Quick update before I drown in school stuff. Thanks for your lovely reviews! Hope you enjoy :-)
Chapter 7
Family
While they were walking slowly and in silence toward the lake, Mrs. Hughes had regained full control of her emotions and watched him from the corner of her eye. He was staring ahead, no signs of any emotions on his face. Only their linked arms assured her that she was walking next to a person and not a moving statue. She wondered what exactly happened between them at the moment. For years they had been the same and now all of a sudden things started to roll. They rolled, but in the exact opposite way of smoothly. Somehow he had become aware of his feelings for her. She didn't know when it had happened. Had it been the beach where she had dared to give him a little knock in her direction? Had it been that odd incident in the wine cellar? It certainly must have happened before the night Miss Sybbie had appeared in his pantry. Because that night he had made a step towards her. He had held her hand. So if he had been unaware of his feelings before, from there one he must have known. Of course he wouldn't dare speaking to her, but what was going on in that bloody mind of his? The stronger the feelings the more painful to not act on them. She knew that. And she wanted to spare him the suffering she had lived through for years. For heaven's sake, he had almost kissed her and she him and now they were walking next to each other in this awful silence. She stopped abruptly, freeing her arm from his. He turned to her. Concern, surprise and confusion in his eyes. "Mrs. Hughes?"
"I don't understand you", she said, making his confusion grow. "I don't understand anything anymore. What is even going on?"
She was definitely talking about his behaviour earlier and her reaction just minutes ago. He wanted to run as quickly as possible, but was rooted to the spot. He didn't want to talk. If he talked with her now, he was forced to move on. This all happened too fast. He loved her and of what he knew she loved him which was all he could wish for, but at the same time feared most. It made everything complicated and he would most certainly ruin things. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes", he said, because he couldn't think of anything else to answer.
"What?" She was confused, angry, sad or with other words: She suffered from a heart ache only love could course.
"We obviously like each other a lot and this will lead to a few complications if…"
"A few complications? Are you talking about an unexpected dinner party or our feelings?", she asked angrily.
"You know what I mean. And you know that I'm not the right person to deal with it", he replied helplessly.
"You have to deal with it, Charles, because it has to do with you as much as with me! I understand that this is not easy, but we have to talk about it."
"Why should we talk about it? It is obvious where this leads to. If we want to go on, on that path we have revealed somehow, we end up being retired in a cottage. Do you want this? Because I don't! I need my work and so do you."
"This is not the only possibility we have", she snapped back.
"It is if you might take a look at the rules we have to follow. Or are you considering an affair now? Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not being ridiculous, Charles Carson, I'm being disappointingly human. I have worked all my life and cared for others. Now I want to be selfish for a change and enjoy the years I have left. I had hoped you would accompany me, but if you don't want to: Fine, then I'll go alone and live in a cottage." She couldn't remember having ever been so terribly hurt by anyone's actions.
"Elsie", he began, hoping that using her first name would help him clear up the mess he had made. "You know me better than anyone. I struggle with change, but I'm ready to consider it if you'll be patient with me. I need you, so please don't leave. Try to stand me and my stubbornness a little longer." He couldn't lose her, because he was stuck with his daily routine. That wasn't worth losing her.
"I'll only say this once Charles: I need you too, but I won't always wait until you find the courage to take my hand." She watched how he tried to calm. Whatever he was thinking, she hoped that deep inside he knew she hadn't meant any of the things she had said about leaving on her own. If it was more torture of being close to him then she would stand it. That was still better than being without him.
"I understand", he finally said and offered her his arm.
"I don't think you do", she replied, but ended the conversation by accepting his arm and walking close to him towards the staff who were enjoying themselves half a mile ahead. The two of them were still stuck, but at least they had spoken their minds for once. He feared retirement and felt to be needed at Downton. She felt almost the same except that retirement didn't scare her. To both their relief they could forget about the problem that had built between them and enjoy the afternoon at the lake.
…
When Sophie entered the servant's hall, Mrs. Hughes and Anna were both missing and Carson kept an eye on the hallway, thanking the kitchen maid absentminded for serving breakfast. It was very unusual for Mrs. Hughes to miss breakfast. He couldn't deny that he was worried. There probably would be a perfectly simple explanation why the housekeeper wasn't present, but Carson remained tense. He had barely touched his porridge and already got odd glances from Thomas, but before the under-butler could make a nasty comment, Anna entered and took her seat. "Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes has been taken ill. She asked me to take over some of her duties."
His stern façade dropped for a second. Ill? Mrs. Hughes was never ill. Had never been ill, not in all the years he knew her. She only had once been seeing the doctor and that was when she had thought to suffer from cancer. He couldn't ban his concern from his face and he didn't bother trying, but he had to regain his role as butler. "Has Dr. Clarkson been informed?", he asked.
Anna shook her head. "Mrs. Hughes said there would be no need for that."
Carson nodded, hiding all the worries deep inside him. Mrs. Hughes wouldn't tell anyone if she really was awfully unwell. She wouldn't want to be pitied or those close to her to be too worried. He hoped she knew that didn't work with him. He would always worry about her. He had never forced her to talk to him about private things, just tried to help her somehow, but after he had almost kissed her and she him he had a right to ask, hadn't he? They were much closer now even though they disagreed on how to proceed. Carson wanted to make sure she was alright. He would care for her as she did for him when he was ill. It wasn't proper for the butler to enter the women's quarters, but there wouldn't be more consequences than a few stupid comments coming from Thomas. He could stand that. Carson left the servant's hall, headed to the kitchen and almost bumped into Mrs. Patmore who was carrying a tray with fresh tea and toast.
"Sorry", he apologized and pointed at the tray. "Is that for Mrs. Hughes?"
"Yes", Mrs. Patmore replied. "Just in case she feels like eating."
"That is very thoughtful of you. Would you mind if I take it up to her?"
Mrs. Patmore could hardly believe her ears. Did Carson really plan to go into Mrs. Hughes bedroom? She swallowed every comment that popped into her mind and handed him the tray. "Go up then."
"I will." He left, hurrying upstairs to the attic rooms. No one had seen him. Mrs. Patmore wouldn't tell anyone and he wouldn't have to stand any awkwardness downstairs. The women's quarters were deserted and he knocked softly at the door of Mrs. Hughes room. He had almost never been in this part of the house, but he knew it as well as any of the others. There was no answer so he knocked again. He couldn't enter without permission. She would be in her night dress and he didn't want to run into anything. Still no answer. "Mrs. Hughes, are you alright?", he asked. Silence. He took a deep breath. There were only two possibilities. One: She was asleep. Two: She was so unwell that she couldn't answer him. He prayed that number one was true. He opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind him. Her room looked exactly like his, only the personal belongings made a difference. She was lying on the bed, under her blanket and was terribly pale. He was at her side with two long strides and put the tray on the bedside table. "Mrs. Hughes?" He checked her temperature. She was burning. "Mrs. Hughes, can you hear me?" He sat down on the bed trying to make her aware of his presence. How could Anna have left her like this? She definitely needed a doctor. "Mrs. Hughes, I'll go and call Dr. Clarkson. I'll be back shortly."
She didn't answer. He felt horrible leaving her, but what choice did he have? He hurried downstairs, telephoning the doctor who promised to be there soon. Carson didn't waste a moment after he had put down the phone, gave Thomas instructions to replace him at breakfast upstairs and climbed the stairs once again. Mrs. Hughes wasn't any better when he returned to her room. He sat down beside her and took her hand in his. He had no idea how to help her. He had never taken care of anyone who was ill. There had always been others. It frustrated him, but when he saw how she opened her eyes he hid his frustration and tried to look at her reassuringly.
"Charles", she said, her voice barley a whisper.
"It's alright. Dr. Clarkson is on his way. You'll be fine."
"What are you doing here?", she managed to say.
"I hoped you would know that", he mumbled. I love you. I want you to be all right.
She squeezed his hand. "Sorry." She felt pretty bad. Much worse then she had felt when Anna had checked on her. Thank god that Carson was with her and had informed the doctor. Him being there, sitting next to her on the bed and holding her hand made her believe that she was right to hope. If she decided to retire - and at the moment she really wanted to do so – there was a very good chance that she would be Mrs. Carson then or at least planning to become her. She studied Carson's face. A painful worried expression dominated his features.
"How are you feeling?", he asked.
"Not too good", she admitted. "Everything hurts and my blood is boiling."
"I hope it is nothing serious."
"Don't worry", she told him.
How could he not worry? She looked a bit livelier than earlier, but she was still ill. Work would drag him away from her sooner or later and he already felt its tight grip on him growing. He would stay with her until Dr. Clarkson arrived and then he would fulfil his bloody duties and check on her whenever he had a moment to spare. If we were retired I could stay all day and make sure she's all right, he thought. And that was when all the advantages of being retired started to haunt him. It made things worse rather than better. He wanted to stay in his position, but he longed for a peaceful life with her at his side. He shook his head to get rid of all thoughts concerning the matter. Her well-being mattered now; he could worry about the future later.
She could sense that something bothered him, but the fever had a heavy effect on her. It made her mind unfocused and her body weak. When Dr. Clarkson arrived she barley heard Carson's voice telling her that he would check on her again later and she took the medicine the doctor gave her without knowing what he had said about her health.
Carson had gone downstairs and had left the door to his pantry open. Dr. Clarkson would leave through the back door, so the butler wanted to catch him when he walked by. He was surprised when he found Dr. Clarkson standing in the door, asking Carson if he could spare a moment.
"Certainly", he answered and the doctor closed the door.
Carson watched him closely, trying to find any signs in the doctor's appearance that told him about Mrs. Hughes illness.
"I won't be taking much of your time, Mr. Carson. I just wanted to let you know that Mrs. Hughes has the flu and should rest the next few days. There is no need to worry about the fever. It should be gone the day after tomorrow if it lasts that long at all. I have placed some medicine on the bedside table and hoped you could make sure she takes it. Three drops in the evening and in the morning should do the trick."
Relief washed over Carson. It was nothing serious, just the typical flu that visited the house once in a while. "Thank you for informing me. I will take care of her then." He couldn't deny that he sounded like a husband talking about his wife, but that was how he felt. The doctor raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, simply nodded and bid the butler a good day. Carson dealt with the wine delivery and went over the menus for tonight's dinner before luncheon. He finished early and asked Mrs. Patmore for a tray for Mrs. Hughes. She prepared some soup for the housekeeper and made him two sandwiches.
Mrs. Hughes was half asleep when she heard Carson's knock. She murmured in response to make him enter and was very grateful that he interpreted the nonsense that had escaped her mouth correctly.
"Feeling any better?", he asked, placing the tray next to where the doctor had left the medicine.
"Not really", she replied weakly, smelling the soup. She wasn't too hungry, but a bit of warm food would do no harm. But when she tried to use the spoon, the fever made her feeble and she let it drop. The curse didn't escape her lips for she was slightly embarrassed to have done that in front of Carson.
He hadn't to think twice when she dropped the spoon. He took it and held it for her. He could see that she wanted to protest, but something stopped her and she accepted with a blush him feeding her. A small smile spread across his face. The blush made her look less ill and he made her eat every bit of the soup. When she had finished he drove his attention to his own meal and ate the sandwiches.
She enjoyed his company and appreciated it very much. He made her feel like she already was Mrs. Carson. It felt good to know that he would look after her if she needed him. Not that she had ever thought he would let her down, but sometimes she had doubted that he was on her side. She had taken so many insults from him that she sometimes felt like slapping him, but in the end he was always there to support her.
"How is it downstairs without me?", she asked.
He swallowed a huge bite of sandwich. "Not the same, but Anna is a great help."
Mrs. Hughes nodded. She was aware of the fact that she made automatically sure that the blanket covered her properly, but she felt neither any discomfort nor was she embarrassed. Not only because she loved him and because of that never really minded his presence, but because she knew that he had similar feelings for her. It was like her husband was sitting with her, watching over her.
"I was glad to hear from Dr. Clarkson that you will feel better soon", he remarked after finishing his meal.
"I was too", she said, smiling a little.
"I should get back downstairs. And you better go back to sleep."
She closed her eyes in response and her smile grew wider when Carson rearranged her blanket carefully before picking up the tray and leaving the room.
He headed toward the kitchen to get rid of the tray. When he reached the door someone stormed outside and ran him over. Had he been less tall and strong he would have fallen. He managed to remain on his feet by waving with his arms for balance. As a consequence the tray fell to the ground, the plates crashing on the stone floor. "What on earth…?", he began to shout angrily, but stopped when he realised that it had been Sophie who had bumped into him. She was a good girl who had never caused any trouble so he wondered what had gotten into her. Especially when she murmured an excuse and ran away. He wanted to follow, but Mrs. Patmore got a hold of his arm. "Leave her alone, please. She has had some bad news."
He stared at the cook, still angry about the accident. "No reason to behave like this", he pointed out.
Mrs. Patmore rolled her eyes at him, spotted Raff coming from the boot room and waved at the footman to come to her. "Raff, be a good lad and see if you can find Sophie. Something has happened and she better not be alone out there."
Raff seemed to ask for more information, but Carson's angry look made him hurry to do as the cook had told him. When he disappeared around a corner, Carson freed his arm from Mrs. Patmore's grip. "Since when has the cook the authority to command a footman?"
Another eye roll. "Mr. Carson, Sophie has had a letter from her father telling her that her mother has died. The poor girl is absolutely devastated. She needs someone to talk to and comfort her and since Raff is a good lad and her friend I allowed myself to command him."
Carson had nothing to reply to that, so he simply let out an angry grumble and stormed in his pantry, slamming the door behind him, leaving Mrs. Patmore to clean up the tray and what was left of the plates. He was sorry for Sophie for losing her mother, but with Mrs. Hughes being ill he already had enough to deal with and left the girl to the cook and Raff.
After having served dinner upstairs, he wanted to take up something to eat to Mrs. Hughes, but Mrs. Patmore had already done that and told him that the housekeeper was sleeping. He decided not to disturb her and stayed in his pantry to finish some paper work. When he had finished, he went to the backdoor to lock it. He decided to get some fresh air before going to bed and stepped outside. It was a bit chilly, but he didn't mind. It cooled his mind. It was after a few moments that he realised he was not alone. Someone was sitting on the ground leaning against the wall of the house, sobbing into the hands. It was Sophie. He didn't want it to happen, but his wards fell and he moved towards her, carefully, not to startle her. "Sophie?", he said gently. She immediately jumped to her feet and stroked away the tears.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Carson. I shouldn't have run off like that earlier. I promise it won't happen again. Please don't…" She was cut off by a silencing move of his hand.
"I'm sorry about your mother. I understand that this must have been quite a shock." He could see that she was shaking, desperately biting back tears. He knew what she was going through. He had lost his mother too and it had been as unexpected as the death of Sophie's mother probably was. "May I ask how she died?"
Sophie was kneading her hands. "It was an accident in the factory." Now the tears were falling again. "I haven't seen her for a few months and now she is dead."
Carson couldn't take it any longer. He had overstepped the line when he had comforted Lady Mary and of course when he had almost kissed Mrs. Hughes. So he wouldn't have any trouble with his conscience if he supported Sophie. He could sense her surprise when he hugged her fatherly as he had done with Lady Mary, but it didn't take long until she buried her face at his shoulder and cried her pain out. "There, there", he whispered comfortingly and tightened his grip on her shoulders a little to show her that she wouldn't be left alone with her grief. When he thought that she had calmed enough he let her go and handed her his handkerchief. She dried her eyes and took a deep breath. "Thank you", she said quietly and gave the handkerchief back. He gave her a small reassuringly smile and led her back to the house. He locked the backdoor behind them.
"Good night, Mr. Carson", she said.
"Good night." He watched her as she climbed the stairs and disappeared in the half dark. He didn't know her as long as most of the others living under this roof, but she was like a daughter to him anyway. Of course not like Lady Mary or Anna who he had known longest. Nonetheless he was the father of the youngsters downstairs. Of all of them.
He wanted to head upstairs when he heard a chair being moved in the kitchen. He sighed. If the evening continued like this he would never arrive in bed. To his surprise it was Mrs. Hughes sitting at the kitchen table, having a cup of tea.
"Elsie, what are you doing here?" So much of the never getting used to calling her Elsie matter.
She startled at the sound of his voice, but smiled at him when he sat down next to her. "I felt like coming downstairs to make myself a cuppa."
"What about the fever?", he asked sceptical.
"Almost gone." She sipped her tea. "How is Sophie?"
"Not too well", he replied. "Who told you?"
"Mrs. Patmore. Do you think there is anything we should do? Could do?"
"First we let her go to the funeral. Afterwards we can hardly do anything else than show her that we won't let her down."
She smiled at his words. "You don't think it improper? To behave like a family."
"No", he answered honestly. "There is no point in pretending we are not. And to be honest that is the only reason I have left to stay." He looked sad and she took his hand, stroking over the back of it with her thumb.
"You are right", she said. "We can't leave our family."
"Not yet", he corrected. "But that doesn't change anything between us, does it?", he asked worriedly, squeezing her hand to make clear what he meant. She put her second hand on top of his. "No. Things between us will stay like this."
He waited patiently until she had finished his tea, then he accompanied her upstairs. They stopped at the door that would separate them for the night. Mrs. Hughes turned to him to say good night and was surprised when he kissed her on the cheek and held both her hands for a moment. He left, leaving her in a happy mess. If she hadn't been ill, she would have never managed to sleep that night.
The next day the fever was gone completely and she got dressed to check on things downstairs. She wouldn't be long, just taking some of the paper work from her sitting room to her bedroom to get it done. She stopped in the kitchen, taking Mrs. Patmore aside. "How is Sophie?", she asked, looking over to the girl who was busy with helping Daisy to prepare luncheon.
"Better, thanks to Mr. Carson", the cook replied.
Mrs. Hughes furrowed her brows questioningly.
"She told me that he gave her some fatherly comfort after finding her crying outside", Mrs. Patmore explained.
"Did he?", Mrs. Hughes said. That must have happened before he found her in the kitchen, she thought. And it explained his talking about behaving like a family.
"I knew the man is a softie, but anyways: That was a kind gesture", the cook commented.
"Indeed it was. I'm sure Sophie is very grateful to know that even the grumpy old bear is on her side."
Mrs. Patmore giggled. "She is and I'm grateful too. He seems to be good at playing the father."
Mrs. Hughes agreed with a nod, although she knew that he wasn't playing the father exactly. He felt like one. "I better get on", she excused herself and after having taken the paper work she had headed for downstairs she looked for him in his pantry. He was sitting at his desk, giving her a disapproving look when she entered. "You should be in bed. You still have the flu. It is not doing any good that you are downstairs."
"I'll be gone in a minute, even though I have to tell you that I feel much better today. I got the worst behind me already."
"You haven't come here to tell me that, have you?", he said and watched her as she walked around his desk.
"No, I have come to thank you for all you did yesterday," she answered and then she took him off guard by kissing him sweetly on the cheek. He couldn't help, but grin at her. "All I did? I didn't do that much."
"You only don't know that I know", she answered warmly before leaving him.
He kept looking at the door for a while after she had left, thinking about what she had meant. It dawned on him after a few minutes that she knew about his attempt to help Sophie. He shook his head, smiling to himself. They really did behave like a family, worrying and caring about each other and it was a riddle to him how he could have missed that for all these years. Somehow that was a compromise on this newly discovered path.