XI:

"Gam! Gam!" Meggie yelped as soon as they got into the cottage. As if by magic, Margaret appeared with a smile and the baby was in her arms, happy as a clam.

"And there's our lad," Margaret said, smiling and waiting for Charles to bend down so she could give him a kiss on the cheek. "I hope the travel wasn't bad once you were on dry land."

"The crossing was rough," Charles said with a sigh. "But Master Robert did choose to travel in February, didn't he?" He rolled his eyes a bit, then smirked, obviously realizing how difficult it was going to be to pretend to be unaffected by his homecoming. "But once we were in Southampton and beyond, everything was well."

"English efficiency for you," Margaret said cheerfully. "There's fresh tea in the pot and some fresh bread and butter if you'd like – or I can watch our girl and you and Elsie can have some time alone before you head to the big house."

"Mum, we'll both be going to the Abbey this afternoon – Elsie has taken employment with Miss Cora Levinson, who is to be wed to Lord Robert," Charles said hesitantly. "Would you be able to care for –"

"Of course I shall mind Meggie!" Margaret exclaimed. "You shouldn't worry about a thing, lad – but how will her ladyship react to Elsie being back in the house and as, I assume, a lady's maid, in her condition?"

"I could give sod all," Elsie said. "It would serve the cow right if I shoved her nose in it."

"But you won't because that isn't who you are," Charles said gently.

Elsie huffed a little and muttered, "Would serve her right if that was who I became."

He chuckled and said, "Are you hungry, love?"

"Could slaughter a piece of toast," she said. "I've got to go out to the toilet. Don't wait for me – if you're hungry or want to play with our Meggie, just go ahead." She didn't want to admit that it took her a damn sight longer than she cared for to use the outside loo and she might actually be looking forward to using the state of the art water closets at the Abbey.

She also was reluctant to let Charles see her struggling. She was seven months gone already and hadn't been able to see her feet for about three months already; taking a shit was awkward and oftentimes painful and she didn't want him to see her flailing about while attempting to get back onto her feet. It was humiliating enough as it was.

Almost thirty minutes later, she left the outbuilding and almost ran straight into him. "Thought you might have fallen in," he said in that gently rumbling way of his.

"No, but it weren't for lack of trying," she quipped wryly. "I couldn't get up again. Your wee'un is enormous, Mr. Carson."

"That just means he or she is healthy and well," he countered gently. "Let me help you, Elsie – it's what I'm meant to do as your husband, isn't it?"

She sighed. "I make do," Elsie murmured. "You've got more important things to worry about than me."

"That is a load of rubbish," he scoffed. "There is nothing in this world more important than you and our children, Elsie."

"Why are you so sweet to me?" she sighed, leaning into his embrace and tucking her face into his chest.

"Why shouldn't I be?" he asked. "I love you – adore you, in fact."

She frowned, then mumbled, "You should hear the things said round the village about us. They're not so sweet."

She could hear his scowl. "Elsie, I need you to ignore those gossips – we've done nothing wrong. We are legally wed and our children are –"

"Not bastards," she muttered, "unlike your wife. Yes, I am still quite the scandal to be living out in the open as your wife when I was born fallen."

"You are no less dear to me for having been born on the wrong side of the blanket," he said firmly. "In fact, you are more dear to me because of it. You would never have been in service had you been born a great lady, and we would never have had occasion to meet. I am grateful forever that your father couldn't keep it in his pants."

"Who are you and what have you done with my Charlie?" Elsie asked, blinking up at him, stunned by the vulgarity of his words.

"I'm just stating the obvious," he said.

"A tad bit bluntly, love," she countered. "I've never heard you –" She paused, then blushed, thinking of the strings of profanity that escaped his lips in bed once in a while when they were particularly… intense. But his profanity was soft like a whispered prayer, and she could not fault him complimenting her most intimate parts with the vulgar oaths. "Well, yes, but –"

"Shall we go inside?" he inquired softly. "Any moment now, someone is going to look over the garden wall and judge us for being outside without proper coats."

She blushed harder, suddenly realizing he was only in his shirt and waistcoat, not his jacket. "Oh, yes," she murmured. "We should go in, yes."

"What's the matter?" he asked as soon as they were inside.

"I just… I…" How the hell could she tell him that his state of relative undress was wreaking havoc on her self-control? That she wanted to lead him upstairs and have her way with him until they were both exhausted – or till she needed to pack to leave for the Abbey, whichever came first. Her blush deepened, and she muttered, "I… Charlie, I cannae explain."

"But you are all right? Are you peckish? Is the baby all right?" His anxious tone made her clam up even more, afraid to upset him. "Elsie, love, talk to me. Do you want tea?"

"I don't want bloody tea," she hissed. "I want you. There. I said it and I cannae take it back now."

"You have me," he replied.

She let out a huff of breath, then murmured, "Not how I want ye, dear man."

Now it was his turn to be flustered. "Ah, yes, well… mum is minding Meggie," he hedged. At her hesitant murmur of assent, he glanced down at her and said, "There is nothing wrong with a husband and wife taking a few minutes for themselves. And we have been apart for a very long while."

She bit her lip and took his hand, nearly dragging him up the stairs and into the second bedroom. She closed the door and bolted it behind them, and murmured, "Please don't be cross with me – the bairn's got me all topsy-turvy and I want you so badly I can barely stand it."

"Why would I be cross?" he asked, clearly amused, as he began to undress, carefully laying his clothes on the side of Meggie's crib. "I should be so chuffed to have a wife that wants me such as I am."

She paused in her undressing and eyed him. "I'm big as a house and you're nattering on some nonsense about me not loving you as you are?" Elsie huffed.

"You're absolutely gorgeous," he commented. "All curves and plumpness and…" He broke off, clearing his throat with a cough. "I apologize; I've been away from you for too long and I'm not certain you would appreciate me nattering on."

"Not when you're callin' me a fat cow," she grunted, wrestling with the busk of her stays. "You've gone off me, then, seeing as how I'm not thin enough to span with yer hands –"

"Elsie May Carson," he growled, "I have thought of nothing more in the last month than being able to come home and… well…" His voice lowered to almost a whisper. "To fuck you."

Her breath hitched, then became a sharp intake. "…Really?"

"Of course really," he said, indignant. "Did you really think I would turn to… a lady of the night… when I have a perfectly lovely wife that I adore?" He paused, then looked at her for a long moment. "What do you want, Elsie? Do you want us to make love or –"

"You're not meant to be askin' me what I want; you're meant to tell me what I need," she said very quietly. "That is the role of a husband, isn't it? I am yours – your property. You tell me what I'm meant to feel and how I am to behave."

He blinked, confusion spreading over his features. "Where is this coming from, love?"

"I've spent my whole life in service," Elsie said, "knowing I was meant to be with Ida until the day I died. I never hoped to meet someone, never dared to dream I would marry or have children. I didnae learn to cook well, but I can clean wi' the best housemaids. I haven't got a bleeding clue what I'm doing here," she mumbled, breaking down and crying again. One of her hands came up to cover her eyes while the other held her busking closed. "I've got a baby and I know sod all about taking care of her – and another on the way. I need – please, tell me what I'm meant to do and need. I'm lost."

"I can't tell you how to feel," he said softly, pulling her into his arms and just holding her, rubbing her back comfortingly. "I can't and I won't. You aren't my property: you are my wife, my partner in life. What is mine is ours, not mine. You are not lost, Elsie, you're just… tired and overwhelmed. And I am so sorry I've not been here to help –"

"You've been away on important business," she whispered. "I cannae expect you to just drop everything and rush to my side. It's not practical."

"Elsie, do I look like I give a toss if it is practical? You are my wife. My wife and my family are more important to me than anything else. Lord Robert understands this. Elsie, look at me. Elsie?" When she finally turned to look up at him, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I know this has to do with the nasty gossips in the village. And I am a terrible man for leaving you to face it alone. I am sorry."

"It isn't just that," she mumbled, ashamed. "I feel like a burden on your mam – on you."

"You are not a burden," he said firmly, booking no argument. "You have never been, and will never be, a burden." He kissed her forehead again, sighed, then kissed her lips, leaving her tingling. "Elsie May Hughes, if you hadn't already sworn your vows to me, I would ask you for your hand again if only to show you all the days of my life that you are anything but a burden to me."

"You daft, sweet man," Elsie whispered, sobbing anew with fresh tears.

"Oh, love, don't cry," he sighed.

"I cannae help it," she whimpered. "Everythin' sets me off now. I were cryin' last night because Meggie wouldn't go to sleep, and it made her cry more and…" She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her with all the ferocity of an animal – or a very distressed man. Her hand slipped off her stays, and they hung limply in the front now, exposing her chemise and swollen breasts to him. "Charlie, gently," she pleaded as he fondled her with obvious delight. "The doctor was very firm that we're to be gentle about this if we do –"

He picked her up, cutting off her sentence effectively, and deposited her onto the bed with a protest of squeaky springs. "Elsie, you are beautiful and I have missed you dreadfully and if the doctor thinks I am going to 'be gentle' rather than pleasing you, he has another thing coming."


"I don't think I dislike her," Elsie murmured cautiously, her husband spooned gently around her, his fingers dancing lightly across her belly. "But she isn't… she isn't Ida."

"No, that she is not," Charles agreed. "Miss Levinson is a good woman of kindness and good judgment, however." His breath was hot against the skin on the back of her neck, and Elsie sighed, snuggling deeper into his embrace. "Lord Robert and I have spent many hours discussing her, so unless you've a new insight to bring to the table…"

She shook her head. "I believe your assessment to be the truth," she said softly. "I only… I knew Ida inside and out, sure as if she were me own lass. I knew her better than I knew meself, to be quite honest. But Miss Levinson is a mystery and I am terrified I will fail because I am so used to… to being open and frank with Ida. I will overstep lines and it willnae be intentional and –"

"Shh, it's all right," Charles murmured, kissing just below her ear. "It will be fine. She knows who you are and what you meant to Lady Ida. She is offering you an olive branch to show she means no harm to you or to Ida's memory."

"I don't think she realizes I'll only be able to work another month, maybe two," Elsie said with a sigh. "Our not-so-wee lass should be here sooner rather than later."

"You feel it's a girl again?" he asked.

She nodded. "I feel the same way as last time, only much larger. Even your mam says boys carry different to girls."

"Another beautiful lass with your eyes will be a boon to my heart," he murmured. He sighed and muttered, "I suppose we should get up and ready to go to the Abbey now. I would love to have just another hour with you –"

"Maybe we'll have joint accommodation?" Elsie suggested softly. "Surely, they cannot be so cruel as to separate a husband and wife –"

"Servants aren't to marry while employed by the house," Charles reminded her darkly.

"Well, technically, you were the only one under the Crawley's employ," she reminded him. "My salary was paid out by Ida's father. And now, we have been married for quite some time and I am entering the house under the Levinson's employ. They should not deny us a room together."

"They might," he warned. "And it isn't as if we are in Crawley House, where we can merely walk to the other's room. There is a corridor with a lock and key to separate the men and women. You remember that."

She shrugged. "I do, but the point remains –"

"Have I told you how beautiful you are?" he asked, interrupting her.

"Yes."

"How much I've missed you?"

"Aye."

"How much I love you?"

"You know, come to think of it, you haven't really said that," she commented teasingly.

"You impish minx," he accused, laughing against her skin. "Naughty lass."

She inhaled deeply, then closed her eyes, secure in his arms. "Your naughty lass," she reminded him.


Elsie bit down on some pins, hoping that the distraction would keep her from crying out when the next spasm happened in her back. The doctor had assured her that the spasms were just her body preparing for labor, but Elsie had her doubts. She exhaled weakly around the pins and continued pinning flowers to Cora's gown.

The wedding was in less than two hours, and Elsie knew that if she didn't do her utmost best to dress Cora properly and with solemnity, heads – namely hers – would roll. "There, Miss Cora," Elsie said softly, "you're ready. I'll not insult you as your mam did earlier with horrendous tales of wifely duties."

Cora's smile was weak and watery, not at all in keeping with her normal spirit. "Yes, well… I wish you would tell me something good about them. All I know is that a man's… anatomy engorges and he puts it inside the woman."

Elsie rolled her eyes. "Yes, that's about the sum of it," she said sarcastically. "Only there's so much more to it. You can have such great pleasure."

Cora hesitated. "Do you and Mr. Carson find pleasure in… that?"

Elsie blushed. "Yes, we do," she stammered. "Charles may look very disapproving and haughty, as he was trained as an underbutler, but he is very demonstrative of his affections in private quarters." She blushed even more remembering the particularly eager way he had all but feasted on her that morning, bringing her to several shattering climaxes before they'd been forced to get up and face the rest of the world. She cleared her throat. "Lord Robert is a good man, a kind man. Ida confided in me many things that I wish she had not, but they will benefit you, Miss Cora. If you feel pain or discomfort, tell him to stop. If he does something that pleases you, tell him so. Allow him to… to touch you and taste you; it will make you ready for… the act your mother so uncharitably described." She fluffed Cora's bustle and sighed. "It is unlike anything you have ever felt before – and if your man does it correctly, there is great pleasure to be had in all of it."

"And children come from the… seed he will spill?" Cora said worriedly.

Elsie cringed. "He must spill his seed inside you," she said bluntly. "And it must be the right time of the moon for a bairn to take root."

"You and Mr. Carson must be very lucky, then," Cora said pointedly.

Elsie's humiliated blush returned. "Meggie was… Our Meggie came about before we were married properly," she admitted very quietly. "And she were born while I was away to home. This little lass came about in the month or so before Lord Robert left for America." She idly rubbed her belly, rewarded with a feeble kick from the baby. She tried to quell the feeling that something was wrong – the bairn was usually far more active – by telling herself that the baby was probably only asleep.

"I'm sure you're ready for your lying in to begin," Cora said with a smile.

Elsie shrugged: that was still scheduled a week off. "I really want it all to be over and done with," she commented lightly. "I am tired of not being able to see my feet; of these awful mood swings and crying over every little thing. I want to hold my wee lass in my arms at last."

"So you think it's a girl?"

"Aye," Elsie said with a small smile. "We've decided to call her Elinor."

"Oh, that's lovely – after Elinor Dashwood?"

Elsie nodded and flinched, pressing her fist to the small of her back as the spasm took hold again. Within seconds, it had dissipated, and Cora was worriedly stroking her arm to calm her. "Elsie, are you certain the baby isn't coming now?" Cora asked gently.

"The doctor said – he said that it's pre-labor pains," Elsie sighed.

"Have you told Carson?"

"And upset him on the day of Lord Robert's wedding? Over my dead body," Elsie scoffed.

"I will worry all through the service –"

"No, you won't. You will worry about marrying Lord Robert," Elsie said firmly. "I am nobody and nothing. You are important, Miss Cora Levinson. I am not." She put the last finishing touches onto Cora's gown, then helped her with her tiara and veil. "Pretty as a portrait, miss," she declared.

There was a strong knock on the door, then Lady Grantham all but burst in. "My dear, are you nearly enough to finished?" The woman glared at Elsie, but held back her bitter commentary. "Mrs. Carson, we have been waiting an inordinate amount of time for the bride –"

"Mrs. Carson is having pre-labor pains," Cora said. "She is fighting them and we have just finished."

A flicker of something passed over Lady Grantham's face, and she stared at Elsie for a very long time. Elsie didn't flinch or draw back. "Mrs. Carson, I will send for the doctor," Lady Grantham said, her tone sympathetic if not kind. "You should not be on your feet now."

"I'm going to the wedding, m'lady," Elsie said stubbornly.

"Suit yourself," Lady Grantham said dismissively. "But after the wedding, you will be confined to a guest room until such time as your child is born – which might be sooner than you think." She tried to look as if it meant nothing to her, but there was a hint of worry beneath the bluster. "And I will call for the doctor to attend immediately after the service."

"Yes, m'lady," Elsie gritted out between clenched teeth. She had barely taken two steps toward the door when the spasm came – but it didn't go away. Instead, it became a radiating pain, hot and hard, that drove her to her knees. It was only the Countess's quick reflexes that kept her from hitting the ground.

"JAMES!" Cora shrieked. "Send for Mr. Carson in the village and Dr. Stokes at once! Tell them it's Mrs. Carson – the wedding will be put back –"

"No," Lady Grantham snapped. "You go and get in that carriage with your father and you marry my son. I will tend to Mrs. Carson."

"I'd really rather –" Elsie panted in agony.

"I don't give a fig what you'd rather," Lady Grantham said coldly. "You are in labor, Mrs. Carson, if you were not convinced before."

"Elsie, you're white as a sheet," Cora said with alarm. "Come, sit down –"

"No, no, no," Elsie whimpered even as Lady Grantham propelled her to Cora's bed and forced her to sit. "I cannae be in labor already – it's too soon."

"Unfortunately, our children don't know the meaning of proper timing," Violet said, shaking her head and sighing. "Cora, do go on – we will be all right without you."

Elsie watched the bride leave and felt dizziness come over her. Lady Grantham supported her through the worst of it, holding her upright until the spell had passed. "You despise me," Elsie accused.

"You are not my favorite person in the world," Violet confirmed, "but I will not leave you by yourself now." She rubbed Elsie's back hard, and sighed. "And I am afraid I have been overly harsh in condemning you as Ida's murderer. I know you did what you could to make her comfortable as she passed: Robert has said so time and again."

"She was my niece," Elsie choked out.

Violet's massage stopped dead. "Your niece?"

Elsie nodded and closed her eyes. "I am the natural child of Lord Allenby," she admitted very softly. "I'd been with Ida since she were seven years old. You have to believe me when I say if I could have saved her, I would have. The bairn was already gone and she was… almost gone. I couldn't do a thing."

"How did I not know –"

"You didnae need to know," Elsie said, her voice low and strained as pain gripped her stronger than before. "Oh… oh god… fucking shit bugger fuck," she panted. The pain was worse than it had been with Meggie – so much worse. When she could breathe again, she choked out, "I'm so sorry –"

"No, it's all right," Violet dismissed. "I'm afraid to move you down the corridor to an empty room."

"Then I'll –" Elsie bit back a scream. "There isnae time," she grunted. "I need to push – now."

"What do you need me to do?" Violet asked.

"I cannae lie down," Elsie moaned weakly, moving to hold herself up against the bedpost. "I need you to catch the bairn." It was an awkward position, but she knew that gravity would help her and she needed the support.

The next few minutes were a haze of unendurable pain for Elsie and gentle words of encouragement from Lady Grantham. Elsie clenched her teeth and bore down with all of her might, feeling a sudden shock of relief when the baby dropped into Violet's waiting arms.

There was silence.

Elsie began to panic, but then she heard a gush of fluid, and then a squalling baby. She leaned into the bedpost and wept. "He's just fine," Violet said softly. "He was born en-caul – that's why he didn't cry at first. I had to rupture the sac."

"He?" Elsie sobbed.

"Yes, your lad is quite a large lad…"

"But – but I was certain it was a girl –"

"He is definitely a boy," Lady Grantham said firmly. "If you are in doubt, I will show you his tiny pe-"

"No, I believe you," Elsie whimpered. The pains continued until she had delivered the afterbirth, and she was weak and in shock from the exertions.

There was a sudden flurry of activity in the corridor, but before Violet could stop anything from happening, both Charles and the doctor burst into the room. Elsie looked helplessly at her husband and clung to the bedpost, very aware of the carnage around her.

But she chose that moment to faint dead away.


Her dreams were fleeting, flittering, flirting, a mismash of jumbled sounds, colors, and nothing that made sense. Except for Charles. His voice kept piercing through the nonsense, but the words didn't make any sense in context. "Don't you dare leave me now, Elsie." "You've not seen our son, Elsie." "Please open your eyes, love." "I love you." "I need you."

"I can't live without you."

The pain radiated through her abdomen, shocking her awake. He was sitting at her bedside, his hand wrapped around hers tightly. He was asleep, but only just. Her fingers twitched, then curled into his, and he jerked awake like he'd been struck.

"Elsie?" he whispered. "Oh, thank the lord…"

She struggled to remember why she was in such a grand bed as this, then gasped. "Charlie – the baby –"

"He's fine, love," he was quick to assure her. "Our little boy is quite all right. Lady Grantham has procured a wet nurse until you're back on your feet."

"I don't understand."

"You almost died," he said softly.

"Did I?" she asked.

"You need to rest," he insisted.

"I feel… dreadful."

Charles nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm not leaving you, lass," he whispered. "Not even for a moment."

"What happened?"

"You went into labor and delivered our lad with only Lady Grantham to help you," he said softly. "And the doctor and I arrived just as you began to bleed heavily. He stopped the bleeding, but only just. I almost lost you, Elsie…"

"Can't get rid of me that easily," she murmured, almost proud of the words.

"You are not leaving this bed," he snapped, finding no humor in her words. "Do you understand? You are going to be nursed back to health and waited on hand and foot – and you are not going to fight me on this, Elsie May Carson."

"I'm not intending to," she said softly.

"Your father is here," he said. "That is how close you were to death: I cabled your father, begging him to come."

She stared at him. "How long have I been –"

"Five days," Charles said, choking up. "Five days when I didn't know if my best friend in the world was going to die – five days of contemplating being a lone father."

There was a knock on the door, then Cora came in. "Charles, Lady Violet sent me to check in… Elsie, darling, you're awake!" She exclaimed, rushing to her maid's bedside. "Thank the lord – we've been so worried you wouldn't pull through. Lord Allenby will be pleased."

Elsie exhaled weakly and mumbled, "I want to see my son –"

"Not till you're a bit stronger," Charles said firmly. "Your arms are shaking," he pointed out. "You've lost a lot of blood, love."

"Do not tell me I cannot see my son," Elsie hissed. "Has he been seen to by the doctor?"

"He is fine," Charles said. "Ten pounds and three ounces, even a month early. If you'd gone to term, you would have died for certain."

"Well, good thing our lad was early, then," she snapped. "I need to see him, Charlie. I need to know he's all right even if I am not."

"I'll get young master Carson from the nursery," Cora said before Charles could argue, and disappeared.

"You must rest," Charles said warningly. "I am not joking about how close to death you were. I will not allow you to –"

"I am not leaving the bed," Elsie said in a soft tone, stroking his arm comfortingly. "Nor am I likely to for some time, if my legs feeling like aspic are any indication."

"I tried to contact your sister," he said quietly, "but I've not had a reply."

Elsie exhaled and squeezed his hand. "I've not had a response for five years," she admitted. "I am afraid she has written us off for dead. But thank you for trying, love."

"Lady Grantham is quite worried about you," he said, his eyes dancing with amusement. "How you managed to take that bitch down to a tame lap dog I'll never know."

"Might have had something to do with all the blood," Elsie sighed. "It… changes you."

"It certainly does," he grunted. "I almost lost you because I lost control and took you like an animal –"

"Charlie," Elsie sighed. "Don't you dare use this as an excuse to stop makin' love to me –"

"I can't stand by and watch you carry another baby and almost die in the process," he said sharply. "This is my fault and could have been prevented."

"By what means exactly?" she asked, feeling a bit dizzy. "We still got Meggie even though you were pulling out –"

"Elsie, for pity's sake, please just –"

"No, Charles."

"Elsie –"

"I said no," she repeated very quietly, very firmly. "You wanted me to be an equal partner in this marriage, and you will not shut me out because you feel guilty for something you had no control over."

He was angry and even hurt by her words; she could see it plainly written on his face. "I will speak to you about this when your sense of reason returns," he muttered finally.

"And I will tell you to go wank somewhere else," she grumbled back.

The door opened again and Cora came in with a smile and a blanketed bundle in her arms. "He can't wait to meet his mama," she said brightly, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension in the room.

It only took Elsie a split second to fall in love all over again. "Charles Edward Carson, Jr.," she whispered, smiling down at her son. "Don't you think, da?" she asked, looking up at Charles.


Margaret came to the door, Meggie on her hip. A short, plump woman with dark auburn hair and piercing blue eyes that looked very similar to Elsie was standing on the stoop. "Hello," she said. "I am looking for Mr. Charles Carson."

"He's up at the big house," Margaret said. "There's been a terrible fuss over his wife."

"Yes," the woman said, nodding, "I know. He wrote to me, you see, and I… well, yes. Mrs. Carson is my sister. Ye ken?" The woman seemed English enough, speaking in posh upper-crust accent, but then her worry caused her to slip back into Scottish habits.

"You are Rebecca?" Margaret said.

"Yes, Rebecca Smythe – I need to see my sister."

"Come inside a spell and have a cuppa," Margaret insisted gently. "Meet our Meggie – she's your niece and smart as a whip, she is." It didn't take much convincing to get the travel-weary woman inside and comfortable with tea and biscuits. "Now… you can't just go charging up to the Abbey, you know, and demand to see her. Especially with Lord Allenby there."

Rebecca's hand trembled. "What is he doing here?" she asked in a tone that could hide none of her bitterness.

"Elsie was hovering on the edge of death for days," Margaret snapped. "Who else were we to contact? Your mother is dead."

Rebecca blanched again. "I cannot see him."

"Then you will allow me some time to get you in to see Elsie without him knowing," Margaret said firmly. "It will take time to plan."

"I have time," Rebecca said, looking over at Meggie, who was gnawing on a biscuit. "She's a lovely baby."

"They've a wee lad, too," Margaret said. "He's the cause of all the fuss. Poor Elsie didn't reckon on birthing a ten pounder a month early."

Rebecca's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "My word – is the bairn all right?" she asked.

"He is a strong lad – we're all very worried about our Elsie."

"You call her 'our Elsie' like she means something to you –"

"She is my daughter as much as Charles is my son," Margaret snapped. "And I would not see her or our family hurt just for a petty feud."

Rebecca laughed. "A petty feud? Is that what she told you happened? I was thrown out on my ear with no money and no home to go to because I lost my posting as Miss Ida's governess? Ha!" Rebecca's hands were shaking in earnest now. "My niece's father raped me and threw me out on the streets. I ran as far and as fast as I could and never looked back. I am married to a good man; we have five sons. Am I any less worthy than Elsie?"

Margaret reached over and gently held the woman's hand. "Sometimes, bad things happen to good people, and we don't understand why," she said gently. "Elsie isn't anymore worthy than you are."

"My father turned me away in shame," Rebecca said bleakly. "I never got to say goodbye to Elsie or mam."

"And you've kept yourself away all this time because you…"

"They aren't my family anymore," Rebecca whispered.

"Don't say that, love," Margaret sighed. "Our Elsie tells Meggie stories about her Auntie Becky and the farm all the time."

Rebecca's face crumpled and she began to cry in earnest. "Oh, god, what she must think of me –"

"She will just be glad to see you," Margaret promised gently.


Elsie awakened to pain in her breasts as they leaked milk. She blindly reached for the towels that were on the bedside table to stop the leakage, not finding her target. Suddenly a small hand pressed a bit of toweling into her palm and Elsie murmured, "Thank you." She opened her eyes slowly, unsure who would be waiting for her this time. More often than not, it was Charles, but that was a very tiny hand to be her husband.

"Hello, Elsie."

"Becky," was all she could manage to say.