Eight:
A New Day

Elsie got up at a half past three with Fiona, in spite of the fact that she'd only gone to sleep what seemed a few minutes before that. As was her habit, she braided Fiona's hair into a single, delicate plait and tied it off with a scrap of ribbon from her sewing scraps. "Have a good morning, dear," Elsie murmured, trying not to show how tired and in pain she felt.

Once Fiona was gone, she collapsed back into bed, closing her one good eye, praying that the braid had been straight and that no one would judge her harshly for letting the girl out looking slovenly. Sleep washed over her like a wave, dragging her under.

The next thing she knew, she was hearing the knocks on the doors that signaled six am and Fiona's softly insistent, "It's six – time to get up." The only door that wasn't knocked upon was hers. Elsie stifled a yawn and closed her eyes again.

She hadn't yet gone back to sleep when the door opened and she heard small footfalls coming toward the bed. She opened her eye just a crack and watched Fiona grab her doll and her patchwork blanket. She turned and scurried over to the bed and lifted the covers, crawling underneath with Elsie, pressing her small body tight against hers in the confined space. Elsie felt her heart shatter; she put her arm around the girl and held her close.

"Shouldn't you be in the kitchens?" Elsie murmured.

Fiona shook her head and whispered, "Daddy and Beryl said you're s'posed to rest, Miss Elsie. I'm s'posed to make sure you do."

"Oh, my darling girl," Elsie sighed softly, stroking Fiona's hair and back. "Thank you…"

"Daddy calls me that," Fiona said with a little smile on her lips. "He says when you love someone very much, you have a special name for them. Can I call you Auntie Elsie?"

"You can call me whatever you like, love," Elsie murmured, still petting the girl, soothing both Fiona and herself with the simple, repetitive motions. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend that Fiona was one of her own bairns… and be happy for a few moments in the storm.

Charles finished dressing Lord Grantham and fought hard to stifle a yawn. He was not in the best frame of mind or heart this morning; lack of sleep and the previous night's emotional upheaval had made him snappish at breakfast. Mr. Jenkyns had commented on the absence of Mrs. Potter and Miss Hughes in an off-handed manner to the rest of the staff and Charles had almost snapped his head off.

"Carson," Lord Robert said, "last night's affair was a bloody business, but we must attempt to put it behind us."

"I am not certain I have the fortitude to forgive and forget on that scale, m'lord," Charles said. "My daughter was done injury – I still have not been told what kind, and she would not tell me – and Miss Hughes was done greater injury by trying to protect my child. I – I cannot just sweep it under the rug and pretend that nothing happened."

Lord Robert nodded and sighed. "Mr. Jenkyns will be leaving us in two weeks' time," he said. "I have need of a steady, sturdy man to become butler, and there is no one I would better have in that position, Carson, than you. For the time being, we will have to gloss over what occurred last night, if only so you would be trained and released into the position. Do you understand?"

Charles blinked. "My lord, you cannot possibly mean –"

"There is, of course, a pay rise and an additional small allowance for Fiona to remain in the household," Lord Robert said, "just as there has been in the past. I should hope that she is being prepared to go into service…"

Charles swallowed hard. "About that, my lord… I'm not certain we should set her to work in the kitchens for another year or two – especially after last night." He paused. "But I understand if you still wish it, I will make certain that it happens with the new housekeeper's approval."

"What would you suggest as an alternative?" Lord Robert inquired. "We cannot allow her to run amok unsupervised…"

"I could enroll her in the village school during the seasons, and we can continue on as before in the evenings and… I don't know, my lord," Charles said, feeling defeated. He could see His Lordship's point, but he hated that there was no clear path to take. Becoming the butler would mean longer hours, far more duties, and as such, even less time to spend with Fiona. Maybe… maybe letting her work in the kitchens wasn't such a bad thing. At least then she would have Beryl to keep an eye out for her.

"Well, think on it, Carson," Lord Robert said with a kind smile. "I know that it is a large decision that will affect the rest of her life. And I do not want you to believe that I am unfeeling – but I do want what is best for your daughter as much as you do."

"Who is to become housekeeper?" Charles asked, as if the notion had just struck him that the entire ship was unhelmed at the moment. And really, it had just occurred to him – he felt a pillock for not having realized it.

"Mrs. Hughes will be taking over as soon as the doctor deems her able to leave her bed," Lord Robert said. "Until then, Madge will be directing the maids, and you and Jenkyns will be following up on the paperwork and invoice orders. One thing I will say for Mrs. Potter – her paperwork was impeccable and all of her ducklings were in a row when she left."

Charles barely heard anything after the assertion that Elsie Hughes was going to be the new housekeeper. He would be butler and she would be housekeeper; they would be in charge, together.

Such an idea both thrilled and terrified him.

How on earth could he hide his feelings for her when they would be forced together multiple times in a day? How could he possibly keep her from seeing that he was distracted to distraction by her very presence? Dear god, she would think him absolutely a cad, unseemly, such a –

In the harsh light of morning, the kiss they had shared last night, however innocent, did not seem such a brilliant idea.

Elsie was almost asleep again. Mr. Carson had come in and checked to see that she had everything she needed for the evening, and then had set about tucking Fiona into bed for the night. But she stayed awake when she heard Fiona say, "Can you tell me about my mummy, daddy?"

There was a long pause, then Mr. Carson said in a voice thick with emotion, "Your mummy was a very handsome woman, Fiona. You know the photograph I have in my room…"

"She is very pretty," Fiona chirped.

"That was your mummy," he said. "Her name was Alice; she sang like the breath of the angels, and she was good, decent, and kind. She loved you very much and never wanted to leave you, my darling girl. She would be so very proud of you."

"How did she die?" Fiona asked.

"Never you mind that," he said. "She was very ill for a short time when you were born."

"Was it 'acause of me she died, daddy?"

"No," Mr. Carson choked out. Elsie knew from the amount of pain in his voice that he was lying, and her heart broke for him. "She loved you very, very much, my darling girl, and she looks down on you from heaven every day to make certain you're growing up strong and healthy."

"Is mummy an angel?" Fiona asked.

"I rather think she is," Mr. Carson breathed.

"Maybe she sent another angel to take care of me," Fiona murmured sleepily. "I think she sent Auntie Elsie, daddy."

"Maybe," Mr. Carson said. He was quiet for a long moment. Clearly, he thought Elsie was asleep, or he would never have said what he did. "I think she did, Fiona. I think she did."

Elsie fought to keep her breathing under control, low and shallow as though she were asleep, despite the fact that her heart was racing and she wanted to throw her arms around the lovely man and assure him that she was no angel sent from heaven. She was only a woman, and – and –

And she was in dire danger of falling in love with him.

Love meant pain.

Love meant making love.

Love meant more pregnancies, more chances to lose everything –

She could not give in. She could not let anyone have that much control over her ever again.

Even after he left, she sat awake, praying for something to steady her, to calm her, to make her whole again.

Elsie could not believe in a god so cruel that he would force her to relive her nightmarish memories all over again.

END PART EIGHT