Lord Grantham and Lady Edith finished breakfast before Mr. Branson, which was a stroke of luck for Mr. Carson. He was alone in the room with the young man, and he meant to speak to him. It went against every rule of service to accost Mr. Branson in this way, but he wished to speak to him as soon as possible, so he did not wait for him to rise from the table.

"Mr. Branson, might I have a word?" Mr. Carson began.

Mr. Branson was surprised, but did not mind. "Of course, Mr. Carson."

"I understand from Mrs. Hughes that you have offered to give her away at our wedding."

"Yes, that is true," the young man answered. "But only if she wants me to." He laid his napkin on the table and rose from his chair.

"So she told me. I'd just like to know why."

"Mr. Carson, you and I don't often see eye to eye on things, but I think we can agree on what a special woman Mrs. Hughes is and how important she is to so many people."

Mr. Carson inclined his head in agreement.

"I'd like to answer your question, but it may take some time and I'm due at one of the farms very shortly. I'll come find you later today and we'll talk."

Mr. Carson could not argue, so he nodded again. "Very good, sir. I shall look forward to it."

#####

Mr. Branson kept his word, finding Mr. Carson in his pantry that afternoon. Mr. Carson gestured for Mr. Branson to close the door and he did. Both men stood in silence for a while, neither quite certain how to proceed. Mr. Carson wanted to hear what Mr. Branson had to say, but he didn't know how to begin the conversation. Mr. Branson knew that Mr. Carson did not quite approve of him and didn't want to ruin what had the potential to be a cordial conversation.

Mr. Carson cleared his throat. "Won't you sit down, Mr. Branson?" he suggested.

"I will if you will, Mr. Carson," the young man answered.

Mr. Carson nodded and they both sat. "That's where Mrs. Hughes used to sit when we had tea or a glass of wine in here," the butler remarked, indicating Mr. Branson's chair.

"Everyone upstairs misses her."

"Downstairs, too," Mr. Carson commented. "Oh, they all go on with their duties as usual, but it's not the same. It will never be the same."

"I don't think it could be."

"But you didn't come here to talk about what Downton Abbey is like without Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Branson."

The young man smiled slightly. "No, I didn't. I came to answer your question about why I offered to escort her to your side next week in church. It's because of things she's done for me, and things she's done for others. She was kind to me when I was the chauffeur, when I was the earl's son-in-law, and when I was the estate agent. She's found me in despair and somehow brought me back to myself."

Mr. Carson nodded. "She's been kind to you, you say, but what do you mean 'things she's done for others'?" He was curious.

Mr. Branson took a deep breath, wondering where he should start. "When I first came to Downton Abbey, to me Mrs. Hughes seemed a bit sharp, a little harsh."

Mr. Carson frowned ominously and opened his mouth to speak in her defense, but Mr. Branson interrupted him.

"You don't need to tell me how wrong I was, Mr. Carson. Someone told me back then."

"Whom do you mean?"

"William Mason, Mr. Carson. I made some jest about Mrs. Hughes terrifying everyone, and William gave me as mighty a frown as he could and said he'd hear no words spoken against her, and that she was as good a woman as could be found in this world. It was easy enough to explain to William that I had spoken foolishly, but not maliciously, for in reality I barely knew her, living outside the house as I did. And I asked him to tell me what he meant."

"What did he say?" Mr. Carson asked quietly, swallowing hard.

"He said she sometimes had encouraging words for him when he felt sad or homesick, but most of the time she was just there, her presence often unnoticed, but her absence always felt keenly. He described her as 'a warm shadow.' Just knowing she was somewhere in the house made one feel more comfortable, he told me."

"A warm shadow," Mr. Carson mused.

"It wasn't long before I saw the truth of his words."

"Her presence unnoticed, her absence felt keenly," Mr. Carson murmured, lost in thought.

"I know William and I weren't the only young people who felt the benefit of Mrs. Hughes's influence over our lives," Mr. Branson explained. "I don't think there's much she wants that she doesn't already have, but I have offered what I thought might mean something to her."

"Did you tell her what William said?"

Mr. Branson shook his head. "No."

Mr. Carson got up from his chair and paced the room. Mr. Branson rose also, though he stood still, watching the older man turn matters over in his mind. After a minute or two, Mr. Carson seemed to relax, and he came to a stop.

"If Mrs. Hughes wishes it, I shall be grateful if you would escort her down the aisle, as her father might have done once," Mr. Carson intoned. "But I have one condition."

Mr. Branson's eyebrows rose.

"You must tell her everything you've just told me. It doesn't have to be before the wedding, and I would prefer that it not be on the wedding day itself. But you must tell her."

Mr. Branson's face relaxed into a smile. "Of course," he agreed. "I suppose I ought to have told her years ago."

Mr. Carson sighed, his mind turning inward again. And so should I have done, he thought. He found himself reflecting again on what Mr. Branson had said. Her presence unnoticed, her absence felt keenly. He certainly felt her absence keenly now, but he made a silent promise never to allow her presence to go unnoticed again. If he were honest, he had to admit that he had taken her for granted sometimes, and he was ashamed. Mr. Carson hoped he could get away from the house to visit Mrs. Hughes tonight. He suddenly felt desperate to see her.

Mr. Branson stood in the room for half a minute before he realized that Mr. Carson was completely lost in his thoughts and had forgotten he was not alone. The young man smiled at his abstraction and slipped out of the room unnoticed.

#####

Mr. Carson didn't have time that night to leave Downton Abbey for the comfort of a visit with Mrs. Hughes, but he went anyway. He gave Mrs. Bute a flimsy excuse that he was sure she would see right through, and slipped out of the house. It was quite late and he wasn't sure if Mrs. Hughes would still be awake, but he had to try. His conversation with Mr. Branson had been on his mind all afternoon and evening. Mr. Carson's mind was full of memories and regrets and gratefulness and wonder. He wasn't sure what he was going to say to her, but he would find some way of telling what needed to be told.

When he reached the cottage door, he knocked firmly. There was no immediate answer, but it occurred to Mr. Carson that Mrs. Hughes might be hesitant to open her door to an unknown visitor in the dark. He knocked again, but this time called her name and identified himself. He could not hear any sound from within, and was about to turn and make his way back to the Abbey when the door swung open. In just a few seconds he had stepped inside and pulled her against his chest.

"Thank God," he whispered into her hair. "I was afraid I'd missed you."

Mrs. Hughes smiled into his chest and wrapped her arms around his middle. "You almost did."

"I'm so glad I didn't miss you." Mr. Carson held her tighter.

"Charles, what's the matter?"

"Nothing. That is, I've done so many things. Elsie, I'm so sorry. I should have… I just didn't think... but never again…" He was stumbling over his words, pulling her closer and mumbling into her neck.

"Charles!" Mrs. Hughes gasped. "Let me breathe!"

Mr. Carson immediately loosened his grasp on her, but did not release her.

"Charles, I can see you're upset," she said gently. "Come inside and sit down."

"I can't," he told her. "I'm shouldn't even be away from the house. I think Mrs. Bute will cover for me for a little while, but I must be getting back."

Mrs. Hughes was baffled. "Well, at least close the door and tell me what's wrong."

"No, Elsie," Mr. Carson replied gravely. "If I do that I'll never leave."

She met his gaze steadily. There was silence between them for a few moments before she spoke. "Then why did you come?"

His eyes searched her face while he searched for words, but in the end he found only two. He pulled her close again, more gently this time, and said, "thank you."

"For what?" Mrs. Hughes wanted to know.

"Just… thank you." Mr. Carson stepped back, cradled her face in his large hands, and kissed her forehead, before letting her go. He turned around and walked back toward the Abbey, leaving Mrs. Hughes standing bewildered in the doorway.

"You're welcome."

To be continued…

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