Weeks pass, the season changes and plans surrounding Downton Abbey alter with alarming regularity. Had the family first been adamant they would be leaving their ancestral home some months ago, they are now clinging to it with the strength of a drowning man. Elsie tries to keep her shoulders straight and her head up while she navigates the plans that aren't being made clear to any of them downstairs.
She is glad that her difficulties with facing Daisy have been ironed out. Beryl had been right: Daisy was glad to see her when they arrived for Sunday lunch. The girl is more than blossoming now: her footsteps are getting heavier, her movements slower. She is cared for in ways that achingly squeeze Elsie's throat shut. Andy's solid strength, Mr Mason's tenderness and Beryl's maternal sensibility all show how Daisy's child will be born in almost a fortress of love.
It still hurts at the edges. Like a papercut you don't notice until you wash your hands and it stings in a way it makes your eyes water. She puts the pain aside when Beryl talks about Dr Clarkson being very pleased with Daisy's progress or when Charles comes home with stories from Mr Mason - whom he has met for a swift half.
Charles's swift halves with Mr Mason are giving him something he has rarely experienced before: being equal to other men. Most of them have retired: the old Postmaster, some of the farmers who have been succeeded by their sons. Doctor Clarkson swings by sometimes. They put the world to rights, complain about the changes surrounding them. They look out for each other and it warms Elsie's heart that her husband, after all his years in service, finally has something resembling friendship.
She has it in Beryl and she is so very thankful for it. For someone who will make her laugh out loud, who understands when things are getting difficult. Who will tell her like it is to her face. Elsie can be herself with Beryl - she's not somebody's wife or Housekeeper when they talk about the new catalogue Beryl received through the post, the advances of technology and medicine or the lessons they are learning with age.
The lessons Elsie, Beryl, Anna and Daisy learn aren't the lessons Lady Mary and Lay Grantham learn and Elsie isn't surprised when the family makes the decision to remain at Downton and to bend to the rules of the National Trust.
"What do you mean the family is staying at Downton?" Charles has put his knife down so slowly and deliberately, Elsie isn't entirely sure if he is going to snap or sigh in relief.
"The National Trust and the Crawley family have come to a mutual agreement, where the house will be property of the Trust, as will most of the contents, but that the family will be using it as a permanent residence."
Charles frowns.
"Lady Mary agrees to that?"
Elsie nods and cuts into her stew.
Charles picks up his knife and fork again and starts eating, frowning and glancing at his wife.
Elsie understands his confusion: for Charles a decision made is a decision only broken with a recently sharpened sword. She knows he is hurt by an unspoken promise having been severed. Lady Mary changing her mind is difficult for him to wrap his head around.
"It will be some time before things will really change," Elsie says, reaching for her glass.
"Hmm," Charles grunts. Elsie sips from her water.
"At least they are staying here," she tries and Charles sighs deeply.
"What about you?" he asks.
"I was always going to stay, you know that. I wouldn't go with them."
"You might have, had they given you the choice."
It's not really a question, it's more a statement. As if he isn't sure of anything anymore. Not even her.
"I didn't give it much thought, as the decision was made for me. But you can't honestly think that I would have left you behind?"
Charles shrugs. "You did get yourself in a state over having to retire," he says by ways of explanation.
"But we talked about that, didn't we? About how I felt like I would be a burden to you, because without a job, I don't contribute anything to our economy. That I worried about what to do with myself as I'd been making myself useful since I was three feet high. You told me that I would never be useless to you. That you love me..."
Charles looks at her with dark eyes. "But what will you do now the family stays? Will you still retire?"
Elsie puts down her fork a last time, leans in and smiles at Charles. "Yes. I will."
She means it from the bottom of her heart and the look Charles gives her only affirms what she's known in her heart for such a very long time now:
They were always meant to be together.
When Mr Mason storms into the Servants' Hall it's not even time for the servants' breakfast yet. Elsie has been going over some of the information Lady Mary has given her from the National Trust and Beryl is taking a well-deserved cup of tea.
"It's time," Mr Mason says. He is looking pale and worried. "The midwife has been with her since three o'clock this morning."
He is shaking and sinks down in the chair next to Beryl, who is putting her teacup back on the saucer with unnecessary force.
Elsie jumps up and grabs Beryl's coat and hat. "Off you go," she says and plonks the garments on the table.
"What about luncheon upstairs?" Beryl asks slightly bewildered by ELsie's sudden movements.
"I'll go up and explain to her Ladyship. I know I am not good in the kitchen, but I can make sandwiches. If they don't like it, they can go elsewhere for their luncheon."
Beryl nods and silently puts on her hat and coat. Mr Mason pushes himself up and leads the way. "Thank you, Mrs Carson," he says and Elsie smiles.
"Let us know how you get on, if you can," she says.
It takes all her energy to pretend she is calm. She is anything but. Her mind is going faster than Mr Talbot's racing car - Mr Talbot who has been visiting his family lately, building bridges, mending heartache - worrying about Daisy, about the baby, knowing it's hard work, dangerous work, terrifying giving birth. Mr Mason knows - he's been through it with his wife, William's mother, through the losses and the fear and the grief. Elsie tells herself that Daisy is strong, that she's been very well looked after. That she is healthy. That worrying is not going to help anyone.
Least of all Elsie herself.
She hears the door close and the wheels of the wagonette on the gravel. Beryl's tea stands forgotten on the table and behind her bells are ringing. Mr Barrow straightens his tails as he emerges from the Butler's Pantry, one eye on the bells and one on her.
"Are you alright, Mrs Hughes?"
"Mr Mason has taken Mrs Patmore to Yew Tree Farm. I confess to being a little nervous," Elsie says, measuring her words.
Elsie sees the muscles in Thomas's jaw clench. She knows he is thinking about Lady Sybil. About the pain and about how he showed his vulnerability.
"I'll tell her Ladyship. Are there plans made for luncheon?" he asks, his voice sounding breathy and strained.
"Not really. I can make them sandwiches. Miss Baxter won't mind helping me, I don't think."
Thomas frowns. "They won't be pleased."
"Thomas, I don't really care. The family will have to make do. Mrs Patmore has given her life to Downton and yes, her Ladyship had been very kind when Mrs Patmore needed her eye operation and later with the whole ordeal surrounding the bed and breakfast, but I don't think that them having to eat sandwiches will instantly turn them into savages."
THe way Thomas's eyebrows raise would make Charles proud, Elsie thinks as she watches the Butler. He turns on his heel and takes the stairs two steps at a time. The dim light catches the few streaks of grey and Elsie is reminded that he isn't as young as he once was. He's made the role of Butler his own and he has his own style, though Elsie clearly sees the training he's had when she is being asked to look over the books. Thomas has grown. He's settled down. He might not be perfectly happy, but Elsie knows that would be difficult for him. Thomas Barrow is not a lucky man. Though perhaps, one day, when people are less stifled by rules, there may be more freedom for Thomas. Peace, maybe.
She opens the door to her Parlour and gets back to work.
"Mrs Hughes?"
Elsie is startled from her calculations. "Lady Mary? How can I help?"
Lady Mary is dressed for the outdoors. A perfectly tailored tweed suit and green blouse, her hat already firmly in place; a little feather quivering in the draft.
"If you have a moment, I know you must be busy," Lady Mary says.
Elsie doesn't react to that. She is well aware she doesn't actually have a choice.
"Please, sit down," she offers a chair and Lady Mary sinks down gracefully.
"Mrs Hughes, we've not really discussed your retirement after the initial… erm… terms…" she starts and Elsie can feel her temper rising.
"If I may be so bold, Milady, I'd still very much like to retire."
Lady Mary elegantly raises and lowers her hand. "Obviously, I completely understand Carson would like to see a little more of you. I didn't come here to persuade you to stay on."
Elsie waits, her back straight, her breathing even. Fifty years of service poured into this moment to come across collected and calm.
"Did you know Mr Bates is having some trouble with his leg?" Lady Mary asks and it's a question Elsie wasn't expecting at all.
"Yes, Milady. Anna wrote to me and she told me the hotel proved to be harder than they initially anticipated."
"I see. Then you'll understand why I've been talking to Anna and why I was thinking she could be your successor."
Elsie can feel her cheeks flushing. She feels glad Lady Mary didn't say 'replacement'- that her expertise and experience are worth more than a throwaway remark.
"Anna would do splendidly as a Housekeeper," Elsie admits. "But what of Mr Bates? I don't think he would be very pleased letting Anna be the breadwinner."
Lady Mary shakes her head. "No, he is a very proud man, I wouldn't dream of not offering him a position while entertaining the idea of Anna coming here to stand at the helm. No. The National Trust needs someone to manage things here. It would be more of a desk job than what he is currently engaged in. He wouldn't interfere with Barrow's job either. It would be quite perfect."
Elsie agrees. "Do they want to give up their hotel? They dreamed of it so long. It really was a wish come true for them."
Lady Mary Mary's amused smile reminds Elsie of something Charles once said of Elsie: that she was a plotter. Then she had answered that it was a skill all women must learn and here she is, being proven right.
"Anna was worried you might feel pushed out and she daren't ask you, but we've been planning it for a while now. The hotel is being sold and the Bateses will come home to their old cottage until we can find them something more suitable."
Everything has been taken care of. Elsie is reminded of the letter where Anna spoke of something she wanted to tell her, but couldn't. She is shaken from her distraction by Lady Mary's even voice.
"Thank you, Mrs Hughes. I'll telephone Anna to let her know. I think it would be good if she could settle in before the National Trust tramples all over the way we do things at Downton."
There's a feisty streak in Lady Mary. She's the captain of the ship Downton. She'll sail it into battle and she won't back down. She's in it for the victory and the glory. She rises from her chair and nods.
"Lady Grantham will want to discuss the timeline once Anna arrives." She reaches for the doorknob and turns a last time:
"Would you please let us know how things have fared with Daisy once you've more information?"
"Of course, Milady."
Lady Mary sweeps down the Servants' Hall, past the boot crate and through the door into the courtyard. She doesn't look back.
Elsie leans back in her chair. She has a lot to think about.
A/N: Don't you absolutely hate it when a story won't bloody cooperate?! Hopefully I've pushed it back on track and the next chapter won't be so long.