GETTING MARRIED

Chapter 3 The Dress

Modest Options

The last time Mrs. Patmore had asked Mrs. Hughes a personal question when they were upstairs in the servants' quarters, she'd gotten far more than she bargained for in terms of insights into the housekeeper's views of marriage. But now, believing Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson to be well launched on the road to matrimony, with no serious obstacles in sight, the intrepid cook turned to a different subject.

"Well, now that you've got the date and the venue for the reception and some idea of what the breakfast will consist of, what are you going to wear?"*

They had met at the top of the stairs, the housekeeper about to descend, Mrs. Patmore on her way to get a fresh apron, and the question just popped out.

Mrs. Hughes hesitated. "Let me show you," she said, turning back toward her room.

Mrs. Patmore obligingly followed.

"Thank you, by the way, for agreeing to make the wedding breakfast," Mrs. Hughes said, over her shoulder. "It's quite a relief. We both of us know you'll do everything exactly right. But it is a lot to ask."

"Not really," Mrs. Patmore said with a shrug. "After Lady Mary's wedding, and Lady Edith's aborted one, and Mr. Matthew and Miss Swire's, too, come to think of it, yours is almost a light entertainment. Oh, there'll be plenty and it will be perfect...," if she did say so herself, "...but it's a more modest scale."

"You're a good friend," Mrs. Hughes said, with feeling. "But I hope being responsible for the food won't keep you away from the church. From where I sit, you and Anna will be the most important people in attendance. Will you leave Daisy in charge at the schoolhouse?"

Mrs. Hughes's words brought a warm smile to Mrs. Patmore's face. "Who could have imagined you saying that about me years ago when we were battling over the store cupboard key!"

"Indeed!" Mrs. Hughes agreed. They had had a few dust-ups on that subject, although it was hard to believe now. They weren't the most natural match as friends, the taciturn housekeeper and the volatile cook, but somehow they'd overcome the tensions of their sometime conflicting responsibilities and grown fond of each other. "But then, which of us would have imagined Mr. Carson and I marrying?"

"Exactly. And that's why wild horses couldn't drag me away from the church where the two of you were being married," Mrs. Patmore assured her. "And I'd not deny Daisy the pleasure either, though she's not got quite as much invested in your tying the knot as I have. I've asked Mrs. Crawley's cook, Mrs. Dunn, to supervise during the hour or so that we're away at the church. I don't know that she's all that happy about it, because the whole village will be turning out and she won't want to miss the event, even if she only knows you in passing. But she understands that somebody's got to supervise the hired staff."

They were now in Mrs. Hughes's room. "Don't say the whole village will be there," she said uneasily. "It's not such a great fuss."

Mrs. Patmore made an impatient sound. "But it is. You're leading citizens of Downton Village, the pair of you. And it is a bit of an occasion. Everyone who knows you will want to be there."

Mrs. Hughes shifted uncomfortably. "Well, Mr. Carson may be a figure in local affairs, but I'm not. How is it that neither of us has much in the way of family...," she'd almost said 'nothing,' but that would have been an unforgivable denial of her sister, even if Mrs. Patmore knew nothing about her, "...and we're nonetheless going to have a church full of spectators?" She seemed a little disconcerted about this.

"In a place where almost everyone works for the lord of the manor, in one way or another, your status at the top of the heap makes you local celebrities. And with no major family events on the horizon, you're giving the villagers something to look forward to."

"I wish it weren't so." Mrs. Hughes remembered something else. "What do you make of Her Ladyship's insistence that the breakfast be charged to the house?"

Her Ladyship had put this to Mrs. Patmore in one of their weekly conversations, and hadn't surprised the cook at all. "They like and respect you," she said promptly. "And you've given them two lifetimes of service. His Lordship and Her Ladyship are more grateful than most for that kind of thing."

Mrs. Hughes opened her wardrobe and shuffled her clothes around for a moment, and then they both took stock of the prospects.

"You've not much choice," Mrs. Patmore said bluntly, as she was inclined to do. There were, in fact, only a handful of dresses and they were either of the serviceable black variety that Mrs. Hughes wore at work, or plain, dark-hued day dresses that were only moderately less somber.

Mrs. Patmore knew that the housekeeper dressed in a low-key way which was only appropriate to her position, but she was surprised that Mrs. Hughes had no lighter options squirreled away for a day out or an occasion beyond the Abbey as well. She herself had two such dresses, one for warmer weather, the other for the colder months, and was planning to wear the former to the wedding. She couldn't remember the last time she'd made use of it - she'd bought a new blouse for an old skirt for that frivolous outing to the fair and her flirtation with Mr. Josiah Tofton, a few years back - but she'd tried on the dress just recently to make sure it still fit and it did. So she was set. But Mrs. Hughes's options were woefully inadequate. Every once in a while, Mrs. Patmore both remembered and adhered to that old adage about saying nothing in the event that you had nothing nice to say, and she struggled to observe it now. She stared at the dresses and tried to hold her tongue.

"I thought I'd wear my brown day dress," Mrs. Hughes said, pulling it out. "Anna's going to tidy it up a bit. It's simple. But I'm sure it'll be fine."**

Mrs. Patmore took it in. "It is ... rather modest." That was the most polite thing she could think of to say about this unfashionable and slightly worn dress. "I've got a new catalogue. It's so easy. You send a postal order and they send you the dress."

This drew a slightly exasperated look from Mrs. Hughes. "I know what a catalogue is, thank you. But I'm too old to think a new dress will solve anything much."

Mrs. Patmore's eyes had shifted to the dress once more. "You're not wasting money, that's for sure."

"I don't like to make a fuss about things," Mrs. Hughes countered.

"You do know you're marrying the fussiest man in England," Mrs. Patmore said, with a bewildered glance at her friend.

"It's who I am," Mrs. Hughes said firmly.

"It's not who he is," Mrs. Patmore muttered.

Mrs. Patmore was sceptical. She did not believe Anna or anyone else could transform this unremarkable dress into something appropriate for such a grand occasion and did not understand why Mrs. Hughes did not see it, too. A wedding was a big thing, in Mrs. Patmore's eyes, and to her mind a bride should want to look her very best. She suspected that Mrs. Hughes's natural impulse to parsimony had a lot to do with this reluctance, and if that was the case then Mrs. Patmore thought she was carrying it just a little too far. And it meant that whether she liked it or not, Mrs. Patmore was going to have get involved in yet another aspect of the Carsons' marriage because she could not allow Mrs. Hughes's indifference to lead her astray in this matter. Mrs. Patmore was only grateful that Mr. Carson had so far managed his own wedding responsibilities himself or had, at least, found someone else to advise him, because she didn't think she had the time for his problems, too.

Mrs. Hughes lingered over her dress for a few moments after Mrs. Patmore departed. It wasn't very pretty. But, goodness, did she have to play that game, too? She was a very practical-minded woman and it seemed to her that what she wore to be married was far less important than the state of mind - and heart - that she brought to the union.

A pretty dress was an extravagance without purpose. The dresses she had suited the work that she did and the few social occasions she attended. She'd never had anyone to impress with her figure, even when her figure had been worth admiring. Not since Joe Burns anyway. And Mr. Carson had already proven that she did not need to wear flashy dresses to catch his eye.

Mrs. Patmore thought she was being tight-fisted. She was careful with her money, but that wasn't it. She didn't have money to spare for such frivolous things and she would rather Mrs. Patmore think she wouldn't spend money, than that she could not afford to do so. Clarifying the picture would mean telling the cook about Becky, and Mrs. Hughes wasn't about to do that. Secrets were very restrictive, but sometimes they were also necessary.

She could perhaps indulge herself now, knowing that her marriage to Mr. Carson came with a financial stability that would cover any shortfall the price of a new dress entailed. But her sense of self-worth would not permit her to go into marriage as a debtor. There was time enough to surrender her economic independence and she would rather not embark on it so soon.

She was stubborn, too. That kerfuffle over the venue for the reception had irked her. Her Mr. Carson aspired to grand things, in part because he was closer in social rank to the world of finer things, but also because he had lived and worked among them for so long that he had developed a taste for them. This was not so with her. Pretensions to grandeur were alien to her and she rejected them. Her very plainness at her own wedding would testify to her conviction that 'ordinary' was acceptable. And she would not be shifted from that position by the Crawleys, or Mrs. Patmore, or Mr. Carson himself.***

Sworn to Secrecy

"And how are the wedding preparations coming on?"

Lady Mary shouldered herself out of her dressing gown and then slipped into bed. Anna shook out the silky garment and then folded it neatly over the back of a chair. Her methodical approach, which kept her from responding immediately to the question, allowed Lady Mary to continue.

"I hardly dare ask anyone else lest I be accused of bullying." She rolled her eyes and Anna laughed. "I was only attempting to ensure that Carson received his due."

"You needn't explain to me, my lady," Anna said with a smile. "I understood. And so did Mr. Carson. And it's the thought that counts."

"I don't agree," Lady Mary said. "I think the reality matters much more. But I've learned my lesson. So all is well with other arrangements?"

Anna hesitated.

Mary stared at her. "All is not well then?"

It was a difficult position for Anna, caught as she was - much like Mr. Carson - between her affections for Mrs. Hughes on the one hand and Lady Mary on the other. "There might be a bit of an issue with the dress," she said circumspectly.

"Mrs. Hughes's dress, you mean." It could be no other, but Lady Mary liked to have clarity. "What's the problem?" she asked abruptly.

"Well..." Anna felt uneasy, almost as if she were betraying the housekeeper in some way. But the matter of the dress troubled her, so much so that she'd already spoken of it with Mrs. Patmore, who had agreed completely. "Mrs. Hughes is a woman of very...plain...tastes, my lady. She has had no need, in her job, for fancy clothing. Her dress...the dress she showed me, is very...ordinary. She asked me to dress it up a little for her, But I don't know as there's anything I can do." There was nothing she could do, and she knew it.

"Couldn't we lend her a brooch or something?" Mary asked.

Anna said nothing, only gazing at Lady Mary with a meaningful look in her eye.

Mary was accustomed to Anna's careful discretion. "So that's out," she concluded swiftly. "Have you got any ideas?"

"Mrs. Patmore does. She's got a catalogue and was talking about ordering a dress by mail. She showed me the one she had in mind."

"But you don't think much of it," Mary said shrewdly, watching Anna closely.

Anna grimaced a little. "It's still not very pretty."

"What did you wear?"

The question caught Anna by surprise. "Oh! Well, my day dress. But I'm a little less..." She caught herself. Unlike Mrs. Patmore or Lady Mary, Anna did scrupulously abide by the golden rule.

"Dowdy." Mary had no such compunctions. She knew well enough that it was part of the housekeeper's overall role - as it was that of the female servants in general - to assume as bland an appearance as possible so as to serve as a visible contrast to the more colourful and decorative family they served. It was somewhat different for footmen and the butler, who were show pieces in an elegant upstairs tableau, though they were never to be so smart as to outshine the male family members. Still, it had occurred to Mary on occasion that Mrs. Hughes took this dictum rather too much to heart.

Anna did not agree or disagree. Instead she moved on with the point Lady Mary had raised. "But Mr. Bates and I had a simple Registry Office wedding. This is a much grander affair, what with the church ceremony and the school hall reception and a wedding breakfast with the family and the village all there."

Mary was slightly distracted. "Does it seem a bit much to you, when you think of your wedding? I mean, we are making quite a fuss over Carson and Mrs. Hughes, while you and Bates were almost overlooked."

Anna shook her head vigorously. "We don't - neither of us - think like that, my lady," she said firmly. "The family was supportive of our marriage when that was still an uncommon thing. And it was at the end of the war, when everything was subdued, and then there were Mr. Bates's difficult circumstances." Their eyes met over that. Oh, those were troubled days for John Bates. "And it is Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes. It's very different. I wouldn't begrudge them a moment of indulgence, my lady. They deserve every bit of it."

"You never begrudge anyone anything," Mary said, with an affectionate smile. "Sometimes I wonder what that's like."

"And you did make some very special arrangements for us, my lady," Anna added, with a coy smile. "And that meant everything to us." She was referring to the guest room on the gallery that Lady Mary had asked Jane, one of the house maids, to prepare for the Bateses on their wedding night.

Mary grinned briefly at the memory. "Can we do something about Mrs. Hughes's dress?" she asked, returning to the subject.

Anna only sighed. "I'm not sure how." As she finished tidying up the room before departing, Lady Mary sank into silent thought.

"Is there anything else, my lady?"

Her question drew Mary's attention.

"We must do something, Anna. I am determined that Carson should have the best. That was my reasoning for pressing for a reception in the Great Hall, even if no one but you and Carson believed me. Really. Why else would I have suggested it?"

"I do believe you, my lady. And I think it would have suited Mr. Carson, too. Not that he felt entitled to it, he's not like that. But only that he works upstairs and would be comfortable there. Mrs. Hughes wouldn't have been. And the wedding day should belong to the bride."

"I suppose so." But Mary said this grudgingly. She still thought that Mrs. Hughes ought to have given way to Carson on this, knowing how much Downton meant to him. "But the dress is a different matter. Brides ought to look...their best...," somehow the usual adjectives of ravishing or radiant didn't quite fit the subject, in Mary's mind, "...so we should make some effort. What about having a dress made?"

"I think Mrs. Hughes might consider that an outlandish expense," Anna said carefully. The housekeeper, she had noticed, lived close to the bone, although there was no clear reason for doing so, given that her job came with bed and board and a reasonable salary besides. Anna did not make it her business to judge others. This was merely an observation.

"Oh, I'll pay for the material," Mary said impatiently. "And the pattern. And, if Baxter can't manage it, the seamstress, too. Only...," she fixed Anna with a very serious stare, "she must never know it comes from me. That would ruin it for her."

"My lady..."

"I mean it, Anna. No one must know, not Mrs. Patmore, not even Bates. Mrs. Hughes and I are not close. It's not the same kind of ...antipathy...as it was with, say, O'Brien. But we just aren't good friends. In other circumstances one might have thought it was because of our conflicting claims on Carson, but the coolness between us has always been there."

"I'm not sure about this," Anna said uneasily.

"Look," Mary said briskly, "I'll give you the money and you can buy everything and make the arrangements with Baxter or otherwise. You can take the dress she's thinking about and Baxter can determine the appropriate measurements from it." Mary spoke with a boldness that came with a decision for action.

"But what do I say if she asks me where it came from? Because she will."

Mary made an exasperated sound. Anna's inability to dissimulate was exasperating. "Say it's a gift from you." Mary prided herself on her capacity for devising convincing untruths on the spot.

"It would be a very rich gift, my lady. Even between friends."

"Well, then say it's from you and Mrs. Patmore, who is only thinking of something similar anyway. And you can pay me a few shillings for it to cover the lie."

Anna struggled with it.

"You're done much worse for me," Mary reminded her, the last and best defense. Her remark brought them both to laughter. They did have more than a few tales to tell between them.

"That's true enough," Anna admitted, feeling better about it. She much preferred the prospect of subterfuge with regard to Mrs. Hughes's wedding dress, than dealing with a druggist in the matter of a contraceptive device. Her eyes rested contemplatively on Lady Mary for a moment. "And all this, my lady, for a woman of whom you're not particularly fond."

This sobered Lady Mary a little, too. "Mrs. Hughes has served this house faithfully and efficiently for thirty years and is due our every consideration." She had learned such regard from her father and her grandmother. "Besides," she added, her voice softening, "I am very fond of Carson. And he loves her."

* A/N1. I decided to skip the argument over where the reception was going to be held. You can assume, for this story, that it happened as it did on Downton Abbey.

**A/N2. The italicized dialogue is drawn from Downton Abbey, Season 6, Episode 3.

***A/N3. I thought Mrs. Hughes's apparent indifference to her appearance needed more explanation than Downton Abbey offered us. As on this show, we're not quite done with this question yet.

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I profit in any way from the use of, the characters, settings, suggested plot lines or ideas drawn from Downton Abbey. Everything belongs to Julian Fellowes.