A./N.: As promised one update per day. So this is the next.
Warning, the conversation at the end really did happen when I went to the police. For those of you interested in history: Rape in a relationship or marriage was acknowledged and deemed a crime in 1995-1997. Rape in a relationship, especially if there isn't that much prove is often played down by the police and dropped or the charge is just filed away.
Please tell me what you think of this chapter.
Only a Woman
After the emotional up and down of the day, Elsie was exhausted. Charles' strong, warm embrace slowly lulled her to sleep. She slumped against his broad chest, eyes closed and breathing deeply and regularly. Her head rested on his shoulder with her hot forehead in the crux of shoulder and neck. Any other man might be offended if the woman he loved fell asleep on him after kissing passionately, but Charles only felt joyfulness at her obvious trust in and comfort with him. His lips nuzzled her hair and temple repeatedly, content with simply holding her. Then his gaze rose slowly to lock with Beryl's.
"Poor dear. She must be exhausted," she said sympathetically, coming closer to the couple and gently stroking over Elsie's brown curls. "If you get her into bed, I can stay with her …"
"No, Beryl," Charles replied quietly. "She trusts me … so I won't let her wake up alone or with someone else beside her. Thank you, though."
Beryl smiled down at her friend. She could see the devotion in his eyes and thanked God that Elsie had such a dear, sweet man by her side. "I still think you should get off the floor and let her lie down properly," Beryl said chuckling a little before becoming serious. "This can't be good for the baby."
That certainly got Charles' attention. He looked down onto the soft face of his sleeping fiancée. She looked so peaceful and calm now, despite the near-constant turmoil of the last weeks. It seemed that he really brought her peace and calm. He took that for a good omen for their impending marriage. Leaning over a bit, he placed a chaste kiss to Elsie's lips before looking up to Beryl.
"Could you help me?" he asked. "Could you hold her while I get up so I can carry her over to bed? I will stay with her for a while and make sure she rests."
Beryl nodded and sat down beside Elsie, gently taking a hold around her shoulders. She carefully drew her against her own chest. Elsie stirred a little in her sleep, but did not wake. She really was exhausted and fast asleep. For a tender moment Beryl observed her and stroked her hair. The two women had some sort of good-natured rivalry going on over the store cupboard key and their respective domains, but they were friends. Being at the top of your profession was a lonely place, especially for a woman, who wanted to maintain a wholesome and respectable reputation. Together they had been less lonely. Now her friend needed her more than ever and Beryl had sworn to be there for her.
"Oh, damn," Charles groaned and Beryl looked up sharply. "My leg fell asleep," Charles admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, causing Beryl to laugh quietly.
"Oh, stop whining and pick her up already."
"It is nice to see you so concerned for my health," Charles retorted with a wry chuckle. He then bent down to lift Elsie off the floor. Her head fell against his chest and she murmured incoherently in her sleep. One of her hands came up and touched his chest. The next word was very quiet but still audible.
"Charles …"
For a moment Charles just held her in his arms, drinking in this moment. Then he went over to her bed and gently began to lower her onto it before straightening up again.
"Mhm, Beryl, her sheets and maybe you should help her into her … well, what I mean … her night things," Charles blustered, clearly embarrassed. "I want her to rest and not do any more work today. She should really stay in bed and recover from … well, all this," he finished rather lamely.
Beryl only raised her eyebrow at him. "Do you honestly think she will ever recover 'from … well, all this'?" she asked archly. "Charles, really, her life has been altered forever, there is no way back."
"Life alters us all and what would be the point of living if we wouldn't let life alter us?" Charles asked back philosophical. "We all have our pasts and they have made us to who we are today. It makes no difference to me. She is still the woman I love."
Beryl shook her head, but Charles could see a tiny smile curl her lips. "You're a romantic … always were. Now go on out and I call you in when she is decent and under the covers." And with that she shooed him out of the room.
oOoOoOo
Beryl silently entered her friend's room to find Isobel Crawley sound asleep on the chair by the window, her head having fallen against the glass pane. She looked exhausted and haunted by what she had seen. Beryl swallowed thickly. If an experienced nurse was shocked – what would that mean for her? She closed her eyes tightly and sent up a silent prayer for strength. Then she turned her gaze to the bed and met the calm eyes of Lady Grantham.
The great Lady of the house was half-laying, half-sitting against the headboard of the housekeeper's small bed with said housekeeper curled up by her side. Elsie's arms were wrapped tightly around her waist in a death-grip. Lady Grantham's position couldn't be comfortable and her body would certainly pay the price for it in the morning, but she didn't seem to care one bit.
Beryl's eyes filled with tears at the sight of Elsie's bruised arms and her battered face. Her hands came up and covered her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle her sobs. Lady Grantham's eyes filled with sympathy and she, too, had to swallow as she remembered what had happened before Isobel had given Mrs Hughes a sleeping pill. Now she quietly cleared her throat to get her cook's attention.
"It's Lady Sybil, Your Ladyship," the cook's words were muffled by her hands still pressed to her mouth. "She is insistent that she be allowed to come and see Mrs Hughes."
Lady Grantham, knowing her youngest daughter and her favouritism of the housekeeper, sighed. She should have expected that. "Let her in then, Mrs Patmore," she allowed finally. "Under the strict instructions of being quiet. … Oh, and do ask Lord Grantham to send for the police. We have a description and a possible name of who did this to her."
oOoOoOo
The chair was rather uncomfortable for his back, but Charles persisted in his vigil over Elsie's sleeping form. He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest and slowed his own breathing to match hers. He was lost in his observation of her. The bruises had all faded away, leaving behind her normal alabaster complexion. Her hair was falling in luscious curls around her face again instead of the dirty, blood-soaked mass it had been that night. Her cuts had left no scars and she had healed completely. He was grateful for that, having prayed for her recovery every day of the last days, weeks, months.
Her inner wounds were far more worrying. Her eyes had lost their spark, her voice had become timid and barely audible, and her hands trembled often. Charles knew that the damage Grigg had inflicted on her self-esteem and self-worth was far greater than any damage he had done to her body.
Hopefully now he could heal that damage as well. They had already started down that path … but it hadn't been an easy one.
oOoOoOo
Lord Grantham had sent young Branson to the police station in Ripon, the nearest one to them in any event. It had taken Branson hours to drive into Ripon, get the officers on night duty to come with him and drive back. The officers, not very happy about being dragged out at night, were less than helpful. Charles stood next to His Lordship and couldn't believe what he heard.
"Consider your accusations. We are talking about the future of a man here. His reputation, his honour will be ruined. Her word stands against his," the officer in charge said arrogantly before being rudely interrupted by Lord Grantham.
"That man has no honour, attacking a helpless woman and forcing himself on her," he growled out, clenching his fists at his sides.
Charles agreed whole-heartedly with that and could only do so much to hold a rein on his own anger. His hands clenched into tight fists and he lowered his gaze to the floor, lest they could see his disgust for them in his eyes.
"What prove have you anyway?" the other officer asked coldly. "Sometimes these young things step out with men, lead them on and then change their minds …"
That was the last straw! Charles' head whipped up and there was a murderous fire glinting in his eyes. Thomas and William both slowly backed away from him, while Mr Bates gripped his walking stick firmly, ready to support the butler. Lord Grantham inhaled deeply before he, too, lost his barely contained temper.
"Mrs Hughes is my housekeeper," he roared. "She is a respectable, well-behaved and honourable woman, not some jumped-up trollop," Lord Grantham screamed them down, his rage on full display. "You will treat her with the same respect you would show any woman in this household and you will devote all your attention on finding this culprit, or I will have you fired and sweeping stairs. Is that understood?!"
Lady Grantham, who had just appeared in the door, stood cob-smacked and astonished just inside of the room with Mrs Crawley at her side. She had never seen her husband lose his temper – certainly never with her. He was intimidating … and after all that happened this night, she began to fear him for some illogical reason. She knew he would never harm her or the girls or any other woman, but the way his veins stood out at his neck at that moment and the tight, battle-ready fists at his side … yes, there certainly was an element of fear in her, but also anger.
She and Isobel had done their level best to help Mrs Hughes tonight and only time would tell if their efforts had been enough. To have these ignorant swine now belittle what had happened was too much to handle for her. She stormed across the room and firmly planted herself in front of the two officers. With steel in her eyes and voice, Cora began to describe Mrs Hughes' injuries in minute detail. She was backed in this by Isobel, who stood next to her now and had her own battle to fight to stay relatively civil. Out of the corner of her eyes, Cora could see her butler sway on his feet as she described the wounds and bruises. Matthew had taken a step towards his mother and hesitantly interlaced his fingers with hers, his face ashen, seeking strength from her.
"How would you feel if that woman lying up in the attics was one of your women-folk and had been hurt in this way?" she asked coldly, feeling her anger draining from her body and leaving behind a dark void of despair. She felt, more than saw, Robert step up behind her and lending her his full support. His large frame providing warmth and comfort. "She is hurt so badly and I want justice for her," she said quietly. "It won't turn back time, but it will help to heal her."
"Not to mention that there will be one rapist less roaming the streets," Mr Bates stated clearly from the back. "Should you not act and something like that happen again, there will be heads rolling, most likely yours." He decided to play with their fear of losing their comfortable and calm jobs, rather than trying to appeal to their sense of duty and honour.
"Your man mentioned you have a description and a name," the officer finally stuttered, getting out his notebook.
Mrs Crawley nodded. "Yes, we believe so," she said. "She mentioned that her attacker seemed to know someone from the house." Her eyes turned away from the officers and found Charles'. He felt his stomach drop, before he even heard the next words. "She said, at one point, he said 'you'll learn not to make fun of Charles Grigg'."
And Charles' world shattered into a million tiny pieces.
