Eleven:
Secrets

October 1891

It was finally decided that Fiona would go to the village school three days a week, and on the other days, she would train as a kitchen maid with her Auntie Beryl. His Lordship had agreed to the compromise when Elsie had suggested it, which is why she had gone into the meeting with Charles in the first place.

Elsie and Charles, of course, had gone into Ripon and been horribly improper, securing a marriage license and a civil service in one fell swoop on one of their half days. They still had not shared their good fortune with anyone – not even Fiona. The housekeeper and butler, married? It wasn't done. It just wasn't. And if their secret was discovered, they would both likely be out on their ears without reference and lord only knew how they would survive, then.

It didn't keep them apart, though. Elsie was the keeper of the keys, after all, and if she wanted to, she could come through the doorway and surprise her husband in the middle of the night.

He knew everything, now; about Mrs. Potter's abuse and Elsie's former life as a farmer's wife. She knew everything; how he had performed in a stage show, how he met Alice there and they had gone their separate ways from her sister and his former partner and had become very successful in their own right. How she had been looking so very much forward to the birth of their child, only to be carried away by Bright's Disease a day after Fiona's arrival.

She wanted to tell Fiona that she was her mummy now, but the little girl was only seven – she would tell everyone and then where would they be? So, instead, she gently directed the girl as if she were still Auntie Elsie, and wished for nothing more than to hear the name 'mummy' fall from the child's lips.

She lay with her head on Charles's chest, the rest of her body flush against him as she lay atop him. They'd not exactly been careful, but there were no signs of her being with child yet, either. She exhaled a sigh and kissed his chest. Their stolen moments together were fleeting, and she did not want to leave him; but it was nearly three in the morning and she needed to be back in her room with Fiona soon.

"I don't want to go," Elsie murmured.

"I don't want you to go."

"I have to; Fiona needs me," she sighed softly.

"I need you."

"Not the same way, love," she said, chuckling.

"Mmm," he mumbled disapprovingly. "I really don't want you to leave."

"I know," she murmured, kissing him gently on the lips. "I'm sorry."

He gently swatted her on the behind. "Oh, get away with you," he sighed. "And give our darling girl a kiss for me."

She smiled and rolled off of him, going in search of her nightdress in the dark. "I do love you, you know," Elsie said softly. "So very much, Charles."

He rose from bed and embraced her from behind, lowering his chin to her shoulder and kissing her neck. "I love you just as much," he whispered. "Now, go be there for our girl, Elsie, my darling."

"You sappy sod," she teased, turning in his arms to give him a kiss. "I'll see you at breakfast, my love."

"I wish we didn't have to –"

She silenced him with a touch of her fingertips. "If wishes were horses, love," Elsie murmured. "I'll see you at breakfast."

She retreated to her room, only to find Fiona up and dressed already, looking tired, scared, and beyond anxious. "Oh my goodness," Elsie gasped. "What are you doing up already?"

The little girl started to sob and rushed into Elsie's arms. "Where were you?" she asked accusingly. "I had a nightmare and I put the candle on and it burned out and I was too scared to find another one –"

"Oh, my darling girl, I'm so sorry," Elsie murmured, holding her close. "I'm sorry." Carefully maneuvering them, she got a fresh candle and got it into the spare candlestick. Once the room was bathed in meager light, she saw just how scared the child was, and how little sleep she'd gotten. Elsie flushed with guilt; she should have been there, not with Charles. Fiona had needed her, but she had been selfish and had taken a few stolen hours with him instead.

"Where were you? I was too scared to go look for you –"

"I couldn't sleep," Elsie lied, "so I went downstairs and tried to get some work done."

Fiona's chin wibbled and she whispered, "I needed you and you weren't here. I wish my mummy was here. I want my mummy… I want my daddy – I don't want you. I don't want you!"

"None of that," Elsie said softly. "Let me plait your hair so you can go wake the others –"

"You aren't my mummy," Fiona sobbed as Elsie struggled to fix the girl's messy hair. "My mummy would have been here – I hate you. I don't want you to be my mummy no more."

Elsie tried not to take it personally; the girl was just overtired and emotionally irritable like her father. However, it still stung painfully.

"Fine," she ground out between clenched teeth. "But I'm still your auntie, and I'm still going to take care of you, darling girl…"

"Not if I tell my daddy you weren't there," Fiona said stubbornly through her tears. "He'll think you're a bad woman and he won't let me stay with a bad woman."

Elsie turned the girl around roughly and said, "Fiona Alice Carson, you will not tell stories or lie to your father. Do you understand me?"

"I hate you," the little girl repeated furiously.

Elsie held her anger back once more. "I suppose you'll want to spend the night with Beryl tonight, then?" she said in a cold, disinterested tone.

"I never want to sleep here again!" the little girl threw out passionately before she all but ran out the door with the candle.

She didn't know why, but the child's outburst shook her to the core; Elsie fell into bed, crying into the second pillow as she clutched it tightly. There would be no more sleep for her that night.

November 1891

She tried to pull the laces of her corset tighter, but her body protested and she exhaled weakly. She would never get into her dress at this rate – her new day dress had been made just exactly to her measurements in her corset and if she didn't get the last inch down, she'd never be able to fit into it. Damning herself for the extra helping at dinner last night, she gritted her teeth against the pain and yanked her laces as tightly as she could until she was short of breath and her belly strained against the fabric.

Ever since the argument between Elsie and Fiona, she had avoided Charles and the wee lass both. Fiona had begged her father to move into Beryl Patmore's room, and she ignored Elsie most studiously during the day. However, several nights had found the little girl sneaking into Elsie's room and then sneaking away again. She'd never been able to apologize to Fiona, and she felt so guilty about not being able to manage the child that she couldn't face Charles.

And adding insult to injury, she was always hungry, so she'd been sneaking food from the larder and now look where it got her…

She still couldn't fit into her dress. Elsie let out a cry of frustration and threw her hairbrush across the room in a fit of pique. Dear god, what was wrong with her –

Comprehension dawned when she looked in the mirror. "Oh my god," Elsie breathed, unable, unwilling, to hope, but instinctively knowing it was true. She had been looking at herself for weeks, denying the possibility that she could be with child, and yet –

She wore her old dress and moved with far more care, though there was a renewed spring to her step all day long.

She would have to tell Charles.

They would have to prepare for the future now.

She would have to speak to Lady Grantham.

Elsie stood outside Her Ladyship's dressing room, wringing her hands and very quietly mumbling to herself, rehearsing all the things she could say.

"Mrs. Hughes, is there something you'd like to tell me?" Lady Cora asked kindly, startling Elsie.

"I know we agreed there would be no secrets, m'lady, between us," Elsie stammered, "but –"

"But now things have changed and you have to tell me the truth," Lady Cora said, eyes twinkling. "Don't think I haven't noticed, Mrs. Hughes, how you and Mr. Carson behave with one another."

Elsie swallowed hard, knowing that she was about to be shown the door. "M'lady… I'm… I think I am – I'm with child."

"I know," Lady Cora said. "And it's Carson's child, isn't it?"

Elsie felt the blood drain from her face. "M'lady, please, don't take this away from him – he is a good butler, so very good at what he does; if anyone deserves to be punished, it should be me… "

"No one is being punished," Lady Cora said firmly. "Is he going to make an honest woman of you, Mrs. Hughes? Will he take care of you and your child?"

Elsie swallowed hard. "He already has, m'lady. We've been married since the end of July."

Cora's brow lifted in surprise. "Oh, Mrs. Hughes – Mrs. Carson – I wish you would have told me…"

"We agreed to tell you and His Lordship if there was a child – or even the chance of one – but I didn't… we've been estranged as of late, and I wasn't thinking clearly –"

"Well, rest assured, Mrs. Hughes," Lady Cora said gently, "that you will not lose your position over this. Robert and I will have words. This house cannot run without you and Mr. Carson."

Elsie nodded and swallowed, knowing that despite what Her Ladyship said, it all came down to His Lordship, and he was mired, wallowing, in tradition. "I should get on, m'lady…"

"You said you've been estranged from Mr. Carson?" Lady Cora interrupted. "Whyever for?"

"I've fallen out of favor with Fiona," Elsie said softly as she left the dressing room as quickly as her feet could carry her.

She watched Charles and Fiona during dinner, feeling her heart clench painfully. Of course, she couldn't say anything; it was not her place in public. In private, she could scream and rail and cry, but at the dinner table, they were not a family: they were the butler, his daughter, and the housekeeper.

The secretkeeper.

And Dr. Clarkson had confirmed her secret, made it a truth.

She had to tell Charles.

But she felt so frightened, so overwhelmed…

What if the babe hated her as much as Fiona did now? How could she live with herself?

She pushed away her dinner plate, leaving over half of her meal untouched. Charles glanced over with concern. "Mrs. Hughes, do you feel all right?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Carson," she assured him. "But I do have work to be getting on with."

It was much later in the evening when he knocked on the door to her sitting room. "Mrs. Hughes, may I…?"

She nodded and gestured to the settee. "I am fine, Charles…"

"But Dr. Clarkson came today to see you –"

"At Her Ladyship's insistence," Elsie said. "I am really quite all right, Charles. These things happen; she wanted to make sure I didn't accidentally do myself or the bairn injury."

He was utterly silent for a moment, then it finally sank in what she was telling him. "Oh. OH. Elsie, love, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I was so worried about our sweet girl and upsetting you that I didn't even realize until this morning when I was going to war with my new dress that I'll never be able to wear now!" She bit her lip nervously, looking down at her hands.

He gently lifted her chin and smiled at her. "Mrs. Carson," Charles said, "you've just made me the happiest man alive. You do know that?"

She blushed and spluttered a little, but began to smile as he gave her a tender kiss.

END PART ELEVEN