A./N.: Long chapter with lots of changing POVs, but that made it easier to write without being overbearing. The scene in the end was a shameless steal from the scene on the airport when I arrived home from my AuPair year in America and was greeted by my best friend (already mentioned a fair few times). I hope very much that you enjoy this chapter. Btw, I'm writing whenever I find the time. I know there is a long time between chapters at times and I apologize. Rest assured that it bugs me more when I couldn't find a spare moment to write than it does when I can't learn for University. So pretty please be patient and drop me a few lines. Thank you, darlings.

Raging Storm Before the Calm

Brian meant to be gentle, so very gentle, and then he came to his wife and discovered that she wished no part of gentleness, of courting. She wished directness. Glenna wanted to forget – if only for a moment of unbridled passion. She wanted to drown our reality.

For a moment he struggled, trying to hold her close and kiss her tenderly. Glenna squirmed like an eel in his arms, and then rolled over him, wriggling and biting.

He'd thought to ease her ... both of them ... with his gentle care. He'd known that Glenna was holding back her emotions, restraining them ruthlessly, in the face of her sister's rape, but Brian simply hadn't realised what she was restraining. He, of all people, should have known. Not fear or grieve for pain ... but rage.

She raked his back. He felt the scrape of her nails. His own fury took him then, rage and a lust that came on him like black thunder on a mountain. Wrath boiled and curdled in his balls, and he rode to her spurs. Rising above her, he grabbed her wrists and jerked them up over her head, taking possession of her.

oOoOoOo

Anna lay in her bed with her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't sleep, not after the day they had. If you had asked her before today of her opinion about Ms O'Brien, she would have given a snide remark and rolled her eyes expressively. Now, though, she had a very different view of the older woman. She had never guessed about the Irish woman's dark secret.

Upon hearing Sarah's broken voice admit to her and her mother's shame, or what others had made out to be their shame, her heart had went out to her former foe. She had heard stories of course about women who had been preyed upon, but she had never thought it would happen here in idyllic Downton. She snorted to herself. 'Of course it never happens to people you know,' she chided herself, 'until it does.'

Mrs Hughes was like a mother to most of the girls downstairs (a strict but kind mother that most of them never had) and the attack on her had shocked her daughters, shaken them to their very cores. Now the roles were reversed all of a sudden. Instead of the housekeeper looking out for her maids, the maids looked out for their housekeeper. And they did it gladly. At first Anna had been rattled to see the usually antagonising lady's maid be part of their group, the very first time she had actively sought out the contact with the other girls, now she could understand why Ms O'Brien had become so solicitous, even snarling at Thomas when he acted up.

"She's one of us after all," she mumbled quietly. A smile spread across her face and she snuggled more comfortably into her blankets. She had always speculated that Sarah could be a true friend if she ever stopped her scheming. Now she had her answer.

oOoOoOo

When sense came back to him, Brian was laying with his weight full on his petite wife, crushing her into the bed. His breath sobbed in his lungs as he tried to regain some semblance of calm. His hands were clenched around her arms so hard he felt her bones like sticks about to snap within his grasp.

He had lost himself, was not sure where his body ended and hers began. He was still joined with her. He wanted to bolt, but managed to move slowly, loosening his fingers one by one from their deathly grip on her arms, lifting his body gently away, even though the effort of it seemed immense. He half expected to see her crushed and flattened, lifeless on the sheet, but the springy arch of her ribs rose and fell and rose again reassuringly.

Brian shuddered and for lack of any other notion, kissed her forehead. Glenna's arms came up suddenly and held him fiercely, pulling him down onto her again and he seized her, too, crushing her to him hard enough to feel the breath go out of her, unable to let go. Then he cried, soundless, muscles strained to aching that he might not shake with it, that she might not wake to know it. Glenna needed his strength not his tears, she needed to know that he would be by her side every step until they reached her sister and she could finally wrap her into her arms. He wept for Elsie, for her innocence so brutally taken from her until he had no more tears to shed, the pillow wet beneath his face. Then he lay exhausted, his only comfort was the small, so fragile weight that lay warm upon his heart, breathing. For a horrifying moment he imagined her broken and violated instead of her sister and he shuddered, eyes wide, arms tight around his darling wife. Not that he wished it had happened to Elsie at all, of course, but the thought of his Glenna like that brought a murderous rage into his heart. He would have killed the man – he would still do it if he knew who had attacked Elsie. No one hurt the women of his family and got away with it unscathed.

oOoOoOo

William took the newspapers and the first letters of the day from the paper boy and quickly glanced down on them. On top of the small pile lay the unmistakable envelope of a telegram addressed to 'Downton Abbey'. Hurrying into the house, William immediately went to look for Mr Carson. Surely this had to be important.

Rounding a corner he almost ran into the man he was looking for. "Oh, Mr Carson, there you are …"

The imposing butler slowly raised his eyebrows. "I beg your pardon," he almost growled at the young boy, drawing himself to his full height.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but here's a telegram and I thought you should know at once," the boy apologized instantly, assuming a straight and respectful posture.

Mr Carson softened slightly. The boy was eager but clumsy. "Thank you, William, you can give it to me and I'll see to it." Just as he reached out his hand to receive it, they saw Mrs Hughes come down the stairs from the servants' quarters. Instantly Charles noticed the dark circles around her eyes, her tired movements, and how her hand gripped the railing until her knuckles stood out white. Quickly he moved to the foot of the stairs in order to catch her, William and the telegram forgotten for now.

When Elsie reached Charles she felt relief wash over her. The morning sickness had hit her unexpectedly hard this morning and left her weak at the knees. She was still feeling decidedly unsteady and the smells coming from the kitchen made her queasy. Smiling tiredly up at him she took his hand and nearly collapsed against his chest. She didn't trust herself to greet him for fear of being sick when she opened her mouth.

"Good morning, my love," Charles murmured close to her ear, sending shivers down her spine. He took her elbow in one of his strong hands, imperceptibly holding her up as she melted into his protective embrace.

Just then the smell of bacon, burning flesh, wafted through the corridor and slammed into Elsie's nostrils. She felt her bile rising in her throat and Charles swore she turned green before she hastily clamped her hand over her mouth. He knew that she would be sick any moment now. His main concern was to get her to some privacy. Without another word to William, Mr Carson snaked one arm around Mrs Hughes' waist and held her steady with his other hand under her elbow. Turning them both cautiously around, he made to move them to the small lavatory under the stairs.

Before he could take more than one step forward, William's voice rang out behind him. "What about the telegram, Mr Carson?"

Charles didn't even look back as he threw over his shoulder, "You and Thomas are responsible for breakfast. Give it to His Lordship, he'll sort it out." And with that he swiftly led his betrothed to the lavatory, but before they reached it she stirred him instead to her parlour.

"Maids … not see …" she mumbled, embarrassed by her body's weakness and still worried about upholding standards and pretence.

Charles sighed, but moved swiftly to open her door and usher her in. He noticed that once he had shut the door and Elsie was no longer assaulted by the smell, her colour returned and she breathed easier and more deeply. She was still decidedly green around the gills though. Ignoring completely the cracking of his own bones, Charles pushed Elsie gently onto her settee and then knelt down in front of her. "How can I help, my love?" he asked gently.

Elsie smiled wryly down at him and shook her head. "There is nothing you can do, Charles," he reassured him softly. "It's the curse of the women."

At that Charles frowned deeply. He was no expert on pregnant women, by any stretch of the imagination, but the bits and pieces he remembered witnessing when Her Ladyship had been pregnant had been mostly about quiet, understated joy, bursting free at the seams. Of course, he didn't exactly expect Elsie to feel the same way about her child – even though he had hoped to have appeased her misgivings by his own open and honest acceptance. In her voice was no joy only flat acceptance of her circumstances and defeat; it tugged at his heart. Rubbing Elsie's thighs with his large warm hands, he silently asked her to explain herself.

Sighing in defeat, she tucked her chin under and admitted quietly, "It's what my mother called it. 'The curse of Eve', 'the curse every woman has to bear'. The clergy man always preached it down the pulpit, too." She saw the frown on Charles' forehead deepen and tentatively reached out to stroke the lines and smooth them out again. "Old Calvinist values: they are hard to overcome, Charles. There is really nothing you can do against morning sickness." Charles growled low in his throat and glared playfully, drawing a smile from Elsie. She bent forward, fighting a new wave of dizziness and nausea, to press a tender kiss to his forehead. "Even though you would move Heaven and Earth if it would bring me relief."

oOoOoOo

"Give my love to Aunt Elsie," Brianna whispered into her mother's ear, hugging her tightly to her chest. She had an ominous feeling in the pit of her stomach, as if her mother would be terribly altered when she would come back. Her heart went out to her parents and her aunt. She also intuitively felt that Elsie would not come to visit them this year. "Please write when you want to stay longer or need anything. I'll pray for her."

Glenna smiled through her unshed tears. From a very young age on she had taught her children to pray each night, pray for a good, plentiful harvest, lot of little lambs and calves and not to forget their Aunt in faraway Downton. Her girl still remembered it and Glenna had happened upon Brianna as she had instructed her own children to pray for their grandparents and their great-aunt Elsie.

Now she tightened her arms around her daughter and thanked God for her safety from the very bottom of her heart and soul. She also prayed for the strength she would need to support and comfort her sister.

"I will, a leannan, and you look after your brother and Maisie," she instructed softly. "Keep safe and know that you are loved," she added almost under her breath, sending shivers of dread down her daughter's spine and plummeting her heart. Brianna had childishly hoped that her mother would reassure her with a "There, there, it's not as bad as all that."

oOoOoOo

Lord Grantham read the telegram with wide eyes. It was short and to the point; "Coming tomorrow STOP McKenzie STOP". A wry smile appeared on his face. Why use more words than absolutely necessary to convey at least a small measure of formality and courtesy? He was mildly surprised that the man had signed his name under it. 'Typical Scottish frugality', he scoffed, conveniently forgetting that this was the very trait which made his housekeeper so efficient.

"Well, it is about time they were informed," he muttered then, causing all three of his daughters to look up at him with thinly veiled curiosity. Even Cora, who had uncustomary joined them for breakfast, raised one eyebrow at him in query. He elaborated with a broad hand gesture, "Apparently Mrs Hughes decided to inform her family and they are coming here. Today, judging by this telegram."

Sybil gasped in equal measures joy and surprise. She was excited to meet Mrs Hughes' sister, hoping she would be very like her sister. 'As if anyone could be as kind-hearted and generous as OUR Mrs Hughes,' she thought with a cheeky grin on her face. Aloud she said, "Oh, how wonderful. We have to make sure they are picked up from the station and have rooms here."

Edith and Mary both nodded, withholding for once their prejudiced, pompous and discriminating comments about social status. Sybil was glad about that, even though she had been prepared to fight her corner – and Mrs Hughes'. Cora already made to address Thomas so he might get Carson for finalising their plans, but Robert spoke first.

"Rooms won't be a problem, but the telegram doesn't say on which train they'll be." He frowned deeply. 'Damn frugal Scots.'

"That shouldn't be too hard to find out," Mary interjected. "Once we know where they are coming from we can check with the Station's timetable."

Thomas hesitantly moved forward, despite his bravado still nervous when addressing the family. "Begging your pardon, M'lady. Mrs Hughes' sister lives in Lytham St. Anne's …"

"… and the train from the north arrives between 10 and 11 o'clock in the morning and around 16 o'clock in the afternoon," William added, knowing the timetable by heart since he was a born Downtonian. It was a clear show of how much the two footmen cared for the older woman, speaking up in front of the family.

"That's settled then," Mary nodded decisively and moved her chair back to get up. "Should we inform Mrs Hughes now?" she asked almost bored.

Cora shook her head. "No, leave her. If I remember correctly," a wry smile formed on her lips here, "mornings are not a good time. I have a meeting with her before luncheon and will tell her then." She, too, got up and addressed William. "Please inform Anna to prepare the Princess Amelia. It is closest to the Servant's quarters and Mrs McKenzie will want to be close to her sister."

oOoOoOo

In their defence, all the Crawleys had thought that the McKenzies would arrive on the afternoon train and not on the morning one. They all were late risers and had breakfasted around 9 o'clock. Cora had honestly thought that she would inform Mrs Hughes of her sister's arrival with plenty of time to spare. Alas, it had been an error in judgement.

The train had been overly punctual, to the point of arriving 7 minutes early. Brian McKenzie had nearly broken his neck as he had scrambled after his impatient wife in his haste of getting off the train with all their luggage in tow, cursing fluently in the Gaelic. Glenna, nerves as raw as her bottom lip from constant worrying, had then proceeded to nearly race her husband to the Abbey. Elsie had meticulously described the path from the village to her home in countless letters, so Glenna felt confident in finding her way.

At a quarter to 11 o'clock a complicated series of events happened all at once …

Elsie was just ascending from downstairs, ledger in hand, ready for her meeting with Lady Grantham. Charles was already upstairs, having served the requested tea tray for Her Ladyship. He passed his betrothed and discreetly slipped his hand into her free one, gently interlacing their fingers. His smile stopped Elsie' heart for a beat or two, as she wistfully imagined them in her parlour instead of the busy front entrance hall. Smiling brilliantly up at him, she remembered the gentle care he exhibited towards her. She was overcome by emotions as she drowned in his brown eyes. No man had ever made her feel this secure, this loved. Wanting to express even a very small part of her feelings, she stretched up onto her toes and gently pressed a kiss to his lips, whispering, "I love you, my man."

Just then Sybil rounded the corner and instantly melted at the sight before her. She had always hoped that the housekeeper and butler would come to their senses and confess their love for each other. In the end it had needed a horrible deed to bring them together. A sad tear rolled down her cheek as she was transported back to the night Mrs Hughes had been brought to the Abbey. The pale skin, the dark bruises and deep cuts would haunt her all her days, she was sure of it. Despite her 16 years she had instantly understood what had happened, but she hadn't been able to grasp what changes that would bring to Mrs Hughes, indeed to the entire household. Now she simply basked in the knowledge that it hadn't only brought about bad changes.

The urgent sound of the bell at the entrance door broke through the blissful silence and startled Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes apart. Sybil had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop the smirk from blooming fully, as she watched Mr Carson grumble darkly under his breath, stomping to the door and hastily opening it. The smirk quickly left her features as she heard Mrs Hughes gasp and saw her suddenly turn deathly white. She was about to hasten forward and prop up Mrs Hughes, who looked ready to faint, when she in turn was grasped by her elbow and held back. Whirling around angrily to snap at whoever dared to stand in her way, she came face to face with her mother.

Lady Grantham had begun to wonder what kept Mrs Hughes when she had clearly heard the bell from the front door and decided to investigate. One look was all she needed to assess the situation. There was no chance to prepare Mrs Hughes for her sister's arrival for her sister had already arrived.

Glenna barged past Charles, not really seeing him, only intend on finding her little sister, her Elsie. "I'm Glenna …" she started, but trailed off the moment she saw Elsie standing by the green baize door off to the side. A huge lump formed in her throat and yet her heart lifted at seeing proof that Elsie was safe and sound. She noticed the pallor of Elsie's face and her white-knuckled hands, clutching a book to her chest like a shield. "Oh Elsie," she whispered the name like a prayer, surging forward to wrap her arms around Elsie.

Her younger sister, though, took a step back in fear and averted her gaze. She couldn't meet her sister's eyes. This was infinitely more difficult than facing Charles after her ordeal. Elsie couldn't bear the thought that she had been made different in her sister's eyes, that she was made less. Ever since their parents' deaths Glenna had been both older sister and mother figure to Elsie, always there with advice or the nudge in the right direction to put things into perspective. Elsie had always valued Glenna's opinion above all else. To now think that she was pitied or thought of as a blemish by Glenna was too much.

Elsie's eyes were fixated on her shoes and her head turned to the side. Glenna felt her heart beat frantically in her chest as she observed the fearful and defeated look in her sister's gaze the split-second they had met. It tore her very soul apart. Out of the two of them Elsie had always been the stronger one; she had left the farm in hot pursuit of a better life, she had made decisions for herself, she had earned her own money, her own reputation, her own good name. Now all that was gone, brutally ripped from her. Despite that Elsie clearly feared her judgement more.

"Oh my darling lassie," she said softly, stepping cautiously closer and gently taking the book out of Elsie's unresisting fingers. Helplessly she watched tears gathering in Elsie's eyes and then slowly falling.

Glenna wrapped her arms around Elsie as she had done countless times when they had been children and then youngsters. One arm wound itself around Elsie's waist, drawing her close, and the other hand gently pressed onto the back of Elsie's head, coaxing her to lie her head on her shoulder, stroking the soft hair while her lips pressed fervent kisses to her forehead, temple, the tip of her nose and the crown of her head.

A shuddering sob broke from Elsie as she clung to her sister, sagging in relief. No more words were spoken, none were needed, as both sisters gladly gave and received comfort and reassurance.

Cora silently pulled her daughter into the drawing room to give them privacy as Charles Carson and Brian McKenzie both appraisingly eyes each other.