Title: Taking Her Temperature
Pairing: Elsie Hughes and Charles Carson
Rating: k + for now
Spoilers: This is set at some point in the Christmas Episode so anything up to and including that is fair game.
Disclaimers: The characters belong to Julian Fellowes. I may toy with them but I always put them back relatively unscathed.
Authors Notes: This is my first foray into Downton fic. Having re-watched some of the episodes recently my muse wouldn't leave it alone. I was part way through an angsty Bates and Anna when Elsie took over. Please review if you like and have the time.

Part One

There was nothing unusual about the day, in fact since she had risen at six that morning the day had followed its familiar pattern. She had supervised the maids as they had cleaned the first floor, joining them for breakfast in the servants hall before the household awoke, then carried out inventory of the store cupboard. For all appearances she was the same slightly domineering Mrs Hughes, maybe a little bit more impatient than general, but they would never know she was feeling tired. It was only as she made her way back to her sitting room that Elsie had felt the first wave of nausea and the room begin to spin. She faltered but caught herself. As her shoes clattered along the flagstones, her fingers trailed along the wall, ever fearful that she would suddenly find herself out cold on the floor. Rounding the corner she was relieved to reach the open door of her sitting room. The settee loomed large ahead of her. Just a minute or two, she thought, I'll just take a minute or two to rest and I'll be fine. As her body sagged onto the settee she knew it was going to take a lot longer than a minute for her to feel well again.

"Mrs Hughes."

She would, she thought, remember that deep penetrating voice for the rest of her life. Timidly she raised her head to look at him. "Mr Carson."

He stepped into the small room which was solely her domain, and his presence filled the doorway. "You're laying down," he stated, his features contorted in consternation. "Is anything the matter?" Consternation turned to concern when she failed to answer immediately, her responses generally so instant and certain.

There was a second when Elsie thought about lying, making up an excuse for her impropriety, but her head was too blurry to think and she really wasn't sure how she had gotten from sitting to lying without realising. "I really don't feel at all well," she said brusquely.

Charles stepped further into the room, worry lacing his features as he recognised the tell tell signs. "We need to get you to bed."

My how she liked that sentiment. The idea of lying down in a cocoon of sheets and blankets was possibly the most appealing offer she had had in a long while. Slowly, she tried to get herself into a sitting position, her hand flying to her mouth as she felt another wave of nausea and the floor turned 180 degrees. "I'm not sure I can make it, Mr Carson."

It was practically unheard of for the housekeeper to be sick, in fact he could probably count the number of times it had happened in fifteen years of working with her on one hand. He stepped purposefully out of the room and looked up and down the corridor. Spying a hall boy he called out to him, "Fetch Anna."

The hall boy scurried as they all did whenever the butler barked an order. It was never a good thing to question the man or hesitate for fear they might awaken his bite.

"Anna and I are going to help you upstairs," he whispered softly, leaning down until he was at her eye level. She looked, Charles decided, even paler than normal and fragile. She wouldn't like the idea of him seeing her as anything but strong, but it clear for him to see that the fight had gone out of her. He mentally berated himself for not paying more attention at breakfast. Although she was petite he didn't relish the prospect of getting her up three flights of stairs, but he also didn't trust anyone else to get her there either. Charles took a fortifying breath. "Lean on me," he said gently, helping her slowly to her feet, pausing intermittently as she regained her balance.

Anna rushed down the stairs, tasks discarded at her summoning, and headed for the sitting room. She was surprised to find the butler practically carrying the housekeeper across the room.

"Ah Anna, good. Mrs Hughes has been taken poorly. Could you help me get her to bed?"

"Of course." Gently Anna eased the housekeeper's arm over her shoulder and between them they guided her out of the door and towards the stairs.

For the poor staff member who stopped in the corridor to stare there would be a fixed glare from Mr Carson to urge them on their way. Few stopped what they were doing, fewer still had the time to notice.

At the top of each flight of steps they paused, allowing each to take a breath and Mrs Hughes to settle her stomach. Her endless protests fell on deaf ears, her attempts to walk unaided a complete failure.

Finally they reached the servants corridor and the small room that had been the Elsie's since she had moved to Downton fifteen years before. It wasn't much but she had made it cosy adding her own handmade touches here and there and spreading what personal possessions she had across her dresser. As they stumbled through the door all she longed for was the tiny cast iron bed and the lumpy mattress.

"I'm going to leave you in Anna's hands," Charles said with a hint of fondness in his voice, before lowering her on to the bed with a groan. He turned to the young housemaid and asked, "Will you be alright or should I send Miss O'Brien up?"

Anna smiled and turned to attention to the housekeeper. "I think she would prefer this." As head housemaid it was her responsibility to protect the housekeeper as much as it was to protect the family, and she did not believe the woman would want half the staff knowing her personal business. While O'Brien may have had many virtues, and as yet Anna had seen very few, she did not think discretion was one of them. "We'll manage."

Elsie wanted to lie down but she knew she needed to get out of her confines. Falling asleep in her corset would only leave her with a bad back and a creased dress would only create more laundry. For a few seconds she sat there, debating how best to do it, then she remembered him standing in the doorway. "You came to see me, Mr Carson. Was there something you needed?" she asked wearily.

He shook his head firmly. Whatever had been so pressing for him to go in search of her in the middle of the morning escaped him, not that he would have ladened her with it. "Nothing that can't wait. Get some rest." He turned briefly to Anna. "When you've finished here, come find me."

"Yes, Mr Carson." She knew what was coming and although she was neither ready for the post nor did she covet it she knew she would do it to the best of her ability. Anna turned and caught sight of Mrs Hughes struggling to her feet. "Here, let me help," she said softly, taking the other woman's arm. "At least let me help you out of the dress."

With a grumble, Elsie sat back on the bed, allowing the young housemaid to unhook her dress.

Anna moved to the chair, carefully unfolding the nightgown that was sitting there, placing it on the bed. As she eased the dress up over the woman's body, she saw her eyes suddenly glaze and moved to catch her. "Mrs Hughes," she said, concern lacing her voice. Placing one hand on her back she gently lowered her onto the bed. Kneeling on the bed was the only way she could finish the task. "You just lay there and we'll make you comfortable."

Ten minutes and much consternation later Elsie was under the covers, curled up into a ball, mumbling quietly.

Anna placed her discarded clothes on the chair and pulled the curtains. "I'm going to get you some water and then I will be back." By the time she returned her charge was fast asleep so she adjusted the blankets and placed the jug of water on the night stand.