A/N: TW for more bad news. The next few chapters are going to be dark, with a lot going on.


Despite Elsie's protests, Charles convinced her to go to sleep. He would sit with Daisy until she woke.

He built up the fire so he could better see his little girl. She was more restless than usual, tossing and turning.

Her skin was warm. Too warm.

Charles had nodded off when he heard a gasp. Daisy thrashed on her bed, tangled in her blanket.

"Papa," she croaked, half sitting up. Her eyes were feverish, unfocused. He caught her before she fell backwards, pulling her shoulder against his chest. She licked her lips. "I'm thirsty."

He got her a water skin, and she drank almost half of it. "Rest," he brushed a kiss along her hair. She sank back down on the sheepskin. Already she seemed exhausted.

Daylight brought little change. He went outside and drew water from the well. While he was there, Remme trotted through the early-morning mist. She followed Charles into the house, and laid down next to her favorite person.

"How is she?" Elsie asked sleepily when she woke halfway through the morning. She came over to sit by Charles. He had drenched a scrap of cloth and was trying to cool Daisy.

He shook his head. "I'm not sure...maybe a bit cooler, but that might be because of the cloth." He dipped it in the bucket again, wringing it out. Elsie laid her hand against Daisy's neck. The girl mumbled in her sleep, turning her head a little.

"She feels the same as last night," Elsie whispered, moving her hand so Charles could put the cloth back. She rubbed his shoulder and kissed his cheek. "It is not your fault. You're doing the best you can."

"I never should have let her go to Drake's yesterday," he murmured, tears pricking his eyes. "What sort of father am I?"

"A father who loves his daughter, and who knows he cannot protect her from everything." Elsie rested her head against his. Remme whined, and she leaned over and rubbed her belly. "Have you milked the goats?"

Charles jerked his head so fast he bumped against Elsie, making them both wince. "Ouch! No, I'm sorry," he muttered. "I should do that now…"

"You should not," Elsie got up from her knees. "Stay with her. I will milk them." She smiled a little. "Isn't that why you taught me?"

The animals in the pen were loud, as it was later than usual for them to be milked. After bringing in what they gave her, Elsie set to work making bread and cheese. It was warmer than the previous day, and the heat of the fire made her sweat. Charles kept the door open, and made sure the window was unblocked. Daisy tossed a little in her sleep, clearly uncomfortable.

He did not want to go watch the flock, but knew he must. He waited until Elsie returned from visiting Jacob.

"He said he feels better, and he is," she said, sighing in relief. "His fever broke last night – his blanket was drenched. I brought in some more water for him, but I left him to wash himself. The poor lad…he kept saying how quiet it was." She wiped her eyes.

The three mounds of dirt outside of Jacob's house were a stark reminder as to why.

The air seemed thicker when Charles went outside. Clouds blocked the sun. He talked to Andy for a short time about the flock. He said nothing to him about Daisy, not wanting to worry the lad.

When I go back to the house later, hopefully she will be better.

He had not been in the meadow long when Jimmy came sprinting up the hill.

"It's Alfred," he panted, holding his side. "He's got the fever."

Charles leaped to his feet and followed him back to the hut beneath the giant oak tree, bringing Ve, Nosi, and the flock with them. His heart pounded.

First Daisy, now Alfred!? How many of us will the fever strike?

The image of Jacob's family was clear in his mind.

The red-haired apprentice lay sprawled on the floor. Andy lifted an old tunic out of a bucket of water and put the soaked cloth on him. Alfred shivered, his face almost matching his fiery hair.

"Too hot," he mumbled, trying to throw off the tunic. Andy looked up in a panic.

"He's burning up. And talking funny – he thought I was Vyr." Alfred's puppy, identical to her sister Nosi except for her coal black fur, whimpered from the corner.

"Never mind that," Charles wrapped the tunic more securely around Alfred. Fear clawed at his heart, but he tried not to show it. "It happens sometimes. You did the right thing. We have to try to cool him down, no matter what he says." He grabbed Alfred's hand before the lad yanked the tunic off again. "Or does."

Jimmy watched his cousin, his face pinched, from the doorway. "We thought about carrying him to your house, but we didn't want to bring the fever there."

The shepherd sighed. "It's too late for that now," he said, the words coming out harsher than he intended. "Daisy has the fever. She took ill during the night."

"What!?" The two lads cried out. A look of utter horror covered Andy's face.

"No…by the gods…no…"

Jimmy turned away, backing towards the wall. "We're all going to die," he said, his voice loud. "We're all going to have the fever before it's over, and we're all going to die."

"We are NOT," Charles thundered. He got up and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Where there is life, there is hope. Pull yourself together, James!"

The young man blinked and met his eyes. He nodded slowly.

Poor lad. He's just lost his mother, and he's terrified.

So am I.

"Right," Charles continued, bending over next to Alfred again, "Andrew, you need to rest, but not in here. Go to the meadow. James, help me with your cousin. Let's carry him to our house." He picked up Alfred by the shoulders, the blanket hanging off his long frame. Jimmy grabbed Alfred's feet.

They carried him out of the hut and down in between the two hills. The sheep bawled as they passed by. Freya, Ve, and Nosi stood in front of the gathered flock. The dogs' heads only turned when Vyr, unnoticed by the men, followed behind them. Charles stumbled a little, walking backwards, as they started up the hill towards the house. Alfred was not light.

Elsie stood up when they came in, her eyes wide. "He's ill as well?" It sounded more like a statement. "Let's put him here, nearer the hearth." She took Alfred's arm, helping to lay him down as gently as they could.

"Vyr," he mumbled, his eyes opening slightly, "Silly dog…I said forward, not back…"

His puppy lifted her head from where she had laid down, snuggled next to Remme. She barked.

"Shhh," Elsie murmured, glancing at Daisy. The girl did not move but slept on.

"James," Charles said quietly, "Go back outside. I will be there shortly, to take half of the flock back to the meadow. We will watch Alfred," he said as the apprentice hesitated.

"I'll come back and see him later." Jimmy vowed, his hands clenched. He walked out, leaving the door open.

Charles sighed. "We may need some help." Now that the storm was upon them, strangely he felt calmer. Concentrating on what had to be done was better than worrying about what might happen.

"I know," Elsie pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. "Only two of them are ill now, but I worry about Andrew and James. They went to Drake's, too."

"Alfred did not, and he has the fever." Charles ran a hand through his hair. "To be honest, I am worried about myself as well. I've had the fever before so I may not get it again…but Daisy was ill with it when she was younger, and she has it now."

Elsie bit her lip, smoothing a blanket over Alfred before standing up. "Should I go to Downton? Find someone? From what Alfred said, it does not sound like I would find anyone to help. But how else can we find someone? I don't want to leave them." She glanced at Daisy across the room, then at the lad next to them.

"Nor do I want you to," he hugged her. "We will just have to do the best we can for now. Maybe Daisy will feel better later, and then one of us can go see if we can find help."

Throughout the day, however, their daughter did not improve. She did not seem any worse than before, small comfort though it was. Elsie fretted about Alfred. The lad talked often as if others were there. His mother and father, his aunt Sarah. The latter's name reminded the shepherdess that his relatives needed to be told. She wrote a short letter to his aunt, but left it sitting on the low table. How could she send it when she could not leave the house?

Near to sunset, she went out to get a breath of fresh air. Sparrows chattered wildly in the tree above the house. Gorse, with its bright yellow flowers, bloomed below her down to the road.

She heard Charles calling her name.

Further up the hill, above the goat pen behind their house, she saw him walking with his arm around Andrew. The lad leaned against him.

Her heart sank within her.

Not him, too!

She hurried over to them.

"I'm sorry, Mistress," Andy mumbled, his face flushed. "I woke up and didn't feel well…"

"Never mind, just come along with us," she said, pulling his other warm arm around her shoulders. Her eyes met Charles's. Neither could disguise the fear they felt.

Andy rested as best he could across the room from Alfred. Jimmy hauled in more water after gathering the flocks back together. Then he picked up the tunics and blankets Elsie had hung to dry, and brought them in.

"Thank you for your help," Charles told him. "We'd best keep the animals together for now. We don't have enough people to watch them separately."

And hardly enough of us to watch ONE flock.

"You have to rest, my man," Elsie insisted after supper. "I will go and watch the flock tonight. James said he would stay up with the others until you're awake." The apprentice sat beside Alfred, his chin resting on his knees.

"Even if I have to pinch myself so I won't fall asleep." His young face was serious.

Charles followed Elsie outside.

"When will you sleep?" Pulling her towards him, he felt her strong arms around him.

"After I get back," she whispered. "I'll get by." She kissed him, lingering on his lips for a moment.

She was mightily relieved when James took over the watch as dawn neared. There had been no visible change with the others.

Charles surprised her with fresh fish when she returned to the house. "An early meal for us," he whispered, handing her a bowl. "You haven't eaten all night." Her belly twisted hungrily. The fish were too hot to eat right away, so they talked in low voices as the other three slept around them.

"Daisy feels cooler," she yawned. "I am so glad she ate when you brought her food! And Alfred is resting easier."

"Yes. Andrew is a little worse, I think, but every time I give him water, he drinks it." They both turned when the lad suddenly cried out. Elsie set aside her bowl and went over to him. He tried to sit up when she touched the side of his face.

"Mum?" he whispered. In the dim light of the hearth fire, his eyes darted everywhere, finally resting on hers. He grabbed her tunic. "Mum, don't leave me…please…I…I went into the field and the bull chased me. I was so scared..." he started to cry.

"It's all right," Elsie said, half to him and to Charles, who had started to get to his feet. She hummed and pulled Andy into her lap, his head against her shoulder, suddenly feeling the need to comfort him. She had held Daisy like that the day before to get her to go back to sleep.

At times she remembered how young they were.

They were children.

When Harmony married, and the gods began to argue among themselves over me, Andy's great-great-great-grandfather was a young lad!

Andy was incoherent until his sobs quieted and he slumped against her, falling back asleep. Elsie laid him back down, and returned to her uneaten fish. She finished her meal to find Charles staring at her.

"What is it?"

He set aside his empty bowl. "It's nothing."

Sighing, she stacked her bowl on top of his. "It is not 'nothing', but I am too tired to talk about it now."

And she knew he did not want to talk about it, either.

Both knew it would change nothing.

When she got up to go to bed, he took her hand and led her outside, closing the door behind them. The eastern sky was grey. The white cloth tied to the stave was barely visible.

He cupped her face in his hands, his soft lips finding hers. Despite her fatigue, she hummed into his mouth, her body coming alive.

We should not. Not here. Not now.

Not while the children are inside, not while they are unwell.

"I do love you so very much," he rumbled, his hands sliding across her shoulders and down her back.

They kissed, she unwilling to hold herself back. That voice of his was seduction itself. And it was irresistible.

I am tired and my husband is frightened.

I am frightened, too.

Of losing him.

"I love you," she whispered, her fingers curling into his hair.

He brushed his sizable nose against hers before kissing her again. Slowly.

She lost her breath, moaning as he pressed against her. His tongue flicked along her jawline. The solid wooden fence of the goat pen was at her back.

Any thought of her fatigue had fled.

"If you want me to stop, I will." His heart hammered in his chest. The taste of her was pure desire. With every breath, he felt it fill him, seep into his blood.

What if the fever takes me? What if this is our last time? We have not made love in days.

For an answer, she wrapped her arms and legs around his broad torso. He caught her and held her up, the friction of their bodies together making him moan. "Never stop," she breathed, capturing his lips again. "Never, never…"

Usually they took their time, enjoying each other. But this time was different. Death lingered nearby, and uncertainty hung in the air. They moved frantically, quietly, as the dawn broke behind the hill.

He needed her. She needed him.

Be with me, my love. Stay with me. Who knows what the day will bring?

The way she gasped, her teeth grazing his ear, nearly made him lose his mind. She loved the way he held her, the feel of his strong hands.

Touching her everywhere.

He had no clear memory of her unknotting his belt. Or how she did it. But he relished the sound of his wife crying out his name.

Her man, what he did to her. From the way he buried his face in her shoulder to muffle his ever-louder voice, she had just as great of an effect on him.

His legs were shaking when she slid down to the ground again, her skirt bunched above her knees. She stumbled into him. Her own legs were weak and damp with sweat. They stood still for a moment, their arms around each other. Her head against his pounding heart as they caught their breath.

He kissed the palm of her hand, and each one of her fingers, then let go to allow her to walk into the house first. There was a deep blush on her face, and his hair was wild.

Elsie could not bring herself to feel guilty, especially when she saw the other three still sleeping soundly. She slept better than she had in days.

A small part of Charles whispered that such goings-on were not right. Not while the fever raged. Still, he smiled as he watched over Daisy and the apprentices.

He regretted nothing.


It was near midday when Elsie removed fresh bread from the fire. She hummed low, but looked up when she heard Alfred stir.

The young man tried to sit up when she knelt next to him. "I'm cold," he mumbled, reaching for the blanket in a heap at his feet. Elsie touched his forehead, then his wrist.

"Your fever has broken," she said, feeling immense relief. She made sure he was covered completely, and gave him some bread. Then she moved on to Daisy.

"Daisy," she whispered, her fingers on her daughter's cheek. "Wake up. I have some food for you."

"Mmm hmm," the girl murmured, her eyes fluttering open. To Elsie's relief, she obediently ate several bites of bread and some figs, then drank cool water.

"That tastes good," she whispered. "The water…and the figs."

"Good," Elsie smiled, brushing back strands of her hair. She kissed her girl on the forehead. "Go back to sleep."

The shepherdess was disappointed Andy did not eat, but he did drink from the water skin as she held his head.

A line appeared between her eyes as she took in his sunken eyes, his limp limbs.

What else can I do?

"Hello?"

A woman's voice called from the outside. Elsie gently laid Andy back down and covered him up again. Making her way to the door, she peeked out. A woman was just visible, standing just beneath the brow of the hill. She looked familiar, but Elsie could not remember where she had seen her before.

"There is fever here," she called softly. "You should not come any closer."

"I know, Mistress," the woman answered. "But I come from Downton. There's fever everywhere there, too. Besides," she continued, "Anna sent me."

Elsie opened the door wider. "Jane!"

The young widow smiled as Elsie came out to greet her. "I wondered if you remembered me." Her eyes grew serious. "I'm sorry the sickness has reached here."

"It has reached everywhere, the last we heard," Elsie said. "Daisy and Alfred had it first here, and now Andy. What news is there? Is Anna all right?"

Jane told her all she knew, which was quite a lot. Anna was fine, as was Phyllis and Lily, and Jane's son Freddie. All of them were staying at John and Anna's house while the fever raged. Jane was going between their house and Downton, bringing messages and news to and from John.

The blacksmith had been caring for his apprentices as best he could, until he had felt feverish himself. He had managed to carry the boys, with Joseph's help, to the temple. The wheelwright had then taken his friend in. The two men both had the fever, but Jane hastened to say that Joseph had recovered, and had told her the evening before that John's fever had broken.

The boys, as far as she knew, were better. They were still at the temple being cared for.

Violet had battled the fever and had somehow won.

"What about Master Bill?" Elsie asked, sitting on the warm stone of the well. She felt weak with gratitude for Anna's sake that John would live. And that Violet was still among the living.

Jane swallowed, removing her hood in the sunshine. "I'm so sorry…he died three days ago."

Elsie's breath caught, and tears filled her eyes. She covered her mouth with her hand.

That gentle man. He loved his granddaughter so very much…Charles will be very upset.

How are we going to tell Daisy?

"Master Joseph was with him, and Master John," Jane said, her voice shaking a little. "He said he loved his family very much, and he wanted Daisy to know he loved her, too." She reached out and touched Elsie's sleeve. The shepherdess took a deep breath.

"That was very kind of him, to remember her," she whispered, dabbing her eyes. With some difficulty, she told Jane about Drake, Petunia, and May. The young woman staggered and clutched at the wooden stave to regain her balance.

"I did not know them well, but I sometimes saw the women at the market," she said, her eyes wide. "I should go and see Jacob after I leave here. That poor lad…"

"Could you?" Elsie asked. "I would go to see him again, but-"

"You have to look after your own. I understand," Jane said. "Oh! I nearly forgot. John thought you and your husband would like to know – the king and queen arrived at the hall two days ago. Martha was ill, and the queen wanted to be with her."

"Martha? How is she?"

But Jane shook her head. "She was buried this morning."

Elsie felt as though someone had struck her. She had not talked with the matchmaker often, but somehow knowing the feisty older woman was gone hit her hard.

I cannot imagine her dead. Or Master Bill.

She struggled to remind herself that they would never see the old man sitting around their table again. And May would never walk across the fields to chat, or complain about her sister-in-law. As if from a distance, Jane's voice broke through her muddled thoughts.

"…took a turn for the worse. Master Richard looked terribly worried yesterday, and I haven't heard anything today-"

"Who else has the fever?" Elsie broke in. She wanted to know, and yet was afraid to know.

More people will die before this is over. Charles was right.

"The queen," Jane said, clasping her hands together. "Her servant Sarah hasn't left her side since she took ill. That's what one of the guards told me in the village."

"No…" Whispering, Elsie closed her eyes. She knew how much Robert and Cora loved each other.

"He told me the king had felt feverish too, but was well after one day. Some people are barely touched, and others waste away. It's strange," Jane mused.

"I have a letter for her," Elsie felt numb. "Sarah. Telling her about Alfred…he is better. Wait," a horrible thought came to her. "Did Thomas or Sybil come with the king and queen? Is Edward with them?"

"No. They're all still at the palace," Jane reassured her, and Elsie sighed in relief. "The king and queen only traveled with a few servants, but they left most of them behind. Lady Mary and Master George did not come with them, either. They wanted to keep him safe."

"Of course," Elsie murmured. At least I can tell Charles our children are well.

"Why don't you give me the letter for Sarah? I'll see that she gets it," Jane said. "She would want to know, especially seeing as she's so close. If her Ladyship recovers…" she swallowed, "Sarah can come and see her nephew."

"All right." Elsie saw the sense in what she said. She went into the house and got the letter, handing it to the young woman. "Thank you for going to see Jacob, and for taking the letter. And…if it's true that John is better, would you mind telling him the news from here? And Anna and the others? They would want to know."

"I will. And I'll come back, probably tomorrow if I can." Elsie watched her climb to the top of the hill. Jane waved before going on to Jacob's house.

Elsie wondered how the woman had managed to go between all these places without getting the fever herself. She doubted the young widow would be spared.