jolt somewhere in a stomach as she returned it.
Mr Carson directed his attention back to the others. "So, that is the news! It only remains for me to add that we will be holding the Servants' Ball tonight after all."
They all gasped again, looking delighted. Thomas stared at Mr Carson, saying "Tonight? Are you serious?"
"Mrs Hughes thinks we can manage it." She exchanged a look with him and acknowledged it, unable to feel as excited as the rest of them. It would be an enjoyable evening, but it would also mean a lot of hard work and a lot of watching Mr Carson dance with all the ladies of the house, who were all so fond of him that, much as she hated to admit it, it did make her feel a bit jealous.
"I never thought they'd hang an innocent man," Mrs Patmore was saying, although she looked very relieved for someone who was sure it wouldn't happen, Mrs Hughes thought, repressing a chuckle.
"He wouldn't have been the first," chipped in Miss Shaw. Mrs Hughes shot her a look. She wasn't sure she liked Lady Rosamund's new maid, with her opinions about everything and her rather low-cut dress.
"Well it's a relief, it is. I don't mind saying it." Miss O'Brien said. Mrs Hughes smiled at her.
"But he has to stay in prison?" Mrs Patmore was looking at Mr Carson, who answered her, "Well, until they prove he didn't do it."
Mrs Hughes decided to interrupt at this point. She was feeling slightly stressed at the idea that they had a matter of hours to prepare a ball and the maids were bound to be distracted all afternoon from the excitement.
""If you don't mind, we can worry about that later. Right now we have a great deal of work to do!" She shooed them all back to their jobs and went off to throw herself into her own. The only personal thought she spared for the ball all afternoon was that she would have a nice time, despite the inevitable lack of dancing with Mr Carson. She had her opening dance with His Lordship, after all, which was always good fun, and there would be plenty of people to talk to; she doubted Anna would be doing much dancing either and she wanted to hear how Mr Bates was faring.
That evening, when the family were relaxing after dinner and the Great Hall had been fully transformed into a ballroom, Mrs Hughes hurried up to her room with half an hour to spare to get ready. She was not a vain woman, but she liked to make an effort for the Servants' Ball. As such, she rooted around in the back of her (not exactly full) wardrobe for a dress similar to her usual ones, but with a few sparkles on it. She had found (and bought) a little ornament for her hair in the village a few weeks ago which matched, and, after redoing her hair, she placed it towards the back. Next, she rummaged around in a drawer until she found an old lipstick that she used to wear on her afternoons off as a maid, and put that on too. Finally, she took the bottle of perfume that she kept for special occasions and days when she knew she would be spending a lot of time in the company of Mr Carson, and dabbed it onto her neck and wrists.
Hurrying downstairs to muster the servants and take them all off to the Great Hall, she entered the kitchen to find it half full; unsurprisingly, all of the maids except Anna were absent, clearly still dolling themselves up. Everyone looked very smart in their glad rags, Mrs Hughes thought, as she rounded the table to stand next to Mr Carson, who was looking impatient that not everybody was ready. He glanced down at her as she took her usual place at his side and coughed slightly. She looked at him enquiringly.
"You look very nice," he said awkwardly. She tried to subtly take a deep breath in order not to blush too much.
"Thank you, Mr Carson," she replied, hoping that her smile looked calm and wasn't showing the inner rush of excitement she was feeling, or the host of questions buzzing around her brain.
When they were all present and correct, Mr Carson offered his arm to Mrs Hughes, who took it with a graceful smile and a slightly shaking hand.
"Are you cold?" he muttered to her, as they ascended the stairs, the rest of the staff in tow.
"A bit," she lied, "but I'm sure I'll warm up during the dancing."
"Indeed," he replied vaguely, his brow furrowed.
They walked in silence to the Great Hall, each lost in their own thoughts. When they arrived, the servants all spread out. Shortly afterwards, the family and guests arrived, and before long Mrs Hughes found herself beginning the opening dance with Lord Grantham.
"The ball is as impeccable as always, Mrs Hughes, despite the short notice," he said, smiling down at her. She smiled back; it was always nice to receive a compliment on her work from her employers.
"Thank you, your Lordship," she replied. "It was worth the short notice to be able to celebrate the good news,"
"I quite agree," Lord Grantham said approvingly, "It really is excellent."
The rest of the dance was spent speculating about whether Mr Bates would be released, and commenting on everyone else's dancing, the music and the weather. It was, as always, very enjoyable, and Mrs Hughes found she was easily able to end the dance with a smile and fairly cheerfully make her way over to get a drink, with which she retreated to a spot against the wall.
She scanned the room, allowing a small smile to play around her lips as she watched Mrs Patmore dancing with Matthew and suppressing an eye-roll at how smug Thomas, who was currently dancing with Lady Edith and had just danced with the Dowager Countess, was bound to be the next day.
As Thomas and Lady Edith danced out of her line of sight, they revealed Mr Carson and Mrs Crawley. Mrs Hughes felt her smile slip slightly. She watched as they danced gracefully, and couldn't help but feel a twinge of amusement at Mr Carson's expressive eyebrows. At the end of the dance, she watched as they went their separate ways and decided she might go and get herself a drink. She glanced around as she made her way over to the table; Mr Carson seemed to have disappeared. She fought back a sigh as she helped herself to some wine, feeling angry with herself for allowing this to affect her so much. She had done very well for herself; she had a very senior position in a distinguished house. She worked with some wonderful people, she was healthy and comfortable. So why, she thought, taking a sip of the wine, why did she feel so miserable, when Mr Carson was her best friend? She felt selfish for wanting even more from him, more than the considerable amount of time they already spent together.
Mrs Hughes drained the glass and set it back down on the table, wondering whether she could get away with sneaking off to her sitting room until the ball was over and it was time to clear up. Deciding that she could, she began to make her way towards the door. As she approached it, however, Mr Carson walked through it.
"Mrs Hughes?" he said, coming over to her, "where are you off to?"
"I thought I might go to my sitting room," she replied. At his questioning look, she added, without meeting his eyes, "I've a bit of a headache."
"That's a shame," he replied quietly. "I was hoping you might want to dance."
"What?" she said, taken aback. Then, realising how rude she must sound, she hastily corrected herself. "I mean, pardon?"
She knew perfectly well what he'd said but wasn't sure whether she'd imagined it. Why should he ask her this year, after so many years of nothing?
"I wondered if you'd like to dance with me," he answered, looking her straight in the eye, "but if you're not feeling well enough, of course you must rest."
"Well, I daresay one dance won't do me any harm," she smiled, albeit shakily, and, taking his proffered arm, allowed him to lead her onto the dancefloor.
"Are you sure you're not coming down with something?" he asked, brow furrowed, as they began to dance. "You still seem a little shaky."
She flushed slightly. "I thank you for your concern, Mr Carson, but I'm sure. It's just the cold night."
"Hmm," he said, looking down at her thoughtfully, and then pulling her closer to him. She caught her breath and looked up at him, worried that their proximity to each other would be taken the wrong way.
"Mr Carson, I'm not sure it's wise to -"
"Nonsense," he said, seeming to have read her mind, "you're right – it is cold. And I am the butler and you the housekeeper. It is perfectly natural that we should look comfortable dancing together. Nobody will think anything of it."
Unable to think of an answer, she simply smiled up at him. He returned the smile and it spread to his eyes, his pupils dilated. She thought he had lovely eyes, and she was very much enjoying the opportunity to gaze into them.
"You're a good dancer," he murmured. She felt a small grin tug at the corners of her mouth.
"I've been blessed with a good partner." She felt as if she were blushing slightly, but continued to meet his gaze steadily as they danced. He seemed to be looking at her more intensely than before. She was aware of the fact that they were in a formal setting, but she was more aware of the feel of his hand on her waist – particularly when he moved it slowly down to her hip. Her breath quickened in spite of herself, and she could feel their clasped hands growing ever so slightly clammy. There was an exhilarating and yet terrifying rush of excitement and expectation coursing through every cell of her body. She was sure he felt it too, for she thought he looked a little uncomfortable, but not in a bad way, if that were possible. She parted her lips slightly, feeling as if she must say something to break the tension between them. However, at the movement, she noticed him drop his gaze – he was looking at her mouth. Suddenly, she no longer wanted to speak, but she kept her lips parted, because she was sure he was going to kiss her, and it didn't matter where they were because she'd wanted this for so long, she didn't have the willpower to repress it. She raised her face towards him slightly, at the same time as he tilted his downwards…
The band finished the song with a flourish and the sound of clapping brought Mrs Hughes back to her senses. The spell was broken; Mr Carson gave her a small bow as he released her, then straightened up, looking somewhat less composed than usual. She felt herself flush.
"I'd better go and make sure the wine isn't running low," Mr Carson stated, looking a bit disorientated.
"Yes," she replied quietly, "I think I'll go and see where Anna is."
It was a silly excuse, she thought, as she bade him farewell and hurried off towards the servants' staircase, Anna didn't need checking up on now, but she needed to get away and think. She went straight to her sitting room, crossed to the mirror and peered into it. She was blushing, as she'd suspected, and her eyes were brighter than usual. She realised that she didn't actually dislike this look. She was so used to being tired, stressed or strict that she'd forgotten what wonders happiness could do to one's appearance.
Happiness. That was definitely her overriding emotion at the moment. For whatever happened in the future, she was sure now that Mr Carson felt the same way as she did. And even if they merely continued to be the closest of friends, sharing a cup of tea or a glass of wine at the end of the day, relaxing in each others' presence and providing each other with relief from the stress of their jobs during the day, it didn't matter. Some things don't have to be said, she decided, and this was one of them. Perhaps one day, they would be a couple. Perhaps they would retire together. For now, however, she was comfortable in the knowledge that she was incredibly lucky to hold the affection of Charles Carson. And after all the worry, upset and guilt of the last few weeks, it was exactly what she needed. With a genuine smile, Mrs Hughes patted her hair into place, smoothed down her dress and left her sitting room to return to the ball.