Bonsoir, mes chéris !

I had my first French class today sooo…I feel very foreign all of a sudden! *awkward laugh* So, as I've mentioned already (a great many times) I am officially back to school now…but thankfully I managed to squeeze in a bit of writing these past few days. And luckily for me, it'll be weekend in no time, and I can spend a bit more time with these old boobies and my WIPs. But for now, I shall simply upload this new chapter! Yippee!

I will stop my rambling and let you get to reading before I bore you to death! Please, if you would be so kind, leave me a review to let me know what you think of today's chapter. I hope you enjoy! Stay safe and Chelsie on! :)

"Ah, good morning, Mrs. Hughes.", Robert said as he came through the house's main door, only to come across the housekeeper in the main hall.

"Good morning, milord.", Mrs. Hughes greeted, a polite smile rising to her lips.

"It is a beautiful day outside."

"That it is, milord.", she agreed, coming to a halt before the man of the house.

Robert smiled kindly, noting an unopened letter in the housekeeper's hand.

"What's that?", he asked.

"Ah, a letter addressed to her ladyship. It must have fallen from the pile when Mr. Carson took up the morning post earlier today, milord. I was only taking it to her ladyship now."

"I can take it up to her, Mrs. Hughes, you mustn't bother yourself with it."

"It would not be a problem, your lordship."

"No, no, I insist, Mrs. Hughes. I was going to see her ladyship just now myself.", Robert said, holding his hand out before him and Elsie placed the letter onto his open palm."She had a bit of a headache and thought it best to stay in bed for the morning."

"Of course, Ms. Baxter did mention that, milord.", Elsie nodded her head."She brought her ladyship a powder earlier."

Robert was slightly taken aback by this information and Mrs. Hughes seemed to have notice the change of expression on his face.

"It is nothing serious, milord. She was only a tiny bit uncomfortable."

He nodded absentmindedly.

"Yes, of course. I'm sure you're quite right, Mrs. Hughes. Well, I best head up to see her ladyship…and give her this letter.", he gave the hand that held the said letter a little wave in the air.

With a last smile in the direction of the housekeeper, Robert set out to make his way towards the staircase. The man had just reached the first step and placed his right foot on the carpeted surface when he turned around and addressed the housekeeper once again.

"Oh- Mrs. Hughes…"

Elsie met his gaze from afar, having moved to make her way to the green baize door to head back downstairs.

"Milord?"

"Oh well…", Robert stepped back on the first floor, resting his hand on the solid wood of the handrail."Only I meant to ask- how did you and Carson get on yesterday, Mrs. Hughes?"

"I bed your pardon, milord?", in the moment Elsie was extremely glad of her many years of training: she could easily keep her true feelings to herself.

Why was his lordship asking her this?

"Only, Cora told me Carson wanted to take you to York for dinner. Did you enjoy yourself?", the man had a perplexed look on his face, but he shook it away quickly.

They had not gone to York for dinner, nor did they exactly enjoy themselves at the doctor – though she couldn't tell him that.

"We…", she took a moment to gather herself, and her nerves, and then replied in a happier tune."We had a lovely time, your lordship."

"I'm glad to hear that, Mrs. Hughes. What restaurant did you eat at, if I may ask?"

Now that was a question indeed.

"I'm afraid I don't quite remember, milord. If you like, I can ask Mr. Carson-"

"Don't bother yourself with it, Mrs. Hughes.", Robert allowed her a reassuring smile."Wherever you did have your dinner, I'm sure it was delicious."

"It was, milord.", she said with a faint smile.

"Well, that makes me very happy to hear, Mrs. Hughes…Now, I mustn't keep you any longer. I'm sure you're very busy."

And the housekeeper was left to her own devices in the main hall as the lord of the house made his way up the stairs.

…

Lord Grantham handed his wife the letter that he had placed in his front pocket just moments earlier, after his encounter with Mrs. Hughes.

"Thank you, darling.", Cora smiled.

"Carson missed it when he handed me the morning post earlier this morning."

She simply nodded as she carefully opened the letter and read the contents of it.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"I am. A bit of rest and a powder did me good.", she said, sliding the letter back in its cover and placing it on her nightstand – she made a mental note to read the letter over a second time before answering to its sender.

"Good."

She slid her legs off the side of the bed, putting on her slippers.

"I ought to go down. I must do some catching up with my writing – I've been busy with the party preparation lately and I'm running behind."

"Oh, that reminds me…"

"Oh, yes?", Cora asked, smiling up at him as she worked on getting on her morning coat.

"I asked Mrs. Hughes about their trip to York."

"And?"

"Apparently they had a lovely time.", Robert told her with a happy voice.

"Well, I'm glad. I was worried when Tom said he'd seen them near the hospital. You don't think Mrs. Hughes has been acting a little out of sorts, do you?"

"No, she seems quite content to me."

Cora had to smile soppily at that:

"Well, she is married after all. And married women often are."

"Really Cora…", he frowned.

"I'm sorry. I simply cannot resist teasing you, my darling.", she laughed slightly.

"So it seems…"

…

Later that day, Mr. Carson found his wife in the linen closet as he walked past it in search of Andrew. He stopped abruptly in the doorway.

"What are you doing in here?", he asked, surprised to see her in the linen closet of all rooms.

Elsie lifted her gaze from the list she held in her hands and forced a smile at him.

"Doing inventory of the linens, Mr. Carson, what does it look like?", she teased but at the disapproving look on his face she made it to explain."I've been rather preoccupied the past few days and I've meant to do it before the party. I've a few minutes now."

"But should you be doing that?"

"Why shouldn't I?", she blurted.

"Won't that tire you out?"

She gave him a stern look and were he one of her maids, he'd have gone rushing off. But he wasn't. He was the butler. And her husband, for the matter.

"I am more than capable, Mr. Carson.", she told him angrily.

"I know you are, and I wasn't implying anything else, Mrs. Hughes. I just don't want you to get tired, that's all."

His wife frowned and resumed her task of counting the linens placed on the shelves. Charles stared at her, waiting for her to say something in return, but instead she surprised him by remaining silent and arranging a pile of sheets to fit in their place better.

With a sigh he moved to poke his head in the corridor and when he saw no one there, he pulled the door closed. The click of it closing drew her attention towards him once more.

"Charlie, really. What will everyone think?", she scolded him, abandoning her task for the second time in the past five minutes.

"Right now I don't give a damn on what someone else might think.", he sounded far harsher than he had meant to.

"There's no need to use such language with me.", her voice was cold – it matched his.

He held up his hand and blurted out an apology.

"I've work to do. And I'm sure you do too.", she said, more quietly now.

"That can wait for a few minutes.", he insisted.

"How so?"

Charles took a step closer to her and placed a hand on her elbow.

"Because I want you to sit down for a moment."

His wife frowned again:

"I don't have the time to sit down, Charlie, I'm working!"

"I know, but a linen inventory is not an urgent task, and I'm sure Anna would be more than happy to do it for you."

"There's no need to drag Anna into this when I am perfectly capable.", Elsie argued, turning to place the list from her hands on the edge of the shelf – doing so more aggressively than necessary.

She felt like this was a conversation – or a fight – they had had too many times since she told him about the lump. It had only gotten worse since their visit to the doctor…

It had only gotten worse since their visit to the doctor.

"Then I will do it for you!"

"You will not!", she shook her head, pulling slightly away so his hand dropped from her elbow."Ever since seeing the doctor yesterday you've been going on and on and on about wanting me to take it easy! But I'm fine. I might not be in the long run, but I am fine now. And until we hear from Dr. Clarkson, I shall do my job like I've done it for the past thirty years!"

She was almost shouting before she finally silenced herself to catch air. She cursed herself for flashing out at him. He was only worried, she told herself as she let her anger slowly fade away.

"I'm sorry.", Elsie whispered as she looked up at his face."There was no need for me to shout."

He shook his head slightly, turning her towards him by her shoulders and taking her hands in his.

"You don't need to apologise, my darling. I'm sorry I keep nagging you.", Charles said – his voice ever so gentle.

"And I keep snapping at you and you certainly don't deserve that. You're only trying to help."

"No. But perhaps I might try to help in a more…gentler manner."

She flashed him a smile. She really couldn't stay angry at him for long.

"It's alright, Elsie. Really. We're both on the edge right now.", he stated, and it earned a quiet laugh from her.

"You're right about that, Mr. Carson."

He leaned down to plant a sweet kiss to her forehead and he heard her let out a sigh.

"Won't you sit down for a while, love? It doesn't have to be for long, just so you could put your feet up a bit."

"I'm not-"

"I'm sure I could spare half an hour to have tea with you."

"Don't be silly, Charlie. You've a lot of work to do, maybe even more than I do.", she said, trying to make him see sense.

"Twenty minutes then?", he ignored her earlier words.

She tilted her head, her teeth worrying her lower lip as she thought about his offer. Even if she wasn't going to tell him that – she was so terribly tired. And a cup of tea sounded very tempting as well, her lunch gone almost untouched earlier.

"Alright. But only if you let me finish this task first."

"I don't think-"

"Do you want to have tea with me or not?"

He sighed.

"Very well. But make no mistake – I'll come looking for you if I don't see you in my pantry in half an hour."

"Yes, you silly fool. Now, go back to your duties and I'll meet you in a moment. And for no longer than twenty minutes, mind you."

Charles gave her hands one last squeeze before leaving the room, pleased with the outcome he received.

…

"Mrs. Patmore, are you going to hover in the doorway for the rest of the evening or would you please come in?"

The family had just sat down for dinner. And whilst waiting for her husband to come down and walk with her back to their cottage for the night, Elsie had busied herself with checking the guest lists and menus for Saturday's party, after she had done a bit of catching up with her books due to neglecting them on her half day. She was only halfway through her lists when she was interrupted by the said cook hovering in her sitting room's doorway.

Realising she'd been seen, Mrs. Patmore stepped properly into the room.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Mrs. Patmore?", Elsie asked kindly, turning her chair around so she could face the other woman.

"Well, I was wondering if you've a minute to spare?"

Elsie eyed her friend carefully.

She's been relieved when the cook hadn't bothered her about her health the past few days, not after the housekeeper not-so-kindly asked her to forget her worries altogether. But what reason had she given for the cook to come to her now? None, and she felt herself grow worried, thinking that whatever Mrs. Patmore wanted to discuss had nothing to do with the housekeeper's health. But still, she would be surprised when she'd be deemed to be in the wrong.

"I believe I do. Please, come in, Mrs. Patmore.", Elsie forced a smile, motioning for her friend to take a seat.

"I won't take much of your time.", Beryl Patmore said as she moved to shut the door to offer them some privacy.

The way the cook moved about the room as she pulled a chair closer to her desk made Elsie nervous.

"Is something the matter, Mrs. Patmore?"

The cook sat down, facing her friend, and let out a sigh.

"That's the thing, Mrs. Hughes."

"What is? Mrs. Patmore are you sure everything is alright?", Elsie worried.

"As I said – that's the thing, Mrs. Hughes."

"You are confusing me, Mrs. Patmore."

Another sigh left the cook's lips. Clearly, her dear friend was completely obvious to the reason of her visit. Oh but, what are you even doing, Beryl Patmore, just say it!

"I had just fetched my clean apron from the wash since I managed to get a big stain on my other one, and I was walking in the corridor and…- well, my point is…I overheard your, ahem…heated, conversation with Mr. Carson in the linen closet."

There we go, Beryl thought. For a moment they sat in silence, until the housekeeper finally said something.

"Oh?"

"Oh? What's that supposed to mean?", the cook asked, utterly confused.

"What do you mean you 'overheard' our conversation?", Elsie said, attempting to explain what that said oh had meant.

"I wasn't eavesdropping if that's what you are accusing me of. It wasn't very hard to hear what was being said, since you were basically yelling at each other in the middle of the day."

Elsie grimaced. She hadn't really thought about that.

"So?"

"So what, Mrs. Patmore?"

"Are you going to keep on acting unaware and force me to drag the truth out of you?", the housekeeper was really starting to get on her nerves.

"Excuse me?"

"As I said, I heard your conversation. And I know there's something you are not telling me. So, you best just get out with it already!"

Elsie turned her face away from her friend's intent gaze, as if trying to tell her she did not want to talk about it. And she certainly did not want to talk about it, to Mrs. Patmore or anyone else for the matter. But she should have known her friend would not give up so easily.

"Why did you go to see Dr. Clarkson?", her voice was much kinder now, gentler than it had been earlier during their conversation.

"Why does one go to see the doctor, Mrs. Patmore?"

Closing her eyes for a moment to gather strength, Elsie missed the utmost worry that flashed in her friend's eyes at her words.

"Are you ill?"

Elsie opened her eyes and looked into the cook's almost, if not equally, tired ones. The way her eyes shone with unshed tears should have told Beryl everything she wished to know, but instead she kept on staring at her friend expectantly.

"I might be.", it was nothing more than a whisper and she dropped her gaze to her lap."I'm waiting for the results."

A short silence followed.

"Does Mr. Carson know everything?"

She barely managed a nod.

"And what does Dr. Clarkson think?"

"That we shouldn't worry yet, not until we know more. Although to me he didn't sound too convincing at all.", her voice was shaky as she raised her face to be able to meet Mrs. Patmore's eyes

A single tear slid down her cheek and she had to bite her lip to keep herself from crying.

"The lump is back, Mrs. Patmore.", the words tumbled down from her tongue quietly – like a tame wave crashing into the shore late at night.

No other words were exchanged between the pair, and Mrs. Patmore was quick to envelope the housekeeper, who was now clearly on the verge of tears, in a soothing embrace.