Mrs. Hughes packed her things fairly quickly. She had not brought much with her to London, so she was able to put everything in her bag in less than half an hour. Mrs. Bute had telephoned Mr. Carson right after their return from Brighton to tell him that she was recovered and planned to return to Grantham House the next day, so Mrs. Hughes would shortly be redundant and would be going back to Downton. She had known that this day would come, but she was very sorry to leave. When she had arrived at Grantham House a short time ago, she had been greeted with enthusiasm by her compatriots from Downton Abbey. Even Mr. Carson had said very sincerely that he was glad to see her. It was of course because Grantham House without a housekeeper was at sixes and sevens, but she still felt that on the whole they had welcomed her affectionately. She took over Mrs. Bute's duties as soon as she arrived and before long the house was running smoothly again. Even Lady Grantham came downstairs to see her with sincere thanks for getting everything so quickly back to normal. She was not sorry to be going back home to Downton, but she was sorry to leave London so soon.

Mrs. Hughes would remember the day the staff had spent at the beach for the rest of her life. She closed her suitcase and sat down on her bed, smiling at the memory of the lovely outing. She had waded into the water and talked Mr. Carson into joining her. Not only that, but she had offered to hold his hand and he had accepted without reluctance, much to her surprise. His hand was warm, and seemed to fit so perfectly around hers. They waded about for a little while, sometimes chatting about this and that and sometimes enjoying companionable silence, enjoying the lovely day and watching the sea bathers. It seemed almost intimate to her, their hands clasped together and their casual, conversational tones. Mrs. Hughes didn't know what it would mean for them now that they had returned to London. Mr. Carson might turn gruff with her and try to pretend it hadn't happened. That seemed the likeliest scenario. But she thought there was a small chance that he would acknowledge that their friendship had drawn them closer together than they had been before - that they meant more to each other than they had before. Ten years ago, would he have ever considered holding her hand, under any circumstances? No, she thought with a chuckle. He probably would have paced about the beach in his livery, frowning at the staff, and not going anywhere near the water. Or worse, he would have insisted on taking the reluctant staff on an outing to some museum or other. But he had taken her less than subtle suggestion of a trip to the seaside, and even seemed to enjoy himself once he was holding her hand and felt sure of his footing.

The staff had returned to Grantham House around dinnertime and Mr. Carson had asked Mrs. Patmore to serve a light supper of whatever she could find in the icebox or whip up in an hour. They had all been eating sandwiches and ices and other good things throughout the day, but they would still need a light meal before retiring. Since the whole family was dining out and would not be back until late, Mr. Carson was allowing the staff to eat out of uniform if they preferred, for which Mrs. Hughes was very glad. She felt more comfortable in her casual clothes and, although she considered it a bit of vanity, she thought she looked rather pretty. Not changing after the beach also helped her hold on to the holiday feeling of the day for a little longer. She considered going downstairs without her stockings on, but she thought that might be going a bit too far, so she reluctantly donned a clean pair, put on her shoes, and descended the steps.

In spite of his decree that the staff could stay in their beachwear, Mrs. Hughes had still expected to find Mr. Carson in his evening garb of white tie and tails, and therefore was surprised that he arrived for supper dressed in his own suit. He had put his jacket back on and slicked back every hair that had been dislodged by the wind, so he was still very put together, but he looked more casual and comfortable than usual, his cheeks still a little pink from the wind and sun. Mrs. Hughes liked this very much. She took her place at the table and waited for him to seat everyone, wondering how their conversation would play out. Once they were seated, everyone at the table broke into quiet chatter. They were all tired, but still excited about the fun of their day in Brighton. Mrs. Hughes decided to begin.

"It seems they all had a wonderful time by the sea, Mr. Carson," she remarked. "Well done."

"Well done, you, as well," he returned with a little smile. "I know you put that postcard on my notice board."

"I don't know what you mean," she demurred with a smile.

He laughed. "No one else would come into my office without permission."

"Well, you've caught me out, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes replied. "I admit it. But you still had a hand in it. You did get the final word on the outing, after all. You didn't have to take us to the seaside. And you took care of all of the arrangements for the trip."

"Then we should both congratulate each other, and ourselves. They did have a good time, and so did I," he responded. "Did you enjoy yourself, Mrs. Hughes?"

"Oh, immensely!" she answered. "I especially enjoyed wading in the sea. The feel of the cool water on my feet was lovely."

"It was," he concurred. "But I don't understand how anyone could swim in that water. Much too cold!"

"I agree," she replied. "Wading in up to my knees and then walking barefoot on the sand was altogether delicious, but I don't think I could manage any more than that."

Mr. Carson cleared his throat, beginning to look uncomfortable. "Yes, most enjoyable. And a very enjoyable supper as well." He applied himself very studiously to his food now.

Mrs. Hughes went silent herself. She had to eat, after all, so there was no use in pushing him to talk. Supper was completed with no further incident and the tired but happy staff went up to their attic rooms to change into pajamas or livery, depending on their duties for the evening.

After supper, Mrs. Hughes followed Mr. Carson to his office. "Is there something you need, Mrs. Hughes?" he asked.

"Nothing I need, but I wouldn't mind a chat before I go to bed," she answered. "I'm leaving tomorrow, and I'd like to have a proper farewell."

"What do you mean 'a proper farewell'?"

"Oh, just a good friendly talk and perhaps a handshake or some such, if it doesn't make you uncomfortable," she suggested. "When Mr. Barrow and I depart, it would be better for our farewell to consist of just a nod and a few words."

"I see what you mean, Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Carson replied. "Please have a seat. I'd be happy for a chat. There's something I'd like to discuss with you, as a matter of fact. Would you care for a glass of wine?"

"I would," she answered, sitting in a chair near his desk. "But how can there be leftover wine if the family did not dine at home?"

"Not leftover; I'll take it from my own personal allotment." He got up and opened one of the cabinets, which held about a half dozen bottles. "Red, white, and champagne. Would you care for champagne tonight? I wouldn't say there is anything particular to celebrate, but it might be a nice ending for this little holiday we've had."

Mrs. Hughes smiled. "That's a splendid idea, Mr. Carson."

To be continued…

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