Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me and I do not obtain any economic benefit out of them.

Chapter 3

He looked back at the piano and by the dim light she studied the now hollowed face of the handsome younger man. Sleep had possibly been evading him for several nights.

"You must be missing James," Mrs Hughes remarked carefully watching the muscles on his face change as he clenched his jaw.

"Yes… yes I do," he replied without facing her.

"You can find other friends Mr Barrow, if you let them into their life," Mrs Hughes watched the candlelight play on the high cheek bones and the sharp jaw of the Under Butler. And she noticed how he struggled to maintain his usual, unfeeling expression.

After a few moments he faced her. If she was not mistaking, his eyes were slightly glistening. Traces of tears welling in his eyes.

"But I can't, can I Mrs Hughes?" he held back a sigh. "Not when I am what I am."

"I've seen other men like you Mr Barrow. I've known other men like you. They did not necessarily make their lives entirely gloomy," Mrs Hughes argued. Thomas Barrow was not one of the people she liked best in the world, but she empathised his situation.

"I don't think this is a conversation apt for the ears of lady, Mrs Hughes," Thomas threw in a sentence to avoid the conversation. His life was meant to be miserable and it had been long since he had accepted it. These days he just wanted to survive.

"But I am no lady Mr Barrow," Mrs Hughes smirked.

"You are in the general sense."

"That is not related to what I am talking about Thomas."

Her use of his first name surprised him a bit. He was not deaf to notice that Mrs Hughes didn't take the liberty of using his first name after his promotion, unlike Mrs Patmore at times who took the liberty far too often. He was touched, it didn't sound as if the Housekeeper was attempting to belittle him but her use of it was to convey that she cared. He sighed.

"Make friends Mr Barrow. If I am to speak plainly, you need not be sour to all and sundry."

"So that is how you see me? Sour?" he asked, his voice a bit more raised, wondering if he should actually be annoyed with Mrs Hughes. There was some truth in it after all.

"Don't you think you are being sour to the others?" she asked in an even tone and he swallowed the retort he was about to offer. He couldn't deny it.

"Start with Miss Baxter. You've known her a long time," Mrs Hughes suggested titling her head ever so slightly to a side.

He laughed a pained laugh. "She doesn't care."

"That's not what I've seen. You're ignoring the obvious. You need not make your life miserable voluntarily."

"You possibly cannot know what living this life each day feels like," his jaw clenched again.

"No, I don't know," Mrs Hughes remained calm, "But I can imagine. I might be wrong but the whole world is not trying to overthrow you. I know I am not. And possibly some others who are not."

"If only it was that simple," Thomas looked away. He knew Mrs Hughes was trying to be kind. But he knew too well, his story wasn't meant to be a happy one. He had accepted. He would die one day without a single soul having loved him, or a single soul left to remember him.

"It might be complicated but Mr Barrow, you need not make it more complicated than it already is, by yourself," Mrs Hughes reasoned. Her head titling slightly to the side, the same way when she was concerned, only she didn't notice it. But Thomas did. It was a gesture he had seen directed more towards others than himself. But one thing he knew, it was sincere.

"I'll try," he smiled. His usual measured smile which no one could read. But Mrs Hughes felt that he might have taken at least something into his mind. Her eyes drifted to the dark doorway.

"And what about you?" Thomas asked suddenly and she looked at him a slight start. Then a questioning look flashed in her eyes.

"Something is on your mind Mrs Hughes. I can see its shadows in your eyes, so to speak," Thomas smirked and Mrs Hughes directed a mock frown at him.

"Remember Mr Barrow? I am the woman of mystery," Mrs Hughes answered raising an eyebrow.

Thomas couldn't help the soft laugh that erupted despite all his efforts. Catching Mrs Hughes off guard was not something that was easily or to be more precise ever achieved.

"You don't look that much of a mysterious person."

"Ah but Mr Barrow looks can be deceiving," Mrs Hughes replied, the corners of her lips twitching upwards as she tried to suppress her smile at outsmarting the Under Butler.

"That I learnt the hard way," Mr Barrow smiled. "But surely Mrs Hughes…"

"Go on now Mr Barrow it'll be sunrise in a couple of hours. Try to get some sleep," Mrs Hughes cut him short, "You wouldn't want Mr Carson telling you off for falling asleep on your feet. And perhaps you'd like me to keep quiet about the unpolished pieces of silver you were supposed to polish last week that you hid behind two rows of candlesticks."

Mr Barrow stood up from the chair and took hold of it. He turned towards the Housekeeper, "How did you know?" He asked amused than afraid.

"My hair didn't go grey for no reason," Mrs Hughes replied ruefully.

Mr Barrow shook his head. The Housekeeper was one of those people he would never understand. She seemed so clear but there was always something about her that he couldn't lay a finger on.

"Good night Mrs Hughes," Thomas said as he pushed the chair back to its original position and took his candle in hand.

"Good night Mr Barrow," Mrs Hughes smiled.

The Under Butler stopped at the doorway. For a moment he looked down at the cold, stone floor and he turned towards the Housekeeper.

"Thank you, Mrs Hughes," he said in a softer voice. Memories of that night when the Housekeeper pulled him inside, away from the drenching rain when he couldn't tell his tears apart from the unforgiving raindrops falling on to his face, played in his mind. When he was a broken man, filled with self-hatred, assuming that the respectable woman in front of him would despise him. How she listened to his tale without being judgemental, with the yellow light of her sitting room casting blurred shadows on the wall when he shuddered and his body wracked with sobs. He didn't feel the warmth of the room but he felt the strength with which she held his hand. Maybe… there were some people he could trust.

Mrs Hughes nodded at Thomas' words. There wasn't a response she could give. No, she wasn't speechless. She simply has said all she had to say to him. She watched him leave the Servant's Hall and listened to his footsteps, amplified by the quiet of the night, ascend the stairs. A silence both peaceful and turbulent filled the air. And she watched the flame of the candle dance a slow waltz in the still air. More swaying than dancing.

She didn't tell Thomas what weighed on her mind. As always, her wit was her advantage. She did trust the Under Butler more than she did one time ago but some things never change. People change, albeit slowly. And Thomas had a long road to that.

Anna's story and Lady Edith's secret will probably go with her to some cold grave where in a decade no one will remember the woman who was once Downton Abbey's Housekeeper, one of the finest in her time she'd heard people say. She only wished the love for Charles Carson she hid behind the only lock and key that was her own, would not go to that grave with her. She wished she could talk about it out loud. Thomas Barrow was certainly not the person for it. But who? She was a solitary ship, in one way, no different than Thomas Barrow. How could she tell her only two best friends about it? One, was the man of her dreams. The other, well, she'd rather write it down on a post card and pin it up on the village post office than tell Mrs Patmore about it.

"Some things are better left unsaid," she thought. "But are they?"

The End.

Thank you all for your kind reviews! And also thanks a lot for following this short fic. Your words have been a true motivation for me. And apologies for the slight delay on the final chapter. Real life intervened rather unexpectedly. (Also, reviews are much appreciated!) Thanks again!