Sixteen:
Home Truths

March 1900

Elsie curled up against Charles, humming a little as she snuggled into his embrace. "I want to go see Becky," she murmured. "She's been writing and asking for ages, but I've not had the time."

"Has she fallen ill again?" he asked.

Once a year, sometimes twice, Elsie was contacted by telegram to please hurry to Jessop House, and he never questioned it, just gave her the money for train tickets and a hotel room, and he sorted everything out with the Granthams in her absence. In October, it had been pneumonia, bad enough that Elsie had been terrified that her sister would not make it. She'd been away until mid-November and had come back to Downton absolutely shattered.

"No," Elsie murmured.

Nearly nine years of marriage, and she'd still not found the courage to tell him about Becky. They'd held each other through the best and worst of times; three babes lost, a minor fire that had destroyed the last of Alice's things and most of Elsie's, and Fiona's very trying change into a young woman… but she still could not bring herself to tell him about her sister. She supposed she was trying to protect Becky from the inevitable pointing fingers and jeering laughs – even though she did not for a moment believe her Charlie to be so cruel. But he did not tolerate things well that he did not understand.

"Then… shall we plan for a few days at the sea and take Fiona along?" he inquired.

"You'll be leaving for the season soon," she reminded him sadly.

"All the better to do it now," he rumbled. "The house will not collapse around our ears if we take a few days off."

"Charles… there's something I must tell you."

He paused, then said, "I thought that rubber cap was meant to prevent –"

"Oh, no, god no, I'm not pregnant," Elsie laughed. They'd sought Dr. Clarkson's advice after her last miscarriage, and he had suggested a new product – a rubber cap that fitted over a part inside her and prevented his seed from taking root – and the last two years, they had been scare-free. "I'm not," she insisted when he looked doubtful. "What I need to tell you concerns my sister."

"If you're going to tell me where your entire salary goes every year, I would be grateful," he teased gently. "So I know where to squirrel away my pennies for later."

Her mouth went dry; of course he knew of the monthly cheques she posted to Jessop House. They were in the chequebook ledger, after all. And with discreet inquiries, he might even have found out that Jessop House was a medical facility in Lytham-St.-Anne's that catered to women who needed constant, intimate care due to illness or deformity. But he had never pressed her, never once asked why she came to him for money rather than going to her own bank account.

She exhaled and murmured, "How much do you know?"

"That whatever is wrong with your sister, you pay for her care," Charles said softly. "Which is an honorable thing, my love…"

"The truth is, it's not honorable – it's just what needs done," Elsie sighed. "After my mam died, Joe and I looked after Becky on the farm. She helped me in the garden and getting the eggs from the chicken coop. When Joe died, I had to sell the farm and take whatever job I could find. Becky couldn't come with me to Downton, so I had to put her in a home with other women who… aren't quite right." She hedged for a moment, then finally said, "She was born Mongoloid. She's very smart, very caring, loves animals, but she doesn't understand what it means to be an adult – they said she wouldn't get older than twenty, that her heart would give out, that she wouldn't be able to fight diseases off…"

"That's why you run like the wind is on your heels when you get the telegrams," he said in a soft, understanding tone.

"She's my sister, and I promised mammy I would take care of her," Elsie whispered. "I promised, and I – I – I didn't want you to think she was your burden, as well, because she isn't."

"She's not a burden," Charles said. "She's your sister."

Elsie looked at him and melted at the look on his face. "Oh, my sweet man – you certainly know how to make me go all girly," she sighed.

"So we're going as a family, yes?" he said, nudging her.

"Oh, fine, all right – yes, we'll go as a family," she murmured. "She's been asking to meet you and Fiona for such a long time."

"I've wanted to meet your sister," he said with a grin. "It's a good excuse to get away, as well. I find myself wanting to throw the tin of silver polish at Mr. Granger more often than not as of late."

"Mr. Granger is a prat," she reminded him with an answering grin. "I would like to throw more than a tin of polish at him, but I will air out my airs and graces for your sake."

"Oh, thank you – at least one of us will be reasonable," he teased, rubbing her back through her nightdress. "Are you very tired?"

"Mmm, no, not very," she murmured, kissing his chest at the vee of his pajama top where skin and hair were exposed. "Not more so than usual," she amended, because 'no, not very' was a lie and they both knew it.

"Good," he said with a chuckle.

He still sent shivers down her spine with a single touch; and he knew just which touches drove her mad with wanton need. Thank god, else she'd have to be looking for another husband.

Elsie bit her lip nervously as they alit from the bus at the stop a few blocks from Jessop House. She'd taken the time to wear something nice, since they had arranged having tea with Becky and her roommate, Ava, and Becky always said that she liked to see Elsie's pretty dresses. She had encouraged Fiona to wear her favorite dress, as well, and hoped that things would go well.

It had taken a lot of explaining to Fiona just what exactly was 'the matter' with Becky, and Elsie still didn't know if her daughter really understood. Fiona probably thought that Becky was just slow; the reality of her thickened limbs, short, squat stature, and different features would probably startle the girl and frighten her. There were a million different reasons that the meeting could go badly, but she never once contemplated that Fiona would be cruel to Becky. It was inconceivable.

"Mum, why doesn't Aunt Becky live with us?" Fiona had asked during the conversation.

"Because," Elsie had murmured. "It's not that I haven't wanted her here, but… your daddy and I make our living here. If we were our own masters, believe you me, I would be cheerfully cleaning up after Becky as she makes her messes. But as such… goodness knows, it's hard enough to keep Lord Grantham thinking that you're worth boarding still."

"Well, he won't have to worry about that much longer," Fiona had sighed. "I'm fifteen, mum, and I don't want to be in service all my life. I want to be a teacher."

And that had been that; a conversation simple and plain, a fleeting moment.

"It's right up there, on the corner," Elsie commented, pointing out the mansion. "There are nineteen patients, and twelve full-time carers. The doctors come when they're called, and there are maids and men who help move the ones who cannot move themselves."

"That is a lovely house," Charles commented.

"Oh, they have a lovely front garden!" Fiona cried excitedly.

"Becky likes daisies," Elsie said, holding up the bouquet of flowers she had procured from the vendor near the hotel. "They let her plant some every year."

Fiona stopped and bit her lip. "What if she doesn't like me?"

"What's not to like?" Charles asked – it was the exact reaction Elsie had had to his same question the night before when they were settling into the hotel.

"I just – I don't know –"

"My darling girl," Elsie said, taking Fiona's hand in hers and squeezing it, "Becky has wanted to meet you ever since I told her about you. Every time I see her, she asks about you; what did you get for your birthday? Did you like the Christmas present she sent you? Do you like pink or do you like yellow? She loves you so much and you've never met. She will just be happy you're here to see her."

"I don't want to disappoint her, and I don't want you to be mad if I do," Fiona admitted very quietly.

"Nonsense, my love," Elsie murmured, hugging Fiona tightly. "Everything will be all right."

"Maybe you should go in first and we can wait outside?" Charles suggested.

"Or how about not?" Elsie shot back. "We're a family; we're Becky's family. We go in together or not at all." She grabbed her husband's hand and held it tightly. "Come on, you."

They went inside and checked in with the on-duty nurse, who led them into the play room with a smile. "Becky's been talking for days about how you are coming to visit," Nurse Simmons said. "She's so excited, she didn't eat breakfast this morning, and Ava wants to show you the kitten they found in the roses last week."

Elsie stepped through the doorway on Charles's arm; she didn't expect, honestly, to hear a shriek of, "SISSY!" just before Becky tackled her in excitement, sending both her and Charles to the floor. Fiona took a step back and managed just to stumble, but Charles ended up flat on his back with Elsie half sprawled on him, half on the floor, with Becky in her arms.

"Oh my goodness, my dearest!" Elsie gasped. "What have I told you about being gentle?"

"I'm sorry, sissy," Becky said contritely, but with the biggest smile known to man on her face. "I missed you! I got so 'cited waiting for you – we're gonna have tea and I'm not sick, so we can go play!"

"Well," Elsie said, stroking Becky's back to calm her, "I missed you, too, my dearest – but Sissy's sitting on her bum on the floor, and not only that, Sissy's a bit fat to be sitting on Charlie. Can you let us get up, my dearest?"

Becky blinked and gasped. "Charlie? You brought Charlie? Charlie came to see me?"

"Aye, my dearest," Elsie murmured. "Can you get up without help?" Becky nodded and scrambled to her feet. She held out a hand and helped Elsie up – mostly superficially, because her strength was not good in her arms – and Elsie brushed off her coat before she aided Charles in getting up. "Becky, love, this is my Charlie – Mr. Carson," she introduced gently.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Miss Becky," Charles said, bowing at the waist to her. He looked startled when Becky catapulted into his embrace. "Oh my –"

"Sissy says you're a teddy bear," Becky said, smiling up at him with utter adoration. "You're cuddly, Charlie."

The look on Charles's face was enough to set both Fiona and Elsie to laughing hysterically. Becky joined in, giggling like a toddler who's discovered that the word 'poop' is funny.

When their mirth calmed a little, Elsie wiped tears of laughter from her eyes and said, "Becky, my dearest love, do you remember I've told you about Fiona?" Becky nodded vigorously. "Turn around, sweetheart, and say hello to her."

Becky held her breath like she dared not hope her wildest wish had come true; that Fiona was really there. She turned around slowly and her eyes went wide as she looked at Fiona. "You're Fiona?" she asked very loudly. Fiona nodded and bit her lip like Elsie knew she did when she was nervous. "You're so pretty!" Becky announced. "Sissy said you were beautiful and so nice and you like kitties – Ava and me found a kitty. Her name is Boots. Wanna come see Boots, Fiona? I love her very much. I want you to love her, too – she sleeps with me at night. Come on, Fiona – come on!" Becky grabbed Fiona's hand and dragged her off.

"Should we…?" Charles asked, gesturing.

Elsie shook her head and smiled. "No, let's let them get to know each other while we talk to the doctor," she said softly. "The per-month fee is going up again."

"Again?" he asked with a sigh.

She nodded and frowned. "I suppose we should be glad we don't have another mouth to feed," Elsie admitted quietly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"

"No, I know you didn't, but it is the truth," Charles said gently, holding her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. "I love you, Elsie Hughes. And I love your Becky, too. Even if I've got dust on my trousers now."

"Oh, heaven forbid you get dust on any part of your person," Elsie scoffed, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I love you, too, you daft beggar."

END PART SIXTEEN