Elsie smoothed a stray hair back under her cap, straightened her shoulders. Her neck was still tight, but better than a few minutes ago. She knocked on the housekeeper's sitting room door. She felt excited, but wasn't quite sure why.

"Come in," Mrs. Davis' rather deep voice issued from the room.

"Mr. Carson said you wanted to see me, ma'am," Elsie stood a few feet from the doorway. Mrs. Davis' tiny, tidy form was seated at her desk, her white-streaked faded blond hair bent over a ledger.

"Ah, Elsie, yes," Mrs. Davis responded, not lifting her head from the figures in her books. "Please, pour yourself some tea and sit down." She gestured to the tray on the sideboard, which also contained some small ginger biscuits. Elsie helped herself to the unexpected treat and sat across from the older woman.

Mrs. Davis finally set aside her pen, her fingertips dark with ink, and regarded Elsie with her watery blue eyes. She got up and made her way to the tea tray, her compact body moving with purpose, even during the most mundane task. Elsie knew she must be sixty, at least, but she moved like a much younger woman.

"Well, Elsie, I am glad we have this time to speak on our own," she settled herself behind her desk. "Tell me, how do you feel about your time at Downton thusfar?"

Elsie was slightly nonplussed. Usually her conversations with her superior were extremely specific, focused on a task, event or staffing issue that need addressing and resolution swiftly and fairly. This rather sweeping, open-ended question wasn't something she was used to. She felt unsure how to proceed. Mrs. Davis seemed to understand.

"My apologies, I will be clearer: have you felt that your time here has been industrious, time well spent? Do you find yourself well-suited to a life of service, and all that may come with it?" The older woman leaned back in her seat.

Elsie could manage now. She wasn't sure where this was going, but a path was emerging, one she could venture onto. "Well, Mrs. Davis, my work here at Downton has been rather rewarding. My placement before this, as you know, was in a house far less grand than this, with a less grand family. Frankly, I feel like every day allows me an opportunity to learn something more, to expand my knowledge." She paused, wanting to say more, but unwilling to continue without encouragement.

"Go on," Mrs. Davis prompted.

"And ma'am, on a personal and practical level, my wages and position have been enormously helpful to my family. My mam cares for my younger sister, Becky, on her own. Becky…" Elsie trailed off. The space inside her heart where Becky resided was tender and hard to reveal.

"Yes, your sister is…troubled," Mrs. Davis seemed to be searching for the right word.

"That's the thing, ma'am," Elsie replied, finally relaxing a little. "Becky, she feels no trouble, really. A sunnier soul you'll never meet. She has the heart and mind of a small child, full of wonder and love. Her trouble is ours, my mam's and mine, to bear." She couldn't remember saying so much about her sister since her initial interview and correspondence with Mrs. Davis, and she certainly didn't discuss her sister with anyone else at Downton, save her dear friend Margie, another housemaid.

"That's why I hired you, do you realize, Elsie?"

"How do you mean, Mrs. Davis?"

"Running a house like this, it's not just about ledgers and kitchen stores and managing grand events, though to be sure, that's all part of it. The real job here is exactly what you have always done, for your family: vast responsibility combined with deep dedication to the people who work here. Yes, our masters are grand and important, to the rest of the world. But in order to run this house, you must also value those who keep it running."

"Ma'am, if I may be so bold, I will say that you embody that ideal quite precisely," Elsie felt herself blush, uncomfortable expressing affection for this kind but no-nonsense woman.

Mrs. Davis set her tea aside, and Elsie was startled to see the older woman's eyes shiny with unshed tears. "That means more than you can know. I have given over forty years of my life to this house and its people – all of them, upstairs and down – and now, it's time I rest. Which is why I want you to take on the position of housekeeper."

Elsie felt the air leave her body. She gripped the worn wooden edge of Mrs. Davis' desk. "Pardon?"

"I didn't mean to startle you, Elsie," Mrs. Davis began, gently taking the younger woman's wobbling tea cup from her shaking hand. "I can see I have taken you off-guard. But…tell me. Have you not ever wondered what it would be like, running this place?"

Elsie gathered herself. What Mrs. Davis was asking, well, honestly, she had thought about it, in passing, as she lay in the narrow bed in her quarters, listening to Margie's soft snoring. In those magical, murky minutes before sleep engulfed her, she imagined herself, capless, in a smart, staid dark gown, keys dangling from her waist, directing the staff preparing for a fabulous ball in the grand hall. She also imagined herself helping Joe Burns unload feed for livestock, their children clamoring around her cotton skirts. She also imagined Becky's flat, wide-eyed, beloved face, dotted with freckles, pointing up to the sun, somewhere safe and happy, once their mam was dead and gone.

"I have," she finally sighed. "I have, ma'am, and I admit…I wondered if it wasn't something that might happen, eventually, if I were to stay at Downton for a long while. I suppose I am surprised you are planning on retiring this early." She finished hastily, not sure if she'd overstepped her bounds.

Mrs. Davis let out a rusty chuckle. "I am sixty-four years of age, m'dear. I have been in service for fifty years, forty-three of them in this very house. It does not feel 'early' to me, Elsie."

"Of course not, Mrs. Davis. It's the timing, you understand? Some things…some things in my life are a little unsettled as of now. I suppose…I suppose I will have to settle them, one way or another," she finished, raising her hands in a half-shrug.

"A young man, is it?"

"Yes, in part. Though neither of us are as young as we were when we first stepped out together," Elsie thought of Joe, his easy smile, his sunburned lips on hers, a few stolen kisses behind the church hall. "When I first went into service, in my last position, we had an understanding. I would…earn…until I was 'round thirty or so. That was for Becky, to secure a place for her, once our mam was gone. Joe, he was willing to wait for me, and was willing to pitch in for Becky's care, once I had laid a foundation for her. He's a good, solid lad, Joe Burns. Though he's no more a lad, than I am a lass, anymore."

"No, Elsie, you are no longer a lass," Mrs. Davis stood, and so did she. "You are a woman now. And you must determine: what does this woman's life look like? If you turn down this position, nothing more will be said of it; you may continue employment here as head housemaid as long as you see fit. But I would like you to strongly consider what I am offering. We can never really be certain of the shape of our lives. We can only choose a path, and do our best when the terrain becomes difficult. Now. Off you go, they'll be clamoring for supper any minute."

Elsie walked towards the door, her heart and head a jumble. "Thank you, Mrs. Davis. I will not take this offer lightly. I will tell you, latest, tomorrow morning what my plans are."

"Thank you, Elsie. And perhaps, by tomorrow's supper, I will be calling you Mrs. Hughes." And she closed the door, leaving Elsie standing in the hall, shaking.

"Mrs. Hughes," she whispered, tasting the words. And laughed quietly, hurrying off to the work that was always waiting.