GETTING MARRIED
DISCLAIMER: I do not own, and do not in any way profit from the use of, the characters, settings, implied plot lines, or ideas drawn from Downton Abbey. These belong to Julian Fellowes.
WARNING: The rating on this chapter ought, perhaps, be raised to an M, in consequence of a rather muted conversation regarding physical intimacy.
Chapter 15 The Bride's Night
"What did she want?" Mrs. Patmore was standing in Mrs. Hughes's sitting room doorway only a moment after Lady Edith had departed from it.
"Tea for upstairs," Mrs. Hughes responded blandly. And, when Mrs. Patmore's face scrunched up in incomprehension, the housekeeper sighed. "What do you think? She came to wish me well."
"Really?" Mrs. Patmore glanced after Lady Edith again, finding this almost as hard to believe. She shook her head to clear it of thoughts of the family, and a bright smile swept her face. "Daisy and I are still hard at it with a few things for tomorrow, but we'll have our supper ready for seven. We'll leave the men to the servants' hall and set ourselves up at a table in Mr. Carson's pantry. It's the only room big enough. And he won't be back down here tonight."
Mrs. Hughes shifted uncertainly. "Did you ask Mr. Carson about it?"
Mrs. Patmore rolled her yes. "No. But he won't mind. Anyway, we won't touch any of his precious things and I'll make sure it's all tidied up." When that assurance failed to dispel the look of consternation on Mrs. Hughes's face, the cook added, "And if he's upset, well, then you can make it up to him."
And she was gone before Mrs. Hughes could protest.
It was a novel occasion, the five of them - Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore, Anna, Miss Baxter, and Daisy - gathered together for a social occasion. The hierarchical nature of relations below stairs made for an unevenness between individuals and they'd never had an opportunity before to step outside those bounds. If the barriers did not break down completely, they at least bent for an evening.
Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore had a turbulent history between them, but had long ago resolved their conflicts and moved on to a fast friendship. Mrs. Hughes and Anna shared a more affectionate bond that echoed that of mother and daughter to some extent. Miss Baxter was an outsider, the last woman to have joined their ranks and still an unknown quantity in some ways, although it was apparent to all that her heart was in the right place. Daisy was a veteran of this company, but had rarely been admitted to inner circle as a participant and was prepared to tread carefully, lest she be banished forever. Mrs. Hughes was delighted to be with them all, as they each meant something to her in their own way.
"We'll bring the food in in a minute," Mrs. Patmore announced as they assembled at the prettily arranged table in Mr. Carson's pantry. "But first we have a gift for you, and Anna and Miss Baxter think we ought to get right to it, and I'm thinking I agree."
Mrs. Hughes responded modestly and happily, thinking it unnecessary that they should have gone to even greater lengths and pleased by their consideration.
Anna came forward with a large box wrapped in a ribbon.
"It was Anna's idea," Mrs. Patmore began.
"No, it wasn't," Anna interrupted, with a benignly reproving look at the cook. "It was yours. I just got it going."
Buoyed with excitement, Mrs. Hughes untied the ribbon and, with just a little difficulty because of her fluttering fingers, lifted the top of the box and then unfolded the tissue paper within to reveal...a dress. Her face drained of colour when she realized what it was and her smile faded as she was overcome. It was a dress, a beautiful dress, of a soft mauve silk. Without conscious thought she lifted it from the box, holding it up by the shoulders, and then stared, and stared. And then she dropped it, and her hands with it, and looked around at them all. She had forgotten how to speak.
This was the last and, for the past few days, the greatest trouble on her mind regarding the wedding. She had been blue all day, the day before her wedding, with the realization of the inadequacy of her dress for the occasion. It had made her unhappy to think how she would disappoint Mr. Carson. As painful was the conviction that nothing could be done about it, not at this point. And now her friends, these dear, dear women, had vanquished that sorrow and done so in a way that exceeded all her own imaginings. It was a beautiful dress. Though she could say nothing, her eyes filled with eloquent tears as she looked at each of them in turn.
Anna and Mrs. Patmore, who easily read Mrs. Hughes's shock as stunned gratitude, were almost tearful themselves. Miss Baxter, who was a little less sure of herself and who did not know Mrs. Hughes so well, was relieved of her tension only when she saw Mrs. Hughes's telltale tears of joy. But Daisy could only stare at Mrs. Hughes in wide-eyed shock. She had never known the ever-level-headed housekeeper to give way to emotion in this way, and she was not certain she was prepared to see this wall crumble.
Then Mrs. Hughes's paralysis dissipated and gave way to a vocal effusion as she found her voice again and told them how very much she appreciated their gift, how wonderful they were to have given it to her, and how very beautiful it was. They were all immensely gratified by her response, Miss Baxter most of all, basking in the admiration for her painstaking work.
"The stitching is a work of art!" Mrs. Hughes declared, examining the seams.
The lady's maid glowed with pride. She had seldom known such praise.
"Anna chose the material," Mrs. Patmore said, eager to give the younger woman her due, "and the two of them chose the pattern."
"We all put our two pence in," Anna countered, and her eyes danced with delight watching Mrs. Hughes gently stroking the garment. This was what she had hoped for, and although keeping Mrs. Hughes in the dark about their plan had caused her some distress, Anna believed that a fait accompli was the best approach in this situation. And Mrs. Hughes's reaction bore her out.
Eventually Mrs. Patmore decided they'd all fussed enough and that they'd better get to eating. They wouldn't let Mrs. Hughes help. Mrs. Patmore, Daisy, and Miss Baxter brought in the food, while Anna opened the wine. Anna had had quite a bit of practice at this during the war, when staffing shortages had required the revolutionary accommodation of having maids in the dining room. She hadn't had so many opportunities in recent years, but it wasn't something in which a proficiency once gained was ever really lost. Soon they were all enjoying a delicious multi-course repast featuring Cornish game hens.
"Goodness!" declared Mrs. Hughes. "Where did you get the time for this among all your other labours for the wedding? And what about the men?"
"Andrew, Mr. Molesley, and Mr. Barrow are enjoying a plain stew with fresh bread," Mrs. Patmore said complacently. "It's simple, but it'll keep them going. They know they'll be able to enjoy themselves tomorrow and eat well at the breakfast that Daisy and I have been sweating over, so they're not complaining. As for us, if the family hadn't gone out, I'd have been making them a delicious dinner, no matter what, so I made it for us instead." She sipped her wine and breathed a sigh of contentment. "I daresay you'll be eating very well for the next week, Mrs. Hughes, over in that fine hotel in Scarborough. Mr. Carson is dying to indulge you."
They all smiled at that, and Daisy giggled. Mrs. Hughes hadn't told anyone of His Lordship's insistence that the house pay all expenses, so no one else knew just how true Mrs. Patmore's words were.
"It must be pleasant to be marrying a man you've known for so long," Miss Baxter remarked. "There'll be no surprises."
"Oh, I wouldn't count on that," Mrs. Patmore said breezily and ignored the exasperated look Mrs. Hughes shot her way. The cook's always frank manner was now loosened even more by the wine she was enjoying. Mrs. Patmore did not often get the pleasure of a glass, or two, of wine. Even when she managed a sip here and there, she rarely got to savour it. This gathering was a treat in a number of ways.
"It's not so much of a risk," Miss Baxter clarified, with a perplexed look at Mrs. Patmore herself.
Mrs. Hughes thought she understood Miss Baxter's point. That woman had had enough surprises and taken as many risks as she could bear with men, and could appreciate that the familiarity existing between the butler and the housekeeper was likely to diminish the possibility of any unpleasant developments.
"It isn't how long you've known a man that's so important," Mrs. Hughes said sagely, "but what kind of a man he is. Mr. Carson hasn't changed, not in essentials anyway, since I first met him."
Miss Baxter seemed heartened by this, but Daisy was puzzled.
"Then why'd it take so long for you to get around to marrying him?" she asked bluntly.
"Daisy!" Anna chided her, smiling, but still a little taken aback.
The barriers were down, so Mrs. Hughes chose to interpret Daisy's query lightly, rather than as an impertinence. "Mr. Carson has always moved at a glacial pace," she said. "There's nothing new in that."
Daisy subsided and sipped her wine. It was very good wine, better than any she'd ever had and, like Mrs. Patmore, she was enjoying it. The other women had curbed her boldness in words, but could not stifle her thoughts. She meditated on the idea of Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson marrying. To this point, she'd been rather fixed on the romance of it all, of two people deciding to marry at their ages, and how lovely the wedding was going to be. But now her mind drifted beyond that to...what?
Daisy wasn't quite the dew-eyed innocent she'd once been, with her crush on Mr. Barrow - Thomas, as he'd been then - of all people. Her marriage, a few hours only in duration, hadn't changed that much, but she'd picked up a few facts since then, if not any more experience. But her imagination couldn't - wouldn't - carry her to the idea of the bride and groom in this wedding doing...that. Surely they were too old for it. Surely Mrs. Hughes wouldn't be quite so...calm tonight knowing that that was ahead of her, if it were. Daisy took a long swallow of wine to try to clear her mind, not knowing that alcohol was more likely to inhibit that effort.
Miss Baxter was also thinking about Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes, but in a more benign way. She hardly dared admit, even to herself, her growing affection for Mr. Molesley. She wasn't anywhere near ready for a relationship, not even with him, not while she still struggled with the burdens of her past. But if she could entertain such a development, she could see herself with someone like Mr. Molesley, a quiet, gentle, modest soul like herself. Mr. Carson, she thought, was a big man, not only physically but also in terms of his presence. He occupied a room in a way Mr. Molesley, for instance, never could. The butler intimidated Miss Baxter a little. He had been scrupulously polite to her, his tone always moderate, his manners gentlemanlike. But he was formidable, all the same. It impressed Miss Baxter that Mrs. Hughes was not in the least daunted by him. Indeed, the housekeeper appeared to relish the small battles they waged with each other, whether over house issues or national politics, and she seemed to prevail in most of them. They were, Miss Baxter thought, an admirable couple.
Mrs. Patmore was, more than anything, relieved. They weren't quite to the church yet, so she was cautious enough not to dismiss the possibility of a last-minute disaster, but she was beginning to relax. "By gosh, but you've given me some sleepless nights these past few months," she said unthinkingly, only belatedly realizing she'd spoken aloud.
No one else knew of the turbulence that had affected the couple so there was no concrete understanding of what lay behind Mrs. Patmore's words. But Anna laughed at the sombreness of the cook's pronouncement. "It's the nature of the game, Mrs. Patmore. If all had gone smoothly, it wouldn't have been right."
"Possibly," Mrs. Patmore conceded grudgingly, and with a sidelong glance at Anna added, "Fortunately Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes aren't in your league when it comes to getting into trouble."
Her forthrightness elicited a reproving look from Mrs. Hughes, but only prompted Anna to more laughter. "Thank goodness!"
Daisy decided to enter the conversation again, her inhibitions lowered by the wine. "Why Scarborough?" Her question reflected only a simple curiosity. Daisy had never been ten miles from Downton, except to London - which had never meant more than shifting from the kitchen at the Abbey to the one in Grantham House - and to Brighton, on that day of the staff holiday there two years earlier.
Mrs. Hughes shrugged. "It's a nice, quiet town, and we like the sea."
"Going to walk in the waves and hold hands?" Daisy ventured more boldly, alluding to that trip to Brighton when Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes had done just that, the first public intimation that there was something more between them than conventional collegiality. The memory of the senior staff members engaged in such a human and personal moment brought a fond smile to Daisy's face. It had been a pleasant day all around, what with Mr. Ethan Slade's invitation to her to come to America as Lady Grantham's brother's cook. Although she had declined the offer the American valet had extended to her, the remembrance made her feel warm, as compliments usually did, and this gave her perception of what had occurred between Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes a particularly favourable interpretation.
"We might," Mrs. Hughes said enigmatically.
"The family are being awfully generous," Daisy went on. Once unbound, she plowed ahead. "A whole week away. They must like you a lot." It was an observation that was self-evident to the others present.
Although Daisy was pushing boundaries, Mrs. Hughes was not in a mood to take offense. "It's really about Mr. Carson," she said. "He's worked at Downton for half a century and His Lordship has known him all his life." If Daisy thought the concession of a holiday was generous, Mrs. Hughes mused to herself, she would have been flattened to know the real extent of their consideration.
"It's not so, Mrs. Hughes. You're every bit as important to them as Mr. Carson."
They all looked with surprise at Miss Baxter, the author of this statement. She was the least likely among them to make such a declaration, knowing the family for a much shorter time than any of the rest.
But Miss Baxter only smiled. "I have something else for you," she said, getting up to bring another large box to the table.
Bewildered, Mrs. Hughes opened it, while Mrs. Patmore, Anna, and Daisy looked on bemused.
"It's from Her Ladyship," Miss Baxter explained, as Mrs. Hughes drew the dress coat from the box. "She said she wanted to give you a personal gift. But she also said you should wear it or not, as you saw fit. She doesn't want to pressure you in any way like..." Miss Baxter caught herself, but not before she flashed a telling look at Anna.
"...Lady Mary," Anna finished for her, and was not at all put out. She loved Lady Mary, but that didn't mean she sided with her unquestioningly in everything or that she thought her judgment unimpeachable. While she had understood Lady Mary's motivations in insisting on a wedding reception in the Great Hall, Anna had not agreed with the idea. "I think the coat is lovely and will enhance the dress. What do you think?" she asked Mrs. Hughes.
The housekeeper was caressing the folds of the embroidered coat. It was the most exquisite piece of clothing she would ever wear, second only to the dress her friends had given her. She was touched by Her Ladyship's gesture. They didn't have much between them, she and Her Ladyship, other than the mutual respect of two women in complementary positions of authority within the same house. But Mrs. Hughes knew the other woman to have a warm heart and here was proof of it.
"I think it will be just fine," she said, characteristically resorting to understatement.
"I'll have to make some adjustments," Miss Baxter said. "Her Ladyship is taller than you. In fact, it might be an idea if you tried on the dress, too, just so I can make sure everything is perfect."
"Can we see you all dressed up?" Daisy asked, brightening at the prospect.
"No." Mrs. Patmore said this and her tone had a note of finality to it. "You can do that upstairs," she directed Miss Baxter and Mrs. Hughes, "where you should be going," she added pointedly to the latter.
"It's rather early." Mrs. Hughes resisted direction from anyone in matters of her own freedom of action. They were not bristling at each other, but there was just a hint in this exchange of the friction that had once existed between them.
"You'll need your sleep," Mrs. Patmore said flatly, another one of her disconcertingly ambivalent statements. It was neutral enough on the surface - it would, indeed, be a big day tomorrow for the housekeeper, with an early start and a great deal of excitement - but Mrs. Hughes couldn't help but hear in Mrs. Patmore's words a faint inflection of innuendo.
Miss Baxter responded to the cook's direction with alacrity, being more inclined to obey orders and also far less willing to challenge Mrs. Patmore on anything. She carefully folded dress and coat and replaced them in their boxes. "I'll meet you upstairs," she said to Mrs. Hughes, as she gathered up the boxes.
Mrs. Hughes said that she would be up shortly, both a concession to Mrs. Patmore's instruction and a defiance of it. Before they broke up though, Mrs. Hughes thanked them all again.
"You're all very kind and dear to have made such a fuss over me, and I appreciate every bit of it, and thank you for it. I'll be grateful to the end of my days for the dress, and you should all take pride in it tomorrow. And I thank you for this dinner and the breakfast tomorrow, as well. No one is poor who has such friends."
Miss Baxter went ahead upstairs and Anna and Daisy began to clear. Mrs. Patmore lingered at the housekeeper's side.
"Are you all right, then? Really?" There was a rare note of tenderness in her voice, evidence of her great consideration for the other woman. Mrs. Patmore knew whereof she spoke in this.
A renewed wave of warmth and affection for this woman, even with her sharp edges, flooded Mrs. Hughes. "I am," she said simply. "I love the dress. I don't have words to thank you for it, Mrs. Patmore."
"That's from all of us," Mrs. Patmore reiterated, and then looked a little disconsolate. "I would've liked to have given you something on my own, like Her Ladyship."
Once more a shadow of the brittleness of their old relationship briefly flared its head as Mrs. Hughes came over exasperated. "I'm only getting married tomorrow because of you, Mrs. Patmore. If you hadn't...," Mrs. Hughes did not want to speak explicitly of the cook's critical intervention, out of discretion, as well as because she did not like to dwell on that episode,"...as if that isn't enough! And...you were right about the dress." Mrs. Hughes hesitated here, only because admitting that she was in the wrong came hard to her.
Mrs. Patmore made an impatient sound. "Well, I know that." She was never shy about taking her due.
"And about Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes continued, bravely forging ahead. "And I still don't know how in that case."
The cook tossed her head, exasperated herself. "I've known him forever, too, and all," she said. And then she shooed Mrs. Hughes to the door. "Now, off with you. We've all got lots to do tomorrow, but I'll get to take it easy come evening, whereas you..."
"Stop that!" Mrs. Hughes scolded her, flushing a little, and beginning to reach her limits with Mrs. Patmore's bluntness.
Mrs. Patmore gave her an almost resigned look. "Oh, let me have my fun. It's a pale shadow on the pleasure you'll be having." Before Mrs. Hughes could recover from that, the cook seized an empty dish and retreated to the kitchen.
Mrs. Hughes took a deep breath to restore her equilibrium, and turned and almost collided with Daisy.
"I'm sorry, Daisy."
Daisy nodded in acknowledgment, but moved only partly out of the housekeeper's way. "I've been thinking about you and Mr. Carson," she said thoughtfully.
Mrs. Hughes did not think she really wanted to hear what Daisy had to say, not if Mrs. Patmore exercised any influence over her. But the serious look on the assistant cook's face gave Mrs. Hughes pause.
"Only I think sometimes we'll never get ahead. You know, the working class," she added, for Mrs. Hughes's benefit. "And then...this happens. I mean, you and Mr. Carson getting married, and the family approving and all. It's like a little revolution. Maybe it won't change the world, but it's a small step in our world."
Mrs. Hughes chose not to challenge Daisy's characterization of them all together as "working class," inclusion in which company might have given Mr. Carson a mild heart attack. "Well, I wouldn't say our marriage was revolutionary, but I'll admit it's a development," she said circumspectly.
"It's encouraging, though, i'n' it," Daisy went on.
Though Daisy had hardly expressed herself very articulately, Mrs. Hughes thought she knew what the young woman meant. "Yes," she agreed, smiling, "it is very encouraging."
She went along to her sitting room to take one last look around, although she'd done nothing but prepare for her week-long absence all day, and to have a moment before she went upstairs. She often poked fun at Mr. Carson for anticipating the descent of chaos if he stepped out for an afternoon, but here she was wondering how the place would hold together with both her and Mr. Carson away for a week. Behind her, Anna slipped in and closed the door.
Anna had enjoyed their evening together, relishing a circumstance where the downstairs women spent time together as women, rather than as workmates. But there was something else on her mind and it was something she could not say with the others present. She'd been musing on this moment for a few days, but the altered dynamic of this evening - which would revert to a more conventional form soon enough - had given her courage.
Of the five women present, only Anna had been married. Well, properly married. Daisy's marriage had lasted only six hours and William had spent that time slipping away. Marriage, Anne well knew, was much more than the physical union - that side of things, as the euphemism of the day went. But in the beginning it was the part of a relationship that drew the most attention, being of a more immediate nature, and it was the primary reason for a bride and groom to get away, that they might have time to work this out between themselves.
While more than one resident at Downton, upstairs and down, had silently wondered about the nature or extent of the Carsons' intimate life in marriage, it had never occurred to Anna that it would be anything less than what she enjoyed with Mr. Bates. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes loved each other, she was confident of that. And to her mind, intimacy at every level naturally followed. She was confident, too, that love would carry them through the intricacies of this new part of their lives, as it had her with Mr. Bates. But she did wonder how Mrs. Hughes was feeling about it.
It was too easy to assume, because of the air of nonchalance that she wore so easily, that Mrs. Hughes knew everything. And perhaps she did. But Anna thought it might be a good idea to check, just in case, and she was the only one who could do so.
Mrs. Hughes smiled benevolently as Anna moved into the room. Mr. Carson could have his Lady Mary. Mrs. Hughes knew well enough how important that young woman was to him and, though she sometimes wondered at the wisdom of his particular choice, she acknowledged the depth of his emotional attachment. It wasn't quite the same thing, in part because she and Anna had never admitted to it as openly as Mr. Carson and Lady Mary had, but there was a comparable relationship downstairs between the housekeeper and the young lady's maid. Mrs. Hughes harboured a maternal outlook where Anna was concerned, and felt her sorrows and joys more intensely than she did those of anyone else amongst the younger staff. She might be very fond of the others, but she loved Anna.
"Are you all set, then?" Anna asked.
"I am now," Mrs. Hughes replied. "I can't tell you how happy I am about the dress. It's been bothering me terribly the last few days."
Anna had thought as much and was pleased to have been able to relieve the older woman of this burden. In most circumstances, Anna would have seen the necessity for absolute truth, but in this matter she had a clear conscience. She agreed with Lady Mary that any awareness of upstairs involvement in this matter would diminish, if only slightly, Mrs. Hughes's enjoyment of the gift. Only Anna and Lady Mary would ever know of it, and they both knew that the other could, and would, keep a secret.
"It is beautiful," Anna said agreeably. "I can hardly wait to see you in it." She paused, took a step closer to the housekeeper, and then came to the point. There was no advantage to be had in beating around the bush. "I was wondering... Is there... Would you like to talk about anything?" Anna did not want to come across as intrusive or crass. Her motives were, as her motives almost always were, entirely pure. What good was it being close to someone, to another woman, if you were not able to share confidences about things that were on your mind? Especially about things as critical as this.
Anna's heart was an open book that was easily read by those who knew her well, and Mrs. Hughes had perused these pages often. She realized that Anna was trying to be sensitive, as well as discreet, helpful without being interfering. And it occurred to her, for the first time, that the whole misunderstanding with Mr. Carson over the nature of their marriage might have been more effectively handled had she sought out Anna's advice in the matter. But then, as now, Mrs. Hughes could not quite manage the reversal of roles that would have her seeking counsel on marital relations from the woman who occupied in her life the role of a daughter.
Her smile broadened. "You're more uncomfortable asking that question than I am answering it," she said serenely, although it wasn't really true. Or, more accurately, she was not as tranquil about the subject as her manner suggested. "I know you're trying to be kind," she added quickly, so that Anna's feelings might not be hurt by this reaction. "Let me say that I know what it's all about, if that's what's worrying you, and I thank you for your concern. I know that theory isn't the same as reality, but I'm sure we'll muddle through well enough anyway."
Anna had not been sure of the situation before she'd spoken, and Mrs. Hughes's response did not convince her one way or the other. It was so like Mrs. Hughes to be fundamentally pragmatic, to admit to a level of both knowledge and ignorance, and then skillfully deter a further exploration of either. And to fend off an opportunity for greater intimacy between them in casually rejecting this overture. Her guardedness might have put off another, but Anna thought this situation too important, for Mrs. Hughes's future happiness, to yield completely, and so abruptly changed tactics.
She exhaled in relief. "Then you're well ahead of me when I married Mr. Bates," she declared. "I was eager, and excited, but so nervous, besides. I mean, I'd never been with a man before, obviously, or been...seen, and I...wondered how he'd look at me. And I was shy with him." She was gushing a little, playing the role of the almost-still-blushing bride confessing her uncertainties and embarrassment to an older, experienced woman, the role in which she had cast Mrs. Hughes for the purpose of this little drama. "I didn't know...how it would be, and...well, he did, which helped a lot." Although she thought Mr. Carson something of a paragon of virtue, which was not, in this matter at least, quite what she would have said of Mr. Bates before she had met him, Anna also saw the butler fundamentally as a man and so assumed experience there without question. "But... even then, I didn't know it would hurt, at first, and that there wasn't really much he could do that about that. And I thought it was supposed to be perfect right from the beginning, and only realized as we went along, that it really was something we had to grow into together, notwithstanding his experience. And," she finished awkwardly, "we did. It's time we spent learning that has made it so wonderful." She was smiling, perhaps too much, and then she did feel uncomfortable.
"Well," she said abruptly, and aware that she was blushing and that Mrs. Hughes was rather too quiet, "I've said far too much. I should go."
But she did not move toward the door. Instead, impulse made her move more closely to the housekeeper. "I'll see you in the morning, but I did want to say that I'm so very happy for you, Mrs. Hughes. And I know you and Mr. Carson will be very happy together. He loves you so much." And then she put her arms around the other woman in a quick hug. A moment later she was out the door and gone, leaving a somewhat bemused Mrs. Hughes behind her.
It had been something of a charade, this exchange. Anna was much better at subterfuge than Mr. Carson, who was remarkably inept at it, but Mrs. Hughes understood what had just happened here and was only grateful that she had maintained her poise throughout. She had played the role Anna had handed her, however inapplicable it was. Now that she was alone again, she could admit to herself the utility of Anna's confidence.
They had both spoken truths in disguise. Anna had imparted some useful insights, even as she perhaps exaggerated some of the facts of her own experience to do so. And Mrs. Hughes had truthfully asserted a level of theoretical knowledge, only downplaying the intensity of her emotional state at the prospect of putting that awareness into practice. Well, the journey from theory to practice would begin for her tomorrow night.
She turned out the light in her sitting room and closed the door. As she made her way up the stairs for her fitting with Miss Baxter she reflected with great happiness on this evening. These women, her co-workers and friends, had, in their individual ways, discerned the nature and depth of her apprehensions and uncertainties and worked to smooth the road ahead for her. It warmed her heart to know what their attentions said of their regard for her. She loved them all for it. They had done what they could. Responsibility for her future happiness, hers and Mr. Carson's, too, now lay in her own hands and his.