Mrs Patmore was livid with her friend for keeping this vital information from her. She glared down on her and tried hard not to let her anger show too clearly. It wasn't hard for her to believe that Elsie would risk her health to conceal how sick she was. For that reason the stubborn woman had not told her best friend about her cancer scare in the first place. Why, though, hadn't she come to her then?
"Oh Elsie," she said softly. "You're not a burden to any of us, but we are very worried for you. You told me that Lady Grantham promised you that the family would look after you. That they would find you a nurse and that you shouldn't worry over anything." Her voice was tender and not the cutting tone she usually scolded her kitchen maids with or showed any of the harshness with which she had previously demanded the store cupboard key. Now she was a friend, worried sick for Elsie. Her eyes slowly filled with tears she stubbornly refused to let fall. Her hysterical breakdown wouldn't help Elsie now. Instead she looked over to Dr Clarkson and nodded her head to show that she was ready to help him.
"Well, we will discuss that later ... at length, don't be mistaken," Clarkson interrupted, getting up from the chair and crossing over to the bed. "If you could move to the other side, Mrs Patmore, and would help her to sit up. You will have to remove her chemise then, so I can have a look at the dressing and the wound."
Beryl hesitated only briefly before moving to the right side of the bed and sliding an arm under Elsie's shoulders. The housekeeper looked quite mutinous about being treated like a child or, worse, an invalid. She tried to push herself up under her own steam, but again a hot burning pain shot through her chest and she fell backwards against the steadying arm of her friend. Tears of humiliation fell and burnt tracks down her cheeks. She absolutely hated to be dependent on someone. All her life she had relied on her own strength to get her through whatever life threw at her, never having anyone else to rely on.
Beryl was deeply shocked to see the once strong woman reduced to this state. She swallowed thickly before gently rearranging Elsie in her arms so that her right shoulder was resting against her left one, bracing all her weight against her. Her arms were free to ever so gently slide Elsie's dress down over her back and help her to remove her arms from the sleeves. As the dress slid down to her waist, the opened corset fell off as well. Elsie was more than embarrassed to be seen like that, especially by Dr Clarkson. It had been bad enough to let him operate on her breast, but then she had been unconscious due to the anaesthesia. Now she was not only conscious, but also highly apprehensive of the fact that he would see her naked from the waist upwards. Her cheeks were flaming red and her breathing could be described as erratic at best.
"Beryl, please, stop," she pleaded as she felt her friend's hands go to her straps and begin to lower the left one gently over her shoulder. Elsie was scared … not only about being seen but also what they would see. She hadn't had the courage yet to take a look at what was left of her left breast. In fact she didn't want anyone with her when she would eventually open her bandages and face her altered form … but not yet, not with Beryl and Clarkson in the room with her.
Her friend looked at her with sympathy in her kind hazel eyes, but her hand remained on the strap and she only slightly shook her head to indicate that she had no other choice. "I'm sorry, Elsie," she said quietly. "You have to let Dr Clarkson take a look at it … and I'm here beside you, holding your hand the whole time." Beryl could barely stand seeing the tears fall from Elsie's eyes. She had always associated the housekeeper with strength and determination, but now she was face to face with a frightened woman.
Dr Clarkson noticed, too, that Mrs Hughes was more upset than the situation warranted in his eyes, but then again it wasn't his body. Heaving a sigh, he turned from the two women and drew his medical bag towards him. Slowly and methodically he began to remove fresh bandages, scissors, pinchers and various medications out of his bag. It was the most privacy he could afford his patient at the moment.
Elsie still clung to Beryl and tried to regulate her breathing and her heart beat. She had noticed the doctor's gallant move, and was deeply grateful. She needed a few moments to muster the courage to allow him and Beryl what had to be done. She knew it was necessary – she wasn't that stupid – and really she could only stall for so long. That said it still cost her every ounce of courage she possessed. Drawing a deep breath, she nodded to Beryl and let her slide down the strap of her chemise.
For the first time Beryl saw the clean bandages around her friend's chest and had to swallow in her nervous state. She could clearly see the blood seeping through the bandages and was shocked that she hadn't noticed anything; it looked painful and now thinking back she remembered seeing Elsie wince on a number of occasions. Gently, but with trembling fingers, she reached for the tiny knot in the bandages between Elsie's breasts. Hesitantly she began to work it loose and to unravel the bandages from around her chest. Underneath it was a neat but blood-soaked gauze patch. For the doctor to work on her properly, it had to go and Beryl carefully took hold of it. As she tried to lift it off Elsie's breast, it stuck to the skin and Elsie hissed in pain again. Her forehead fell forward against Beryl's shoulder and she tried to suppress the groan of pain by muffling the sound against her friend's collarbone. It was unsuccessful. Beryl heard her faint gasp and immediately stopped her ministrations. She could also feel the heat of Elsie's forehead seep through her own dress.
"Heavens, girl," she exclaimed, drawing the doctor's attention to them, "you're burning up!"
Instantly Dr Clarkson was leaning over the housekeeper, his hand going to her forehead and feeling her temperature.
"Oh dear," he murmured. A quick glance down told him the probable reason for the rising temperature in the housekeeper. Blood was slowly running from the reopened wound down the side of her breast and the flesh around the small incision was inflamed. "We have to stop the bleeding and then get her to the hospital so I can re-stitch the incision. Our enemy right now is the insetting fever. We have to reduce her temperature … and be quick about it."