A/N: This is my response to a chelsie-anon prompt. The prompt was: Elsie watches out the backdoor as the last of the hallboys trots up the drive towards the village. She's been sending her "chicks" home for Mothering Sunday for twenty years, she should be used to it by now. That feeling of emptiness, empty house, empty table, empty heart. Nothing to be done about it at this stage of life. Taking a deep breath & pulling her shawl tighter against the cold March wind blowing through the courtyard, she turns & closes the door firmly behind her. What happens next?
Feeling a light touch on her arm, Elsie turned to see Lady Edith standing behind her. "Lady Edith?" she asked, surprised to see the young lady outside the service entrance of the house.
Edith stared down at her shoes. "It's hard, sending them away," she whispered, her voice wavering, eyes shimmering with tears.
Elsie's shocked at the young woman's reaction. How would she know? She's never had to send a child a way. "Yes, it is," she finally agreed, not liking where her thoughts are drifting. "You should get back inside, My Lady. You'll catch your death."
Edith stared off into the distance, toward where her baby was being cradled in the arms of another woman. "Would it matter?" she asked quietly.
Elsie was startled at the response. Moving closer to the young woman, she took her shawl off and wrapped it around her along with an arm. "Come along, My Lady. We'll have some tea in my sitting room to warm us up, hmm?"
Edith nodded and followed Elsie back inside, not noticing the look that passed between the housekeeper and the cook as they walked by the kitchen. Shivering, she welcomed the warmth of the fireplace as Elsie led her to it.
"You stand and warm yourself while I got get the tea. I'll be right back." Elsie watched Edith nod her head then hurried out of the room.
"What in the world?" Beryl whispered as soon as Elsie stepped foot into the kitchen, the tea tray is nearly ready.
"I don't know." Elsie shook her head. "Something's happened, but she's not said what."
Beryl nodded as she set the teapot on the tray. "I've put some of her favorite biscuits on the plate."
"Thank you." Elsie lifted the tray and made her way back to her sitting room. Finding Edith still standing and staring into the fire, she sat the tray down then turned and closed the door. "Won't you come and sit. Mrs. Patmore sent some of your favorite biscuits."
"Biscuits won't fix it, Mrs. Hughes."
Elsie felt her heart break at the dullness of the young lady's voice. "Won't fix what, My Lady?" she asked as she gently touched Edith's arm.
"I tried to kill her." Edith murmured, lost in her thoughts and not realizing what she was saying.
Elsie blinked in surprise. "Who, My Lady?" she asked, using all of her willpower to keep herself in check.
"She's innocent in all of this mess and I gave her away."
Elsie was even more confused. "My Lady, won't you sit and tell me?"
"You'll judge me, just as the others would."
"No, My Lady." Elsie assured. "I would never do that. It isn't my place."
"You send the young ones away for Mothering Sunday, and it upsets you to see them go, but they aren't yours and that hurts you even more."
Elsie nodded. "Yes, My Lady, that's true."
"But I, I," Edith broke down and turned into Elsie, her head resting on the older woman's shoulder, her face buried in her neck.
"You poor dear, what is it? What's happened?"
"My baby, Mrs. Hughes. My baby." Edith sobbed.
To say she was shocked would have been an understatement, Elsie supposed, but those thoughts would be left for another time. Now she had to soothe a broken hearted young woman. "Your baby?"
"My little girl." Edith whispered as she calmed slightly at the gentleness of Elsie's hand tenderly smoothing over her back. "That's why I went to Switzerland with Aunt Rosamund."
"Oh, My Lady. I'm so sorry." Elsie felt her heart breaking for the young woman. She'd been down this road with Ethel and had prayed never to have to go it again. Yet here she was.
"You must think,"
"I think," Elsie interrupted. "I think that my heart hurts for you. I think you need your mother."
Edith shook her head. "Oh no. I could never. She," her voice cracked. "Granny and Aunt Rosamund know, that's enough of the family. If I tell Mama, she'll tell Papa, and I," choking back a sob, Edith clung tighter to Elsie. "I've lost the man I love, and I've had to give away our baby, I can't lose the only family I have left."
Elsie received another shock with the news that the Dowager knew the truth. "Your grandmother knows?"
Edith nodded. "Yes, and she's been very supportive."
"And don't you think your mother would be?"
"She may, but she'd be disappointed, and I'm already such a disappointment to them."
"You dear sweet thing." Elsie whispered as she gently rocked Edith back and forth. "Your secret is safe with me, I promise."
Edith pulled back and blinked back more tears as Elsie wiped at her face with a handkerchief. "Since you've sent away your young ones, can I be yours just for the day?"
Elsie smiled as she gently led the young woman to the settee and tugged her down beside her. "I'd be honored, My Lady. Now, why don't your rest your head in my lap and have a bit of a nap, hmm? You don't look as though you've slept well."
"I don't most nights." Edith answered as she curled up, her head resting on the small pillow on Elsie's lap.
"Well, I'll be here, so just close your eyes and sleep." Elsie gently caressed her hand over Edith's head, watching as the young woman slipped into sleep. She looked at the tea things sitting untouched on the table and sighed. She'd have to apologize to Beryl later for the trouble. Hearing a knock on her door, she put a finger to her lips when his head poked in.
Charles looked at the sleeping young lady then up at Elsie then backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Elsie let her head fall back against the cushion then lifted it when she heard the door open again. Smiling at her dear butler when he walked over to them and placed a blanket over Edith, she hummed slightly when his lips brushed a soft kiss over her forehead.
"I see you replaced our chicks with one from upstairs," he whispered against her ear before kissing her lightly. "Take care of her and I'll see you later."
"Thank you, Love," she whispered and watched him leave. He was right. She had seemed to replace those she'd sent home with one from upstairs. The most important difference was, she could give this chick more love and care than she received from her family.
