Elsie's reaction to William's death, because there has been nowhere near enough of those two this series.
She held herself together comparatively well in front of everyone else. She was good at that; not allowing it to sink in properly, walking around in a haze, comforting everyone else, squeezing Daisy's hand gently, holding Mrs Patmore when she returned to the kitchen and burst into sobs. She clenched her jaw and reminded herself that she was not the only one who had lost someone they cared about today, in fact everyone in the house- to a greater or lesser extent- felt the weight of William's death like a bleak mass hanging over them.
It was particularly hard on Mrs Patmore, she knew. Since her nephew's death she had become more and more close to William; through what had seemed to be a rather ridiculous carry-on with Daisy, Elsie knew that the cook had only had William's best interests at heart; she had only wanted him to be happy. Well, the lad had died happy, with his father and his wife there. And the woman who had must have recently become something like a mother to him.
It was an odd thing to wish for: really if she was going to wish for anything, why not wish that this beastly war had never begun?- but she found herself wishing in a vague way in the dull hours of the evening that she had been there too to offer him some comfort. He had always been brave; throughout the war and before that too- when he had first come to work at Downton and suffered from dreadful homesickness-; but she wished she could have been there to console him, to tell him not to be scared.
It grew, this wish, this niggling feeling in the back of her throat, throughout dinner, right until the time came when- exhausted and grief-stricken- the servants began to make their way in dribs and drabs to bed. She felt tired, but did not want to go to bed at all. She felt unspeakably lonely, but had no wish to speak to anyone. She sat, in a strange isolated state in the servants' hall until her final companion- Miss O'Brien- announced that she was going to try to sleep and offered a quiet goodnight.
The room felt too big with only her in it, and she got up and made her way along to her sitting room; her footsteps slow and quite ungainly, almost as if she'd been drinking. She opened the door and clicked the switch of the electric light. And dissolved into loud, sickening, hollow sobs. They came over her, one after the other; she was completely powerless to stop them. Unable to move, except to cry with even more of her body, she was conscious of herself keeling over until she rested in a heap on the floor, shaking and crying.
In a way she was relieved; her ability to hold this back all day had been just about beginning to disturb her. He had been like a son to her, she could not deny it, and she would have been unable to accept not shedding tears for him. Well, shed them she would.
And then she felt arms around her, separate from her own, hugging around her sides. They reached over her cold, shaky wrists, covering her hands; holding her and lifting her into a sitting position.
"Elsie."
It was Mr Carson, she heard his deep, familiar voice beside her ear. She had supposed it probably would be; she doubted that anyone else would have dared approach her in this state. He was sitting on the floor beside her, letting her lean back against his chest, her legs folded haphazardly under her, his arms hugging her waist and his head resting against hers. The closeness was calming, and her sobs decreased in volume and frequency.
He rocked her softly, not saying anything, allowing her to cry herself out. Once she had finally hiccoughed to a halt, he made no move to leave her or get off the floor, he simply held her to him. He understood, she thought. It was wonderful to have someone who understood this great pain in her, this unspeakable grief that she didn't dare show to anyone else. Someone who would hold her as she let it out. Someone to kiss her hair in soft consolation. This last, she was not moved to question in the slightest. Their fingers had wound tightly together without their noticing.
"I'm sorry," she finally apologised, "I didn't mean for you to have to hear me. I thought everyone had gone to bed."
Though he had not shushed her sobs, he did so with her apology.
"It's alright," he told her gently. His face rested beside hers, "You needed to. You love him, didn't you?"
Frowning, she leant her face even closer in to his.
"Yes, I loved him."
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