The sound of chairs scraping the floor caught Mr. Carson's attention and he hurried toward the servants hall, where he found Lady Mary. She heard his step in the corridor and turned.

"Ah, Carson, I was looking for you." She smiled. "Can I have a word?"

"Of course, milady. How can I help?"

Lady Mary looked around before speaking softly. "Is there somewhere we can speak privately? Is Mr. Wendover in the pantry?"

"No, he's upstairs, milady." Mr. Carson gestured for her to precede him to the pantry.

Lady Mary was the first to speak when the door was closed.

"How are you, Carson?" she wanted to know. "We haven't really spoken much about… everything that's happened."

Mr. Carson smiled slightly. "I'm very well, milady, though Mr. Wendover's training keeps me quite busy."

"Do you think he is up to the job?" Lady Mary asked.

"I do, milady," he assented. "He is very serious about the job and I think you will be pleased with his work once he has adjusted to Downton."

"It will take some getting used to for the family, too, having you and Mrs. Hughes both gone. At least we've got Mrs. Bute, who isn't a complete stranger."

"And very capable she is, though not quite like Mrs. Hughes."

Lady Mary hid a smile. "I suspect no one is quite like Mrs. Hughes to you, Carson."

Mr. Carson could not hide his smile, nor could he think of what to say in response to Lady Mary's comment.

"I did wonder, when I first heard of it, what the... situation was between the two of you," she remarked.

"Milady?" He didn't quite understand.

"I thought you might have offered her your hand so she wouldn't have to be alone in retirement," Lady Mary admitted.

Mr. Carson frowned. "While I have heard of such things happening, it is certainly-"

"But it didn't take long for me to perceive that it was more than that." She looked at him seriously. "You're happy, Carson, and I can't tell you how glad that makes me. No one deserves it more than you."

He shook his head. "There is one person who deserves happiness more than I do," he told her. "But I'll not complain of having better than I deserve."

"The woman you love loves you. I don't think deserving comes into the picture. Love just is, and there's nothing we can do about it," Lady Mary said softly.

"Beautifully put, milady."

"Now, Carson, I've come to ask if there's any way I can help."

"Help? With what?"

Lady Mary laughed. "Well, I won't be serving wine at the dinner table, but I did think I might be able to lighten your load in other ways - help you get away from the house occasionally. This will be a long two weeks for you, I think."

"Yes," he agreed. "But I would rather spend as much time as I can training Mr. Wendover now, so I will be needed little after I am gone."

"Then I don't suppose there is much more I can do. But I do wish you all the luck in the world, Carson."

Mr. Carson was thoughtful. "There is something you could do for me, milady."

Lady Mary looked at him expectantly. "Well? What is it?"

#####

Mrs. Hughes was very surprised to hear a knock on her door. Mr. Carson couldn't be away from the house at this time of day and she wasn't expecting any other visitors. She had just been arranging some books on a shelf, however, and was well able to make a cup of tea for anyone who came to see her. Nevertheless, she was quite astonished to find a smiling Lady Mary Crawley on her doorstep. She invited the young woman in and offered to make tea.

"Tea would be lovely, Mrs. Hughes."

"Shall I take your coat, milady?"

"I'll take care of my coat while you make tea." Lady Mary lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Don't worry, I won't tell Carson."

Mrs. Hughes laughed and went to the kitchen. Lady Mary hung her coat on the rack by the front door and followed her.

"I can bring tea to you in the parlor, milady. You'll be more comfortable there."

Lady Mary looked around the room and took a seat at the kitchen table. "It may surprise you to know that I don't mind sitting in the kitchen, Mrs. Hughes. It makes a nice change."

Mrs. Hughes was puzzled. "If you say so, milady." The kettle was on the stove and she began to pull out the tea things.

"I like the idea of seeing where Carson is going to live when he leaves us."

Mrs. Hughes colored faintly and smiled as she continued setting things on a tray. "I hope he'll be comfortable here."

"I'm sure he will as long as he's got you with him."

The water boiled and Mrs. Hughes served the tea at the kitchen table. She thought she ought to have felt awkward and uncomfortable serving tea to an earl's daughter in the kitchen of her humble cottage, but she felt neither of those things. Once she saw that everything was right, she sat down across from Lady Mary. It felt a little odd, but she was in her own home now.

"How is everything up at the house?" Mrs. Hughes asked politely.

"All right, I think," Lady Mary answered thoughtfully. "Although one of the butlers misses his best girl."

"Oh, has Mr. Wendover left a sweetheart behind in Somerset?" Mrs. Hughes asked innocently.

Lady Mary laughed. "Not that I know of." She looked carefully at Mrs. Hughes over her teacup. "Say what you are thinking, Mrs. Hughes. You're looking at me strangely."

"You've surprised me is all. You really are perfectly comfortable taking tea in my kitchen."

"Mr. Branson and I have taken tea in tenants' kitchens throughout the estate," she explained. "The kitchen of a cottage or farmhouse can be one of the coziest places in the world, I think."

"I agree with you there, milady," Mrs. Hughes concurred.

Lady Mary drained her cup and set it down, then reached for her handbag. "I've brought you something, Mrs. Hughes."

"Oh?" Mrs. Hughes was curious.

"Yes," she confirmed, pulling an envelope out and laying it on the table. "From Carson."

Mrs. Hughes resisted the urge to immediately pick the letter up and tear it open, but she could not keep her eyes from being drawn to it. Lady Mary could see this conflict in her eyes and decided to take her leave so her hostess could read her letter. She tried to see herself out, but Mrs. Hughes would not allow this. She took her guest's coat from the rack and helped her into it, thanked her for coming, and told her she was welcome to visit anytime. As soon as the door was closed, however, she rushed back into the kitchen and seized the letter, tearing it open and sinking into a chair to read.

Dear Elsie,

Yours was the first love letter I've ever received. It made me smile and it surprised and flustered me, which I believe means it did everything a good love letter should. I thank you for such a frank account of your history of loving me. One day I will give you such a narrative of how I came to love you, but for now I am capable only of telling what I already have - how I came to be aware that I loved you. As far as when I began to love you, I could not say. I suspect as we grow together even further, as husband and wife, I will understand myself better. I expect you will help me to understand myself better, as you have so many times before.

You say that you watched over me as best you could, but not as well as you would have liked. My dearest, I could have asked for no better friend than you. It is true that you were not my wife, but I had no wife. You have been closer to me and have cared for me more tenderly than many wives care for their husbands. Where would I have been without you as my friend, my counselor, my comforter, my nurse? I would have been a lonely and perhaps even a bitter man, but instead I have been successful and truly happy in my chosen profession. It is true that I am proud to have served the Crawleys, but without you beside me, my life would not have been as full and my success would have been far less meaningful. I do not pretend to be a great man, but whatever of good there is in me has been nurtured by your encouragement and whatever of bad there is in me has been diminished by your affectionate challenges. Whatever the reason, I am glad you crossed that line at the seaside this summer, that you did not turn back, and that you led me along with you. There were times when the journey was just as frightening as it was thrilling, but it was a journey I needed to make.

I love you. You needn't worry that I will forget to tell you so every day. I can't think of how I would make it through any day without telling you several times that I love you, even if you vex me. I think we will go on vexing each other from time to time just as we always have, but as before, we will also go on loving one another.

I have begun the descent into madness once again, just as I did when you left London. I can only hope that two weeks will not be enough to make me well and truly mad, for I do look forward to being yours, and to your being mine.

Ever yours,

Charles

To be continued...

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