Author's Note: This story seems to occupy my thoughts day and night and refuses to let me part with it! Though, it's not that I mind. Today's chapter, as the one before it, does have an angst warning. You can expect a lot of tears and in case that is not your cup of tea, I advise you to avert your eyes, thank you! I hope you let me know whether I've succeeded in portraying these emotions well and what you think about today's chapter! I would also like to thank you all for the support and lovely reviews you've given me for the last chapters. They always end up making my day. Now, I hope you enjoy reading!

Hours of hard thinking and repeating those crucial words over and over again in her mind had not helped. She had not shed a tear, had not cried. To be honest, she wasn't even sure why. She just had this…empty feeling inside of her that refused to go away - to come out as tears or just go away, to disappear. A part of her wished she could cry and get this horrible cloud of sorrow off of her chest. It was like she had run out of tears. She had been in a daze since the doctor's appointment, had walked home holding the shaking arm of her husband and barely managed to squeeze his hand in thanks as he helped her with her coat when they finally got home. She had noted he had not cried either when she had lifted her gaze to look at him for the first time since leaving the hospital. They had not eaten any dinner, not like they had planned. Quietly they had prepared themselves to go to bed, even if it was now only soon six. The sun was still shining bright in the sky.

She had put on her summer nightgown, he was dressed in a cotton pyjama. He had pulled the covers back, and they had slipped under them as she cuddled against his side. He rubbed her back reassuringly and kissed her hair to let her know he was there for her. Then only, in the safety and silence of their bedroom, did she dare to cry. And he did too.

She had breast cancer. Two words that silently broke her heart.

—

"I'm so very sorry, Mrs Hughes. I'm afraid it is breast cancer," Dr Clarkson said carefully.

Good God, please not her. Not my Elsie. Charles dropped his gaze to look at his feet on the stone-cold floor, he couldn't stand to look at the doctor's face anymore. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest and he tried his best to calm it by taking a deep, wavering breath. It didn't work but he looked back up, looked at her by his side. She didn't look sick. She was beautiful and didn't deserve this.

The doctor gave them a minute, maybe two, to process until he spoke again,

"I know it is a lot to take in, and we can discuss possible treatment another time. Just know this is not definitely the end."

"Thank you, doctor."

He so admired her strength. How she could form those words was a mystery to him. All he wished to do was cry out and shout at God because this was not fair. It took him everything to keep it inside of him. But he would try for her.

—

Charles's tears had already wet her hair by now, but there didn't seem to be an end to them. He just let the tears slip out of his eyes and eventually drop down onto her head, didn't try to stop them. She wasn't crying anymore but still held onto him tightly. It was very little comfort to him but it was all she could manage. She knew her diagnosis wouldn't only affect her, but him too. And that probably hurt her the most. The only thing she wanted was for him to not hurt. She knew that wasn't possible. Not really. Not when things were like this.

She dried her face and her unshed tears on the lapels of his shirt, then looked up at his teary eyes, his face that had heartbreak written all over it.

"I'm sorry, Charlie. I don't want to hurt you."

He shook his head and cupped her cheek.

"It is I who should be comforting you, my dearest darling."

"Hush now," she whispered, leaning in to place a kiss on his lips to silence him."We'll be together. Which is all that matters."

She was now resting her forehead against his.

Now he nodded "In sickness and in health."

"In sickness and in health," she agreed, a bittersweet taste on her tongue. "Who would have thought sickness would come to claim one of us so soon…I didn't."

"Don't talk like that, Elsie," his tears had now subsided, but he looked at her with his eyes still red and his cheeks still wet. "We won't let this be it. I'm sure there is a way."

"Don't be so sure, Charlie. Cancer kills. It's almost always a death sentence."

"But not always."

His hope warmed her heart, even if she herself lacked it. These days she seemed to lack in almost everything, Elsie realized. She lost her spark because she was afraid. Now, when their future is still unknown, she can feel the way it all crumbles around her. Her life, her health…everything. And yet, he is her rock and somehow manages to keep her upright.

"Do you know how thankful I am that I will get to spend the rest of my days, however few they may be, by your side, as your wife?" Elsie said, closing her eyes as she hid her face in the crook of his neck, and kissed the skin there.

"Not as thankful as I am," he stated - a fact she wouldn't dare to question. And she didn't."You have made me the happiest man on this earth and will continue to do so for as long as there is breath in your body and mine. I love you, and nothing will change that."

She sniffs into the crook of his neck as more tears threaten to fall.

"I'm sorry," a whisper that almost disappeared in the sound of her breathing left her lips, and she pulled herself closer to him, wanting to feel safe like she always does when in his arms.

"Shh…" Charles soothed, gathering her properly into his arms again."We'll go one day at a time and make the most of every day."

He kissed her head.

"Do you-…" she had to stop, swallow the tears away before mumbling on, "Can we not tell anyone? Not yet."

She lifted her head to look at him, his arms still securely around her. He seemed to be calculating her plea.

"Please," she pleaded, almost begged."I don't want to be seen as a sick woman, a dying one. I'm not ready for that yet. I want to enjoy their ignorance for a little while longer."

How could he deny her that?

"If that's what you want."

She smiled at him now, only weakly, but she did. It warmed his heart.

"Now, get some rest. We still have a few hours before we have to leave to the Abbey."

She settles back against him, her head resting on his shoulder, as she closes her eyes.

"I love you," she mumbled just as sleep was about to claim her.

Charles pulled the covers higher over them and closed his eyes. I love you too, Charles thought as he, too, fell into a fitful sleep.

The next day, back at the Abbey

Neither of them slept many hours the following night after receiving the news about Elsie having cancer, and the little they did, it was fitful and bleak. They woke up early with tired eyes the next morning, got dressed, had breakfast and walked up to the Abbey to start another long day of work. Their grave spirits were not matched by the rest of the staff that day since most of them were still excitedly sharing what they had been up to yesterday. The Bateses had dined at Grantham Arms, Two of the maids had gone up to York to see a film, Daisy and Andrew had visited Mr Mason at the farm, and Mrs Patmore had had tea with her sister, who had come to stay with her for a few days. Elsie felt almost jealous of their ignorance. A part of her wished she could change places with one of them, but regretted the thought as soon as she had had it. She wouldn't wish such a burden for anyone else to carry.

Otherwise, the day carried on smoothly and quickly. She kept herself busy, giving herself a moment when she wouldn't have to think about anything apart from the task at hand. She had even thought she had survived through the day when Charles rang the dressing gown, meaning most of the servants would be busy either dressing the lords and ladies upstairs or preparing the dining room for dinner. Elsie sat down on the settee in her sitting room and closed her eyes for a moment. The lack of sleep the night before caused her to yawn as she fought to stay awake. Only a few more hours, Elsie, then you can go home, she reminded herself. She was just about to stand up and get herself moving, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of her husband before he'd be going upstairs to serve the upstairs dinner, when a knock sounded from the closed door.

"Yes?" she called out politely, smoothing out any wrinkles from her dress as she did so.

The door opened and revealed Mrs Patmore.

"Mrs Patmore? Is something the matter?" her first thought was the surprise of seeing the cook there, then worry - the cook should be in the kitchen preparing dinner, but she was standing in her sitting room doorway instead.

"What? No, not at all. I've left Daisy in charge for a moment. It's nothing she cannot manage," came the cook's quick reply after her momentary state of confusion was gone.

"Oh, I see. How can I help you then, Mrs Patmore?"

"I was just wondering-," the cook turned around to glance into the hallway and then proceeded to close the door, allowing her to speak freely without anyone else hearing her.

Elsie eyed her friend as she waited for her to continue.

"Have you got the results yet? What did Dr Clarkson want to talk to you about the other day?"

Elsie panicked for a moment, unsure as to what to tell her. What could she say? What did she want to say?

"We did get the results, yes. We went to see Dr Clarkson yesterday since we had the evening off," Elsie answered carefully.

Mrs Patmore smiled, "And?"

Her mind was racing. Her consciousness and her want to keep her diagnosis to herself were fighting inside her head. Eventually, one of the two won.

"It is…Everything's fine, Mrs Patmore. There's nothing to worry about."

The cook let out a relieved sigh as she heard her words.

"Thank God. I knew it would all be alright in the end."

Elsie forced herself to smile, "It does seem you've been proved right."

"It seems I have. Well, I must get back to the kitchen now. Before Daisy ruins tonight's dinner," Mrs Patmore smiled. With her hand already turning the doorknob, she turns to look at her friend one last time, "I'm very glad you're alright, Mrs Hughes."

It took Elsie everything in her to answer her friend.

"I know you are, Mrs Patmore. Thank you."

And so, the cook left the room and shut the door behind her, whilst the housekeeper broke down in tears. It was not that she had wanted to lie, Elsie promised herself. She simply didn't want to be treated differently because she was sick.

By the time the upstairs dinner was finished and the family had already retreated to bed for the night, the clock had struck eleven. Most of the servants had gone to bed already as well, with only a few still sipping tea and chatting in the servants' hall. Elsie had locked herself in her sitting room, not wanting to talk to anyone as she waited for Charles to finish for the night, her excuse being the need to finish the accounting books before tomorrow. No one questioned this, which Elsie was terribly glad of. She had tried to concentrate on the books, had tried to get the actual task done, but her thoughts returned to her worries, her guilt, and she ended up simply staring at the book before her and silently sobbing. Elsie hated it. Crying was so unlike her, she wasn't an overly emotional person. At least not before the past week or so. It seemed the only thing she'd been doing for the last week was crying. Elsie rested her head in her hands, hoping for the tears to eventually stop by taking deep breaths and trying to think of anything else. It didn't work. And she suspected the lack of sleep didn't help either.

She heard a familiar knock on her door, realized she couldn't let him see her like this. She didn't want him to see her so weak. Not again, not where they work. She took her handkerchief from her pocket and quickly dried her tears. When looking in the mirror, she noted the redness and puffiness of her eyes would immediately give her away. There's little I can do about that, Elsie let out a shaky breath.

"Mrs Hughes?" she heard his voice call behind the door and turned to head towards the door and unlocked it.

Charles looked at her, clearly worried, when she pulled the door open and revealed herself to him. She wasn't entirely sure what he was thinking as his face gave very little away. He then pushed past her into the room and pulled the door back to its closed state again after him.

"Whatever is the matter, love?" he enveloped his in his arms."Have you been crying?"

She welcomed his embrace without a fight and leaned into him.

"A bit yes…" she mumbled against his chest.

"And why were you crying alone in here? You should have come to me."

"Don't be silly, Charlie. You've work to do."

"Yes, but you are more important," he kissed the top of her head, his hands drawing soothing circles on her back."Why were you crying, love?"

Elsie leaned back slightly and looked into his eyes,"I told Mrs Patmore."

He cupped her cheek with his right hand and caressed her skin with his thumb.

"And I- I lied, Charlie."

His expression changed to confusion when he heard her words.

"You lied?"

"About me being ill. I didn't tell her I have cancer. I just lied straight to her face, Charlie…"

"Oh, Elsie. I think she would want to know," Charles said gently, his gaze softening.

She just shook her head and leaned it back against his chest, "I don't wa-"

"I know," he cut her short. "And we'll keep it between us for the time being."

"Do you promise?" she asks, still holding herself tightly against his steady form.

"I promise. Now, let's go home, Elsie."