The Mystery of Life*
Daisy: I wonder what Mrs. Hughes is up to.
Mrs. Patmore: Well, she knows the mystery of life by now. Which is more than I can say. (Episode 4, Chapter 6)
Chapter 1 After the Wedding, Part 1
From Sacred to Celebratory
The marriage ceremony was a sacred ritual, observed in the solemnity with which the bride and groom spoke their vows and in the respectful silence of the onlookers. The kiss that sealed their union was the point of transformation and when they turned to begin their procession down the aisle, now as husband and wife, a tide of overwhelming joy swept them along, sacrament giving way to celebration, the stillness of the observers to cries of congratulation.
This revolution in mood began with the couple at the heart of it all. Short moments ago, Charles Carson and Elsie Hughes had been, in their own ways, gripped with an anxious anticipation as they stood on the brink of this great adventure - marriage. Now they were wed and all apprehensions fell before the exuberance of that simple fact.
The exultation of those nearest and dearest to them who had been with them in the church carried on as they stepped outside to a small crowd pelting them with rice and bellowing good wishes over the skirl of the bagpipes. Such a to-do startled both of them, but Mr. Carson rose to the occasion. It reminded him, in a pleasant way, of days long past on the halls, though this was certainly the best audience to whom he had ever played. And he did play to them, smiling broadly, waving vigorously, and responding boisterously to calls from the throng. And stopping to kiss his bride - again - to roars of approval.
It was a Charles Carson no one had seen before, though a few elderly souls in the village would later claim that he had always been a cheerful lad.
Mrs. Carson ... she was now Mrs. Carson! - was caught up in it, too. So light were her feet that she had the sensation of being borne along on a cloud, which was rather a fanciful notion for someone who had always been so well-grounded. As happy as she now was, she found the great gathering focusing on her just a little daunting. She had never been at the centre of anything in her life. She felt an impulse to hide her face in her husband s protective embrace, and might have done so if she'd been a bride of twenty. But she was too mature in years for such shyness and faced it bravely despite the fluttering in her stomach.
And who was this man beside her anyway? She could confidently say that she had never seen him before. This playful, jovial man who seemed so at ease in the public eye, so comfortable as a public spectacle - he was the very antithesis of the sombre and discreet man she had always known. And yet she revelled in this side of him. It told her more than anything else could what a special day this was to have called forth such hidden aspects of his character. She hoped this wasn't a fleeting development. She thought she might like to see more of him.
In the Receiving Line
Elsie Carson was glad enough to reach the refuge of the schoolhouse. Oh, the excitement of their procession from church to schoolhouse was great fun, punctuated as it was with kisses from her husband - her husband! - but she had felt like a tropical bird on display. The moment they stepped into the school hall, however, a sense of calm settled on her and she knew innately that Elsie Hughes, the housekeeper of Downton Abbey who could manage just about anything, had not disappeared when she'd signed her new name in the registry. And she knew immediately, too, that the schoolhouse had been the right choice for them. She was comfortable here amidst the arrangements and decorations that they had chosen. And it was all beautiful - the flowers (from the Abbey gardens and greenhouses), the banner of congratulations, and, beyond the reception area, the trestle tables set for the meal, and the hired staff in formal attire ready to serve it. Oh! This was how she had imagined it.
They took their place near the door to welcome their guests and receive their good wishes. In the formal environment of the Abbey's Great Hall it would have been a foregone conclusion that the social status of the guests would govern the order in which they were received, with the Crawley family at the head of the line. This was not the case in the schoolhouse, where no order prevailed at all. The Bakewells, local shopkeepers, were the first through the doors and looked rather nervous about that fact, but Mrs. Carson spoke warmly to them and Mr. Carson, who had actually protested their inclusion on the list of guests (not that they knew it), was still so overcome with the exhilaration of events as to be sincere in his welcome. The other staff members from Downton Abbey filtered in and, intermingled with them, the Crawleys and other villagers and estate residents, and the Carsons, as they now were, greeted them in turn.
Thomas
Thomas was still struggling to enter into the spirit of the thing when he approached the happy couple.
"Congratulations, Mr. Carson," he said smoothly, pasting a genial smile on his face as he reached for the butler s hand. And then, nodding to the bride, "My best wishes for your happiness, Mrs. Carson."
Mrs. Carson smiled at him, not least because he had used her married name without a hint of hesitation. Mr. Carson was more ambivalent and more than a little startled to find himself shaking Barrow s hand. He managed, however, to pull himself together.
"Thank you, Mr. Barrow," he said, in a formal tone. "For your good wishes, of course, but also for your assistance these past few days. Your oversight of some of the organizational details today, too, at the church and here...well, I am grateful." If the groom's manner was a little stiff, he spoke with sincerity nevertheless.
Thomas nodded. "Don't worry about a thing, Mr. Carson," he said brightly. "I'll keep an eye on it all." He hoped there would be some advantage to being seen to be so helpful.
"You will not!" Mrs. Carson's forceful words drew Thomas's attention, and Mr. Carson's, too. "This is a party that everyone at Downton is to enjoy, and that includes you, too, Mr. Barrow. Let the hired staff do the work. Relax and enjoy yourself for once."
Acknowledging this direction with another nod, Thomas moved on. There was a line-up behind him. He supposed he wouldn't mind enjoying himself, if only he had the means. But glancing about all he saw were happy couples. And waiters. Well, at least it was very fine champagne.
Anna and Mr. Bates
The Bateses' exchange with the Carsons was necessarily warm. They had all become entangled in the course of the wedding preparations. Anna and John had had a hand in both camps. John had facilitated the selection of His Lordship as best man and assumed a more formal role in escorting the bride down the aisle. Anna had arranged the wedding dress, offered some pertinent advice on married life to the bride, and helped Mr. Carson secure a very personal gift for his new wife.
"You gave me a turn, Mr. Bates, when I saw you in the church with my bride-to-be," Charlie rumbled jovially as he accepted the valet's congratulations. "Thank you," he added, investing these two words with a deep-seated appreciation.
Elsie and Anna exchanged heartfelt hugs. Drawing back, Elsie came over a little sheepish. "I didn't like misleading you this morning," she said, meeting Anna's glowing gaze. Anna had reasonably expected to ride with the bride to the church, but Elsie had put her off. "Mr. Bates wanted to keep his role in the wedding party as a surprise for you. I didn't like disappointing you."
Anna smiled radiantly and linked her arm about her husband's. "Never mind about that," she assured Mrs. Carson. "Mr. Bates had told me he had a surprise and it was wonderful." Her shining eyes set on her husband. "I'm so proud of him."
Mrs. Patmore
Mrs. Patmore was crying. She couldn't have been happier if had been her own wedding day. Well, no, that was a bit of an overstatement, but the reality of it was that Mrs. Patmore was happy for them and so relieved. It was as though she'd been holding her breath for six months.
She didn't know that she had ever seen Mr. Carson so uninhibited. "Lean down so I can give you a kiss!" she ordered him and was almost surprised that he obeyed. She pressed her lips to his smooth-shaven cheek and found herself swooning, just a little. It was that overpowering, this romance stuff, even when experienced second-hand.
She might have issued some occasion-appropriate directives: You be good to her now. Or Mind you don't act the butler all the time. But she knew such admonitions were unnecessary. Had Mr. Carson not confessed to her the depth of his passion for Mrs. Hughes in terms that had made her own heart flutter? No, he needed no guidance. So, squeezing his hand in lieu of the dispensing of words of wisdom, she turned to her friend, Mrs. Hughes. No, Mrs. Hughes no more. Now and forevermore Mrs. Carson.
"You've done it!" she said, clasping the bride's hands in hers. "I'm that happy for you."
Mrs. Carson, who had been known to have a sharp word or two now and then with the cook, though things had considerably mellowed between them over the years, was all smiles. "I have," she said. "We have. And we're grateful to you for all your help."
Beside her, her husband harumphed a little, no doubt uneasy with overt reminders of precisely what forms Mrs. Patmore's assistance had taken. Mrs. Patmore was herself glad to oblige him in forgetting most of it, for she did not enjoy uncomfortable conversations either.
"I wasn't sure you'd get there until you did," Mrs. Patmore went on. "I started weeping the moment you started your declarations and I've not been able to stem the tide since," she added, dabbing at her eyes.
"Well, try," Mrs. Carson said, in that flat tone she adopted when confronted with emotional excess. "Or you'll not be able to enjoy the magnificent feast you've prepared, you and Daisy." Then she relented a little and the no-nonsense Scot gave way to an exhilarated bride. "We are very grateful, for everything." And her hands tightened in Mrs. Patmore's.
There was no more to be said and Mrs. Patmore moved on, ready to enjoy the party and the novelty of being waited upon.
The Dowager
The Dowager, who was almost always in the company of Mrs. Crawley, approached them alone and didn't even seem to mind that she had been preceded by a cook, or by anyone for that matter, which was a rare experience for her.
They had a peculiar relationship, the Dowager and Mr. Carson, at least as Elsie saw it. There was no servant/mistress pairing grounded in mutual conviction of the rightness of such things more formal and correct than that between Violet Crawley and the long-standing butler of Downton Abbey. But they were old cronies, as well. Their collaborations, going back decades, imbued their exchanges with an intimacy that their correctness with each other only enhanced. They occasionally took liberties within the strictures of this framework and Mr. Carson took one now. Departing from the dispassionate manner he usually affected in her presence, he greeted the Dowager this morning with a boyish grin. She reciprocated by favouring him with one of her warmest smiles.
"Carson," she said, not extending her hand. She did not practice such familiar behaviours with servants. "Congratulations."
"Thank you, my lady," he responded, bowing his head. Carson had never expected to shake her hand.
There would be more overtly effusive exchanges with members of staff and even a few villagers, but Elsie knew that her husband was probably more touched by this greeting than any other, save that of Lady Mary. They did not need words between them, the Dowager and the butler.
Elsie and the Dowager had a less peculiar relationship. Violet Crawley had always appreciated Mrs. Hughes as a model of efficiency, but seldom remarked on this fact which was, after all, only what one expected of a senior employee. Elsie was far less charitable toward the Dowager than the Dowager was toward her, disdaining the old bat almost as much as she did Lady Mary. She had reconciled toward both of them in recent years, her sharp appraisal dulled by Charlie's adamant defence. It was the mischievous game of Providence that these should be the two members of the family that Mr. Carson – Charlie – favoured.
"Dealing with a husband is not at all the same as dealing with a butler," the Dowager now pronounced authoritatively, and then allowed herself a small smile. "In this instance, it may turn out to be easier." She laughed at her own joke and such was Elsie's good humour that she laughed, too. And there might even be a bit of truth in the comment.
"All my best wishes go with you, Mrs. Hughes," the Dowager finished, and then moved on without awareness of the error in the form of address.
"Well done," Charlie intoned. He knew well enough what she thought of the Dowager.
"Thank you, Mr. Carson," Elsie said, with a small smile.
Mates
Elsie turned her attention back to the line. Her eyes fell on a small group now clustered awkwardly before her husband. She recognized the three men and two women as Downton locals - a tenant farmer couple, a blacksmith and his wife, and one of the carpenters from the Downton estate workers. She remembered wondering why Mr. Carson had added their names to the guest list but had never gotten around to asking him why.
One of the men took the initiative and held out a stiff hand. "Congratulations, Mr. Carson," he said in a subdued voice, staring uncertainly at the groom.
But Charlie's face split with a great smile and he seized the man's hand and wrung it enthusiastically. "Bob!" And then he seemed to realize something, and a little of his vigour waned, and he added, in an almost cajoling tone, "Ee, it's Charlie, Bob."
Bob did not appear entirely won over. "You remember my wife, Cynthia," he said, still sounding a little stilted as he gestured to the woman beside him.
"Of course! Cynthia! So glad you could come."
The woman managed a smile. "It's grand of you to have us..., Charlie." It was almost as if she had done something daring by using his name.
"Charlie." The blacksmith was more bold and spoke firmly, without the farmer's hesitation.
Charlie knew this man and his wife, too. "Ernie! Nan!" he said warmly, shaking their hands in turn. He reached out to the third man. "Arthur. How art tha'?"
Elsie heard the inflection in his voice. In the blink of an eye he had softened the clearly enunciated vowels of his professional voice and there was suddenly a Yorkshire flavour to his words. "Make 'self to home."
He was grinning after them when he caught Elsie s eye. "What?"
"What was that about?" she demanded. In her thirty years at Downton, she had never witnessed Mr. Carson in such an exchange.
"Mates," he replied. Before he could explain further, Daisy and Mr. Mason had appeared. Elsie made a mental note to find out more.
Daisy and Mr. Mason
"Congratulations, Mr. Carson. It were a very beautiful ceremony." Daisy offered these sentiments in a very formal voice. It was a poignant moment between butler and scullery maid-turned-assistant cook. Mr. Carson had acted the part of the bride's father at Daisy's own wedding and given her away to William Mason, lying there in his bed, barely able to raise a hand to hold hers as they spoke their vows, and dying shortly thereafter. Neither Daisy nor Carson could ever wholly escape such remembrances in the context of another wedding ceremony.
"Thank you, Daisy." The tone of Carson's words was an echo of hers.
Daisy came over somewhat more animated in turning to Mrs. Carson. "You're so beautiful," she said.
Daisy, Elsie reflected, had become a different person in the past twenty hours or so, as the housekeeper saw her anyway, and it wasn't entirely down to the significant role the young woman had played in making the breakfast feast. No, it was last evening that had done it, when the women downstairs had gathered together to fête the bride-to-be. Daisy, always the underling, had taken her place among her peers. Even though the occasion had been a personal one, not a matter connected to downstairs operations at the Abbey, there would be no going back.
"It's funny," Daisy went on. "Your wedding is how things are supposed to be, even though you're not young and won't have as much time together." It was a classic Daisy statement. She wasn't quite as alarmingly blunt as Mrs. Patmore, but sometimes Daisy could as effectively make everyone uneasy with bald truths.
"Well, we're grateful enough no matter how much time we'll have together," Elsie said, an inadequate effort to paper over Daisy's remark.
"Now, now, Daisy," Mr. Mason said. He had murmured his own good wishes to Mr. Carson and now stepped into this fray. "It's only that you can't help comparing this wedding with your own. Weddings are supposed to be joyful occasions, as this one is. Your joy must always be shadowed by the death of our beloved William."
Now Elsie, Charlie, and Daisy came over uncomfortable, for all three knew that Mr. Mason's vision of Daisy's love for William did not match up with reality and that that was an ongoing burden for Daisy.
"Yes, well," Charlie said roughly, clearing his throat.
"Enjoy yourself today, Daisy," Elsie urged. "Don't lift another finger. You've done so much."
The Masons moved away. Charlie and Elsie exchanged looks.
"Well, that was unpleasant," he muttered.
Mary and Edith
Lady Edith Crawley was the only member of the family who had never established a personal relationship with any single servant nor ever managed to strike that perfect balance between authority and familiarity that can exist only when both parties know precisely where they stand and are at ease with it. Such sensibilities were innate in the Dowager Lady Grantham, her son, and her granddaughters Mary and the late Sybil. Cora had emerged from a different tradition with regard to servants but had easily adapted. In contrast, Edith vacillated among a number of unsatisfactory positions – she was either arrogantly entitled or wholly oblivious or just too familiar in a way that put everyone ill at ease. Her fallback position was formality. It might not convey anything of her true sentiments, which could in fact be warm and kindly, but it was at least safe. She delivered the conventional platitudes and moved on. It was the best she could do.
Lady Edith passed on and even before she did so, Charlie's eyes had turned to the next person in line, and his heart, already fair to bursting with pride and joy, veered ever nearer implosion as Lady Mary took her place before him.
"Carson, I am so happy for you," she said simply, her large dark eyes swirling with currents of deep feeling for him. She had known him all her life. He smiled at her with an openness that few but she had ever seen.
He said nothing, no words appropriate to the unbounded love he felt for the two women standing beside him. He was content simply to bask in the glow of their affection for him.
Lady Mary glanced between this man, who she had loved so much and for so long, and the woman by his side, his wife, the woman he loved more than life itself. "I only want to say that I'm very sorry for interfering as I did. To say that I meant well is a feeble excuse for the heartache I caused. I hope you can forgive me."
Such words were honey to Elsie's ears, but were nevertheless a pale reflection of the sentiment that existed between her husband and the young woman to whom she occasionally referred to disparagingly as "Lady Minx." "Mr. Carson would forgive you, my lady, if you attacked him with a brick." And where that came from Elsie really could not say.**
Now Lady Mary's intense gaze fixed on the older woman. "I've known that all my life and from much experience of Carson's affections," she said, glancing warmly Charlie's way. "I was apologizing to you, Mrs. Hughes. It is your forgiveness I seek."
Well, that was a bit of a shock. And a genuinely moving gesture, so much so that Elsie failed to register the form of address. Before she could get out words to acknowledge Lady Mary's apology, she was distracted by the look on her husband's face. He had turned to her as Lady Mary made her plea, with a look of smug indulgence on his face. Lady Mary had done him proud once more.
"I know you were motivated by your affection for Mr. Carson, my lady. And that means a lot, to both of us. Of course, I forgive you." Well, what else could she say?
Lady Mary nodded then, glanced once more at Charlie as though to seek his approval – which readily came her way - and then moved on.
"Thank you," he said softly to his wife.
"I meant it," she replied.
"But," he frowned a little, "what was that business about a brick?"
Elsie could only shrug in self-induced bewilderment. "I don't know. I'm not entirely myself around her."
Anna and John
Moving on from the receiving line, Anna and John found a quiet corner. Neither of them availed themselves of the champagne offered to them by one of the hired waiters. John did not drink. But he wondered at his wife.
"I thought you liked champagne."
"It's not eleven o'clock!"
"It's a special occasion."
She ignored him and pretended to be interested in enjoying the crowd.
"Tell me about the secrets you've been guarding," he said quietly, his mouth close to her ear.
Anna slapped at him playfully. "I shan't." She had kept from him Lady Mary's role in Mrs. Carson's wedding dress, a secret she would carry to her grave. Along with a number of other secrets with Lady Mary. And she also had not told him of the personal errand she had conducted on Mr. Carson's behalf. She might tell John about that, but for the moment she was enjoying the mischief of teasing him.
"But I've told you mine," John persisted, grinning.
"I think you said yours was a surprise, not a secret. I can't break a confidence." He couldn't tickle the truth from her here. And if he tried to do so again, later, in the cozy seclusion of their own cottage, she had a distraction prepared. She had another, much more significant secret that she was saving for just the right moment. Its revelation would drive from his mind any concern for the little mysteries of the wedding.
* Author's Note: The Mystery of Life is a direct sequel to my story Getting Married (2016), which left Carson and Mrs. Hughes at the altar. It may be helpful to read or re-read that before embarking on this tale. This story has been a long time coming, but I present it now as I had conceived it way back when – how many years ago is it now? – between Season 5 and Season 6. I wrote a detailed outline of it then and wrote the bulk of The Mystery of Life in May 2021
** Author's Note. Some of the dialogue in the exchange with Mary has been drawn from Season 6 Episode 4, but I have also expanded upon it. The incident referred to is Mary's insistence than the Carsons' wedding reception be held in the Great Hall at Downton Abbey, a proposal that caused some vexation between the bride and groom.
A Caution. A honeymoon story is a honeymoon story. As such, there is no escaping some description of sex. Generally speaking, I try to avoid this, preferring the fade to black approach. I have opted to be as circumspect as possible within the plot I have developed, choosing to emphasize plot and character development over explicit detail. We'll see how that goes.