Wearily she commenced the walk up from the cottage to the Abbey. Had it really been twelve hours since she happily walked arm-in-arm with her charmingly gruff husband who'd indulged her witterings about a joyous afternoon entertaining a wee bairn? It felt like it was just a few minutes ago, no time to rest before commencing another long day after a very long night. And certainly not the long night that had felt so certain as they'd picnicked by the water.
As they'd dashed to the aid of Mr Bates through the near dusk, she could help but worry about what they'd find. Anna hadn't seemed able to explain quite what had happened, her usual calm composure lost as she gabbled about a loose stair, a distracted moment as Johnny had cried out. Time seemed to stand still as they'd made their way along the lane and then left to cut across the fields that backed onto their tiny garden. They'd found him bundled at the foot of the narrow stairs, his gammy leg caught up at a strange angle, his better one swollen and puffy. He may have been able to move himself had the space not been so tight and it had taken both Charles and a neighbour to lift him. Even that had taken some persuading as Bates insisted he was fine, an indignant Anna practically begging him to set aside his pride and let them help. The commotion had woken the sleeping child and with the constrained arguments threatening to spill over, his cries had cut through to Mr Bates' grasp of the situation and he'd finally consented. Elsie had taken Johnny away then, held him in her arms and attempted to soothe him with a nursery rhyme she remembered from her youth. It had taken a few verses of the Gaellic tale of Highland fairies but eventually she'd felt him relax and slip back into a slumber. She'd have taken him to his bed had there not been so much activity blocking the route to his room.
Elsie and Charles had waited until Dr Clarkson could be fetched in case they should be needed. They tried to make polite conversation to distract from Bates' obvious pain and embarrassment and Anna's seething anger. Elsie suspected the anger was misplaced worry but knew better than to speak of it. At last the doctor came and confirmed that nothing was broken but it was a severe sprain and bruised knee. He advised a few days of rest, confident that would see both injuries recover, with a strong emphasis on not moving. Elsie helped Anna fetch blankets and pillows to make the settee as comfy a place to spend the night as could be managed, an agreement reached that in the morning Charles would return and help Mr Bates up the stairs where he'd be forced to stay put until told otherwise. By midnight they'd felt able to leave and slowly made their way home, no words exchanged between them as tiredness started to take everything from them. Falling into bed, barely the energy to underdress let alone wash, she'd felt her husband's hand squeeze hers as she slipped into a deep sleep.
And here she was, the very picture of the perfect housekeeper ready for a day's work whilst her head and heart were quite the opposite. Damn this job and its interference, endlessly robbing her of precious moments with her husband, depriving her of sleep and, at times, her sanity. She allowed frustration and anger to consume her, fuelled by exhaustion. Her usual morning stroll turned into a march, her feet stomping as her emotions grew and grew until at last the Abbey came into view. The sight of it caused her to stop in her tracks, its golden stone almost glinting in the early morning light. She couldn't help but sigh heavily at the beautiful monster of a house that had given her everything - the love of a great man, a family to fuss over, and not the one upstairs that Charles adored but the more humble one below, and the estate that had been her home for such a long time. She knew she could never be free of it, not truly, and she felt herself beginning to calm and settle as she crossed the expansive driveway.
Looking up she could see the heavy curtains at the windows still closed as the family slept on, oblivious to the panic and worry, and yes, disappointment that had availed upon their staff the previous evening. She paused and closed her eyes, letting all that had beset them in the last few hours leave her. And when she opened them she was again the composed employee and trusted caretaker; a mother, friend and confidante once more.
Met at the door by an excited Miss Baxter keen to know how the evening had gone, Elsie tried to smile brightly as she recalled how lovely it had been, pushing away how soured it now felt. Thanking her for her role, understanding now that she'd even gone so far as to square her early departure with her Ladyship, and forgiving her the little subterfuge in the whole thing, she moved the conversation on to the day ahead. Together they planned how best to cover Anna's absence, deciding now might be the time to let one of the more experienced of the new housemaids attend Lady Mary. Baxter was encouraged by her progress and felt that a gentle word by Mrs Hughes ahead of time would soften her path and be a good experience for the young girl. Elsie consented to the plan and as she made her way to the butler's parlour to discuss the matter with Mr Barrow, she was more than surprised to see the tired face of Anna descending the back stairs.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded kindly. "Surely you don't propose to work after everything last night?"
Anna nodded, "I do and it's fine. Really. Johnny is in the nursery and Mr Bates is safely stuck at home with his leg up. He'll only drive me mad with his stoic pretence that he's not in pain and so it's better for all of us if I'm here."
Elsie looked at her utterly unconvinced. But experience told her that once Anna had made up her mind there was little anyone could do to change it.
"Well, I can't say I'm happy about it but you know best, I dare say."
"I do," she confirmed, her head bobbing in gentle defiance, "And thank you. I was so scared..." she said, her words tailing off as she recalled the events that had caused her to run for help.
"Of course you were," Elsie soothed, "But he'll be up and about before you know it."
Anna smiled grimly, "Not if I have anything to do with it," the two women sharing a look of understanding between them before going their separate ways, the tasks of the day yet to be started.
The morning hurried along at its usual pace, bells calling out from across the house and attended to, breakfast served and cleared away, beds stripped and remade, rooms tidied and cleaned, all under her keen and all-seeing eye. By late morning, Elsie was at her desk. To her left a pile of correspondence that she'd neglected in the last day or so, and to her right a growing pile of sealed envelopes as her determination to catch up won through. Nothing was urgent, it was just that she didn't like the feeling that she wasn't on top of things. With just three more letters to read, digest and respond to, she was feeling confident that all would be in order before lunch, but as her eyes drifted over the paper in her hands she realised it had come at a cost. The drama of the night before finally catching up with her as she struggled to maintain her focus, her lids heavy with the temptation of sleep. Tea, she thought, her head snapping up, that would certainly help. She kept a pot, cup and saucer in her room so as not to bother Mrs Patmore when she'd be at her busiest and therefore her most tetchy. She used to have two cups and saucers out but since Charles had retired she'd taken to keeping the second set in her desk draw. She wasn't sure why, perhaps the thought that really she'd kept it out for him, the impromptu moments they had found time to share in the middle of the day. But that time was past and whilst she and Mr Barrow worked well together, sharing tea was hardly how it was between them. She fetched the teapot from the tray, moving to step across the hallway to the kitchen, surprised to find Miss Baxter and Anna heading in her direction.
"Can we have a word, Mrs Hughes?" Baxter asked, her gentle tone as ever hard to refuse.
"I suppose," Elsie replied, a little tersely. Both of them coming to speak to her at once was hardly likely to be good news. She ushered them into her room, bracing herself, watching as the two women glanced at one another. After a few moments she felt bound to intervene.
"Well, out with it. We don't have all day," she said with her characteristic directness.
"The thing is, Mrs Hughes," Anna began, "I'm so terribly grateful for your help last night and when Miss Baxter told me that Mr Carson had a special evening planned I couldn't help but feel guilty."
Elsie went to speak, to explain there was no need, but she was stopped.
"Please, Mrs Hughes," Anna continued. "Whenever we ask you're there for us and we thought it was time for us to do something for you for a change."
"We have an idea," Baxter taking up the mantle now as her and Anna shared a smug look between them. "We thought that perhaps you'd like to take my half day which is today, and then I'll take Anna's tomorrow..."
Anna nodded, "And then I'll take yours, which will suit me well as by then Mr Bates will be dying to be up and about and will need keeping an extra eye on," she said, smiling at the truth of it. "We'll be a bit topsy turvey for a while but nothing that won't work its way through in a week or so."
Elsie was lost for words, touched by their thoughtfulness but what they were suggesting was unheard of. Time off was sacricant, planned for, looked forward to, cherished. The Crawley's were more generous than most in this regard, Mr Matthew's influence she didn't doubt, but other than lighter duties on a Sunday, half days were the only reprieve from their 16 hour days. She was being offered a gift.
"I can't," she stuttered, struggling to maintain her composure. "You're very kind but we can't set a precedent for taking time for ourselves whenever we want. What would Mr Carson say?"
Anna smiled. "Well, Mr Carson isn't here," she stated, pausing and then added, "And as he'd be a benefactor, I'm sure you could do something to placate him," a spark in her eyes to let Elsie know exactly what she meant.
The two women reiterated their insistence that the plan was a sound one, working to persuade and reassure her that they could manage and that they'd keep it quiet. Mr Barrow would have to know but that between them they had enough gossip on him that should he become difficult they'd be able to bring him around. At length, Elsie was convinced, or at least had run out of arguments, and pleased with having achieved their goal, they made their excuses to leave. Baxter went first, leaving Anna to follow. She lingered in the doorway before turning back. Elsie, who was still standing in the centre of the room trying to adjust her mind to what had just happened, looked at her questioningly.
Anna gave her a small smile of encouragement, "You deserve it, Mrs Hughes. Enjoy it," hesitating before adding, "Just make sure all the buttons get undone this time," and with that she left.
Too stunned to respond Elsie opted for collapsing into her chair. She should have called her back, spoken to her about her insolence at making such a statement, a clear breach of the standards held by the house. But as her shock wore off slightly she felt herself blush, the realisation that her top button had been open all evening for the Bates' to see and, oh God, their neighbour as well. She raised a hand to her cheek as her colour rose. How would she live this down? A giggle bubbled up from nowhere and took hold, she was a married woman and such things were acceptable, she reasoned. It was only a button after all, and Anna was a woman of the world, more so than her. The giggle grew until she was laughing quite loudly, clutching at her stomach as Mr Barrow passed.
"Are you alright, Mrs Hughes?" he asked, perturbed at the sight of a mildly delirious housekeeper.
"Oh yes, Mr Barrow. Quite well in fact," she replied lightly, enjoying his expression as he struggled to respond, deciding against further comment before moving on.
Taking a deep breath to bring herself under control, she returned to her desk, the urge for a cup of tea forgotten with this new incentive to hurry along the remaining tasks of the morning. And anyone passing would wonder what it was that had brought the hum of a merry tune to her lips.