Charlie 8 months, Elsie 4 months
They both groan when Charles' alarm clock rings, which is strange since they have had little to tire them out for the past day and a half. Charles sits on the edge of the bed for a moment scrubbing his face before sorting out his clothing.
"We have to be in our own rooms before anyone else realizes we're missing." He says standing in his underwear while trying to smooth his trousers. Elsie ignores him and pulls the covers over her head. "I'll need to iron these. And this shirt certainly needs a brushing first." Charles mutters as he puts on his dusty, wrinkled livery. "Get up, you can go back to sleep once we're upstairs. I'll even send a tray up so you and the baby can have a lazy morning."
"There'll be no need for that. I'm getting up." Elsie throws back the sheets and snatches her dress off the rack. The tightness in her thighs and groin is back reminding her of last night's activities.
"It wouldn't be a bad idea, you know. Consider it a test run for your sabbatical, so to speak."
"And what if I don't want to take a sabbatical? I said I'd think about it."
Charles is momentarily distracted watching Elsie slide on her stockings and secure them with the garter. "Well hard cheese for you. I'm not backing down on this, Elsie. You will take a sabbatical and you will be taken care of until the baby comes."
"Will I now? And just how are you going to do that? Strip me naked and tie me to this bed?" The words were out of her mouth before she even realizes how they could be twisted, especially in this room. Charles wasted no time replying with a wicked smile.
"That is an excellent idea my darling, but I think we would both enjoy that too much for it to be considered rest."
Day three of lockdown was just as uneventful as day two, if not more so. Thomas and William moaned over having to polish the entire silver pantry again and the maids seemingly raced through their dusting and sweeping of the rooms. In the kitchen, Mrs. Patmore kept Daisy busy by turning the fruits into jams and cooking off other perishables to something that would last.
Becky flitted about downstairs complaining about not being able to go outside or upstairs. She was on the verge of another meltdown until Mr. Bates distracted her by showing how he was resewing Lord Grantham's buttons so the thread formed an anchor. It worked until Becky tried it herself and pricked her finger with the needle. A single drop of blood and the downstairs was tasked with trying to calm another one of Becky's meltdowns. From around the corner Elsie, barred from comforting her sister by all present, watched her sister fight off Bates, Branson, Gwen, Anna, Thomas, William and Mrs. Patmore with tears streaming down her face from the hallway.
"What's all this about?" Charles asked coming out of his pantry.
"Becky's stuck herself with a needle and I'm not allowed to sit on floor apparently."
"Good. What do I have to do?" He asked after watching Becky kick at Mrs. Patmore who was trying to distract Becky with a freshly baked iced lemon biscuit.
Elsie raised her eyebrow in amusement. Charles wants to have a go at meltdown Becky? Okay, she'll play that game with him. "There's not really a game plan, per se. She's just scared from the pain and the blood, probably a bit overwhelmed by now with everyone around her. Get to her eye level and comfort her until her wound numbs up." This ought to be good.
"Right." Charles stepped fully into the servant's hall using his most authoritative voice. "Everyone quiet down and step aside."
The crowd around Becky took two steps backwards, Mrs. Patmore an extra third for good measure, and watched as the esteemed butler of Downton Abbey pulled up on his trouser legs, knelt and crawled across the flagstone floor. Becky shrunk deeper into her corner as the staff opened a hole for Charles who had slowed his pace. "Easy now, duck." His voice as rumbling as low as it could go.
Mrs. Patmore retreated to the kitchen with Gwen and William in tow once Charles had safely entered Becky's space. Branson took up a socialist newspaper he was likely reading pre-meltdown and Thomas sat at the far end of the table to gossip with O'Brien, who had not bothered to help at all. Mr. Bates and Anna took seats at the table near enough to help if the situation went tits up again, but otherwise minded their own business.
With some gentle coaxing, tears turned to sniffling and Becky showed her finger to Mr. Carson who promptly wrapped the wounded finger in a handkerchief. Elsie watched them sit on the floor for a few minutes longer until Charles started motioned towards the hall and both stood upon Becky's approval. Knowing Becky wouldn't like knowing her big sister was spying on her, Elsie scampered back to her sitting room.
"… and after we get you bandaged up, Mrs. Patmore will make you some tea to go with those biscuits. Doesn't that sound lovely?"
Elsie listened to their footsteps pass her sitting room and head into his pantry where the door closed with a soft thud.
Maybe, just maybe, Charles will be a better father than she gives him credit for.
"Something is wrong."
In hindsight, it probably wasn't the smartest phrase to wake Charles with early that morning and it took Elsie several minutes to calm him enough to figure out what to do.
The upstairs breakfast could not have come soon enough for Charles. After garnering permission from the family to use the car, he had called Dr. Clarkson and was instructed to bring Elsie in as soon as possible. Branson had been obstinate about driving through the smoke and absolutely refused to cooperate until Charles was forced to threaten the boy with a sacking unless he drove Elsie to Doctor Clarkson's surgery. They only came to a compromise when Charles agreed to let Branson wait inside the surgery instead of in the car.
The three of them bundled up with thick scarves wrapped around their nose and mouth and the two pairs of driving goggles went to Branson and Elsie. They weren't perfectly protected from the smoke, but Branson made the drive into the village quick enough for to Charles wonder if he might be having a baby as well.
Charles insisted on being behind the door with Elsie and Dr. Clarkson again. If there was something wrong with his wife or child, he wanted to know immediately and be able to ask questions if needed.
"So, what ailment has cropped up since Monday? Nothing to do with the smoke, I pray." Dr. Clarkson asked after getting Elsie settled on the examination table.
Elsie glances away from Dr. Clarkson to her husband. It was going to be impossible to get through this with her dignity intact.
"Well, you see it's my… I have itching and pain, down there, and it burns when I try and pass water." Charles is predictably studying the flooring when she glances up at him.
"Hmm. Any other symptoms? Genital bumps or bleeding from either of you?"
"NO." Charles and Elsie reply in unison.
"Right then, most likely just a yeast infection. It's very common for newlyweds and pregnant women. I'll just have a quick look to be sure. Lie back, heels to bum please."
While being nice and cool on her insides, inserting the speculum became incredibly painful as it inched deeper inside her vagina and opened her up. Charles, being the good husband he is, abandoned his seat on the 'business end' of the examination and held her hand.
"You indeed have a yeast infection. I'll send you home with a douche kit to be used daily, which I want you to follow with a smearing of yogurt."
"You want me to put yogurt inside my…?"
"Exactly. And to hopefully prevent any further infections, I'd like to ask you both a couple personal questions."
Elsie looked to Charles, who motioned for Dr. Clarkson to proceed.
"Alright. First, Mrs. Carson, you clean yourself front to back, correct?"
Elsie blushed. "Yes, always since I was a little girl."
"Mr. Carson, do you regularly wash your penis, including under the foreskin?"
It was Charles's turn to blush. "Absolutely."
"Mhm. Now for the uncomfortable question" Those were the comfortable questions? "When you have intercourse, Mr. Carson, have you ever, say, visited other areas of the body before the infected area?"
"Erm, I'm not quite sure I follow." Charles fidgeted in his seat.
"I'm asking if you and Mrs. Carson have ever engaged in anal sex before engaging in vaginal sex."
Elsie wanted nothing more than to melt into the floor, and she was sure Charles felt similar having to discuss the details of their marriage bed.
"N-no," Charles stammered out "we've never done anything of that sort."
"So nothing else has entered your vagina that shouldn't be there, yes?"
"Nothing I can think of."
"Well, I assume we can blame this little issue on the pregnancy then." Dr. Clarkson said as he scribbled away in his file now labeled Elsie Carson. "Although…" he pondered as he reviewed his earlier notes "Forgive me my thoughts, I am not trying to imply anything, but know your line of work involves lots of chemicals and irritants. Is there any chance you've come into intimate contact with some sort or polish or fragrance? Perhaps even through residue left on your hands?"
Elsie took a side glance at Charles and found he was looking at her with an equally uncomfortable expression.
"Erm, well, that could be the culprit." Charles began as he crossed his legs.
"Oh? Nothing potentially toxic, I hope."
"No, nothing lethal, at least I don't think." He glanced at Elsie to confirm his assumption, but she honestly didn't know and wasn't in the mood to guess.
"It was bear grease, just the other night." She blurted out.
"Bear grease?" Doctor Clarkson echoed incredulously. "That's certainly one I haven't heard in quite some time." Charles relaxed his posture and breathed a sigh of relief. They were grateful they weren't the only ones who have come to the doctor this problem. "Though I do wonder, Mrs. Carson, why you used bear grease of all things. Do I need to add a prescription for a second tube of lubricant already?" He finished with a sly smile at the newlyweds.
Shit she thought as Charles looked at her confusedly. No use trying to hide it now.
"No, no need for that. I just didn't have it on hand is all."
"I'll spare you the lecture then." Doctor Clarkson handed her the slip "I think the infection will serve as enough of a lesson."
"Did you…" Charles let his sentence trail off into nothingness as he climbed into bed that evening.
"Yes, I did. And I won't need reminding in future, thank you very much." Elsie replied as she turned the page on her book. Charles held up his hands in mock surrender.
The rest of the day was a struggle with convincing Branson to make a trip to the grocer after visiting the chemist, but they picked up two boxes worth of food for the pantry and one to drop at the dowagers' doorstep. Lord Grantham certainly wouldn't mind the extra charge to the house, and it would only hinder them by a minute.
"Why didn't you tell me about whatever it was Dr. Clarkson prescribed you?"
Elsie sighed and closed her book. "I don't know. I suppose I was embarrassed. That you'd find me too old or unattractive or that I found you unattractive or... I don't know. I just knew I didn't want you to know about it."
"I'm your husband, you should be able to trust me with anything. I haven't exactly been the spitting image of youth anyway."
Elsie didn't have a reply for that. She should have been able to tell him, and they both showed their age in the bedroom.
"Hmmm... So, the housekeeper finds the butler attractive, does she?" Charles put his arm around Elsie and drew her close. "You know she's in the family way and he's older than her, right?"
"I'm well aware of both of those, Mr. Carson. And the butler is quite attractive. He's a constant distraction to all the housemaids, don't you know?" She giggled as she snuggled up against him.
Charles snorts at her comment. "I hardly think I'm a distraction to the housemaids, more of a cross between a slave driver and a martinet."
"I disagree." she responds flirtatiously "You're tall and strong with a full head of steely grey locks. And women love a man in charge."
"Yes, well, it's the very beautiful housekeeper that's caught his eye and I don't think that's bound to change anytime soon.
Yes, yogurt is a home remedy for yeast infections. It was the only viable option for women of that day and age as antibiotics won't be a thing for another 16 years and antifungal medicines wouldn't be around until 1948. Feel free to thank Elizabeth Lee Hazen for that!
Because I've never had to deal with a yeast infection in any way, let me know if I got that bit right.
This should be the end of the stupid wildfire plot. No, this is not a historical event, it is something I completely fabricated to reflect my experience last summer. It was major fun being on lockdown due to the pandemic and also not being able to open the window or see outside because of the smoke.
Yes, I was stupid like Charles and Elsie and walked through the smoke (previous chapter), and yes, my lungs burned for hours afterwards. Just happy to not lose my home the way many of my friends did.