A/N: This story got a second-wind, so I thought I'd finished but found a new road to go down so, as long as you're still reading there will be more to come! Who knows maybe it'll lay the foundations for a historical fiction novel . . .anyway, thank you, as always for all your lovely comments and thoughts. I just adore all of you so much.


He watched as she emerged from the bathroom, her hair damp and a blanket of terry cloth pressed tightly against her body. He rose from his seat by the window and moved to close it, drawing the drapery closed as to keep out the evening's chill. He lowered himself back down in his chair and reached once more for his book — only to find himself distracted by the sight of her across the room, the towel gently falling to one side, revealing the top of her breast.

He knew little of a woman's body in theory, even less about fertility and pregnancy, but he couldn't help but marvel at how her figure had adjusted to the task of growing a child. How marvelous it was that by instinct and perhaps a brushstroke of divinity, she could nurture the seed of love into a human being, a child to be cherished by them life long.

It sparked in him perhaps a historic desire to protect her — where as before he had been compelled to touch her skin for the rush of electricity and passion that consumed him, now he reached for her with a different kind of affection. A warmth and assertion of safety. Suddenly the world seemed terribly frightening to him — everything a potential threat. It was all he could do not to follow her around minute by minute, a few steps ahead, assuring that the seas parted in her favor wherever they went.

She looked over her bare shoulder at him and blushed.

"You'll be pleased to know I didn't drown in the bath." She teased, pulling the towel closer to herself.

He smiled; though she teased him, he knew that late at night when she awoke in a panic, her dreams unraveling into a state of horror, he would be there to take her into his arms and chase the demons out.

"Shall I fetch you tea before bed?" He asked, draining the cup he had been nursing for the evening. He set it back down on the saucer and stood, watching as she began to pull a comb through her wet hair.

"No, love, I think I'm settled—" she chuckled to herself, reaching up to untangle a knot, "The less I have to drink, the longer I'll sleep without interruption."

Brush in one hand, Elsie reached into the wardrobe and pulled out her nightgown. She wrapped it around herself, careful to keep the towel pressed against her until the last possible moment, and he had a mere glimpse of her round belly before it was covered by her flannel.

She yawned as she sat down on the bed, continuing to brush out her hair. She looked up at him and grinned, wrinkling her nose at him.

"You've something on your mind, Charles?" She asked, eyes sparkling, "Or did you just forget which way the kitchen is?"

He shook his head and smiled, "I was just thinking about how quickly the time has gone. It seems like only yesterday you had the letter from Dr. Clarkson."

"Maybe time's flown by for you but I can assure you it feels to me as though this bairn will never come," she sighed, patting her stomach affectionately.

He leaned forward, his tongue nervously running along his bottom lip. "You aren't — I mean, you are so mindful to cover yourself — I'm just — do you feel as though it's improper for me to see you in your current state?" He furrowed his brow at her, "I feel as though you are wont to hide it from me — as though, perhaps, you think me fearful or —" He searched harder for the sentiment, but couldn't seem to find it, "I don't know, perhaps ashamed or upset or —"

He looked down at her. She had stopped brushing her hair, allowing the brush to rest in her lap. Her eyes downcast, he suddenly worried that he'd upset her, and as he opened his mouth to apologize, he heard her sigh.

"Squeamish, perhaps." She said, lifting her gaze but keeping her head low. "I suppose I just feel as though you'd just as well not know about the bairn until it takes its first breath. That seems to be His Lordship's way."

Charles nodded, "Well, I admit my knowledge of a woman's work is limited, but I am ever the eager pupil."

She didn't speak. He took a few steps toward her, "Do you think me disinterested in how you're feeling? I can assure you I am always most interested in your well-being."

"Oh, I know that." She said, lifting her face, "I suppose I'm just afraid you'll be —" she winced slightly, "Disgusted, maybe."

He sat down next to her on the bed, resting his hand on her thigh. "I couldn't be disgusted with you — certainly not when you're mere weeks away from bearing my child."

"Even though we're wed, I still feel somewhat of a scandal, bringing a bairn into Downton how we are." She rested her hand atop his, "I suppose we've a right to have our own life but — I suppose I worry that now you'll feel as though you've to choose."

"Choose?"

"Between your life at Downton — and you're life with me."

He frowned at her, "I suppose I could have said the same thing to you when I asked you to marry me. Did you feel you had a choice to make then?"

She smiled nostalgically, "If I did it wasn't a difficult one to make."

He kissed her cheek, "Well then — there's the answer to your quandary."

He rose, heading for the door — but her voice stopped him just as his fingers grasped the doorknob.

"Charles, if we stay on you've to promise me one thing."

He turned to face her. She was sitting in bed, hands resting atop her stomach, which stretched forward with such ferocity that he couldn't fathom how they still had several more weeks before the baby would arrive. He let go of the doorknob, taking a few steps toward the bed.

"Alright," he said, his eyes softening. She sighed, letting her gaze fall from his. She lifted a hand from her stomach and ran it along the backside of her neck, which had begun to ache.

"The child must go to school. They won't go into service."

He held her gaze for a moment, careful not to let her see that he was hurt by her certainty — he detected, perhaps, a slight resentment. "Schooling I most certainly agree with but. . ." he licked his lips thoughtfully, "Why do you feel so vehement about service?"

"If I'm going to bring a bairn into this world, a world that's changing so fast Charles, they've got to be able to survive — " she exhaled a shuttered breath, "Long after we've gone and there's no one in the world to look after them."

He sighed, sitting down next to her on the bed. He carefully placed a hand on her stomach, "And you don't think they'd find that in a house like Downton? Didn't we?"

She offered him a small smile, "I suppose we did — but I don't know that there are any other houses like Downton." She placed her hand atop his. The baby kicked and they both looked up, catching each other's eye. Looking wide-eyed at one another for a moment until finally, relieved and also quite tired, Elsie dissolved into a fit of giggles. She leaned forward, trying to catch her breath, and pressed her forehead to his. He wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck.

She smelled faintly of sandalwood and honey.


Elsie knew she was daft to think that Miss Roux wouldn't mention her outburst to Lady Grantham. She'd hardly set foot in Her Ladyship's bedroom that evening before Cora began her inquisition.

"Hughes — is Aoife alright?"

Elsie swallowed, "Yes, m'lady."

Cora flustered, "Well, Miss Roux said that you removed her from her lessons in quite a huff today — I wanted to be sure that nothing was wrong."

"She was just a bit under the weather this morning, m'lady." Elsie said, quickly fabricating an excuse, "I thought better of letting her stay in the nursery with the young ladies if she could be running a temperature."

Unconvinced, Cora narrowed her eyes at Hughes. "You're telling the truth?"

Elsie pursed her lips, unwavering. "I reckon it's only a cold, m'lady." Forcing a terse smile, she walked over and began to remove the pins from Cora's hair. As she watched her Lady's Maid in the mirror, Cora saw on her face the strain of motherhood — and though she wanted to press further, she resisted. Perhaps if she talked around the matter she could corner Hughes into a proper confession.

"Miss. Roux has had wonderful things to say about Aoife. She's very bright." She watched Hughes in her reflection for a response — but she remained unflinchingly stern. She near looked angry. "I wasn't the least bit surprised — she comes from very good stock."

She smiled, but Elsie's face remained blank. She took the last pin from Cora's hair — a bit roughly—and went to fetch her dressing gown. Cora found herself irritated with Hughes' silence, and she stood, knocking her dressing table as she did, sending the pins onto the floor.

"Out with it, Hughes." She said. Elsie looked down at the pins and hastily moved to pick them up, but Cora stepped in front of them, cutting her off. "Don't mind those — tell me, what is the matter with you? I know I've caught you in a lie - and I'll forgive you that if you tell me, at once, what's really bothering you."

From where she knelt before Cora, Elsie looked up at Her Ladyship in shock. It was rare that Cora rose her voice to anyone, even staff, and she felt her face flush at the realization that she'd managed to bring her to such a boiling point.

"B-beg pardon, m'lady—" Elsie stuttered, quickly getting to her feet, "I didn't mean to be cross —" She felt tears of frustration and embarrassment stinging her eyes. Oh, you twat, don't you dare cry. Not here.

Cora sighed, lowering herself back onto the settee, "I think I know precisely what it is, Hughes." She reached for her hairbrush and turned back to the mirror as she handed it to Elsie. "It's Mary, isn't it?" She sighed, "Come then - what's she done?"

Cornered, Elsie felt her hands begin to shake as she took the silver hairbrush from Her Ladyship and slowly pulled it through Cora's long, raven hair. She gathered thoughts, listening as the brush caught on a snarl — the rough snag snapping her to attention.

"It's not Lady Mary, m'lady. Aoife's just. . .she's got the idea in her head that she will be Mary's lady's maid when she's grown up."

Cora smiled knowingly, "I suppose Mary is already planning to succeed me as Countess of Grantham, then."

"It appears so," Elsie said.

"Well, that's all just a child's imagination —" she looked up at Elsie, "Was Aoife upset by it?"

"No, m'lady — but I think I was."

"They're just little girls playing make-believe."

Elsie sighed, "I suppose I just don't want Aoife to grow up assuming that she's to follow the path as her Ma and Da. . ." She let her hands fall from Cora's hair, "It's natural, I think, to want better for your children." She tensed, catching herself, "Not that I'm ungrateful for my position here, m'lady — I love my work—as you know I was married to it for many years, and I take pride in it —" She swallowed, trying to catch her breath, "But the world is changing m'lady."

She felt humiliated by her rambling — it wasn't the time nor the place for it, but it had been weighing so heavily upon her that she couldn't help but feel relieved. She stared down at her hands, which still clutched the cool silver of Cora's hairbrush. She didn't dare look up — she held certain fear that she would soon enough be reprimanded.

"I can hardly flog you for wanting the best possible life for your child, Hughes." Cora said softly, rising from the settee and heading toward her bed. Elsie moved swiftly to turn down the covers, but Cora turned and gently stopped her. "You'll recall, Hughes, that I was not born into the title of Countess — not like Mary is—destined for by blood." She sat down on the bed and gave Elsie a relaxed grin, "If my mother hadn't wanted more for me than she had — even though she had a great deal—I wouldn't be sitting here now would I?"

Elsie exhaled. It shouldn't have surprised her that Her Ladyship was empathetic. After all, she wasn't like the other aristocrats Elsie had known in her life — Cora Crawley had grace, and she wore like handsome jewels around her neck. All she could do was nod graciously and return Cora's friendly smile.

"I appreciate your understanding, m'lady. You have been so very good to me — and to Charles. And Aoife. If I thought that Aoife would have a place like Downton to make a life at, I wouldn't ever lose another night's sleep over her future."

Cora shook her head, "You say that Hughes — but just wait until she begins to have suitors."

Outside, rain had begun coming down in sheets. The soft patter pinged against the window as two women— mothers—giggled quietly, echoing its staccato notes.


A/N: Shhhh, no worries, more angst / resolution / angst / smut to come! Don't mean to drag it out terribly but I don't want to upload the entire document at once now do I?! ;)