Thirteen:
Stolen Seconds

December 1891

Elsie walked home from the train station, her valise in hand. She had been gone two weeks; the telegram from Jessop House had advised that Becky had taken very ill, and she had immediately told Lady Cora and had been on the next train, not even pausing long enough to explain the situation to Charles. It had been dire, and had she tarried, the outcome could have been much worse.

Becky had had a mild heart attack – her heart was always much weaker because of her condition – and she had begged and pleaded for her sister to come. It wasn't until Elsie was there that she rested, stopped fighting the nurses and the doctor.

Elsie had sat at Becky's bedside the first night, writing a letter to Charles, apologizing for her hasty departure and reminding him that Fiona needed new pantalettes if he could find the time to send someone to Thirsk. She'd received a reply a few days later, and she felt heartened that he was not angry with her. She had not told him about Becky's condition, just that her sister was ill, and she felt guilty for having kept this from him, but she also felt she had no choice. Not when he needn't support her sister's care; Elsie had a perfectly good income.

A lie of omission was still an untruth, however, and it weighed heavy upon her conscience.

"Sissy, you got a tummy," Becky had said one morning. "Too many berries?"

Elsie smiled and shook her head. "No, my dearest… Sissy is going to have a baby," she said softly.

"Like Sarah and Billy and Magda?" Becky asked, her eyes shining bright. "They were good babies, sissy – why'd they go to heaven?"

"Because mam needed them," Elsie murmured, stroking her younger sister's hair. "She's lonely, our mammy, and she called my bairns to her arms, to love them forever and ever, my dearest."

"She gonna take this one, too?"

Elsie shook her head. "No, Becky, mammy is not going to take this little one – I won't let her," she said softly. "I wish you could meet my Charlie. He has a little girl named Fiona – she's seven, and you would love her very much."

"Will you bring her next time?" Becky asked.

"I will," Elsie promised, even though she might not have meant it. The idea of spending so much money to bring her family to Lytham-St.-Anne's was ludicrous; especially when she hadn't even told Charles properly about Becky.

"Good," Becky said with an easy smile. "I love you, Sissy."

"I love you, too, Becky, love," Elsie whispered, still stroking her sister's hair as she went to sleep.

She'd decided on the train that she needed to come clean to Fiona, to tell her the truth: she was married to her daddy and she was going to have a little brother or sister soon. That she was Fiona's mummy, as much as anyone could be without being Alice Carson. That the baby would never change the way she loved Fiona. That she loved Charles and would never leave him if she could help it. That she missed Fiona very much and loved her just as much as she missed cuddling with her in the middle of the night, missed braiding her hair in the wee hours of the morning, missed telling jokes and puns…

She was nearly back to Downton when she realized that her appearance would probably lead to tongues wagging; she was in a heavy cotton dress and a heavyweight woolen coat that was definitely tighter across her middle than when she had left. There was no doubt that she was pregnant now; she could only hope that Charles would have taken the initiative and told the staff while she was gone, so the inevitable teasing and gossip would mostly be over. Otherwise… it would provoke an atmosphere.

She had begun to wonder if she was carrying twins, or if she had conceived sooner than she'd believed, but she'd had normal courses… It was all very frightening and confusing, but she knew that with each bairn after her first – darling Joseph, who had been born too small to survive – her body had gotten larger earlier, so she could not gauge anything with precision even now. She could be eight weeks or she could be much further than that; there was no exact science to it, and even Dr. Clarkson was guessing as to dates.

Either way, walking home from the train station in the middle of Christmas week was a daunting task, and she found herself tiring very quickly. It wasn't snowing or sleeting, but the wind was bitterly cold, and she pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, trying to stave off the chill. She was only a half a mile away from the Abbey, close enough to see it, and that kept her moving. That and the knowledge that she would receive hot tea and would be able to luxuriate in front of a fire in her sitting room upon her arrival kept her going.

She had found the perfect Christmas gift for Fiona the day before when she'd been stopped in Leeds, waiting for the morning train to Downton; a beautiful small porcelain tea set, perfect for a young girl. It had been terribly expensive, but it would serve Fiona well into her adulthood – providing she cared for it properly – and Elsie had purchased it and had it shipped on the train. It would be arriving with the other parcels for the house later in the afternoon, and then she would have to hide it away until Christmas morning. She'd also bought Charles a new Sunday suit, dark brown herringbone wool, suitable for winter. His grey tweed was beginning to show its age and she wanted him to be comfortable and happy. And, against her better judgment and superstitious nature, she had also bought a christening gown. Her heart was full of terrified hope that this pregnancy would be different; she wanted it to be different so badly that she could taste it.

She opened the door to the servants' entrance and felt abrupt and sudden warmth against her skin; it felt like home and she welcomed it with unabashed enthusiasm. She took off her gloves and headed to the kitchens. "I don't suppose you've got time to warm some water?" Elsie inquired as she caught the attention of Mrs. Oren. "It's dreadfully cold outside and the walk was awful."

"Mrs. Carson, welcome back," Beryl greeted with a warm smile as she immediately took a kettle to the tap. "We weren't expecting you till tomorrow – "

"I caught this morning's train," Elsie replied with a smile. "Thank you both for handling things while I was gone."

"How is your sister?" Mrs. Oren asked. Elsie wasn't imagining the old cook's disapproving glare, nor the frostiness in her voice.

"She is much improved," Elsie said. "How is Her Ladyship?"

"She's been fretting," Beryl said with a frown. "Worrying about you, mainly – you'd think she wasn't about to have a baby of her own, the way she's been going on."

Elsie held back a smile. "I suppose I should let her know that I've returned, then – I assume Mr. Carson is up in the drawing room with His Lordship?"

"I'll send a footman up to fetch him," Mrs. Oren said. "I think you should know, and I've discussed this with Her Ladyship already, that I am leaving just after Christmas. I do not approve of you and Mr. Carson carrying on and it is not appropriate to me that you should be allowed to do so in the house such as it has become. I'm to go to the Dower House and take over the kitchens there."

Elsie nodded and frowned. "I am sorry that you do not approve," she said quietly, "and that you felt the need to take leave."

"Beryl will become head cook," Mrs. Oren said in a cold tone. "Which, I suppose, is what you wanted all along, isn't it?"

"No," Elsie said, honestly. "I never thought to –"

Mrs. Oren held up a hand. "I will not begrudge you and Mr. Carson your happiness, but I will not condone your behavior, either. In spite of the fact that everyone else seems to think you both walk on water."

Elsie nodded, holding out her hand as Mrs. Oren passed back her chatelaine. Elsie took off her coat and secured the clip to the high waistband of her dress. She was meant not to be seen now that she was far enough along to be seen, but she refused to care. And she would be out of uniform for the rest of the day; and did not really care about that either. "Where is Fiona?"

"She's reading in the library," Beryl spoke up. "She's very anxious to see you come home, Mrs. Carson."

"I'm sure she's cross with me for not having told her –"

"No," Beryl contradicted as she busied herself getting a pot of tea brewed, "she was very upset that you had left and was scared it was because she was so mean to you. She thought you weren't coming back and cried for two days before Char- Mr. Carson told her of course you were coming back. He took pity on her and told her that you two were married and you're her mummy now; she's been waiting for you to come home ever since then."

"I don't suppose he told her that we're expecting –"

"Mrs. Carson, to be fair, he didn't tell anyone that you're with child." Beryl gestured at her and made a bit of a face. "It's a bit obvious, though, to anyone with eyes in their face."

Elsie blushed as Beryl passed her a cup of tea and a biscuit. "Yes, well –"

"How soon till we have another little Carson to love?" Beryl asked with a kind, excited smile. "And please say I can be its godmother –"

"Oh, I think you must be," Elsie said with a small smile, "even if Her Ladyship insists on being godmother, as well – which she already is." She dropped her hand to her abdomen and murmured, "Doctor Clarkson thinks April or May."

"Well, that gives us time to prepare," Beryl said. "Eloise has been helping Mrs. Oren while you were gone, and she'll be perfect to take over during your confinement."

Elsie rolled her eyes and sighed. "We'll make plans later," she said. "Right now, I just want my cuppa and biscuit, and then I want to go see my family –"

"And your husband very much wants to see you," Charles boomed as he came into the kitchens. "You should have sent word you were coming home today, Elsie," he scolded, stopping short as he took in how she looked on her kitchen stool, still in her coat and hat, happily sipping away at her hot tea.

"The post office wasn't open when I left Leeds," she replied. "I missed yesterday's train by an hour, or I might have been home last night."

He took the last few steps, crossing over to her and gently took her hand, raising it to his lips. "I've missed you," he said.

Elsie smiled and winked at him. "And I you, but we should be professional," she murmured. "Beryl is hanging on our every word."

Charles cleared his throat and said, "The doctor came earlier; he believes that Her Ladyship will be delivered shortly after Christmas."

"Oh, that's good news," Elsie said. "I know she's been anxious."

"We all have," Charles replied, gently rubbing his thumb over her hand. "I should get back up to the drawing room. Her Ladyship is in her parlor if you'd like to go up. I think she'd be glad to know you're back."

"Oh, aye," Elsie murmured, "but not before I go see our darling girl." She looked at him pointedly and smiled. "I hear she has been very anxious for my return."

"She has missed you more than I have, if such a thing is possible," he admitted. "And in your absence, Her Ladyship took it upon herself to have us moved into the Lavender Suite. Fiona has a room she'll share with the baby when it's born, and we have our bedroom and a small sitting room besides."

Elsie leaned into him, smiling and inhaling deeply; she'd missed the scent of him, so warm, making her feel protected. He smelled of silver polish, hair pomade, sandalwood soap, and fougere cologne. She closed her eyes and murmured, "I will be sure to thank Her Ladyship."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then said, "I should get back before His Lordship questions where I've gone. But tonight, I intend to hold you close and not let go."

"Oh, I will definitely hold you to that, Mr. Carson," she agreed with a smug little smile on her lips. She was ever so glad to be home, and even gladder to be loved by such a man.

END PART THIRTEEN