Hello again! I'm sorry for the delay in posting. I got a new job which has swallowed a lot of my writing time! Slowly but surely I will finish this story though. Please keep reading. :)
x
Following Miss Shore's banishment from the kitchen, an odd stillness fell below stairs. To Elsie's surprise and considerable relief, Mrs Patmore barely shrugged at news of another mouth to feed.
"The more the merrier, Mrs Hughes... though I admit, I'm not sure in the case of Sir Richard!"
"I am sorry to create more work," she reiterated nevertheless, biting her lip.
"It's not more! I always make extra anyway."
The cook put down her mixing bowl and looked at her sharply.
"And never mind apologising. It's not your fault!"
She smiled weakly in response and rubbed her forehead,
"No, I suppose not."
Not this time.
x
The unnatural silence continued for the rest of the morning. As she sat at her desk amending the linen rota, the quiet became steadily more oppressive, almost cloying. Minutes passed – hours – where the only sounds were the patter of maids' feet in the hall, the scratching of her pen, and the endless ticking of the clock.
Waiting...
The whole house was waiting...
And yet there was still no news. She wondered why. What did the silence mean for poor Mr Bates? Time was surely ebbing away; the sand in the hourglass was almost run.
x
Before luncheon, she went upstairs for her daily meeting with the Countess to discuss the business of the house. Lady Grantham also seemed on edge, fiddling distractedly with her bracelet. When the accounts had been approved, she sighed and gazed out of the window onto the wintry lawns.
"Still not a peep from Murray about Bates. We shall have to announce that the Servants' Ball is cancelled this year."
"Yes, milady."
"I trust the provisions won't go to waste?"
"Oh no, milady. I'm sure Mrs Patmore will come up with something."
"Of course, it'll be terribly disappointing for the younger servants. I know how they look forward to it so. But we have no choice."
"No, milady. I'm sure they'll understand."
The Countess sighed again,
"His Lordship will be utterly devastated if Bates does..."
Her voice trailed away.
Elsie shivered. Lady Grantham turned from the window to look at her.
"How is poor Anna?"
Elsie wasn't sure how to respond.
"Very brave, milady," she ventured. "She's throwing herself into her work..."
She broke off.
"But what she's truly feeling... how she's coping... I really don't know."
The Countess nodded sympathetically,
"His Lordship was awfully upset to hear from Carson that she'd handed in her notice. I suppose we have to accept it? There isn't any way to change her mind? ...You couldn't...?"
A painful lump was growing in Elsie's throat. It made answering difficult.
"I think Anna is determined, milady," she managed.
Lady Grantham shook her head.
"It seems so wrong, Mrs Hughes. The girls are so fond of her. We all are. We'll be ever so sorry to see her go. I know you will be too."
Elsie swallowed,
"I will, milady."
She clenched her jaw. If Anna could show such courage, what right had she to flounder?
"Will that be all, your Ladyship?"
"Yes Mrs Hughes, for now that'll be all."
x
The afternoon was not so quiet. She could hear him pacing the corridor; sense his tension. She felt as if a spring were being wound, an elastic band tightened. Surely any moment it – he – they would snap.
He popped in once or twice, worrying about a hairline crack in a serving dish, wanting her opinion on the candelabra, complaining about Sir Richard.
The latter and Lord Hepworth had not arrived by six o'clock.
In a flap, he rang the station.
The train was delayed.
"It was an ill wind that ever brought that man to this house, Mr Carson," she told him bitterly. "If they're late, they're late. It's not fair to Mrs Patmore to delay the dinner."
She expected him to argue, but he nodded his head in assent.
"Oh no," he said with considerable relish. "We won't delay dinner. If they're that late, it'll be trays in the library. Let's see what he thinks of that."
x
In the event, and probably to his disappointment, trays had not been necessary, and dinner commenced as planned.
She remained at her desk, trying to decide whether to order the usual furniture polish or to experiment with a new, cheaper, and (at least the advertisement claimed) more effective alternative. It was an important housekeeping decision, one which required serious thought, but she found she couldn't concentrate. It all seemed so trivial now.
There was a knock on her door.
It was Anna.
"May I come in, Mrs Hughes? There's something I want to say," she blurted out in a rush.
"Of course."
Elsie stood up to meet her. She opened her mouth to ask whether Anna wanted to sit down, but the housemaid started speaking at once. Her eyes were red, almost feverish, and her face a ghostly pale.
"Mrs Hughes, I've been talking to Lady Mary about what... about what might happen if... about my leaving Downton. And Lady Mary says it's alright for me to go with her to America."
She supposed her confusion must have been evident, because Anna hurried on,
"She's breaking off her engagement with Sir Richard, you see. She's going do it tonight. And then, his Lordship suggested that she might get away from England for a while, so she's planning to stay with her Ladyship's mother in America. I think New York or New Haven."
Elsie tried to absorb this new information.
"And..." Anna continued, "and I know that I can't stay here if...well, I know I can't stay here without Mr Bates." Her voice trembled at mention of his name. "But when Lady Mary told me of her plans, I thought... I thought maybe I wouldn't have to leave her after all..."
Her speech almost over, she slowed down, drained by the effort. She looked utterly wretched and Elsie's heart ached. The poor sweet girl – having the kindness to explain herself, to share her plans, after all... After all you've done...
"I've always wanted to see America, so at least I've got a plan..." she finished, nodding, as if trying to convince herself.
Elsie wanted so badly to comfort her, to reassure her, but she didn't know how. The lump in her throat rose up once more.
"I suppose so," she replied, as steadily as she could, "I still can't be glad you'll be leaving here, but it's good news that you won't be casting off entirely."
"It's only if..." Anna started, and then her face crumpled, "if..."
She looked down at the floor.
"I know."
Elsie stepped towards her; the heavy weight of grief and guilt painful in her chest.
"Just so as you know, you're highly valued by all of us... both of you..."
She touched the housemaid's arm, her voice falling to almost a whisper,
"...very highly valued."
Anna began to sob uncontrollably. Tears pricked Elsie's eyes and burned the back of her throat. She scrunched up her face to stem their flow and instinctively, before she knew quite what she was doing, reached towards the weeping girl, drawing her into an embrace.
She felt Anna grip onto her; her face buried into her shoulder. There were no words. She no longer felt the need to speak. She simply patted the girl's back, gently holding her while she cried.
After a time, how long it was Elsie couldn't tell, Anna's tears subsided and she raised her head, stepping out of the embrace,
"I'm so sorry..."
Elsie too stepped back, but kept one hand on Anna's elbow. She shook her head.
"Come now," she said softly, gesturing towards the sofa, "we'll have none of that. You sit down here quietly for a while and I'll fetch us a cup of tea. Dinner will soon be over upstairs, and if what you tell me is true, it may be quite an evening."
She smiled,
"Tea will perk us both up."
Anna looked at her rather timidly.
"Thank you, Mrs Hughes. Thank you so very much."
Elsie squeezed her arm.
"No," she said, almost sternly. "No. There's no need."
x
The kitchen was a cheering hive of activity. Mrs Patmore and Daisy were dashing about, putting the final touches to dessert. Clouds of icing sugar hung in the air.
"Don't mind me," she told them. "I'll sort myself out. I'm just making some tea."
Fetching the crockery, however, she found that her hands were shaking. She tried to be careful, but the saucers clattered onto the tray and a wayward teaspoon clinked against the china. She put her palms on the worktop and took a deep breath.
She would need strength to lift the kettle.
"Daisy," said Mrs Patmore. "Stop that for a moment, and fill the teapot for Mrs Hughes."
Elsie looked round in surprise.
"I mustn't interrupt your work..."
The cook shrugged,
"It's no calamity. One can over-egg a pudding, so I'm told... Besides, I was fearful for the safety of the china..." She walked around the table, wiping her hands on her apron, and came to stand at Elsie's side. "Whatever's the matter? You're not usually all fingers and thumbs."
"It's not a usual day, Mrs Patmore," she answered wryly, rubbing her aching head. "It's not been a usual week."
The cook glanced at the pair of cups on the tray.
"You've got company for tea?"
"Anna."
"Ah," said Mrs Patmore, with economy yet understanding.
She seized a plate and extracted two biscuits from a cooling rack on the sideboard: the delicate lemon thins, all ready for upstairs.
"Here, take these."
Elsie hesitated,
"But don't you need them... won't it spoil our supper?"
Mrs Patmore smiled at her.
"I daresay I can spare a few... At times like this, Mrs Hughes. A little of what you fancy does you good."