Chapter 1
Happy memories
When Mrs. Patmore headed upstairs to bed it was close to midnight. She and Mrs. Hughes had had a little chat over a cup of tea since Carson had turned the housekeeper down.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes, but I have quite a lot of work to finish for tomorrow" he had said.
She had nodded and left his pantry. Mrs. Patmore had sent Daisy and Sophie to bed, so Mrs. Hughes had started a conversation. They had barely talked since London so it was now or never.
After Mrs. Patmore had left, Mrs. Hughes had the intention to go to bed too, but then she spotted the light that gleamed to the hall from under Carson's pantry door. She sighed. He shouldn't be working at this hour. There was a soft knock before she entered. He sat at his desk still going through the wine ledgers. He looked up shortly. "I thought you were already in bed" he said.
"I would be there by now if I hadn't seen the light coming from your pantry" she replied. "Mr. Carson, whatever you are doing, I'm sure it can wait until tomorrow."
He raised his eyebrows at her, sighed, took a final look at the book in front of him and then closed it. "You may be right, Mrs. Hughes" he admitted. He didn't listen to her often when she tried to drag him away from working, but now he accompanied her upstairs. Their hands brushed lightly at the top of the stairs and the touch reminded her of the beach. She had held his hand, knowing that he wasn't ready for moving on. Making peace with Grigg and Alice had been the first step and the second was to give him time and show him that he could trust her not only as a colleague and friend, but as a woman. They bit each other a good night at the door that separated the women's from the men's quarters and went to bed. While Mrs. Hughes changed into her night dress she thought of all the times Carson's stern façade had fallen and she had gotten a glance at the long forgotten Charlie. When he had told her that the Crawleys were the only family he got she hadn't been in love with him yet. Or at least she hadn't known. She had felt sorry for him. His look, his reaction had shown her that he sometimes felt lonely. She had realized afterwards that not only she thought of the youngsters downstairs as children, but that he did the same. He cared for William, Daisy and Anna just like she did. During the war she had seen it even more than before.
The war. That awful time when she had worried about everything, but mainly him. He had worked too much. His health had been damaged. When he had had that attack she had feared for his life. And that was when she knew she loved him. Strange that the fear of losing someone revealed the true feelings one hadn't realized before. But then one could never love someone so much as one could miss him. And then he had wanted to leave for Haxby. Her whole world broke down at that point. She had thought that this would be the end of the relationship they shared, but in fact it had been a beginning.
"Don't tell me you'll miss me."
"I will, Mr. Carson. Very much. And it costs me nothing to say it."
"Thank you. That means a lot to me."
For her that was enough proof that there was a chance for them. That maybe, somehow, one day they could be together. The war had changed many things, even Carson. His mothering her when she thought she had cancer, his singing when she hadn't, his accepting of her getting involved with Grigg after his first anger had vanished. Proof, all of it. All those memories, many of them very happy memories indeed. A bride smile spread across her lips when she thought of him at the beach. And with that in mind she fell asleep, dreaming of what would have happened if he had fallen over, taking her with him.
Carson was uncomfortable in his small bed. His pocket watch was lying on his bedside cabinet, ticking loudly. Well, not that loud, but the heavy silence that surrounded him made him hear it louder. He was desperate to get some rest, but how was he supposed to sleep while his brain decided to go over and over certain things again and again? He spent so much time thinking these days that he wondered when it would make him sick. He hated it when his head sent him miles away, backwards in time. The past didn't, shouldn't matter that much to him. Why was he still going on about Alice and Grigg and that other live he could have lived? What was the point? It left him frustrated and angry. The longer he thought about it the clearer it became to him that he didn't wish to have gone another way. Instead of a wife he had his job, instead of own children he had the youngsters up- and downstairs, instead of a shop he had Downton. He had a family here, didn't he? He was happy here, wasn't he? There were so many memories connecting him to the place. Most of them much happier than the few he had of his life on the stage. It wasn't like he regretted this part of his life. It had been a necessary experience to develop from a young and foolish Charlie into the grown-up and proper Charles.
He thought of the young ladies. He had watched them grow up like he would have seen children of his own grow up. They had come to him for comfort, for advice. He had read stories to them, had hidden sweets in his pockets for them, had always been there for them. That was exactly what being a father was like, felt like. He worried for them as if they were his own blood. Whenever life was cruel and unfair to one of them he suffered with them. It was almost the same with Anna, Daisy, Alfred. Had been the same with William and Gwen. They all had parents of their own, he knew that. Nonetheless he was there. He would never let them down. He could never let them down. If he did, Mrs. Hughes would torn him into pieces.
Dear Mrs. Hughes, he thought. How much he depended on her after years of being colleagues. She was his guardian angel as ridiculous as it sounded. She was the one who made sure he didn't work too much – in fact she tried to make sure he didn't work too much, but he was just so bloody stubborn – and she was the one who cared for him when he was ill or upset. He didn't always approve of her actions, god no, but in the end he always had to admit her interfering spared him and everyone else usually the worst. In the dark of his room he even dared to admit that they long had passed the status of being colleagues and reached the one of friends.
Friends, he repeated quietly. The word made him think of that day on the beach. When he had taken her hand it had felt like someone had lifted the weight of the world from his shoulders. In fact it had just been a scratch that went deep into his stern butler façade. He had let go just a bit, acted out of character at least for a while. Things went back to normal afterwards. They always did. He made sure they always would. Life is the acquisition of memories, he had told her once. Many of these memories included her and just before he drifted off to sleep he realized that many moments he had shared with her belonged to the happiest of all of them.