✔️ shadows of desire | downton abbey

chapter 19

The soft ticking of the clock filled Mrs. Hughes' office, a steady, almost comforting rhythm that contrasted sharply with the heavy news she was about to deliver. The faint smell of beeswax polish lingered in the air, a testament to the housekeeper's meticulous care. The room was warm, though the warmth did little to ease the tension that had begun to coil in my chest as I stood before her.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hughes. Anna said you wanted to talk to me," I said, my voice steady despite the growing unease within me. I entered the small office, its cozy atmosphere doing little to quell the apprehension that had settled in my stomach.

Mrs. Hughes offered me a gentle smile, the kind that held both kindness and sorrow. She gestured for me to sit, and I did so, feeling the firmness of the chair beneath me as I settled in. The air between us felt thick with unspoken words, and my heart began to race slightly in anticipation of what was to come.

"Yes, I have. Unfortunately, I do not have good news. It's about your father," she began, her voice calm yet tinged with the gravity of the situation. The faint crackle of the fire in the hearth seemed louder now, its warmth suddenly feeling too close.

I nodded, bracing myself. "I see. He's not doing well, am I right?" My voice was softer now, the reality of the situation sinking in like a heavy stone.

Mrs. Hughes hesitated, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. I could see the conflict in her eyes, the struggle between wanting to protect me and needing to tell me the truth. But she was not one to sugarcoat reality.

"Mr. Carson has asked me to give Thomas and you a day off. To visit your father. Lord Grantham has already decided and approved," she explained, her tone gentle but firm. The words hung in the air between us, heavy and unavoidable.

I looked down at my hands, suddenly feeling small and vulnerable. The gravity of the situation pressed down on me, and for a moment, it was hard to breathe. "Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the crackling fire and the ticking clock. "Does Thomas know yet?"

A familiar sigh from the doorway caught my attention, and I turned to see my brother standing there, his face a mix of resignation and determination. "Now I do," he said, his voice carrying the weight of understanding. "We are most grateful. Thank you."

Mrs. Hughes offered us both a sad smile, the kind that spoke of empathy and shared pain. She didn't need to say more; both Thomas and I understood what needed to be done. The decision had been made, and there was no turning back now.

The sound of our footsteps echoed through the quiet corridors as Thomas and I made our way to our rooms. The house felt eerily still, the usual bustle of Downton Abbey muted by the weight of the news we carried with us. We changed into our outdoor clothes in silence, the familiar rustle of fabric and the creak of old leather a small comfort in the face of what lay ahead.

The cool air outside was a stark contrast to the warmth of the house, a sharp reminder of the reality we were about to face. The scent of damp earth and woodsmoke filled my nostrils as we stepped out onto the gravel drive, our boots crunching beneath us with every step.

Thomas walked ahead, his back straight but his pace slow, as if he too was struggling with the thought of returning to our childhood home. The place we had left behind so many years ago, full of memories that were as painful as they were inescapable.

"I am not sure if I want to step in," I admitted quietly, my voice barely above a whisper as I stared at the familiar path ahead, the one that would lead us back to the life we had tried so hard to leave behind.

Thomas stopped a few steps ahead of me, his shoulders tense as he turned to face me. "I know," he said, his voice low and filled with the same reluctance that I felt. "I was also thinking about it. Whether it's wise to do so. But we have to."