A/N Thank you for your wonderful reviews! 3 I will reply to them shortly. I hope I have not kept you waiting for an update too long. Enjoy chapter 02. As always: characters not mine, no copyright infringement intended.
Changes - chapter 02
Isobel Crawley is not the same woman anymore. Her face looks grey, her eyes have lost their shine, new thin lines have formed around her lips.
Elsie had never looked closely at Mrs Crawley before but even she can see the difference between the energetic, lively, optimistic person she once was and the sad, lonely woman she is now.
Lord Grantham has invited her over for dinner, obviously hoping she would enjoy the company, be glad to leave Crawley house. She inhabits the house alone now as far as Elsie knows. There is no cook, no housemaids, no butler anymore. Dr Clarkson is around sometimes, but the loneliness must be unbearable. Still, a dinner party at the big house is not what Mrs Crawley wants or needs, Elsie can feel it, she knows it. All this woman wants is to be left alone with her grief for a while longer until she feels ready being in company again. Of course Elsie has never experienced exactly the same sadness and loss but she is a woman and the housemaids, footmen and hallboys are like her children. Despite her professionalism and perfectionism she cannot stop feeling protective for them. She does not fuss much or pat shoulders, is not a person who touches people a lot to show she cares. When her girls are sick and lonely they receive an encouraging, sympathetic smile as well as some nice words and maybe are granted an afternoon off. And Elsie knows that they are grateful for it. It helps them more than a motherly hug and a cup of hot cocoa because she takes them seriously, treats them like responsible adults. Only two of them have ever discovered her softer side: Anna and William. They are, they were, she reminds herself thinking of William, more than just workers for her. She allowed herself to be motherly around them, including wiping away tears, providing soothing embraces and hot cups of tea with sugar.
Yes, she knows how Mrs Crawley feels because she has lost William. An unnecessary death, just like Mr Crawley's.
Elsie observes the older woman from afar, hidden behind the folding-screen in the large dining room where she should not be at this moment. After all, serving meals is his domain, not hers. He instructs the footmen, he knows who to serve first, which wine is perfect for each course. She prepares the rough bits of each meal, he executes it with style and show. But the other night, he had agreed to let her help him and she has decided to extend this offer a bit. So she is around whenever she finds the time, not only in the evenings anymore. He won't like it but so far he has not noticed that she has followed his every step today.
From her place at the table Mrs Crawley catches her eye suddenly and smiles at her. Elsie takes a step back, does not want to be seen. Before she disappears she nods her head, tells the woman at the table that she has seen her. A returned smile signals that Elsie knows how miserable Mrs Crawley feels.
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The conversation during dinner is reduced to a minimum. Lady Mary has not said a single word, does not even look up from her plate. They have all tried to talk about pleasant things, avoided the inevitable mentioning of the baby, Lady Mary's health and the well meant "are you all right's". Isobel Crawley, he notices, smiles occasionally but her eyes never light up. Only the corners of her mouth move. Nothing else.
When he offers her a second glass of wine, she declines politely and he sees her face up close for the first time that evening. Her eyes are red-rimmed; dark circles cover the skin below them. He cannot help but smile sadly at her, a smile that says "I understand, I know."
Where she has lost her son, he has lost a daughter, a surrogate one, but nevertheless. Lady Mary does not speak to anyone these days, stays in her room or in the nursery almost twenty-four hours, only comes down for dinner, not even for lunch or breakfast. He has tried to comfort her, served her the favourite cake prepared especially for her by Mrs Patmore. He has talked to Lady Grantham, offered to help with the child, suggested a holiday in London perhaps, or Scotland. He is willing to do everything if only it helps Lady Mary to let go of the dark thoughts and make her smile again. But Cora had only shaken her head, touched his shoulder and told him that he should not worry so much and that they will find a way.
One last round of drinks is offered and Mrs Crawley indicates again that she does not need a refill. Charles steps back, leaves her alone but he cannot help and notice that she smiles a moment later at something in the distance, behind the folding-screen. He does not see her standing there but knows without doubt that she has observed them, him, during dinner all night. He does not know what to think of it, if he should be angry or touched by her caring. Charles is too exhausted, physically and emotionally, right now to scold her, tell her that he does not need her fussing over him all day.
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It is another dark night, like the last one. Everyone has gone up to find a bit of rest, some peace in the quietness of the attic. Elsie waits for him in her sitting room. The fifteenth night in a row, sipping a late cup of tea with too much sugar in it. She waits for the click of his door when he shuts it, for the sound of his footsteps on the stone corridor. But it stays silent for too long. A look at the clock on the mantelpiece tells her that he has not kept to his routine tonight, has broken the order of this meticulously planned daily tasks. He should be downstairs by now, finished with his rounds and everything else. Something is wrong. She can feel it. Elsie knows him too well to shrug his lateness off as a normal thing that happens when you are too caught up in your own thoughts like he is right now.
Perhaps he has noticed her in the dining room and is angry with her, does not want to talk to her tonight. But then, he has agreed to let her help him, has gladly allowed her to take care of him. And he does not make promises like these only to break them after merely a day. Another thing that strikes her as odd, that is so unlike him.
Elsie forgets about the tea, leaves her room, checks his pantry. It is empty, dark and cold. He has not been in there lately, not taken his time to go over the books once more as is his habit in the evenings. She searches for him in the servant's hall, the kitchen, even the linen cupboard, which she often uses as a place to hide, calm down when the day is rough. He is not down here. Nowhere.
Slowly she makes her way upstairs, remembers how they had climbed the stairs together the night before. He cannot simply change his mind after that! But she does not know what to do now. Going to bed is out of the question, searching the whole house, too.
When she arrives at her side of the servant's quarters it does not take her long to make her decision. She takes the key, which unlocks the dividing door, from its hook and enters the only part of the house she is not really familiar with. She has never cleaned these rooms, does not know who occupies which one. Elsie is only sure of one thing: his room is the one right behind the door. She knocks twice but no one answers. Maybe she should just leave, forget the worry that has taken hold of her heart, ignore the fear that is slowly settling down. She can't! It's impossible! Her hand turns the doorknob, opens the door a crack. She peeks inside the room and has never felt so relieved in her life when she sees him sitting there at his desk, head supported by his hands, staring down at an open book.
"Mr Carson?" Her voice is soft, almost lovingly.
He startles when he hears his name spoken, looks directly into her eyes. "I was worried when I didn't see you downstairs. Is everything all right?"
uhoh... what happens next? (I don't know tbh) I would be happy (haha, I SQUEE at every review) for reviews.
TBC.