Extra thanks to chelsiefan today. Apologies for the delay, folks.

Once the decision had been made, everything happened rather quickly. There was a recently renovated cottage that lacked tenants, and it was deemed appropriate. It was one of the smaller ones, which suited him fine. He did not have time to see it before giving his approval. Two bedrooms, no stairs, Lady Mary informed him. That would do. It was not close, some twenty five-minute walk from the Abbey, but it could not be helped. The distance did provide Anna with a considerable challenge in orchestrating the moving of furniture for them. She employed the help of Mr. Branson, who gallantly offered his services (after catching wind of the truth from Lady Mary, and deciding the whole thing was a smashing idea). Also entrusted with this task were several footmen, though they remained ignorant to the real purpose of it all. Neither Mr. Carson nor Mrs. Hughes had amassed any furniture of his or her own during their time at Downton, but Lady Grantham saw fit to go through the attics and relegate some discarded pieces for them. She, unlike her husband, did not see this as a fruitless exercise. Carson didn't do anything without thinking it through. If this was a gamble, it was likely a very calculated one. She did not think for one minute they were likely to get their butler back.

The only other person informed was Mrs. Patmore, and Mr. Carson took the time to fill her in on the proceedings immediately after his conversation with the Family. Her smile at the news could not have been wider. Mr. Carson found himself insisting that nothing was for certain and that it might not amount to anything. It was a stark contrast from the confidence he'd had upstairs, but Mrs. Patmore's glee could not be diminished. She insisted on going down and inspecting the kitchen of the cottage herself, muttering on about how he was going to have to learn to cook. He begged her not to give the game away, as a smidgen of fear started to creep into this thoughts. He had no idea how to cook! He had no idea how to do a lot of things they might need done, and he was only just starting to consider them now. Mrs. Patmore, sensing that perhaps she'd unsettled him, reassured him at once that all would be well. Her making a point of going to see the cottage did him no favours. He was sure the staff must have caught on to something by now. They had taken to whispering but suddenly stopping whenever he entered the room, and the announcement that he would be away the day after next was met with poorly concealed smirks. Mr. Barrow in particular looked very smug. Mr. Carson tried not to think about that. Bully for them. If all went well they would know before the week was out anyways.

He'd written to her cousin Martha that afternoon, a short letter informing her of his intention to 'visit.' It was debatable whether it would arrive before he did, but he was keen not to delay a moment later than he had to. Lady Edith's declaration about their former housekeeper's unhappiness had struck him hard, and her words rang in his head all day as he organized everything for his departure. Work that otherwise might have been completed later was suddenly of the utmost importance. His personal belongings were packed up in their entirety, and he prayed with each new box that he would not find himself unpacking them back at Downton in a few days' time. She had to come back. She just had to. His haste did not let him ponder the alternative. She just had to.

After a night of very little sleep, Mr. Carson spent the next day with a growing knot in the pit of his stomach. Eating was practically out of the question because he was so unsettled. Everything was moving so impossibly fast, and at his request, no less! That didn't make the speed feel any less reckless. Now it was a force greater than he, with Mrs. Patmore, Anna, Lady Mary, Mr. Branson and Lady Grantham all behind it: a runaway train that he didn't think he could stop even if he wanted to.

That afternoon Anna managed to drag him away from his work to see the cottage she'd spent the last day and a half preparing. It wasn't quite finished, but she was very proud of her handiwork and keen for him to approve of it before he left. Seeing the red brick building, even from afar was enough to make him feel like there was no turning back now. This was going to be their home. It felt very wrong of him to be thinking of it as 'theirs' already when she hadn't given her permission for him to do any of this. She never would have allowed him to do it when she was still at Downton. Who was to say she would be pleased about it now?

Anna led him joyfully in the front door, through the tiny parlor and into to the front hall. It was all one level, with the living room immediately on his right. It was cozy with a great stone fireplace in the center of the south wall. Beyond that, lay the kitchen and the dining room, which seemed to be joined together without much clear distinction between one and the other. He tried to imagine Mrs. Hughes agreeing to this, attempting to picture her sitting in a chair by the fireplace or eating supper at the dining room table. It was more difficult than he might have liked, which made him nervous. Out of the kitchen windows he could see a small, but established garden in the back. There was even a swinging bench that had been built close to the house. He fantasized for a brief moment about her holding his hand as they sat on the bench together. It was a pleasant enough idea, but he couldn't be certain it would ever come true. He was new at imagining this sort of thing; it wasn't something he'd ever permitted himself to do before. Perhaps that was why it felt so peculiar.

Anna tore his attention away from the back windows to continue their little tour. There were two bedrooms, also furnished: one with a large double bed and one with a small single one, much like the one he had currently at Downton. 'That's what Lady Grantham gave us,' explained Anna, apologizing that they weren't the same. There was a small bathroom, with a fairly large porcelain tub. Mr. Carson thought it must take up about half the room. It looked almost comically large in such a small space, but quite pleasant even for a man of his size, and the newly installed hot water boiler would make it even more so. The only other rooms of note were a storage closet and the laundry room, which was tucked onto the side of the house almost as if it were an afterthought on the part of the builders.

Once the tour was over, they found themselves back in the living room, again admiring the fireplace. Anna had moved a few specific items from the housekeeper's sitting room here. Just a few table linens and one of the lamps, but it was more than enough to bring an element of their former Housekeeper to the room. He paused to look at the embroidered cloth on one of the tables, running his finger across her careful stitching along the border. She had not been a particularly artistic embroiderer, but it was very neatly done and pretty, in a strangely utilitarian sort of way.

Anna had noticed his pensive mood. "Do you think she'll really come back, Mr. Carson?"

He withdrew his hand from the material, taking a step back. "I hope so," he said quietly.

"As do I," said Anna firmly. "We'd best start heading back, if we're to be in time for the gong."

Anna was right; they couldn't afford to linger much longer. With one last hopeful glance around the room, Mr. Carson followed her back to the house.

Later that evening Lord Grantham summoned Mr. Carson to the drawing room. Mr. Carson was a bit perturbed at being interrupted while he was preparing to serve dinner - his last dinner if all went according to plan.

"Carson, come in."

Mr. Carson was surprised to see that Lord Grantham was alone. Perhaps none of the women were down yet. Lord Grantham gestured at one of the chairs in front of him. "Have a seat."

"I prefer to stand, M'Lord."

Lord Grantham nodded, looking a little put out. "Whatever makes you more comfortable. I just wanted to say… that I was a little hard on you the other night."

There was only one correct answer for a servant to give to this statement, and Mr. Carson knew it by heart. "No, M'Lord," he said evenly.

Lord Grantham did not miss the way the butlers chin rose a little in silent defiance. The man was not making this any easier to say. He supposed he deserved that. "It was a great loss to this house to lose Mrs. Hughes so suddenly," he said a little defensively.

Mr. Carson nodded carefully, sensing there was more to his employer's train of thought.

"I will not sit here and hope that she returns with you," Lord Grantham said, frowning now. "I still think it's rather foolish, but there we have it. For you to retire would be a great loss also, Carson, but I don't wish you any unhappiness. Not after everything we've been through."

It was an apology, or as close to one as Mr. Carson was ever going to get. Some of his previous irritation with the man evaporated. It was a lot to process; Mr. Carson even thought so himself. "I think I understand, M'Lord."

"I hope you do, Carson. And I'm sorry if I made you doubt how valued you are by us."

"Yes, thank you, M'Lord."

Some sense of balance had been restored, and both men breathed a little easier now. The dinner awaiting Mr. Carson's attention downstairs sprang to the forefront of his mind again. "Your Lordship, if I may," he said, cocking his head towards the door.

"Yes, of course," said Lord Grantham quickly, realizing too late that Mr. Carson had been waiting for a dismissal. "That's everything for now."

Dinner went smoothly, despite the fact that the butler could not have been more distracted. He left serving the after dinner drinks to Mr. Barrow, as he still needed to see to some things downstairs.

When the last ledger was finally balanced, leaving the household books perfectly in order, there was soft rap on his open pantry door.

"Carson? Might I come in?"

Mr. Carson jumped to his feet, as Lady Mary entered. "Yes, of course, M'Lady."

She shut the door behind her. "I just wanted to wish you luck, for I likely won't see you in the morning. And to tell you that I did speak to Mr. Travis."

Mr. Travis! In the hurry of the day he'd almost forgotten. "And?" he asked nervously.

Lady Mary gave him a brilliant smile. "There is a marriage license sitting on his desk at this very moment bearing your names. All you need to do is say the word."

Mr. Carson looked slightly dumbstruck, which Lady Mary found rather amusing. "It seems Archbishop Lang was fairly easy to convince. Apparently he remembers you."

Blinking away his exhaustion, Mr. Carson furrowed his brow. "I believe he's visited Downton, but I didn't think he'd remember me, M'Lady."

"Well, he did remember you, Carson or at the very least, he remembered the the excellent service he received while you were Butler here." Lady Mary's smile wavered slightly. "Who could possibly forget?"

Mr. Carson regarding her fondly. "Thank you, M'Lady."

"Not at all, Carson," returned Lady Mary. She blinked a few times and made a concentrated effort to lighten the atmosphere. "Besides," she smiled, "we couldn't have you start off your retirement by bringing a woman home and causing a great scandal could we?"

"M'Lady, I would never-"

"Carson," Lady Mary interrupted. "You could never bring anything remotely scandalous down on this house, I assure you. I do believe you might be the only one of us incapable of it. But I am glad to help."

He was so thankful that he didn't have to explain himself in his current state that he just bowed his head in relief.

"Carson?" she asked softly. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course, M'Lady."

Lady Mary looked very thoughtful. "Do you love her?"

He looked at her oddly. She held his gaze firm, feeling strangely bolder than she ever had before with him.

"I…I…"

"It's a simple question, Carson," she said, not unkindly, "one I sincerely hope you know the answer to before you get on that train tomorrow."

Mr. Carson swallowed. "Yes," he said, quietly but resolutely. "Yes, M'Lady, I believe I do love her."

"Good," said Lady Mary proudly. To her, this validated everything that she had done for him over the past few days. His love was still in the world, and if there were any hope of bringing her back to him, then she supported that with her whole heart. She stepped up on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Then go get her, Carson."

TBC...