A week in the sun seems to have worked wonders for my muse. The final chapters are written and almost tweaked so this should be complete by the end of the week. Hope you enjoy.

Part Seven

Anna woke to the sound of soft mumbling. Briefly she wondered where she was then it all came back, the late night knock on her door and her willingness to sit with the sick woman. As she opened her eyes and adjusted to the dimness of the room, she had to admit it was the least fitful nights sleep she'd had in months.

The woman in the bed was thrashing about, her hair no longer secure in her braid, her face glistening with beads of sweat, her hands colliding with the furniture around her.

Anna rose to her feet, regretting her sudden movements as her back creaked, and moved to the bed. Dropping to her knees, she placed her hand on the housekeeper's forehead, snatching it away almost immediately at the intense heat she felt. The mumbling became louder as the agitation increased, words and names Anna recognised jumbled with nonsense. Gently Anna began to stroke her hair, whispering words of calm, holding her hand, as the older woman had on many occasions for her. After a while it seemed to calm her mildly and she continued to sleep.

The sharp rise in temperature and the agitation was enough to concern Anna greatly, enough to circumvent a few of Mrs Hughes rules. With a small concerned backwards glance, Anna crossed the corridor and rapped on the nearest door. When there was no answer after a second knock, she entered the room and made her way to the bed.

"Daisy," she whispered, her voice rising slightly at the lack of response, the prodding becoming more violent. "Daisy, wake up."

"Anna?" eventually came a drowsy mumble.

"I need you to get up."

The cocoon rolled over and a pair of eyes peeked out at her. "What time is it? Did I sleep in?"

"No, I need you to get me some water and towels." Anna got back to her feet. "Mrs Hughes is worse, much worse."

The connotation that Anna's words had seemed to arouse Daisy from her sleepiness. Throwing back the covers she almost bounced from the bed and threw on her dress, her corset forgotten. "How bad is she?" The words though softly spoken were fearful.

Anna shook her head, "I don't know. But I'm going to call for Dr Clarkson." Leaving Daisy behind she headed down the corridor but had only taken a few steps when she turned and walked back to the locked door between the male and female quarters. Lifting the key from its hook she unlocked the door and took the first step over the threshold. She was about to break her third rule of the night and although the thought fleeting crossed her mind she didn't much care.

"What are you doing?" Daisy asked, her voice revealing her dismay.

"Ssh. Getting Mr Carson. Daisy. Go." Anna hesitated only momentarily before knocking on the Butler's door as loudly as she dare, the urgency of her mission the only thing on her mind.

It was less than a minute before the door opened and he stood before her in his pyjamas, hair sticking out in all directions, red faced. The bluster faltered as he caught sight of Anna in her nightgown, barefoot, brow furrowed. "Anna? What's happened?"

"I think we need the doctor." She turned on her heel and headed back into the female corridor, her worries halved, knowing that he would know what to do.

Charles followed her back to Mrs Hughes room, his chest pounding at what he might find there. He took one look at the ghost of a woman in the bed and retreated from the room, almost knocking over Daisy as he hurried toward the stairs.

/

When the staff awoke they were surprised to find the door between the corridors open and Mr Carson fully dressed standing in the doorway to the Housekeeper's room. By the time the household awoke, the staff were already part way through their day and Charles was standing in the great hallway, staring up the stairs.

"Mr Carson," the Earl said, making his way down the stairs, Isis at his feet, "Thomas tells me that the doctor is here."

"Yes M'lord. Mrs Hughes took a turn for the worst in the night."

"Is she alright?"

The words 'no, God damn, she looks like death' lingered on his tongue but he swallowed them. "The doctor is with her, as are Mrs Crawley and Anna. Anna woke me around four and we called for him straight away."

"Isobel is here?" The surprise was evident in his tone but he couldn't help himself. It was not yet nine and his cousin was already in the house, and acting as a nurse. The hows and whys were a little more than he was willing to ask, better that he leave that for his wife.

Carson nodded. "Dr Clarkson thought she would be of some assistance so we sent the car for her."

"Maybe you should be up there," he offered thoughtfully. "We can manage breakfast without you just this once."

"I have been banished, M'lord," the Butler stated flatly, his face conveying his thoughts on that.

A smile crept across the Earl's face despite the situation. "Dr Clarkson? Ah, Isobel banished you?" he said, his grin widening. As fond as he was of his cousin he was more than aware of formidable she could be. Poor Carson he mused.

"She didn't think Mrs Hughes would want me to see her in that way," Charles mumbled, his cheeks taking on a slight red hue of embarrassment.

"Nothing to do with the look of panic on your face."

"M'lord?"

The Earl waved his hand, dismissing the comment. "Have Dr Clarkson come through to the dining room when he's finished upstairs. The least we can do is feed him breakfast. Mrs Crawley too."

"Very good, M'Lord. I'll have one of the footmen lay the extra places."

Twenty minutes later the door to the dining room opened and Isobel and Dr Clarkson entered, both fully dressed in business attire, both looking as though they had been up for hours.

"Isobel," Robert said, rising to his feet and moving to greet her. "Please join us for breakfast." He turned his attention to the doctor, acutely aware of the fidgeting movement in the corner of the room as the Butler tried to restrain himself from enquiring what was happening. "Doctor, my apologies for calling you out at such an early hour."

"It is no trouble, your Lordship."

"How is Mrs Hughes?" Robert asked kindly, his concern genuine.

"Anna is running her a cool bath and then she and Mrs Crawley are going to put Mrs Hughes in it. Her fever has become dangerously high, spiking at a point which I would deem unsafe. If we cannot break it soon then I fear there may be lasting complications."

"You have something to ask, Carson?" Robert asked, mildly amused by the distraction of the Butler at the edge of the room.

Carson cleared his throat and shuffled forward. "Would it not be better to transfer Els . . .Mrs Hughes to the hospital?"

"There would be little point. There is nothing the nurses there could . . ." the Doctor started.

"Nothing?" he interrupted, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper.

"What I meant to say is that everything that could be done there is being done here. Mrs Crawley has kindly offered to monitor Mrs Hughes for the next few hours. If her fever hasn't dropped by then we may need to rethink our treatment plan."

"She seemed to be getting better."

"Yes, that would be the usual course. A sudden onset followed by two or three days of the patient feeling particularly unwell and then a few days to regain their strength. Its unusual for there to be so many peaks and troughs but then it could be that she has in fact picked up several viruses in a row. I have seen this before and it is usually brought on by associated exhaustion or a weakened immune system."

"God knows she doesn't give it a rest," Carson mumbled earning himself a few raised eyebrows from around the table.

"Maybe she feels she has something to prove to you," Mary offered gently, sipping her tea and watching him carefully over the top of her tea cup.

"Mrs Hughes is a most capable Housekeeper. Her work ethic is second to none," he snorted, rushing to defend her.

"Second to you. Maybe it is time you both took it a little easier."

He grumbled something inaudible.

"It will take her some time to get back on her feet which should mean she gets the rest she needs," the doctor added, placing his plate on the table and taking a seat opposite Isobel.

"It won't be a problem," Charles started then stopped as his Lordship turned to stare at him. "I'm sorry what I mean is that Anna is doing a fine job, your Lordship. She is more than capable of holding the fort and I am dealing with the invoices."

"I am well aware of that, Carson. But what happens when you two wear yourself into the ground?"

Charles stared at his feet, unsure how to respond without sounding improper.

"Let's hope the status quo is returned by then," Isobel interjected, shooting Carson a smile, "Or we're all have Mrs Hughes to answer too."

He allowed himself a small smile in return. God help them all if Elsie returned to work and he hadn't taken proper care of Anna or himself.

/

Charles turned the corner into the female corridor and walked purposefully towards the Housekeeper's room. He hesitated at the door and turned to walk back towards the stairs. Seconds later he turned on his heel and headed back towards the door. He almost changed his mind again but the door opened and Isobel appeared before him. He started. "Mrs Crawley."

"Mr Carson?"

"I was coming to check on Mrs Hughes?"

Her lips curled upwards into a smile. "That's why you've been pacing up and down for the last ten minutes."

He had the good graces to look sheepish.

Lightly she patted his arm. "Her fever is still high but it has fallen mildly. I was just going to fetch another wet towel." She indicated the dry ball of towelling in her hand. "You can go in if you wish."

"I wouldn't want to disturb her," he acknowledged when in truth he needed nothing more than to know she was alright.

"She's sleeping." Isobel pushed the door open further into the room. "Quite peacefully I can assure you."

Charles peered round the door and focused his eyes on the bed. A pool of covers spilled over the end of the bed as she lay on her back with a single white sheet draped over her tiny frame.

"I will be back shortly."

As Isobel headed to the bathroom, Charles took a step into the room and hovered at the end of the bed. She looked better than she had that morning, colour one more flushing her cheeks. Her hands at her side looked almost translucent against the sheet and her hair clung to her face in wet curls but she looked like Elsie again, not the ghost he had awoken to that morning. The room was silent except for her breathing and he found himself caught in the gentle rhythm. Desperately he wanted to touch her, but it was risky under the circumstances, instead he gripped the end of the bed, listening intently to the breathing, watching as her chest rose and fell.

"I will tell her you called when she wakes up," Isobel announced, silently returning to the room. "She is really much better," she added softly. "You can stop looking quite so panicked."

Charles turned to look at her, finally tearing his attention from the sleeping woman at her last comment. "Is one not to be concerned for ones contemporaries?"

"Of course Carson, but for a man who by the very nature of his employment is supposed to hide his emotions, opinions and thoughts, you are not today doing a very good job," she offered matter-of-factly but without a hint of annoyance.

He flushed despite himself.

"But you do not need to be so concerned, she is on the mend. I will stay her with her this afternoon, and again tomorrow if necessary. Anna will stay with her through the night." There was so little purpose for her some days and her skills had not been needed for some time. This was a chance for her to be useful and she intended to make the most of it.

"Thank you," he said, his voice catching in his throat at her generosity.

"Now you should get back to work. I don't think either of you would appreciate it being known that you were here while she was in this state of undress." She gave him a small smile and took the armchair by the bed, tucking her feet under her as she settled in for the afternoon.

"May I send up something for you? Some tea? A sandwich?"

"Thank you, Carson. That would be appreciated."

Charles took one last look at the patient and turned to leave, his footsteps lighter as he headed back to work.

/

He knew he was being more ferocious than normal, but not only did he not care, he also knew no one would call him on it. "I will not have this sort of talk at the table," he finally barked, shooting Thomas and O'Brien a look that he felt sure would garner him little argument. He was wrong. Thomas could not resist one final dig.

As Charles began to rise from his seat, his angry flooding his senses, a red hue flushing his skin, he felt a small delicate hand come to rest on his arm. For a second he allowed himself to believe it was hers. Then he remembered and his whole body began to sag in memory of where she was and what was going on.

"We've all finished, Mr Carson," Anna said, her voice calm and soothing. "How about I get Daisy to bring you some tea in your pantry?"

He turned to look at her, about to protest that he did not want or need tea but she continued unperturbed by his angry expression.

"We won't be needed upstairs for a little while. I can go check on Mrs Hughes before the gong and allow Mrs Crawley to go home, then see to the girls."

He nodded, no longer wanting to argue with her, thankful for the chance to escape. Rising abruptly without a word to anyone he headed towards the pantry.

"I hope Mrs Hughes gets better soon," Sarah O'Brien announced. "I'm not sure how much more any of us can take."

"Right now I'd just settle for her getting better," Anna commented with a sigh. "As I'm sure does he." She rose herself and turned to the maids at the table. "As you heard I'm going to be engaged for the next hour or so. Please clear and then get ready to assist Mr Carson with dinner." She walked purposefully into the kitchen. "Daisy, be a love and take Mr Carson some tea."

"She's busy with dinner," Mrs Patmore grumbled, lifting the heavy pan of potatoes off of the stove. Carrying them to the sink she turned on her way, taking in Anna's demeanour. "How bad is he tonight?"

"Bad! I think he was intent on doing Thomas physical harm a little while ago."

There was a deep groan before Beryl tipped the potatoes into the colander and turned to the young scullery maid. "In that case, Daisy, go. You look like you could do with a cup yourself," she stated, giving Anna the once over.

Anna shook her head. "No time. I need to check on Mrs Hughes before I dress the girls."

"If you're not careful you'll end up in bed yourself."

"What's a bed?" she asked with a smile.

/

Charles shut the pantry door firmly with a resounding thud and made his way around the desk to his chair. He was usually so much better at controlling his emotions, although really he wasn't. It had taken Elsie's illness to remind him of the all the little things she did for him - a reassuring hand on his shoulder when times were bad, her hand on his arm to calm him, tea in her sitting room when he needed to vent his emotions. Although Anna tried, she lacked the one thing that made it work, she wasn't Elsie.

There was an almost timid knock and Daisy appeared, a tray in hand. "Anna said to bring you some tea," she announced, placing in on the desk and backtracking towards the door.

"Thank you, Daisy," he said to her fleeing form. The poor girl looked almost petrified as she bolted. There would be plenty of chastising and teasing when Elsie returned to work, of that he was certain, and somehow he was going to have to make it up to them, she would make sure of it. Maybe a night at the pub, he thought, while the two of them held the fort. He allowed himself a small smirk at the thought of a evening alone with her away from prying eyes and earning himself some brownie points at the same time.