Mr. Carson was nervous when he saw Mrs. Hughes's handwriting on one of his letters. He was relieved that she had responded fairly quickly; he didn't think she would cut off correspondence with him for the rest of the Season, but he had thought she might put off answering him for a while. He also had a vague fear that the second letter had somehow not reached her, or that it had not reached her until after she had written this letter, just now arrived in the morning post. Mr. Carson had always found the mail to be very reliable, but what if this particularly important letter to her had been the one to go amiss, or be delayed? He left his letters on his desk, resolving to read Mrs. Hughes's letter after he ate his breakfast.

Unfortunately, the Crawleys had other plans for him. Mr. Carson was summoned right after he had finished eating, and was not free to read the letter until just before it was time to serve luncheon. He had about a quarter of an hour, which would be enough time to read the letter, but not enough time to write his answer. He knew that there was some possibility that the letter would be disconcerting, even upsetting, but he had faith in his ability to keep an impassive face while he served. He didn't think he could remain any longer in suspense about how Mrs. Hughes had responded to his two very different letters. He sequestered himself in his office and opened the letter, hoping Mrs. Bute's advice would be proved sound. He spared a quick glance for the post card still on his notice board before he began to read.

Dear Mr. Carson,

I hardly know how to respond to two such dissimilar letters at once. They might have been written by two different men, but you were the author of both.

I don't hesitate to admit that I was angry, very angry, when I read your first letter. I did not think I deserved to be spoken to in such a manner by an old friend, even if I had done or said something to offend him, and I hope I have not done that. I set the letter aside, intending to respond in a few days when I was less angry. What a blessing that I did, for I was able to read your apology before I responded.

I thank you for writing again so soon, and I accept your apology and grant you my forgiveness. I am sorry that the staff had to bear some of the weight of it, but your immediate remorse and apology show you to be a more thoughtful man than the first letter alone would indicate. I hope in future if you are upset with me you will say so, rather than responding so unfeelingly. I say this not to beg for further apology, but in an effort to be honest with you, as I hope you will be with me.

Lady Edith returned today from the Continent. I was prepared to receive her, as she had sent me a note a few days earlier. I did not realize she had not communicated with the family or I could have written or telephoned to let you know. Lady Edith is well and seems rather more comfortable in the country than she did in town. I can hardly blame her; there must be a number of bittersweet memories for her in London, where I know she spent many happy times with poor Mr. Gregson before his departure and subsequent disappearance. Playing lady's maid is no trouble to me, for Lady Edith is not a demanding mistress, and I enjoy a little variety in my work from time to time.

I hope you are in good health and that you and Mrs. Bute continue to get on well together and with the rest of the staff.

Sincerely,

E. Hughes

P.S. I will expect your wine order soon.

Mr. Carson let out the breath he had been holding. Mrs. Hughes wasn't angry. She had been at first, and her tone was still more guarded than it had been in her previous letter, but she had accepted his apology. Mr. Carson was relieved, yet uneasy. Mrs. Hughes had granted her immediate forgiveness, but he still felt remorseful for his own behavior, all the more for her understated reproaches. The fiery dressing-down he had been prepared to receive was conspicuously absent from her letter; instead she had stated the truth very simply - he had spoken unfeelingly and she didn't deserve it. It was a relief to know that he had not ruined things completely between them, but Mr. Carson hoped never to receive such a letter again as long as he lived. He had really hurt her and he couldn't remember the last time he had felt so ashamed.

When it was time to serve luncheon, Mr. Carson put Mrs. Hughes's letter in his pocket and went upstairs. He wasn't sure when he would have time to answer, but he could begin composing his letter in his mind, as he served. He was concerned at her mention of his supposedly being upset with her, and he was determined to put that right, as well as to put to rest any fears that she might have about his regard for her. And what exactly is my regard for her? he wondered as he stood silently in the dining room. He considered his first letter after she left London as a piece of recklessness, and he had been both pleased and embarrassed by her reply. They had never spoken to each other in quite that way, until that day at the beach, at least. Mr. Carson wasn't sure he liked it. Well, he liked it all on its own, but it made him a little fearful of where this new development in their friendship might lead. His well-ordered world was beginning to seem a little topsy-turvy, and he couldn't decide whether he was more gratified or terrified by it. It was certainly a little bit of both, but which he felt more strongly he couldn't have said.

His thoughts were drawn back to the present by a request from Lord Grantham and Mr. Carson had to put aside these reflections until later. It was fortunate that he had been paying just enough attention to the family that the earl did not have to ask him twice for a fork to replace the one he had dropped. Mr. Carson would not like to be questioned about his absence of mind, which was sure to be noticed by at least one person present.

Mr. Carson made it through luncheon successfully and went back downstairs with a slight smile on his lips. In the kitchen, he found Mrs. Patmore and her girls hard at work and decided to try to mend some of his fences. An outright apology would not do, but he hoped he could make peace.

"Mrs. Patmore," he called out from the doorway.

She looked up. "Yes, Mr. Carson?" she replied, her expression daring him to provoke her.

"Luncheon was very well-received today. You and your staff did excellent work," he told her. Mrs. Patmore's eyes widened. "Thank you, girls," he acknowledged, giving an approving nod to each of the three kitchen maids. They all stood stock still, staring at the butler who had so recently frightened them out of their wits. "Well, I must be going now." Mr. Carson excused himself. Mrs. Patmore sauntered to the kitchen doorway but followed him with her eyes until he had gone into his office and locked the door.

#####

Dear Mrs. Hughes,

You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I was upset with you when I wrote that dreadful letter a few days ago. Please believe that I was not and am not angry with you at all. I am being entirely truthful when I say that I cannot now explain my reason for writing in that manner, and I am not sure I will ever know. It will sound strange to you, but there are times when I simply do not understand myself. Please accept my apology once again, and my assurance that the offense will not be repeated.

Her ladyship has now received a letter that Lady Edith must have posted as soon as she reached Downton. I am glad to hear of her good health and that your work there has not been too disrupted by the absence of her lady's maid.

Mrs. Bute, Mrs. Patmore, and I continue to keep things running as smoothly as we can. We are still kept quite busy, but the madness has calmed a bit since the ball. We have given some big dinners, but have had no overnight guests, thank heaven, and with Mrs. Levinson's party, the dowager countess, Mrs. Crawley, Lady Edith, and Mr. Branson having left us, the house isn't quite so full, and Miss Baxter, Anna, and Madge now have only their own mistresses to look after.

As you know, I do not very often take my half days, but being in London for just a few more weeks, I chose to take this afternoon off to visit Westminster Abbey. It is always a beautiful sight, and I remembered what you said about how I would lecture you on the history of that great building if we were ever there together. I think you must be right, for I thought of everything I knew of the place as I walked around inside. It is nice to be alone with one's thoughts sometimes, but I couldn't help wishing I had brought someone with me who might appreciate the beauty of the place and have some interest in the things I could say about it.

The weather was fine and I walked along the Thames for a while after leaving the Abbey and before returning to Grantham House. London really is a very interesting city. I do wish that you may have other opportunities to visit in the future, although I naturally do not wish further illness on Mrs. Bute! Perhaps someday you and your sister could make a visit to London together and see some of the sights at your leisure.

Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Bute both ask to be remembered to you and as always, I send you my best wishes as well.

Sincerely,

C. Carson

P.S. The wine order for Grantham House is enclosed. If you send it from Downton within a week of receiving this, I will have it in plenty of time for our next large dinner.

Mrs. Hughes was pleased with Mr. Carson's letter. She read it several times, enjoying his friendly tone. The unkind letter had done no permanent damage to her enjoyment of their correspondence, and he had surprised her again by writing in a way he never had before. Mrs. Hughes wasn't quite sure how to describe the difference in his letters, except to say that they were more personal. In all of the previous Seasons since she had been housekeeper, she would not have minded if anyone in the house, from the kitchen maid up to the earl, had come across the letters she received from Mr. Carson. The friendliness of their long association could be seen in their correspondence, but there was nothing very private in them. This Season, however, she followed her inclination to keep them all safely to herself, hidden away in her bedroom rather than sitting out on her desk. If she read one of his letters while she was downstairs, she put it in her pocket for safekeeping, rather than leaving it in a drawer to take upstairs later. There was nothing in them to be ashamed of, but she felt that hers were the only eyes that should see them. She wondered if Mr. Carson had noticed any difference in her letters. Mrs. Hughes wasn't sure herself how much they differed from her past letters, but she did know that offering him her hand at the beach had been quite possibly the most daring thing she had ever done, at least where he was concerned. If her letters reflected this same daring, it seemed certain that he would have noticed. She had thought perhaps she had gone too far and that Mr. Carson's unpleasant letter was his way of telling her that he was offended. He claimed not to be, however, and she had no reason to disbelieve him.

Mrs. Hughes hesitated more than usual before sending the next letter. She had it ready to post in the morning, but did not send it until evening, which would delay its delivery. She was pushing him more than she usually did, and although she did not fear that he would react angrily, she thought he might withdraw a bit at her questioning. She almost threw it in the fire and wrote another, but she remembered that lovely day at the beach and decided to take another chance.

To be continued...

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