Mr. Carson couldn't get away from Downton Abbey to take tea with Mrs. Hughes as often as he would have liked during the two weeks before his retirement, but Mr. Wendover's presence did make it easier for him to escape the house at odd hours. Mrs. Hughes was always happy to see him, no matter what time he came to her door. They usually drank tea together on the settee, but once he visited late in the evening. Mrs. Hughes was about to go to bed when Mr. Carson appeared with a small decanter of sherry to share with her, and they talked into the night. Mr. Carson knew he would suffer in the morning for having stayed out so late, but it was worth it. It was difficult to leave her, all flushed and smiling and beautiful, but he reminded himself that it would not be long before they would not have to part in the evening, or anytime at all.

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Mrs. Hughes was surprised by the variety of visitors she had in her new cottage in the two weeks before Mr. Carson's retirement. There had been the surprise of Lady Mary's visit first, and then some of the staff had dropped in on her - Mrs. Patmore, Mrs. Bute, Anna, and Daisy. She had several surprises in store for her one Thursday morning. In order to avoid disappointment, Mrs. Hughes had learned quickly not to expect every knock at the door to be Mr. Carson's, and she had also stopped trying to guess who it might be. Thus, she was quite calm when she opened the door to her first visitor of the day.

"Mr. Branson! How lovely to see you," she greeted the young man, inviting him in. Mrs. Hughes made some tea and they sat down together in the parlor.

"How are you settling in, Mrs. Hughes?" Mr. Branson asked.

"Very well," she replied. "Thank you for all you've done to make it so comfortable for me."

He nodded. "And how are your wedding plans progressing?"

"I'm quite busy, but everything seems to be going according to plan."

"Mrs. Hughes, I was speaking to Mrs. Patmore recently about your wedding." Mr. Branson suddenly seemed a bit nervous.

"Were you?" Mrs. Hughes was surprised.

"I was," he affirmed. "She told me that you'll be walking down the aisle on your own."

She smiled. "That's true. I'm old enough for you to guess that my father's dead, and I never had any brothers. But it's nothing that troubles me. That's what comes with marrying at such a late stage in life."

"Of course," Mr. Branson agreed. "But Mrs. Hughes, I'd like you to know that, if you would wish it, I would be very honored to give you away on your wedding day."

Mrs. Hughes was speechless.

"But only if you wish it," he noted. "Know that if you ask, I will be happy to serve, but my feelings won't be hurt if you had rather not. It is up to you, Mrs. Hughes."

"But are you sure?" she asked in disbelief. "Won't the family object?"

Mr. Branson laughed. "Lord Grantham will think it strange, no doubt, but his disapproval has never been my guide for good and kind behavior. The others will be surprised, but I doubt there will be any objection."

"Well, if you really mean it, I would be very happy to have your escort down the aisle on my wedding day, Mr. Branson. I'm quite touched by your offer."

"I do mean it," he assured her. "But you needn't answer right now. I know Mr. Carson may not approve, and I wouldn't want to cause trouble between you."

Mrs. Hughes found this very amusing. "Very well, I shall speak to Mr. Carson first. I expect him for a visit later today."

Mr. Branson smiled. "Good."

"Can I ask you a favor, Mr. Branson?"

"Of course, Mrs. Hughes. What can I do for you?"

"Can you carry a letter to Mr. Carson for me?" she asked.

"Certainly. The two of you are corresponding during your separation?"

"Yes," she replied. "It's a bit like being parted for the Season, and we've always exchanged letters during that time. Let me go fetch it." Mrs. Hughes went into the kitchen, where her unfinished letter lay on the table. She had hoped she might have a visitor from the Abbey today who would take the letter to Mr. Carson for her. She quickly signed and sealed the letter, then returned to the parlor.

Mr. Branson stood to take the letter from her and put it in his pocket. "I think it's time for me to be going now. Thank you for the tea."

"You're welcome here anytime, Mr. Branson," Mrs. Hughes answered with a smile.

The young man opened the door and found Lady Edith just walking up the flagstones. She and Mrs. Hughes said goodbye to him before going inside. Lady Edith had just had some tea at home, but wanted a chat with Mrs. Hughes.

"Mrs. Hughes, I'd like to thank you for your advice," Lady Edith began.

"Advice, milady?" Mrs. Hughes's brow furrowed as she tried to remember what the young woman might be speaking of.

"Well, perhaps not advice, precisely," Lady Edith admitted. "But you suggested that her ladyship hoped I would confide in her if something was wrong."

Mrs. Hughes nodded in understanding, but said nothing.

Lady Edith sat gathering her thoughts for a moment before she spoke softly. "I have a secret, Mrs. Hughes. A shameful secret. I wasn't going to tell anyone, but it's been weighing very heavily on my mind. I thought about what you said and I decided to take a risk and tell my mother."

Mrs. Hughes nodded, encouraging the young woman with a warm smile.

"I can't tell you my secret, but-"

"You've no obligation to tell me any secrets," Mrs. Hughes told her. "And I'll keep your confidence now, milady. You can be assured of that."

Lady Edith smiled a little. "Thank you," she replied shakily. "My mother was very kind when I told her my secret. I'm not sure if I will tell anyone else, or if there is something that can be done about it. But she did not disown me or chastise me, only told me that… that I would always be her daughter and she would always love me. We both know there will be consequences, but she assured me that she would stand by me if-" Here the young woman broke off, overtaken by tears.

If Lady Edith had been a member of her staff, Mrs. Hughes might have embraced her, but that didn't seem quite appropriate. Still, she could not simply stay where she was and watch the woman weep, so she compromised by moving from her chair to sit beside Lady Edith on the settee and offering her handkerchief.

"Thank you," Lady Edith sniffled. "I'm just so relieved, and so thankful."

"I'm glad things turned out better than you expected."

Lady Edith smiled through her tears. "So am I, Mrs. Hughes. And thank you for your help. You may not think you did very much, but your kind words and calm manner were just what I needed during those weeks you attended me."

Mrs. Hughes smiled and patted Lady Edith's hand. "I'm glad I could help, milady. Are you sure I can't get you some tea? Or a glass of water, perhaps?"

Lady Edith shook her head. "No, thank you. I think I should be going now."

"Very well, milady." Mrs. Hughes saw her to the door and they parted.

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When Mr. Carson came to her door that evening after dinner, he found Mrs. Hughes deep in thought. She was happy to see him, and savored the embrace and kiss he greeted her with, but she was a little distracted when he followed her into the kitchen where she had two wine glasses sitting out on the table. He uncorked the bottle of wine he had brought and set it on the table. They both sat down at the table.

"Thank you for your letter, love," he said.

"I'm sorry it was so short. I wasn't finished with it when Mr. Branson came to visit."

"It doesn't matter. It could have said, 'Dear Charles, I love you. Elsie' and I would have been happy with it." He paused to look at her. "Is anything wrong, Elsie?" Mr. Carson asked her, concerned. "You seem a bit preoccupied."

Mrs. Hughes returned to the present moment and smiled. "No, nothing's wrong, Charles," she answered. "I had two visitors today, and two very unusual conversations."

"Who were your visitors?" he wanted to know.

"Mr. Branson and Lady Edith," she told him. "I can't tell you what Lady Edith said, for she spoke in confidence. As for Mr. Branson, well, I'm not sure what you will say about the reason for his visit."

"He didn't speak in confidence, I gather?"

Mrs. Hughes shook her head. "No, and I have to tell you what he said, for it will affect you, too."

"Oh?" Mr. Carson was curious. "Well, out with it, Elsie."

"Mr. Branson offered to give me away on our wedding day."

Mr. Carson's eyebrows rose in surprise, then drew together in consternation. He opened his mouth and immediately closed it again. Mrs. Hughes bit her lip to keep from laughing as she watched him struggle to decide how he felt about this piece of news. She could see the progression of thoughts easily just by watching his expression. First Mr. Carson thought it inappropriate for a member of the family to take such a role in the marriage of two servants. Then he realized that he was considering Mr. Branson as a true member of the family, rather than what he really was - a servant who had stepped out of place. Then he discarded that contradiction and began to consider the young man impertinent for making such an offer to someone unrelated to him, who had not asked for his help or interference.

"I was very touched by his offer," Mrs. Hughes began. "I'd like to accept it, but I won't if it will upset you terribly."

Mr. Carson's face relaxed a little as he silently studied hers.

"Mr. Branson didn't ask me for an answer, only told me that if I asked for his escort down the aisle, he would give it gladly," she explained further. "I suspect you and I will argue about Mr. Branson on other occasions, but on our wedding day, what's important to me is you. It doesn't matter how I walk down the aisle or what I'm wearing or who else is there." Mrs. Hughes laid her arm across the table, offering her hand; Mr. Carson took it. "I just want you to be there and I want you to be happy."

Finally, a slight smile appeared on his face. "I will be happy as long as you are there."

Mrs. Hughes returned his smile. "As though I would forget to come to my own wedding," she scoffed lightly.

His smile grew and before long they were both laughing. Mr. Carson poured the wine and they drank and chatted easily.

"How is Mr. Wendover progressing?" Mrs. Hughes asked.

"He's doing quite well, Elsie. I'm very pleased."

"Has he fallen in love with Mrs. Bute yet?" Mrs. Hughes jested.

"Why do you say that?" Mr. Carson questioned. "Do you know something?"

"I was only joking, Charles," she told him.
"I hope he hasn't fallen in love with Mrs. Bute," he remarked. "She's been hoping to attain a post like she has now for some years. He's bound to be disappointed if he wants her to give it up."

"Oh, I don't know," Mrs. Hughes commented, looking piercingly into his face. "Love can make you change your plans and do things you'd never have thought you'd do. She might be more willing to give it up than you think."

Mr. Carson was sure that she wasn't talking only of Mrs. Bute now. He met Mrs. Hughes's gaze and they were both silent for a few moments. "Elsie."

"Charles."

"I almost fear asking you."

"Don't be afraid, my dear."

"How long, Elsie?" he asked quietly.

"I'm not exactly sure, Charles."

"But when did you know?"

"Nineteen-fifteen." She answered without hesitation.

"During the War," he mused.

She nodded. "I just looked at you one day and knew that I loved you."

"Just like that?" he wanted to know.

"Just like that," Mrs. Hughes confirmed. "It was at breakfast. You were grumbling about making do with only one footman, as you did most mornings then, and it just… happened. I took a sip of my tea, glanced over at you… and couldn't look away. I thanked heaven you were too distracted to notice that I was staring. That was the beginning of my madness."

"You never seemed mad to me," Mr. Carson told her.

"I daresay I never seemed mad to anyone," she remarked. "I was good at hiding it. And I only felt mad for a few months. After that things settled down a little for me. I still had moments when I would glance at you and suddenly be struck to the bone by what a wonderful man you were or how handsome you were, but I wasn't constantly senseless."

"I don't know what to say."

"There isn't much to be said, is there?" she replied softly.

Mr. Carson hesitated for a moment, stood up, and pulled Mrs. Hughes to her feet. She let him lead her to the settee. It was much too small for him to stretch his legs out on the seat, but he sat diagonally across it and beckoned for her to sit on his lap.

"I want to hold you while you talk, Elsie," he told her.

Mrs. Hughes curled up in his lap, resting her head where his neck met his shoulder. "I was in misery for a few months when you were making plans to go to Haxby Park, but it wasn't complete misery. The night you told me you'd made up your mind to leave, I began to understand that you really cared about me. Oh, I knew you weren't in love with me, but-"

"Maybe I was," Mr. Carson mused. "If I was I didn't know it, but when I look back over the time we've known each other, I think it's possible that I've loved you a long time. It just crept up on me gradually."

"It was definitely gradual for me, too."

"But you never considered telling me?" he wondered.

"No, never," she replied firmly. "I didn't think anything could possibly be gained by it, and it seemed likely that our friendship would never be the same again - that we would lose that ease and comfort that was so special to me."

"I imagine I might have been frightened out of my wits if you had told me," he admitted.

"You would have been, and you might have pushed me away, too. I couldn't bear the thought of losing the bit of you that I had, even if it wasn't as much of you as I wanted. The Crawleys were your only family then. I was just your friend."

"That's not true, Elsie," he responded vehemently.

"Isn't it?"

"I'm not sure I would have known how to say it, then, but you were my family, too."

"Do you mean it?" Mrs. Hughes was very affected by this revelation.

"If I'd been forced to say how, I would have been unable to name what relation you most resembled, because in truth you were like some combination of a sister and a wife. Considering you to be like a wife would have been both presumptuous and terrifying, but calling you sister would not have been quite right, either."

Mrs. Hughes laughed softly. "I'm glad you don't find the idea of having me for your wife terrifying anymore, Charles."

"Not at all. I find the prospect quite exhilarating." Mr. Carson twitched his shoulder, nudging her to sit up and look at him.

"So do I," she agreed quietly, looking into his eyes. For a while they just sat in silence. For Mrs. Hughes, the novelty of being able to openly admire Mr. Carson had not worn off, and she enjoyed studying every detail of his handsome face. Mr. Carson was admiring her as well, marveling that he had sat beside her at dinner every night for years, but had not noticed until recently how lovely she was, and wondering at the expression of tenderness on her face as she gazed back at him. After Alice had abandoned him, he had not thought any woman would ever look at him the way Mrs. Hughes now did. He wasn't even sure if Alice ever had, when he really thought about it. Right now, however, he was not concerned with Alice Neal, but with Elsie Hughes, and with how much he wanted to kiss her.

She must have had the same thought, because her eyes, which had been roaming his face, now drifted down to his mouth. She raised a hand to touch his lips with her fingers, but before she could, Mr. Carson quickly pressed his lips to hers with some force, pushing her a little backwards. His arms, however, were locked around her and he pulled her into him. She squeaked in surprise and he slipped his tongue between her open lips. Mrs. Hughes teased him with her own tongue as she slid her hands up his chest and neck and into his hair. She thought she would surely either melt or burst into flames as she pulled his head down closer to hers. Mr. Carson had kissed her passionately before, but this kiss was less like a dance and more like a fiercely waged battle. They were both fighting, though not against each other, but rather against anything that might separate them. When at last they paused for breath, neither loosened their hold on the other. Mr. Carson kissed his way from her mouth to her neck, all the while whispering that he loved her and that she was beautiful. Mrs. Hughes could not speak, because just as she was recovering her breath, the sound and the feel of his voice in her ear stole it from her again. She started to feel a bit giddy, so she didn't try to say anything, simply focused on taking slow breaths. Mr. Carson's movements slowed as well, until he had stopped kissing her or speaking to her, and started to rock gently from side to side, though still clutching her tightly to his chest.

They continued like this for several minutes before he relaxed his grip on Mrs. Hughes and she rested easily on his lap, leaning against his chest. She listened to his heart beating and thought about what lay ahead. In less than a week they would be married and she would take him into her bed, so many years after she had taken him into her heart. Mrs. Hughes had felt since their engagement that Mr. Carson was holding back a little when he held her and kissed her. It was not that his caresses were half-hearted, but that he was leaving some deeper part of himself unreachable for the time being. He respected her as much as he loved her, and in Mr. Carson's eyes, that respect required that he make no demands of her before they were married, no matter how much both of them might be tempted. He had teased her about showing him the bedroom the week before, but Mrs. Hughes knew that if she had, he would not have pressed his advantage, even had she been willing. Once she wore his ring and bore his name, however, Mr. Carson would be open to her in a way he never had been, even after they had come to an understanding. Mrs. Hughes was not afraid, but she could not help being nervous. She could not think of any previous event in her life from which she could draw some guidance on how to behave, or what to expect. This was something completely fresh - a blank page on which she would write new stories of her own life as Mrs. Carson.

"Elsie."

"Mmmm?"

"I have to go now."

Mrs. Hughes sighed. "Yes, you do." She rose from her comfortable perch and went to get Mr. Carson's coat. He followed her to the door and she helped him into it.

"We'll talk about Mr. Branson tomorrow, Elsie."

"If you wish."

"Good night."

"Good night, Charles. Sweet dreams."

They shared one last tender kiss and then he was on his way back to the Abbey.

To be continued...

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