A/N: So, here it is...the sequel to Downton's Scottish Dragon. The updates might be slow in coming, but I will update, and I will finish the story. And as an explanation, Mrs. Patmore is older than Mrs. Hughes. From the first time I saw her, she always seemed older. I did a bit of checking and the actress is the older of the two as well, so...it just worked in my favor. Now...I think that's all.

On with the story...

Charles stared at the clock on his bedside table, the hour telling him that for the second night in a row his bedtime visitor wasn't coming. For four days, Elsie had come into his room and settled in his bed, her body spooned to his, her hand holding his over her breast. He closed his eyes as he thought about the feel of her warm body held so closely to him, the fullness of her breast a welcome weight in his hand. But he'd never made a move to do more than she allowed, more than she asked with her simple gesture, though he'd longed to.

Taking a deep breath, he caught the smell of her hair and sighed. Dear God, what was wrong with her? And why hadn't she come to him the last two nights? Then he answered his own question, his conscience poking him, making him remember how he'd snapped at her tonight and the night before. How had he not noticed how she'd looked lost in the hall? Or why hadn't he realized when she'd snapped at him that it was more than her being overly tired? How had he not noticed how she looked close to fainting in the kitchens? Of course, later before they'd turned in for the night, he'd apologized, in his own way, and had asked if there was something wrong, that he knew he'd been crabby, that he hoped she knew he was on her side. She'd told him thank you for it.

She'd told him everything was fine.

"Bloody hell it is," he grumbled as he rolled over, moving away from the side of his pillow that still bore the perfume of her hair. "Foolish, stubborn woman." He closed his eyes and her face as it had been that day filled his mind. She was pale, much more so than was normal for her. Her eyes were cloudy and grey instead of their brilliant blue, the color he loved so much. And there was a sad turn to her lips that seemed to pull them into a straight line all too often.

Sighing, he sat up and felt for the matches to light the candle beside his bed. Slapping at his pillow as he leaned back against the headboard, he fidgeted with his hands. He'd heard Elsie and Mrs. Patmore whispering at times and knew that they were talking about the reason they had gone to the village earlier in the day. He'd thought he'd heard doctor mentioned in the whisperings and had wondered if Elsie had been to see the doctor about something.

"Since when are Mrs. Patmore and Elsie friends?" he grumbled as he stared at the ceiling. Rolling his eyes, he gave up and threw back his covers. Enough of this laying in bed when sleep was nowhere to be found.

CnE

Elsie winced as she turned in her bed, tears soaking the side of the pillow she'd just turned from. Sleep was being elusive again. She had slept so easily the nights she'd gone to Charles' room and curled up against him. But since seeing the doctor for the procedure to draw the fluid from the cyst, she couldn't go to her safe harbor. His hand against her breast would hurt and he'd learn what she was so desperately trying to keep from him. A knock on her door caused her to start and frown.

Wiping her face with the handkerchief that lay on her beside table, she slipped from her bed and walked to her door, opening it a crack. "Yes? Beryl?" she whispered when she focused enough to see who it was.

"Let me in." Mrs. Patmore whispered and gently pushed against the door.

Elsie sighed and let the woman in. "What is it?"

"You." Mrs. Patmore answered as she studied her friend. "You've been crying and you're hurting."

"I," Elsie started to deny it then shrugged. "It's a bit sore and tender. I keep forgetting and rolling over onto that side." She yawned then continued. "Why are you up? Shouldn't you be asleep?"

Mrs. Patmore sat down on the chair across from Elsie's bed. "I couldn't sleep." She looked at the younger woman. "I was worried about my friend."

Elsie sighed as she moved to sit on her bed. "Friend. Who would have thought?"

"Elsie," the older said the name easily, a name she hadn't used since the younger woman had been nothing more than a housemaid. "We haven't always fought. There was a time when we actually got along quite well. I remember those days. I remember it all."

"Beryl, I," Elsie shook her head. "I remember."

"Then why won't you tell him?"

"I can't. I don't want him to hurt."

Mrs. Patmore sighed and shook her head. "You crazy stubborn woman."

Elsie shrugged. "I couldn't bear it, Beryl. It's bad enough that I," she stopped and shook her head.

Mrs. Patmore narrowed her eyes and studied her friend. "Bad enough that you? What? That you've gone to him in the dead of night and slept in his arms?"

Elsie's head jerked up and she blinked in surprise. "How did you know?"

"Where else would you go when you are desperately in need of rest? I only know of one place you'd be comfortable and feel safe enough."

"I went to him before I came to you." Elsie confessed.

"But unlike with me, you didn't tell him why." Mrs. Patmore shook her head once more. "Go to him now. You need sleep."

Elsie shook her head. "I can't. He'll hurt me and not understand and that would force me to tell him."

"Then if I stay here and watch over you, would you try to rest?"

"No. I thank you for it, but it won't work."

Mrs. Patmore stood and nodded. "I know but I had to try."

"Thank you." Elsie whispered as she watched her friend slip quietly out the door. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath before opening them again and lighting the small lamp beside her bed. She might as well get dressed and start her day. Sleep wasn't visiting her this night.

CnE

Blinking in surprise when he heard the familiar tinkling of her keys, Charles pulled his pocket watch out to see the time. Frowning, he shook his head and tucked the watch back into place. She shouldn't be up and about. She should be resting.

Tapping his pen against his desk, he contemplated getting up and going to her sitting room to ask her why she was up, but shook his head. He had no right. Not after the way he'd treated her over the last two days. Even if he had half apologized. He'd told her he was on her side, she knew how he felt. She had come to him once on her own, she'd come to him again.

Opening the ledger sitting in from of him, he picked up his pen to begin adding the rest of the figures he'd left when he'd gone to bed. His mind wandered and he scowled when he lost track of the count. Starting once again, he found himself losing track when the sound of her keys passed by his door. Where was she going?

"Mrs. Hughes?" he called as he opened the door and looked out at her.

Elsie started then turned and gave him a tired smile. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Carson. I was just going for a walk."

"At this hour? By yourself?" Charles frowned and shook his head. "I don't think that's wise." Seeing her scowl, he held up his hand. "Would you mind company? Maybe the cool fresh air would help clear my head so I can finish adding the figures in my ledger."

Elsie nodded her head in acceptance. "Even though I would be perfectly safe outside by myself, I don't mind you joining me."

"Let me just get my coat and hat."

Elsie watched him disappear back into his pantry and took a deep breath to steady herself. Why had she put her keys on her waist? Damnable things were always giving her away. Having him near her would only add to her stress. All she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms, beg him to hold her and never let her go…something she couldn't do without giving herself away.

"Mrs. Hughes." Carson said her name as he held out his arm, giving her a small smile when she blinked up at him in surprise. "It's only proper for a gentleman to offer his arm to a lady."

"I'm far from a lady." Elsie murmured as she tucked her hand into his elbow.

"I'll have none of that." Charles scolded softly as he closed the door quietly behind them. "The only thing separating you from the ladies upstairs is pampering. If we were to run away to a place where it's not known who we work for, and were to dress you up in all the finery of the upper class, no one would question me when I called you Lady Elsie."

Elsie swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat at his words. Looking up at him, she smiled as she squeezed his arm. "I do believe, Mr. Carson, that must be one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me."

"I am only stating the truth, my dear Mrs. Hughes." Charles whispered as he lifted his hand to wipe away the tear that had rolled down her cheek. "Won't you tell me what's wrong?"

Wiping hastily at the tears, Elsie sniffed and shook her head. "The cold, Mr. Carson. It's only the cold."