Chapter 33

"Well, she's got a high temperature, a cold and she coughs quite a bit too. Besides the rash has started to show. Everything points at measles. It is measles," Doctor Clarkson said as he closed the clasp of his leather bag looking at Lady Grantham. "She'll need to be moved from nursery to avoid the others contracting it. I've left the medicines. There's not much we can do than let it heal steadily and observe carefully if it gets any worse and then act accordingly if it does."

"It will not be dangerous?" Lady Grantham asked, worry written completely and openly across her face.

"It can be. It is indeed quite a risk if it turns worse and it can spiral out of control if not attended to properly," Doctor Clarkson paused and studied Lady Grantham for a fraction of a second before he began again. "Lady Sybil will have to be looked after very attentively from hereon and by someone who had contracted the illness before. I assume that Your Ladyship has not contracted measles in your childhood."

"Indeed I have not. But would that be a requirement? To have contracted measles before in order to care for Lady Sybil?"

"The nature of measles is that it is contracted once in your lifetime in most cases. Thereafter one becomes immune to it and doesn't contract it again. Besides, a case of measles in an adult can be much dangerous than in a child."

Lady Grantham's knitted her eyebrows not sure what to do. With Nanny ill as well Cora couldn't get properly to her mind who else would suffice for the role. For a fleeting moment her mind switched between the various options available.

"Anna?" Lady Grantham asked the young housemaid who was gathering an armful of linens.

"I'm afraid I've not had it too Your Ladyship," she replied. She'd have gladly looked after the young lady but the circumstances were not in her favour and it left her with no choice.

Lady Grantham's face fell in an instance, not at all able to think straight about what she could do. She wouldn't entrust Sybil's care to anyone who is not trust worthy and responsible.

"Milady I… I have had measles when I was young," Mrs Hughes added from where she stood by the door of the nursery. As a young lass she caught a very bad case of measles and struggled several days and it was weeks when she was properly up on her feet.

Lady Grantham felt a glimmer of hope. Mrs Hughes would be perfect for the task. The Housekeeper was loyal, responsible and careful. Above all, Lady Grantham herself knew how much the Housekeeper cared for Sybil. But with many of the staff ill, Lady Grantham was not sure whether she could impose further on the Housekeeper.

"That would be wonderful, Mrs Hughes. But… you're sure you'll be able to manage? What with most of the maids sick as well?"

"I will be able to manage, Your Ladyship," Mrs Hughes confirmed. A hint of a pained smile on her lips.

"I could help with Mrs Hughes with her other duties," Anna added and then looked at Mrs Hughes. "If Mrs Hughes wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all," Mrs Hughes nodded. She was more than sure of Anna's ability to handle responsibilities and it'll be only minor tasks that the housemaid would have to do extra.

"Well that's settled then," Lady Grantham allowed herself a smile, finally relieved.

"And Mrs Hughes, the slightest change is vital," Doctor Clarkson commented and Mrs Hughes nodded in agreement and in confirmation of adhering to his warning.

"Lady Grantham," the doctor bowed and turned to leave. Mrs Hughes turned to follow but Doctor Clarkson resisted. "I can see myself out Mrs Hughes. I'm sure you're needed here." He nodded and turned back again to see Lady Grantham turned towards the bed. Facing Mrs Hughes he whispered, "Beannachd leat" and smiled as he turned to leave as Mrs Hughes smiled back and nodded in acknowledgement of his encouragement.

Mrs Hughes held the book in her hand but her mind was not properly focused. Her eyes ran over the dark black letters upon the yellowed page but they were just letters to her. Words that didn't make sense. Words that she couldn't get herself to understand. Words upon which the candle flame ran across like a child playing. Flickering quickly. Then slowly. Her gaze drifted to the sleeping child.

Lady Sybil was moved to a guest room quite far from the library. Mrs Hughes had carried the little girl a floor away from the nursery, face buried in Mrs Hughes' neck and the feverish warmth burning again the Housekeeper's cheek and through her dress. The sweat on the girl's brow leaving a few wet droplets upon the dark material of her uniform.

Anna had waited by the door while Mrs Hughes fetched her nightgown and her dressing gown and several other things she needed for the night along with the latest book she had borrowed from the library. She had given Lady Sybil the medicine according to Doctor Clarkson's instructions and had reported to Lady Grantham that Lady Sybil's condition was stable when the grand lady of the house stood outside the door wringing her hands nervously. The trust she had placed in Mrs Hughes was very clear.

Night came quickly that winter's day. Creeping softly and swiftly as if it was afraid to wake the sleeping child with its usual display. The sun gave way to the moon that night, in whispers. No great gushes of wind howling across the evening sky. And the good doctor's medicines had lulled the young girl into a dreamless sleep. Occasionally she would mumble in her sleep and toss a bit, making Mrs Hughes wonder what might be running across the young girl's feverish mind.

Rising from her seat, Mrs Hughes placed the book down her chair and moved close to the bedside table where a basin of cool water and a cloth was placed. Wringing out the cloth she dabbed the cloth upon Lady Sybil's brow, gently wiping the sweat off her forehead and chest, where the rash had appeared, but not in its full force that Elsie had seen at times.

The sleeping child had her eyebrows knitted together in an emotion Elsie couldn't read. Pain possibly. But something a bit more than that, making Elsie wonder if the young girl was sad, in her no man's land of reality and feverish fantasy.

Becky never caught measles. Elsie had heard her mother say that it would had been the death of the "poor little fool" if she had indeed caught it. Elsie hated that name. What was bestowed upon Becky was a poor fate but she was no fool. She was like a flower, her Becky. Delicate yet beautiful. But Elsie knew that her mother didn't intend any malice when she used those words to refer to the sweet girl who would laugh through a funeral making eyes turn towards her in wonder or cry when she was given sweets by a villager. But her father… her father spoke those words with a vengeance towards the little girl who never asked to be born that way. On nights when the whiskey ruled his body and spread its reign in his mind, "poor" would be replaced by "wretched" or "cursed" which made Elsie learn the depth of her fiery temper when her blood boiled in her still very young veins.

A loud bout of pained coughing from Lady Sybil brought Mrs Hughes back to the present. She sat down on the side of the bed and gently held the girl, raising her slightly till she got over the cough. Mrs Hughes poured a lukewarm glass of water from the jug, she placed it on the bedside table and tried to wake Lady Sybil.

"Milady?" she stroked the girl's head. When the girl stirred a bit she called a bit louder. "Milady?"

Sybil's eyelids fluttered and she looked up at the housekeeper, sleep still blurring her vision.

"Mrs Hughes, is it you?" she whispered in a voice which reflected both her fatigue and her half awakened state. In an instant she started coughing again.

Mrs Hughes raised the girl a little bit more, rested her small body against hers and patted the girl's back. When it was over she wiped the tears off the girl's face with her fingers.

"It is me Milady. Now could you drink a little water? That'll ease the cough for a moment," the Housekeeper said placing the glass on the girl's lips and titling it. Sybil took a few sips and pulled away.

"A little bit more?" Mrs Hughes coaxed and this time Sybil took several more sips. When she pulled away from the glass, Mrs Hughes leaned down towards the bedside table and placed the glass upon it, with Lady Sybil still resting against her side.

"Am I… very ill?" Lady Sybil asked in a voice barely more than a whisper occasionally pausing to take deep breaths.

"You are quite ill Milady. But you'll be alright," Mrs Hughes said as she ran her fingers through Lady Sybil's damp hair.

"Promise?" Sybil whimpered.

"Promise," Mrs Hughes answered with a smile caressing the little girl's cheek. She was about to lay the little girl back on her pillow when Sybil tugged at the Housekeeper's dressing gown with her little fists, as hard as she could in her weakened state.

"Stay with me… Mrs Hughes… Please?" the young girl pleaded, her glazed eyes wide and begging.

Mrs Hughes could not find herself capable of refusing when she stared into the wide blue eyes of the young girl, now appearing rather misty. She nodded and settled herself against the headboard into a more comfortable position not knowing for how long she would have to stay that way. Propriety be damned! Mrs Hughes thoughtwhen she saw the closed the eyes and deep rising and falling of the girl's chest in her heavy breathing. When she had finally settled, Sybil scooted close to the Housekeeper and snuggled against her. One of her hands against Mrs Hughes' side and the other on her lap upon her dressing gown. Mrs Hughes reached one arm around the girl and gently held her close, occasionally caressing Lady Sybil's back in long slow strokes.

Elsie's breath got caught in her throat when the young girl snuggled impossibly close to her again, the hand on her lap moving slightly higher from its former position, Lady Sybil rather unaware of it. After a few more moments, Sybil opened her eyes again and looked up at the Housekeeper.

"I'm scared," she whispered, shuddering a little and Mrs Hughes tightened her hold around Lady Sybil.

"I'm with ye wee lassie. I'm not leavin' ye," Mrs Hughes replied, her brogue thickening and her lilting accent sharpening without her notice. "And don't ye get scared. Everythin' is gonnae get alricht!"

This time, Sybil smiled and gave a nod before closing her eyes again. Knowing that with Mrs Hughes close to her everything was going to be alright. Her Mrs Hughes could make everything alright. Isn't that what she did every day? Putting things right?

With Sybil's breathing returning to a rather steady and heavy pace, save for the occasional change in rhythm when the cold bubbled a bit in her heart, a feeling that she's rarely felt came upon Elsie. A soft feeling that she had forgotten over time. A feeling she had remembered to forget. Elsie didn't feel the corners of her mouth form into a smile, nor did her eyes sparkle in the dull light of the room. But the night watched the emotions play upon the normally stern face of the Housekeeper.

The big house was quiet around them, mirroring the sensation of the entire world coming to a halt. Everything standing still. The winter night watching with wide, soft eyes at the two of them, moving softly around them outside the window like in a fairy tale, like in one of those tales that Elsie spun for her sister where the little princess became a snow flake to fly around the sky freely. Becky had asked Elsie what happened to the princess when spring came. Elsie had to think for a moment, unprepared for that sudden question. She remembered how she told her sister that when spring came the snowflake princess went to live forever in the clouds.

Forever. A magical answer.

The promise of a happy ending.

Sybil tossed and turned again. This time clutching Mrs Hughes' dressing gown hard. Her breath coming in short bursts along with mumbled words. A nightmare, Mrs Hughes guessed.

"Shhh lass. You're safe, mo nighean bheag," Elsie whispered and within a few seconds Sybil settled down again. Mrs Hughes knew that it was a long night, perhaps a few long days ahead of them.

A lost folk song that she had always loved sprang into Elsie's mind. Her grandmother had sung it to her often. And sometimes her mother did, days when the rain fell in good time and the sun shone in good time and when her father's breath reeked little of cheap whiskey. Days when her mother didn't have to cry over another lost wee babe that never saw light beyond its mother's womb. Days when her father didn't raise his hands against her. And Elsie in turn sang it to her little sister. On lonely nights when even the wind was sad, or in the evenings watching the cows being herded back home as the sun too was slowly headed to its own home. A song that she had never sung to another after she left Scotland behind her. A song of which the tune that had only lulled herself to sleep amidst tears.

A song about coming home. A song of a girl pleading to the water-horse to return her to her home. Maybe that is why she always loved it. Coming home. Home. But for her, home was no longer among fields littered with thistles and brown, hairy cows but among the dark passages of the Abbey and the winding paths through Downton village where the trees formed a green canopy and wild Yorkshire roses smiled.

Elsie's lilting voice floated through the night as she sang to the sleeping girl. Her soft voice calming the sick girl who snuggled even more close to the Housekeeper unconsciously, her warm breath tickling Elsie as she sang her song to another for the first time in several years. A stray tear rolled down from the corner of her eye, lingering for a moment at the edge of her jaw pleading that it couldn't part, before it fell down upon the brown material of her dressing gown, darkening a tiny spot.

The lonely tear not managing to erase the smile from her lips.

A ghaoil, leig dhachaigh gum mhàthair mi;

A ghràidh, leig dhachaigh gum mhàthair mi;

A ghaoil, leig dhachaigh gum mhàthair mi -

An tòir chrodh-laoigh a thàine mi.

Gur ann a-raoir a chuala mi

Mo ghaol a bhith ri buachailleachd,

'S ged fhuair thu 'n iomall na buaile mi,

A ghaoil, leig dhachaigh mar fhuair thu mi.

'S mi dìreadh ris na gàrraidhean,

'S a' teàrnadh ris na fàirichean,

Gun d' thachair fleasgach bàigheil rium,

'S cha d' dh' fheuch e bonn ga chàirdeis rium.

Ged bheireadh tu crodh agus caoraich dhomh,

Ged bheireadh tu eachaibh air thaodaibh dhomh,

Ged bheireadh tu sin agus daoine dhomh,

A ghaoil, leig dhachaigh mar fhuair thu mi…

Trodaidh m' athair 's mo mhàthair riut,

Trodaidh mo chinneadh 's mo chàirdean riut,

Ach marbhaidh mo thriùir bhràithrean thu

Mura tèid mi dhachaigh mar thàine mi.

Gheall mo mhàthair gùn thoirt dhomh,

Gheall i ribean a b' ùire dhomh,

Is gheall i breacan ùr thoirt dhomh

Ma thèid mi dhachaigh mar fhuair thu mi

Translation:

Love, let me home to my mother Love, let me home to my mother Darling, let me home to my mother Love, let me home to my mother I only came for the cattle.

It was only last night That I heard that my love was herding And though you found me at the perimeter of the cattle fold Love, let me home as you found me.

I was clambering up the dykes And descending the ridges When a friendly lad met me And he did not enforce his friendship on me.

Though you were to give me cattle and sheep Though you were to give me tethered horses Though you were to give me that and men Love, let me home as you found me.

My mother and father will chastise you My clan and my relatives will chastise you But my three brothers will kill you If I don't return home as I came.

My mother promised me a gown Decorated with the newest of ribbons And she promised me a new plaid If I return home the way you found me.

Notes:

Mo nighean bheag :- my little girl

beannachd leat :- good luck

(entirely out of Google translate)

The song mentioned is a Scottish Gaelic folk song and a version sung by Julie Fowlis is available on YouTube. The lyrics and the translation are from the comments section of the video and they tallied very closely with a version that I found on Google so I included the former in the story. In this song a young girl pleads with the water-horse to return her to her mother. She met this mythological creature, common in the Gaelic tradition, at the edge of the cattle fold and now begs him to return her as she was.

Thank you so much for all reviews on the last chapter of this story! They are a great encouragement, truly. And I'm sorry for the delay on updating this chapter. Getting this chapter together was rather hard and real life intervened a bit too. Hopefully, I will try to update the next chapter as soon as possible. I'd love to read your ideas on this chapter and the story so far. They are very appreciated very much! See you soon with a new chapter!