Mrs. Hughes found Mr. Carson in his pantry with the door half-open when she went looking for him later that day. She knocked, entered without waiting for his answer, and closed the door behind her. Mr. Carson had been preparing himself for this moment. He looked up at her, wary of the anger he expected, and ready to explain why he had done what he had done.

"You spoke to her ladyship, Mr. Carson," she stated evenly.

"I did."

"Mr. Carson, you-"

"Mrs. Hughes, let me assure you that I have complete faith in your ability to do your job and do it well. I only spoke to her ladyship because-"

"Mr. Carson-" she tried to interrupt.

"I was worried that the demands being placed on you might eventually become too much and that you would become ill. You told me last evening that you didn't know when you might find time to speak to her ladyship today, so I took it upon myself to speak to her for you. Perhaps this was high-handed of me, but it is done now and, I believe, done for the best." Mr. Carson let his defense rest and waited for the verdict.

Mrs. Hughes just smiled. "I only wanted to thank you, Mr. Carson, for speaking to her ladyship and for what you did last night."

At first his eyebrows rose in surprise, but soon he was smiling back at her. "What did I do last night?"

"You know very well what you did," she scoffed lightly. "If it hadn't been for you, the kitchen maids would have found me this morning, asleep on the floor in that corridor."

"Well, I'm glad I could help," he replied.

"And thank you for taking my shoes off," she added. "You didn't have to do that, but I was much more comfortable because you did."

Mr. Carson was a little embarrassed and managed to change the subject. "Well, I'm glad you aren't angry that I spoke to her ladyship."

"It's true that I could have spoken to her myself, but your speaking up for me meant one less thing I had to do this morning. I suspect you did a better job of it than I would have, too."

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm so tired that half the time I can barely string a coherent sentence together. Lady Edith and Lady Rose must have thought me mad or ill this morning."

"So what did her ladyship say?"

"Anna will manage her ladyship and Lady Mary and the younger ladies will have to muddle through with one of the housemaids and each other for help. The dowager will send her maid up to the house for a few hours every day to help Anna manage all the delicate laundry. Her ladyship has released me from all of my ladies' maid duties, with one exception. I'm to keep dressing Lady Edith's hair. Her ladyship said she wouldn't have asked it except that Lady Edith seems keen on my company."

"I don't blame her."

Mrs. Hughes colored slightly. "Well, that's as may be, but I am very grateful to her ladyship. And to you."

"I'm just glad everything's been sorted out."

Mrs. Hughes looked at Mr. Carson, standing over her with his great brows drawn together. He seemed to be scrutinizing her face in detail. She turned away. "Please don't look at me like that, Mr. Carson. I must look frightful, as little as I've been sleeping lately."

"Nonsense, you look lovely." The words had slipped out before Mr. Carson could stop them, or even think about them. He flushed as she returned her surprised gaze to his face. He was embarrassed that he had said so much, but he would not apologize - at least not yet. If she was angry at him for his forwardness, she would certainly let him know, and he could make amends, but he didn't think she would be. And if she didn't mind it, why shouldn't he tell her she was lovely? She deserved to hear it from someone. He cleared his throat. "Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?"

"Yes, I will. I'll be glad to be back, and no mistake. I was getting tired of sandwiches for dinner every night."

Mr. Carson laughed. "A hot dinner will do you a great deal of good, then."

"I think I'll go to bed right after dinner tonight, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes told him. "Perhaps tomorrow we can take up our evening chats again."

"That sounds lovely."

"Mr. Carson, can I ask you a favor?"

"Anything."

"Would you... do what you did last night? I promise not to fall asleep on you this time." Mrs. Hughes was blushing furiously, but she smiled all the same.

Mr. Carson was surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. We can talk for a minute or two and then I'll be on my way."

"All right." Mr. Carson approached Mrs. Hughes, but this time she moved in his direction as well. When they met in the middle, she rested her head and her hands against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

They were silent. After a little while, Mr. Carson began to rub her back gently, as he had the night before. Mrs. Hughes barely remembered anything of those moments beyond how warm and safe she had felt, but now that she was a little more alert, she was very aware of the way he smelled, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and the warmth that emanated through his clothing and seeped through her skin where she touched him. It occurred to her that this could be rather dangerous, but so had been a number of things she had said and done and written this summer. Mrs. Hughes was taking her own advice and 'living a little.'

The night before, Mr. Carson had certainly noticed the way she smelled and how soft she was in his arms, but he had been primarily occupied with the task of keeping her upright and getting her safely to bed. Now he felt intoxicated by her delicious scent, something warm and sweet, and wanted to let his hands wander further down her body. But he kept one arm around her shoulder and let the other continue to rub her back in what he hoped was a comforting manner. Mrs. Hughes sighed in contentment and he permitted himself the pleasure of resting his chin lightly on the top of her head. She stirred slightly in his arms, breathing deeply and smoothing her hands over his waistcoat.

The back door slammed and Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes were startled out of their reverie.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Carson said, releasing her from his embrace but letting his hands rest on her shoulders. "I know you wanted to talk."

She pulled away from him, simply smiling and shaking her head. "It's all right, Mr. Carson," she murmured. "Sometimes talking isn't necessary."

They stood apart from each other for a few moments, regarding one another seriously, before Mrs. Hughes turned to leave the room. Before she opened the door, however, she smiled at Mr. Carson over her shoulder. "I'll see you at dinner." And then she was gone.

Mr. Carson remained where he stood, pondering Mrs. Hughes's words. Sometimes talking isn't necessary. He wondered if there was some hidden meaning behind them. Did she know how he felt? He sometimes thought it must be written all over his face and that everyone who looked at him must see it, but no one seemed to notice. Another question he couldn't help contemplating was how she felt. Did she love him? If she didn't now, could she ever?

#####

Mrs. Hughes stood just outside the doorway to the servants' hall watching the rest of the staff gather for dinner. Mr. Carson sat with his eyes closed and his hands folded over his stomach, waiting for dinnertime. Mrs. Hughes wondered if she could do the same, but then reminded herself that once she got through dinner she would be seeking the sanctuary of her room and rising at a more normal hour tomorrow. She tried to avoid disturbing Mr. Carson by being very quiet as she walked to her place and pulled out her chair, but as soon as she did, Mr. Carson's eyes flew open.

"Mr. Barrow," the butler called out in his most authoritative tone. Mrs. Hughes stayed where she was.

The under butler was taken by surprise. "Yes, Mr. Carson." Mr. Barrow, and the rest of the room's occupants, waited for Mr. Carson's pronouncement.

"After all the years you've spent at Downton, I would expect you to have learned something about the courtesy that is due a lady."

"Yes, Mr. Carson." Mr. Barrow hadn't the slightest idea what he might have done wrong; he was caught on the back foot and could do nothing but wait. Mr. Carson was sure to enlighten him eventually.

"Why have you allowed Mrs. Hughes to pull out her own chair?"

Mr. Barrow clattered out of his seat. "I'm sorry Mr. Carson. It won't happen again. It's only that with Mrs. Hughes missing so often from the table recently, I'd gotten out of the habit."

"Then I suggest you get back in the habit," Mr. Carson replied scathingly. "And it's not my pardon you should be begging."

"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Barrow apologized. "Please have a seat," he offered, allowing her to sit and pushing her chair in. "It's good to have you back with us."

"Thank you, Mr. Barrow," Mrs. Hughes answered. "I'm glad to be back."

Mr. Carson closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of his chair again, but an almost imperceptible smile played over his lips. Mrs. Hughes bit her lip. She stole a few glances at him as she waited for dinner to be served. She wished she could stare openly at him; he was terribly handsome and she didn't often have the opportunity to watch him while he was at rest. It wasn't long before Ivy entered and began to serve up the stew, and when Mr. Carson opened his eyes he caught Mrs. Hughes watching him. She looked away quickly.

"Like Mr. Barrow, I am glad you are back with us, Mrs. Hughes," he told her. It was mostly her imagination, she knew, but Mrs. Hughes felt his deep voice resonating through her entire body.

"Thank you, Mr. Carson. I am glad to be here."

"And you'll be going up to bed right after dinner?"

"I will. You needn't worry that I'll be stubborn and fight it. I haven't the energy right now. But be assured that tomorrow I will be my usual obstinate self, arguing with you at every turn."

Mr. Carson laughed. "I would expect no less."

"To be honest, though, I'm not sure that's entirely true," Mrs. Hughes allowed. "I'm beginning to feel I'm too old for all of that."

Mr. Carson let his spoon fall into his bowl. "What?"

"I'm an old woman, Mr. Carson."

"Hardly," he scoffed.

"I mean it," she insisted. "I'm so dreadfully tired. I wonder sometimes how much longer I can work, and how much longer I can keep making trouble for you."

"I won't listen to this," Mr. Carson argued, growing agitated. "You're tired because for weeks you've been doing more every day than any woman, young or old, should attempt to do in a single day. Don't make pronouncements based on how you feel right now. Tomorrow or next week, perhaps, but not today."

Mrs. Hughes sighed. "Very well," she relented. "Tomorrow, perhaps."

"And you are not old, Mrs. Hughes," he persisted. "You're energetic and capable and not even slightly old."

Mrs. Hughes gave him a skeptical look. "Regardless of all that, Mr. Carson, pick up your spoon and eat your stew. His lordship will ring at any moment. We can't have your rumbling stomach disturbing his evening port."

Mr. Carson smiled reluctantly and followed her directive. They finished eating in silence, each glancing up at the other from time to time. Sometimes their eyes met and sometimes they didn't. When the bell rang, Mr. Carson pushed his chair back reluctantly. "I'll see you at breakfast, then, Mrs. Hughes?" He looked just past her, his censorious eye landing on Mr. Barrow once again. The under butler helped Mrs. Hughes from her chair and quickly left the room.

"You will, Mr. Carson," she said with a nod. "Good night."

"Good night, Mrs. Hughes."

To be continued...

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