Be sure you've read chapter 2 before you read this. This site was really wonky with notifications when I posted it. Enjoy!

Mrs. Bute, a fair-haired woman, about forty years old, arrived during breakfast the next morning. She knew the staff would break up soon and go their separate ways, so she decided to put her things in her room. She wanted a look at the famous Mrs. Hughes, but she didn't think she could peek into the servants' hall without being seen. She was sure she would meet her soon enough. Mrs. Bute went up to her attic bedroom and found what she knew must be the other housekeeper's packed bag. There were three beds shoehorned into the room that she shared with Miss Baxter and Anna. She put her bag down, took off her hat and coat, and went back downstairs. Just as she expected, breakfast was finished, but Mr. Carson and the woman who must be Mrs. Hughes were still in the servants' hall talking to each other. Mrs. Bute felt a bit nervous. She had heard so much about the Downton housekeeper from Mr. Carson and the others and now she would be meeting her at last. She knew Mrs. Hughes to be older and a great deal more experienced than she was, and that she was well respected by the staff in general. Mrs. Bute stepped through the doorway and the butler and housekeeper both looked in her direction.

"Mrs. Bute," Mr. Carson welcomed her, rising from his chair. "It's good to see you looking so well."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson," she answered. "I'm glad to be back."

"Mrs. Bute, this is Mrs. Hughes." He gestured to his right.

Mrs. Hughes rose from her seat and approached the other housekeeper. "I'm glad to meet you, Mrs. Bute. Well recovered, I hope?" she asked with a friendly smile.

Mrs. Bute relaxed a little. "Yes, Mrs. Hughes. I was staying with my brother and he took great care of me. He didn't want me returning to such busy employment until I was completely myself again."

"Quite right!" Mrs. Hughes replied. "You need all of your energy and strength for this job, especially with Lady Rose's presentation, not to mention Mrs. Levinson and the dowager countess traveling without maids."

"Oh dear," Mrs. Bute remarked. "That means a great deal of extra work for Miss Baxter, Anna, and Madge!"

"Yes. I help out when I can, but there's so much else to be done that it's not often I have a moment for it. Those three are run off their feet."

"Well, I can see you have plenty to discuss, ladies," Mr. Carson stated. "I think I'll get on with my work. Please let me know if you need help with anything." He reached the door before he turned back. "Mrs. Bute, you and I will see off Mr. Branson. He will be catching a train back to Downton in a few hours."

Mrs. Bute nodded. "Yes, Mr. Carson," she agreed as he left the room. She thought it odd that Mr. Carson would see off Mr. Branson himself, but perhaps James would be too busy with something else to do it.

"Well, shall we adjourn to your office, Mrs. Bute?" Mrs. Hughes asked. "I expect we have a few things to discuss."

Mrs. Bute gave a nod, smiling at the older woman as they walked together to the housekeeper's office.

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Mrs. Hughes looked out the window at the passing countryside, thinking of where she was going, and what she had left behind. She was glad that Mr. Molesley seemed equally contemplative, so there wasn't much conversation. At first he stared in front of him, seemingly deep in thought, but after about a quarter of an hour he had fallen asleep. Mrs. Hughes soon lost track of what she was watching herself, as she remembered again the lovely day at the beach. Her memories right now, however, had become a bit overcast, like the sky most of the way home to Downton. She could not think of the day at the beach without thinking of Mr. Carson and the fact that she would be without him for the next month or more. Her one consolation was the fact that in several days she could rely on receiving a letter from him. They were very regular in their correspondence. For years she had posted a letter to him every Thursday, to be received in London on Friday, and he had posted one on Monday, for her to receive on Tuesday. Today was Friday, so the pattern would begin next week with his Tuesday letter. She was never too busy or too tired to write and post her letter on Thursday, and she looked forward to his weekly letter. They didn't write of anything very personal - the business of the two houses, the books they'd read, tidbits of village gossip - but she enjoyed their correspondence nonetheless. Mrs. Hughes found herself already mentally composing her next letter to him, even though it would be nearly a week before it was time to post it. It was a pleasant enough thought that she relaxed and closed her eyes, sheets of stationery covered in Mr. Carson's writing or her own fluttering through her mind until she dozed off.

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Mr. Carson made it inside in time to serve luncheon after seeing off Mr. Branson. Everything went smoothly, but he felt disconcerted, a feeling not helped by the fact that he noticed Mrs. Bute once or twice glancing at him surreptitiously. He didn't suspect for a moment that she was up to no good, because even aside of her character not allowing for that sort of thing, he could only describe her expression as something between curious and concerned. He wished he knew what she was looking for; it might give him some clue to why he was feeling so odd himself. When luncheon was served he went downstairs with the intention of closeting himself in his office for several hours to try to get some work done. However, when he switched on the light, his eyes fell on the postcard Mrs. Hughes had tacked to his message board, the one with the picture of the beach at Brighton. He closed and locked the door and approached the board to look at the picture again, noticing that it was positioned exactly at his eye-level. He smiled at the image his mind conjured up of Mrs. Hughes stealing into his office while he was occupied and tacking the card up in just the right spot. She certainly had an eye for detail, so it made sense that even in this endeavor she would think of everything. Mr. Carson reached up to remove the tack and put the card away now that the outing had come and gone, but he decided to leave it for the time being and let his hand fall back to his side. The card had only been there a few days, and it made him smile to remember what an excellent idea taking the staff to Brighton had turned out to be. He could always take it down tomorrow.

To be continued...

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