Apologies for the delay in posting but a busy week and the heat are distracting my muse.

Thank you for the kind comments.

Part Five

The luncheon table had been relatively quiet with the absence of both Mrs Hughes and Anna. Conversation had been even more muted than usual and without an ally in the room Charles had found himself withdrawing from the usual chatter and concentrating on his food. Once everyone had finished their meal, the table had been cleared and the staff had their list of tasks for the afternoon, he had made his way to the kitchen and collected the ready prepared tray. If he was lucky, or rather had organised everything efficiently enough, he would have at least two hours before anyone came looking for him. He intended to make the most of it.

Knocking lightly on her door, he entered the room without waiting for an invitation. The dark heavy curtains were drawn and he had to adjust to the blackness before he could make his way into the room. Quietly he crossed the carpet and placed the tray on the night stand before opening the curtains and settling himself in the armchair.

Elsie barely stirred in the bed beside him.

She looked so peaceful that he almost didn't have the heart to wake her but he knew that if he left her she wouldn't have anything to eat all day and that wouldn't help her. His eyes lingered on her face briefly before they trailed to her exposed shoulder, his mind drifting lower, forming a picture that had him swallowing hard. Although inappropriate, especially under the circumstances, he couldn't resist a solitary moment of pleasure. All too soon propriety was restored. Reluctantly, he leaned in until his face was barely inches from hers. "Elsie," he whispered, resisting the urge to brush the hair from her face and allow his fingertips to dance across her cheek. "Elsie, you need to wake up."

Her eyelids opened only to flutter shut again. "Charles?" she asked sleepily.

He smiled mildly. They rarely addressed each other on first name terms, every mindful of the professional line, but in the last few days they had found themselves slipping. It was a new and welcome change to their relationship, one he hoped would continue when she returned to work. "I brought you some soup and your medicine."

Elsie groaned, flinging her hand over her eyes. "That stuff tastes horrible."

"Dr Clarkson says it will make you feel better," he said quietly, resisting the urge to agree with her. Every medicine the doctor had ever recommended seemed to taste of aniseed, which was the last taste you wanted in your mouth when you felt sick.

"Or kill me," she grumbled sarcastically. She tried to sit up but she could barely move. In the first couple of days sleeping had made her feel rejuvenated, in the last day or so sleep only released her of her headache, nothing more. "Help?" she asked feebly.

Charles wasn't sure what to do or what she wanted. As she pushed down the sheet he realised two things – that she expected him to touch her and she was wearing nothing except her slip. He hesitated, glancing towards the door as if one of the maids might come to his rescue. But no one was going to come; he had made sure of that with his endless list of things for them to do.

"Need to lift me up," she mumbled, raising her arms a little, and gazing up at him under hooded lids, a slight red hue to her cheeks.

Charles rose steadily to his feet, slipping his hands under her arms and pulling her up into the sitting position. He held his breath until his hands finally released her body. "There you go." He continued to stare at the ceiling, waiting for her to adjust the sheets to reclaim her modesty. When she didn't move he reached over and pulled up the sheet, tucking it around her upper torso. His hands brushed her waist and his breath caught in his throat, suddenly only too aware of the feel of her body in his hands. Turning, he mentally started counting to ten, trying to dispel the inappropriate thoughts in his head; it took to thirty before he could look at her again. Unscrewing the medicine bottle he tipped a small amount of the tar black liquid into a measuring cup.

Elsie's eyes narrowed and she pulled a face as he lifted the cup to her lips but obediently she opened her mouth and swallowed her medicine. Her face contorted as it hit the back of her throat. "He really is trying to kill me."

His lips tweaked up into a grin. "And how many times have you poured that stuff down my throat?" Replacing the cup on the tray he picked up a spoon. "Are you up to some soup?"

She shrugged and grimaced as pain shot up her back. She didn't really fancy anything, not that it tasted of anything anyhow and then there was her lack of energy. In recent days Anna had taken to feeding her, offering small amounts of food as often as Elsie would take them. The idea that Charles would have to feed her unnerved her. "Where's Anna?"

"She's visiting Mr Bates. You're stuck with me this afternoon I'm afraid." He had planned it perfectly. The maids were all occupied with tasks, Thomas was in the village running errands and Miss O'Brien was spending the afternoon mending. She would, he knew, keep her eye on the girls and as much as that would normally concern him, today it didn't. All of which gave him a few hours to take care of Elsie until Anna returned. "Now are you going to be good and eat something?" he asked, waving the spoon at her. "Or do I have to find some punishment worthy of the crime?"

She gave him her famous death stare but he merely grinned back at her. "Don't you have something better to do?"

"No." He lifted the bowl from the tray and held it in his hand. "Mrs Patmore made a vat of this this morning. She's determined no one else is going to get sick." Carefully he lifted the spoon to her mouth. "It should be cool enough by now not to burn your mouth."

Elsie took the spoon in her mouth, once, twice and over again, swallowing each mouthful as he watched over her. Although barely luke warm she had to admit it didn't taste bad, just a little wasted on her.

"I brought up a book. I thought I could read to you for a while." Charles shifted awkwardly in the chair as he dipped the spoon back into the dish.

She shook her head as he lifted the spoon to her mouth once more. The bowl was still half full but her stomach was already full.

"Done?" He returned the bowl to the tray. "Do you need anything else?"

"I'm cold." Her body trembled as if to reiterate her point.

Charles looked around the room, his eyes settling on the end of the bed. Unfolding the blanket he placed it gently over her. "Better?"

"Thank you," she said almost inaudibly feeling the warmth spread through her body.

"Are you feeling any better today?" he asked, his concern evident in his eyes as he pulled the chair closer to the bed and settled himself against the arm.

She debated lying to him but thought better of it. "Not really. I feel a little better when I wake up, but then I get so tired so quickly and everything aches." She coughed as to prove her point, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Would you like me to read to you?"

"Depends what book you want to inflict on me."

Charles held up a solid bound book. "The Lost World."

Elsie scrunched up her face. "I'm not sure I'm up to that. Maybe we could talk a little." They wouldn't have long, she knew, between the needs of the household and her constant requirement to sleep. Her throat was starting to ache again but she didn't want him to leave without at least trying to talk to him.

"Okay, what shall we talk about? How about the ins and outs of downstairs?" Charles suggested ironically. Generally he tried to steer them away from the gossip and drama but he wasn't sure what else was a suitable topic of conversation for the patient.

She shook her head, for once not in the least bit interested in the household. Later she would blame it on the medicine or the illness but in that moment she didn't much care what he thought, only that she said it. She swallowed hard, her eyes fixated on the wall behind him rather than his face. "Have you thought much about what happens when you retire?"

He gave a hollow laugh. "I was planning to go out of here in a box."

"If you don't take it easy you will be," she said softly but with emotion. "I've been thinking about it quite a lot lately."

Charles didn't like the turn the conversation had taken. "I'm sure his Lordship will find a cottage for you, in the village maybe, but you have a good number of years left yet," he said, his voice betraying little of the emotions welling up inside him. The idea of leaving service was a hard enough one as it was but the idea that she was already thinking about it caused a distinct pain in his stomach. They had worked side by side for over ten years, their patterns so in synch that it felt like they had been together forever. Anna was good and professional but he could never imagine having such a relationship with her.

"I'm not so sure," Elsie said quietly as she closed her eyes briefly and opened them to look into his.

"Are you feeling worse?" He asked, mentally chastising himself for not noticing, for not picking up the signs. For a second he considered a more tragic thought than her leaving service. The pain in his stomach tightened.

"No. Yes. A little. I'm sure sleep will aid the process. I just mean I'm not getting any younger. And I do not seem to recover from these things quite as easily as I used to. There will come a point where the pain does not go away, or the stairs become too much."

"And then we'll talk about it," he assured her more confidently than he felt. Then a more frightening prospect dawned on him, causing his stomach to churn further. "You would stay around these parts?"

She rubbed her face with her hand, blocking out the intensity of his eyes, feeling light headed all of a sudden. "Of course. This is my home."

He let out the breath he had been holding in a rush of air. The prospect that she would leave the village and return to Argyll or move in with her sister was not one he could comprehend. They would of course exchange letters but they would become fewer and far between, maybe a visit in the first year, a plan to get together the next, until she disappeared from his life altogether. If she stayed it would be almost like nothing had changed.

Her hand came to rest on his, their first contact since he had moved her. "Charles," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "You can stop worrying. I fully intend to spend the rest of my days in the shadow of Downton."

His gaze fell to their hands, his heart beating a fraction faster at the contact."Thank god," he muttered under his breath.

She fell silent and he allowed them to lapse into companionable silence before he realised she had drifted off, her hand slipping back onto the bed. He pondered what to do, debating whether to stay, just to be near her, or whether to go, allowing her to rest.

Elsie opened her eyes. "Sorry, I'm not much company."

"It is me that should be sorry." He rose reluctantly to his feet. "You get some rest and I'll come back tomorrow."

"Alright," she mumbled, lolling back against the pillow. Although it wasn't. She didn't want him to leave but she knew she couldn't ask him to stay to keep her company.

Charles drew the curtains and picked up the tray, his eyes drawn to her as she tried unsuccessfully to keep her eyes open. "I'll send Anna up to check on you when she gets back." He waited for a response but found himself listening to her soft snores.