A./N.: Another longer chapter. I'm heading to the wedding and their future together, but before that I needed to bring some other key players into the picture. Due to the time and the inadequate … ok, ok, non-existent education about marriage Elsie will be quite unprepared for what will happen next and who better to stand be her side than her older sister. It was either Glenna or Mrs Crawley or Lady Grantham and honestly I couldn't imagine the last two candidates. Mhm, I was toying with the idea of Violet for all of 2 seconds before I cracked up. Anyway, enjoy and tell me what you think.

Embrace's Comfort

Charles' soft brown eyes followed the dainty movements of his betrothed as she extinguished the candles on her desk for the evening and righted the sheet and ledgers. Her parlour was always so precisely aligned and orderly, just like the woman in front of him. It had always been one of the traits that drew him irrevocably to her. Now he was simply happy to observe her and drink in the sight of her like the finest wine. She was so very beautiful to him – always had been and always would be. Nothing, not even Grigg's vile attack, could ever change that. Seeing as she bent down a little to grab hold of the grate before her hearth to bank the fire, Charles quickly stepped forward.

"Here, allow me to do that for you," he said softly, stepping behind her and snaking his arms around her body to take the grate from her hands. "It is time you two went upstairs to rest and sleep after another long day."

Elsie gasped a bit before she recognized his low timber and relaxed instantly again. Tiredly she leaned back against his solid, broad chest and sighed deeply. "Thank you," she murmured softly, turning her head a fraction to be able to kiss his cheek gently. She hated to be weak in front of anybody, but truth be told her corset was restricting her to the point of hindering her movements and making the most menial task almost impossible. Sighing again she wondered when the time would come when she wouldn't be able to wear it any longer. It would certainly create and atmosphere …

Charles wrapped one arm around her middle and the other expertly banked the fire, so that the glowing coal would slowly die out completely without setting the house on fire. Then his other hand joined his on her abdomen, softly stroking her growing bump with his thumbs and wrapping her in warmth and safety. He nuzzled her silky hair with his nose and lips, inhaling her unique scent and revelling in the fact that she would still allow him to touch her in this intimate way, let him come this close to her and not shy away.

It was true that this invisible wall between them had been broken down with their frank conversation in the forest. Charles dreamt of their future together every night and recently his dreams had taken a very different path then the ones at the beginning of their engagement. At first he had believed that they would simply marry to protect her honour and to give her unborn child his name. Now, though, he believed that they would not be marrying solely for companionship and reputation, but instead for love, true and beautiful.

In the spirit of that revelation, he drew her tighter against his chest and kissed the side of her neck softly. A small gasp, completely different in intonation than the last, escaped her lips and he felt her melt against him in his arms. A proud grin spread over his lips as he observed her reactions to his proximity and attention. Yes, they would definitely marry for love and mutual attraction.

"I love you, my darling lass," he murmured low into her ear, sending delightful shivers throughout her body.

She clung to him and let that wonderful voice of his wash over her as well as the meaning of his word sooth her racing and still insecure heart. Carefully she turned in his arms, not wanting to lose contact with him for even a second, and wrapped her own arms around his neck.

"I love you too, Charles Edward Carson," she answered him in kind before stretching up onto her toes so that she could press her lips tentatively against his in a kiss full of promises.

oOoOoOo

Glenna was a bundle of nerves as she paced through the kitchen. Neither her daughters nor her daughter-in-law were able to calm her. There was nothing they could have said to her to take away her anxiety and torment.

Brianna, her eldest, couldn't make her mother sit down … she couldn't even think of a single word to say to express her concern and sympathy. Her mother's reaction to her aunt's letter had frightened her deeply. She was clueless as to what to do. She had never seen her mother this distraught – especially not by a mere letter. Her aunt might at times have infuriated her mother, but the two sisters were closer and even she and her younger sister were and that was saying something.

Her father and husband were at the station to get tickets for the morning train south and to send a telegram to Downton Abbey. Whatever had been in that letter had not been good news, and now she, too, began to worry and fret over it. She loved her aunt dearly and couldn't fathom what might have happened. She just prayed Aunt Elsie was safe and sound – or at the very least would be once Glenna arrived in Yorkshire.

oOoOoOo

"Mrs Hughes?"

Elsie turned around and was rather surprised to see Ms O'Brien lean against her doorway with her sewing basket in hand and a very uncertain expression on her face. She shyly looked up and met Mrs Hughes' steady, if somewhat confused, gaze.

"How may I help you, Ms O'Brien?" she asked amiably enough. "I hope you're not unwell." An appraising look was cast over the lady's maid. Elsie wasn't quite sure what to think of O'Brien's miraculous change. From her first day at the Abbey on Sarah O'Brien had been up to mischief and upsetting everyone else. Elsie had had many fights of will with the younger woman, but now she was quite transformed. Every one of their interactions now was laced with deep respect and a tender care on Elsie's behalf.

Ms O'Brien chuckled softly. "No, no, I'm well," she replied cheerfully before turning shy again. She even scoffed her boot against the floor, casting her eyes down. "I was wondering if perhaps … I mean …" She trailed off.

Elsie raised an eyebrow at Ms O'Brien, impatiently asking her to continue, "You were wondering what?"

"If Anna had spoken with you earlier today," she said at last.

Elsie's eyes widened and she immediately brought her hands up to clutch at her robe, a deeply crimson blush forming on her cheeks. She gulped the sudden lump of fear down before she nodded rather stiffly. "Oh aye, she has," she murmured more to herself than to the lady's maid. "The measurements …"

Sarah hesitated a moment longer and then she tentatively approached the older woman. "Mrs Hughes? We don't have to do that now, if you're uncomfortable." She placed a hand reassuringly on Mrs Hughes' shoulder.

It was enough to rouse the housekeeper from her thoughts. She smiled weakly at O'Brien and gradually relaxed her grasp on her garments. Silently she untied the knot and let it slide to the floor. This little movement required all of her newly regained bravery, but she raised her chin in a defiant and challenging way.

Sarah had to grin at Mrs Hughes' look. She had often been on the receiving end of one of those and it gladdened her to see that the woman's fire hadn't been extinguished … and then she looked over the housekeeper's body. True to Dr Clarkson's and Mrs Crawley's assessment there were no gruesome scars and the bruises had long since faded away, but it was undeniable that Mrs Hughes had been changed by her ordeal. Especially her figure drew O'Brien's gaze. It had altered and without her confining corset and the many layers of her usual housekeeper's dress it was noticeable.

Instantly Elsie wished her robe back and she quickly covered herself with her hands, blushing deeply and looking away in shame. She was about to turn around when she felt the soft hands of Ms O'Brien on hers. Her eyes carefully followed every movement as Sarah drew her hands away from the forming bulge of her abdomen. Sarah's eyes were still glued to her stomach, though, and made her decidedly uncomfortable.

"I didn't think you would show this much already," she almost whispered. The last time she had seen a pregnant woman had been her oldest sister with her first child. Moira O'Brien had always told her daughters that to carry a child under once heart was a sacred act, a blessing and that every woman had a certain glow around herself when pregnant. Sarah had scoffed at that and announced that she would never have children of her own for she wanted to arise to something in life. Now she had the opportunity to observe the truth in her mother's words; Mrs Hughes, a woman she had once described as drab and unattractive, was now radiant with a light that seems to show from within her. Sarah could certainly see why Mr Carson was attracted to the housekeeper and why some of the menfolk from the village would flog around her on Sundays after church.

Her hair had a healthy shine and fell in perfect curls all around her shoulders. Since her attack Mrs Hughes had lost some weight and now had a very trim figure for a woman of her age, not that she had been a sack of potatoes before. Her skin was healthy and as pale and soft as marble with the exception of her cheeks, which still held a pink hue due to her embarrassment. Since the downstairs had been made aware of her pregnancy, Mrs Patmore had ensured that Mrs Hughes only got the freshest vegetables and fruits and the best cut of any meat they ate. She was starting to fill out her dresses again and looked healthier than ever. The most remarkable change, though, were her eyes. They were as sharp and all-seeing as ever, but now they were indescribably … warm.

The maids were her 'girls' now and she clucked over them like a hen lately. They all smiled indulgently at their superior's behaviour and relished the new closeness. Many of the younger ones in particular felt more at home at the Abbey due to their Mrs Hughes. It was finally time that they repaid some of her kindness with the same warmth and heartfelt sincerity.

Before Sarah could really come out of her thoughts and reassure Mrs Hughes that she had nothing to be embarrassed about, Daisy bustled past the door and cast a look into the room. She smiled brilliantly and bobbed a small curtsey without even really stopping. "Good Night, Mrs Hughes, Ms O'Brien," she babbled automatically and was gone out of sight in the next moment. Then suddenly her head bobbed back around the doorjamb and her eyes were wide as she stared at O'Brien's hands on Mrs Hughes' stomach. "Oh," she mumbled faintly, "is everything well … with the baby?" she asked hesitantly.

The reaction was instant and quite shocking to Mrs Hughes. All the rooms had previously been peacefully drowsy and quiet, but now she could hear hasty movements throughout the women's quarters. She could hear how brushes were hastily replaced on counters and how footsteps were approaching her door. The blush in her cheeks intensified and she was just about to chide Daisy for drawing all this unwanted attention when Mrs Patmore barrelled her way past her kitchen maid and into her friend's room.

"Elsie? Is everything …" At Elsie's intense glare she stopped abruptly and swallowed thickly.

"Yes," Elsie ground out through gritted teeth, "I am well and so is … it, I would wager." She had stumbled a bit over what to call her unborn child. If it became 'the baby' or even 'my child' in her mind, it would be real … well, it was real enough. She had felt it move after all, but she was not yet ready to fully acknowledge the fact that she would be a mother in a short few months. It terrified her because the only examples she had were her mother – and she wasn't entirely sure if that was a good one – or her sister; both of them too far away to reach.

"Shall I alert Mr Carson and tell them to get Dr Clarkson?" Gwen, the last to shoot out of the female bathroom, asked breathlessly, her hand already curled into a fist to knock on the connecting door between male and female quarters.

"Oh for Heaven's sake!" Mrs Hughes exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air and huffing mightily. All this attention was unwanted and made her extremely uncomfortable. She was a very private woman and she couldn't remember a moment in her life she had felt her privacy more invaded.

Daisy ashamedly hung her head. "It's only you looked pale and Ms O'Brien had her hands on your stomach …" she trailed off trying to beg for forgiveness.

She looked so small and sounded so insecure that Elsie felt her heart melt on the spot. How could she be angry with such a well-meaning child? She had to remember that Daisy was only 16 years old. What could she know about pregnancy and such? Truth be told, Elsie was sure that she didn't know a whole lot more about it despite her more advanced age. She sighed and then turned around. Without saying a word but kindness in her eyes, she took hold of Daisy's hands and drew her into her arms, hugging her and stroking her back comfortingly. The relief was immediate and Daisy was soon snuggling into her arms.

"We're all worried for you," Beryl said softly, keeping a close eye on her friend. She knew Elsie's temper and was secretly glad to see it returned, but she also wanted to make clear that the status quo had changed. Every one of the maids observed the housekeeper throughout the day to spot any distress or faintness immediately. At first it had been a shield against the harsh reality of her rape, but now it was a direct order from Mr Carson, who wanted to know his betrothed was safe and cared for.

"I know that and I'm sorry I snapped," Elsie replied, pressing a quick kiss to Daisy's temple before letting go of the girl. "I'm not very comfortable in my own skin ever since … well, lately," she admitted quietly.

Sarah's forehead crinkled into a frown. She could understand that – to an extent – but surely the woman had seen cranky Carson's reaction to her mere presence and could be in no doubt of her allure. Shaking her head mildly, she wondered if everybody except for Thomas and her were blind in this house. Deciding to lighten the mood a little and tease the housekeeper out of her mood, she assumed a stage whisper and remarked dryly, "I'd say Mr Carson was most comfortable with your skin when I walked past your parlour this evening."

For a few heart-stopping moments she feared Mrs Hughes would faint on the spot, but then she was playfully nudged in the ribs by Anna. "Tsk, tsk, Ms O'Brien, you shouldn't tease her like that. I imagine it must be hard to let anybody close …" Here she glanced up at her superior with a shy smile.

Elsie felt her cheeks burning and thought for a moment that she was suffering from a hot flash, but in all honesty she relished the relaxed atmosphere with the girls and even the few very quiet giggles she heard from some of the older ones. It was the first time her girls weren't tiptoeing around her any longer. Catching Beryl's gaze, she felt her lips quirking up into a smile and received one in return.

Suddenly Daisy made herself known once more by tugging gently on Elsie's hand. Her eyes were earnest and even a bit worried, but she gathered her bravery and asked softly, "May I … may I feel the baby?"

Feeling a lump forming in her throat, Elsie could only nod her head silently. She watched attentively as Daisy meticulously wiped her hands on her nightgown and then carefully placed them on Elsie's stomach, drawing her own nightgown taut against the soft contours of her altering body. The small bump was now visible to her girls. Instead of shying away or being disgusted or whatever else she had imagined they would do, she could see shy smiles forming on all their faces. Daisy's face was alight with wonder and joy as she could feel the small swirl of live under her fingertips.

"It's moving," she gasped in utter delight. Her cheeks tinted pink and her eyes sparkled.

Almost immediately Elsie was swamped by her maids. All of them wanted to place their hands on her stomach for a second or two before wishing her good night and going back to their own rooms and beds, wearing smiles and chattering amiably. Anna and Sarah had remained behind still standing side by side near Elsie's bed. Sarah's sewing basket lay long forgotten on her blanket, but now she removed her tape measure and a sheet of paper. Her eyes were soft and kind, but Elsie could see unshed tears lingering in their depths.

She placed her hand over Sarah's and asked as kindly as she could, "Why the tears, mo nighean?" The Gaelic endearment broke Sarah's composure. A choked sob escaped her lips and she turned her face stubbornly to the wall, not wanting Anna and Mrs Hughes to see her tears.

"Nothing," she bit back, but there was no real venom in her voice.

Anna opened her mouth to give a sharp retort, but she was cut off by a shake of Elsie's head. The older woman drew Sarah into her arms and hugged her lightly, afraid to crowd her and thus scare her away. She was silent, giving Sarah time and opportunity to come to her when she was ready.

"M-my mother was raped," Sarah admitted very quietly, holding onto Elsie's waist as if her life depended on it. "I was born nine months later …"

It was all the explanation she could muster and all the explanation that was needed. Suddenly her snide remarks made perfect sense; her urge to upset was justified. Elsie could well imagine that Sarah must have suffered greatly from her family for being the unwanted child of another man. She must always have had the feeling of being disadvantaged, less loved than her half siblings. She must have fought bitterly for everything in her life.

Elsie simply held her and let her cry against her shoulder, letting out all the old anguish and resentment. When she did finally spoke her voice held no judgement. "We all carry scars, Sarah, inside and out. You're no different than the rest of us, remember that." It was healing the scars on her soul as well as those on Sarah's. They were not as unlike as they thought.

oOoOoOo

Brian McKenzie stood in front of his bedroom door and shuffled nervously from one foot to the other. He could clearly hear crying from the inside. In all the years of marriage with his darling Glenna he had never been able to stand seeing her cry. Elsie was the only one who could calm his wife and now she was the very reason for Glenna's distress.

He and Ian had raced to the post office before it closed for the night and had managed to send a telegram to Downton. The tickets for the 10:15 train south were secured and Brianna had told him that she had helped Glenna to pack what they would need for a few days in Downton. Their savings were sufficient enough to allow for this trip, but he couldn't stay away from the farm for very long. It was spring time and lambing season.

What matter most now, though, was ensuring his sister-in-law's well-being. No matter what had happened he would make sure she was properly taken care of. He had seen the heartbreak in his wife's eyes and it was something he never wanted to see there again.

Tentatively he raised his hand and knocked on the door. "Glenna lass, do you want …" Before he could finish the door was flung open and his wife launched herself into his arms, weeping against his chest. Helplessly he held her, unaware that his two older children observed the scene.

Brianna clung to Ian's hand, tears silently pouring from her eyes. She had never ever seen her mother like that and it tore her apart. "What do you think has happened?" she asked her younger brother.

Ian shook his head in helplessness. He just prayed it wasn't something horrible. "Maybe she was sacked …" he offered not even half convincingly.

Brianna glared at him. "Don't be daft. Then she would have come here and sent a letter," she reproached him. "I hope she isn't sick," she added barely audible.

Her brother drew her into his side but he couldn't bring himself to tell her what his father had mumbled over and over on the way to the train station. "Don't let her have come to any harm. Please let her be safe." He sighed in defeat, praying that his father had been wrong, but his hope was dwindling. His mother's reaction to the letter even after hours had passed could only mean that something terrible had happened to his aunt. Picturing what might have occurred to Elsie, he balled his hands into fists, vowing that he would find out and avenge his dear aunt.

Still unaware of his children Brian scooped Glenna up into his arms and carried her into their bedroom, kicking the door gently shut with his foot. When he wanted to lower her onto the bed, she clung to his neck and whimpered in protest. She needed his closeness, his strength and warmth. Without hesitation Brian sat down on the bed with Glenna on his lap and let her nearly suffocate him. After a while he felt Glenna slowly calming a little and heard her sobs coming to a hiccupping stop.

"Will ye no tell me what was in the letter, luv?" he asked her, rocking her like he had once done with their children after a nightmare.

Glenna shook her head exhaustedly against his shoulder. "I cannae," she whispered brokenly. Her arms tightened around his neck again and she hid her face in his shirt front.

Brian exhaled slowly. Knowing her stubbornness and how likely she was to clamp up completely now, he tried another approach. "Ian will manage for now and we'll be on the first train out," he said just a tad proud of his accomplishments on such short notice … 'Well, no notice more like, ol' man,' he thought wryly.

Once more he felt Glenna relax in his arms and press a kiss to his neck in gratitude. "Will the lad be a'right?" she asked, always the mother hen.

"Course he will," Brian said proudly, puffing up as much as his wife's weight allowed him to, "The lad has yer brains and me strength."

A shaky laugh came from his wife. It was an old joke between them – a joke that Elsie had brought about as she had commented on the qualities each of her nieces and nephew had from each parent. Apparently Glenna remembered that, too. He could feel the gentle touch of her lashes as she closed her eyes against his neck and could hear the shaky breath she drew.

"My little baby sister was … oh dear merciful God, she was r-raped."

The tears were back with a vengeance now that the truth was out. Brian's eyes could have killed anyone who dared to meet his gaze at that moment. He had known the Hughes sisters almost all his life and he was very fond of the younger one, even though the older sister had stolen his heart.

"S-She's with ch-child and she n-needs me," Glenna confessed haltingly.

Brian's eyes closed and he laid his cheek against Glenna's head, praying silently for his sister-in-law. He had forcefully banished thoughts like that from his mind all evening, but now the truth was worse. Elsie would be marked a fallen woman for the rest of her life and after all she had given up to rise up in the world, in her profession. Rocking his wife was the only thing he could do for the moment, but he vowed to take care of Elsie and protect her from the harshness of the world as best he could. He owed that to Glenna and to Elsie.

His wife, though, hadn't finished. "Ye remember the butler she always talks about …?"

With an angry roar Brian was up, nearly tumbling his wife to the floor. "I will have his heart, I'll wear his gut for …"

"You willna do a thing to him," Glenna interrupted him harshly. "He'll marry her to protect her."

That brought Brian up short. "It wasna him then?" he asked dumbly.

"You dinna believe … you couldn't have … NO!" Glenna was rendered speechless. "Elsie wouldna have fallen for the man if he were capable of … that." She spat the last word out with enough venom to poison a horse. "No, my man, he'll do the honourable thing," she concluded with a calm she did not feel in the least.

They were standing face to face, but suddenly there was this chasm between them. Glenna needed him more than she felt she could admit and Brian wasn't sure how much distance his wife might need after news such as these. They both stared helplessly at each other, willing the other to understand their need. In the end neither could say who moved first or who whispered those healing words, but they became a shared mantra as they fell into each other. "I love you. I need you"