I promised you this would be updated before the 25th and once again I failed. My exams begin in 2 weeks and I've spent months preparing, however every story will be updated/finished by the end of June.
For all of you who write such brilliant stories and have updated them regularly I love you dearly because seeing your updates have eases my stress and makes me very happy.
Also, if it seems like I keep putting you on cliff-hangers the reason is that I don't quite know where I'm going with this, so anyway, irrelevant authors notes over, I hope you enjoy :)

By this point, Robert had sunk into a chair leaning his head between his knees, as if fighting off nausea. He wasn't the only one. All the women shared a look of complete horror and confusion, both the younger sisters staring fearfully at the housekeeper who was still unconscious.

"Carson is this some sort of joke?!" Lord Grantham spoke with far more rage than he had intended, shocking the room and causing jaws to drop.

"Milord…"

"Is this one of the servants, vandalising our property, making ill of our housekeeper, someones idea of fun?!"

"Papa it's real!" It was Mary who came to his rescue, her father receiving a look of frustration. "There've been stories for years, I remember them as a girl. A ghost, a phantom, of an envious woman wanting to be remembered and disposing of all those that had followed her."

Silently nodding, Edith stood, taking a place beside her sister. Whilst Mary may have been angry, Edith was frightened, she only knew the stories because Mary would tell them out of spite to scare her, endless nights she sat on her bed, knees clutched to her chest, the moon the only light in the room, too scared to move yet too scared to stay. Something about knowing they were never just stories, brought back the fear more than she could ever have imagined.

"We used to ask her, Mrs Hughes, if they were true" Edith swallowed, "but she always denied it, said they were stories, myths that weren't true. But she'd turn white, you could see it, she knew something else, but we were only children – she had to say no."

Their father merely shook his head from where he sat, information overwhelming him and the possibility of death, death in his house, losing his housekeeper and the scandal this would bring! They'd never cover it up, stories would spread of the haunted house in the Northern hills. Staff would conveniently leave, they'd never have a hope of finding another housekeeper. God knew what would become of them all.

With her hand comfortingly on his arm, Cora spoke softly to Carson;

"How long has this been going on?" Nodding her head towards the unmoving housekeeper.

"Since her birthday Milady. The story depicts that signifying the end…" Trailing off and screwing his eyes shut, he fought to keep his emotions under check, receiving a squeeze of his arm in reassurance.

She turned to her husband,

"Robert. What do we do?"

He merely shook his head again.

"We take her upstairs, Carson you can carry her can't you? Good. We take her to Ediths room, the three of us will stay with her, keep her safe. It's the closest to you Mama so you'll both be there if we need anything. She'll be safe we promise."

Charles' love for his surrogate daughter only increased at the care she was showing for Elsie, she may not love the girl as he did, but she would certainly appreciate the kindness and thought.

With the entire room in agreement and eager to leave the library, Elsie was once again in Charles' arms as he carried her upstairs, his gaze on her face the entire time, ignoring the words, the family, everything, however long he had left with this woman; he would treat it as if they were the only two in the world.

Willing for her the open her eyes, to move, just once, he conceded, she was deeply unconscious. The only hope, her faint heartbeat.

Assisted by Lady Sybil, Elsie was laid on the bed, the sisters stood back to allow Charles' goodbye. He placed a lingering kiss on her forehead, whispering promises of love and care, promises of the things they'd do when she was awake and all was fine. Promises that, probably wouldn't come true. A world of possibilities clouded over by the uncertainty of the near future.

He turned, facing the youngest of the sisters, faint tear tracks on the strong girls cheeks. Whilst Mary was his daughter, she was Elsie's. Her arms were soon around his waist, her head on his chest. She was suddenly that young girl of six again.

"I never wanted her alone," her strange words brought him to look down at her face, "the stories scared me. I never wanted her by herself. I'd spend my days making sure she was alright. But now I see, now I'm older, not being alone isn't the key. The key is to be protected, by someone with the love to fight for you. Someone who would sacrifice everything for you. They may seem like, unrealistic, childish ideologies of love but, that, is love at its most deep, the love that can conquer all."

Her words had all but shocked him to the core, this young girl speaking wisdom of which he suspected even the Dowager wouldn't possess. Such knowledge beyond her years. Yet such truth he could not deny.

Leaving with a brief smile to the sisters in thanks, he made his way down the corridor. In an ideal world he'd be staying with her, even in a chair beside her bed, he'd be with her through this ordeal and there when she woke up. But alas this was not an ideal world, their jobs made it so that ideal world was barely possible. In his dreams she was his wife, not his colleague, a Carson, not a Hughes, and by his side every day for the rest of their lives, not losing hers to a jealous creature not at rest. This was more than un-ideal, more than unfair. Hatred ran through him like nothing he'd ever felt. This evil creature, trying to tear from him the most precious part of his life, he couldn't even wish it had been him for the hurt that would come with knowing Elsies grief.

Time used to be there enemy, losing year after year, missing out on all they wanted to do together.
Now, the enemy was the shadow. The shadow, at an angle from which there was no light. The shadow, that was not his own.

He spun on his heel, tears were stinging in his eyes, Lady Sybil's words in his head. Fighting, sacrifice, this was what he had to do, the only way they would make it through this, the only way this would all be over, everyone safe, the house calm - was if he fought whatever it was taking the life out of his woman.
He faced this shadow, this creature that skulked in the dark, hidden from sight, with only it's shadow to prove its reality.

"Well? You've got what you wanted! You're remembered! But only for the wrong reasons, you gain nothing from doing this, from hurting the innocent and destroying the house! That woman you're trying to harm, she will be my wife! And I will let no one, no matter what form, hurt her!"

Last 2 paragraphs dedicated to Tee-Cup because she made me write them. Because she made me write them. I have no clue what I'm doing anymore, beware my ideas for this are becoming sadistic and it's rather scary so please review and tell me what to think; feel free to leave me ideas.

xXx