Title: The Sisters
Artist: Mary Cassatt
Date: 1885
Medium: Oil on Canvas
The Molesleys were back in their cottage within the week. Thankfully the damage from the fire was contained to the farthest wall of the sitting room so while there was a large mess to deal with, they hadn't lost much that couldn't be replaced and they would be able to stay in the cottage during the repairs.
Thomas arrived the day after they returned to the cottage, his face stricken with concern as he entered the eerily silent house to find Emma sitting alone on the floor of the sitting room in front of the crumbling wall.
Not wanting to startle her he knocked lightly at the door frame to get her attention before softly asking, "How are you holding up, kiddo?"
"It's not me you should be worried about." Emma sighed tiredly as she continued scrubbing the soot from the floorboards beneath her. "I haven't seen Mum or Lizzie since we got back yesterday."
Thomas tried to comfort the obviously distressed woman in front of him in vain. "Emma you don't need to–"
"I need something to do." Emma stopped him firmly. "I can't sleep, and no one but me will eat, so I might as well start in on this mess."
Thomas watched Emma work in silence for several moments before squatting down next to her and gently prying the brush from her hands. "When were you last home?"
"I…" Emma trailed off as she realized she wasn't entirely sure of the answer.
"Go home." Thomas replied with a knowing smile.
"I can't." Emma protested. "Mum can't be solely responsible for Lizzie right now, and the reverse is just as true. It's too dangerous for either of them–"
"I'm staying." Thomas interjected firmly. "'For as long as you all need."
Emma shook her head in disagreement. "You shouldn't be away from–"
"Richard is coming at the weekend." Thomas stopped her once more. "We're your family and we're going to be here to help. Alright?"
Emma huffed slightly in response, but couldn't seem to come up with any more arguments so she simply sat with her legs and arms crossed with a visibly annoyed expression staring at her honorary uncle.
"Go home to your wife." Thomas repeated firmly as he stood and offered her his hand to help her do the same. "Give Ellie and Michael kisses from Richard and I."
It wasn't until the door had closed firmly behind Emma as she left that Phyllis peered out from the top of the stairs calling out a hoarse, "Thank you."
"Oh, Phyl." Thomas sighed in sympathy as he watched her make her way down the stairs, her arms wrapped firmly around her uncharacteristically pale form.
"I can manage fine on my own. Honestly." Phyllis dismissed him as he offered her his arm for stability. "But she never would have left if–"
"You are not doing this alone." Thomas stopped her just as firmly as he'd stopped her daughter's protests moments before. "I know you could , you have far too much experience for me to doubt that, but you don't need to. We've got you."
Phyllis nodded, accepting the hug he was clearly offering once they'd made their way to the bottom of the stairs.
"Emma said you haven't eaten." Thomas scolded lightly when she eventually pulled away. "Let's see what we can do to fix that."
She didn't protest and followed Thomas into the kitchen, taking a seat in the chair that Thomas knew had been Joseph's typical place at the table for decades. He didn't comment on the choice, instead busying himself with inventorying the larder which he found more full than he'd expected. Presumably Emma's doing, or possibly the other members of the Abbey's former staff. Regardless, there was more than enough to prepare one of Phyllis's favorite comfort foods and he silently got to work.
Ten minutes later he placed a plate of beans on toast with a fried egg on both sides of the table, one in front of Phyllis and the other in front of the seat across from her where Thomas sat down.
Thomas finished his food quickly but sat in silence as he watched Phyllis slowly pick at hers, occasionally bringing a bite to her mouth only to continue to play with the food in front of her for several minutes before attempting another bite.
He waited until Phyllis set her fork down on the plate and backed away from the table before he asked a question that had been increasingly weighing on him the longer he'd been there. "How's Lizzie?"
Phyllis shook her head in frustration as she admitted, "I have no idea."
"It's more than just Joseph dying, isn't it?" Thomas questioned further. "Something else is wrong?"
"It is." Phyllis agreed easily, but said nothing more as she stared down at the plate in front of her to ignore his gaze.
Thomas knew from experience that Phyllis would elaborate if and when she was ready, and it didn't take long for the woman across from him to sigh and bury her face in her hands as she began to speak again.
"They fought that night." She whispered tiredly. "I made Joseph… He needed to tell her something and I insisted it couldn't wait any longer. Which I suppose it couldn't."
Thomas reached out for her hand as he anxiously questioned, "You don't think that caused…?"
"No." Phyllis assured him quickly. "There's nothing any of us could have done. It was just… time. Bad timing, but time."
"But Lizzie?" Thomas pressed gently.
"I don't know what she's thinking." Phyllis admitted tiredly. "She's so closed off. I've never seen it this bad."
"Still not talking?" Thomas's brow furrowed in concern.
Phyllis shook her head in confirmation.
"She'll come around." Thomas tried to assure her only to feel guilty for his assurances when her face fell even further.
Phyllis sighed as she wiped the gathering tears from her eyes before meeting her best friend's gaze and softly admitting, "I'm not sure that she will."
"Hey." Sybbie greeted warmly when her wife walked through the kitchen door. "Welcome home."
Emma relaxed into her wife's arms with a sigh but didn't return the greeting.
"How are you doing?" Sybbie asked gently, carefully pushing Emma's loose hair behind her ear.
"Fine." Emma assured her quietly. "It's not me I'm worried about."
Sybbie nodded in understanding as she poured them both a cup of tea. "Lizzie's still not talking?"
Emma shook her head in frustration. "Not a word."
"Does your Mum have any idea what's brought it on?" Sybbie asked before awkwardly adding, "Besides the… death."
"I guess her and Dad had a fight." Emma explained hesitantly as she sat down at the table. "Mum won't tell me what it was about but it sounds like it was bad and that she was expecting it. That's why she asked me to stay over that night."
Sybbie's eyes widened in surprise as she sat down next to her wife. "It's hard to imagine your father fighting with anyone."
"You know how he can get when he's trying to protect one of us." Emma reminded her with a slight smile before sobering as she continued. "I have to assume it's something to do with everything that happened to her."
Sybbie nodded in agreement but didn't say anything, instead luxuriating the comfortable feeling that silence brought when her wife was by her side. She was about to suggest heading up to bed when she noticed the tears on her wife's cheeks. "You're not telling me something."
"I'm terrified she'll never come back to us." Emma admitted immediately.
"Give her time." Sybbie suggested softly, reaching out to wipe the tears away. "She always does."
"The last time it was this bad was when she stopped talking for months while Mum was trapped in America." Emma reminded her wife as her tears continued to fall. "Mum coming back is what opened her back up again and…"
"Your Dad's not coming back." Sybbie finished for her softly.
"I can't lose her after everything she's made it through." Emma sobbed. "It's not fair."
Sybbie nodded as she moved to pull her wife into her arms before gently assuring her, "We'll figure something out. We always do."
It was late in the spring when Emma stopped by her mother's house to find her in the sitting room just staring at the burnt wall.
"Mum." Emma called out to get her attention before continuing with the purpose of her visit, "I can't stay long, I'm on my way to the hospital, but I wanted to let you know that Sybbie and I are taking the kids to York next week."
"Oh." Phyllis looked up in slight surprise at her daughter's abrupt announcement. "The kids will enjoy the time with you."
Emma nodded before continuing, "We're going to bring Elizabeth with us."
Phyllis immediately shook her head in disagreement. "She can't handle it."
"Mum, she'll be fine." Emma insisted gently. "We're going to stay at the farm so she shouldn't be overwhelmed by anything any more than she would be here."
"I have to take care of her." Phyllis replied harshly. "She needs… you know she needs to be cared for."
"We're going to take care of her." Emma assured her patiently. "She'll be with three nurses, all of whom are family. Besides you know Thomas and Richard would never let anything happen to her. Not to mention Beatrice."
Phyllis shook her head once more, her voice shaking slightly as she stated, "I can't let her go. I'm sorry."
Emma sighed before crossing the room to take a seat next to her mother and retorting. "You can and you should. You need a break."
"From what?" Phyllis practically laughed at the notion. "I've done nothing for weeks."
"You know as well as I do that that's not true. Lizzie's been a right pain in the arse even if she's not meant it." Emma reminded her patiently. "You need a break from us because you haven't had time to properly grieve."
Phyllis stiffened harshly at her daughter's final word and her jaw was clenched firmly when she protested, "I'm fine."
"You're really not." Emma shook her head in disbelief. "You lost Dad too. You've been so focused on how Lizzie and I are handling it that you aren't handling it at–"
"Emma." Phyllis cut her off harshly, her eyes clearly displaying the anger that could be seen radiating through the rest of her body. "Enough."
"My life has been full of so many uncertainties." Emma continued firmly. "But the one thing that's always been true, for as long as I can remember, is that you and Dad completed each other in a way that defies reason."
Phyllis turned to stare at her daughter, but otherwise refused to respond which prompted her daughter to push harder.
"You never talk about this, but I know that Dad saved you." Emma explained. "Thomas told me everything that happened before I got to Downton. I know that Dad was the one who was there for you while you were healing from what Peter did to you and that Thomas was a right prick about it all."
"He shouldn't have told you about all of that." Phyllis snapped icily.
"I'm glad he did." Emma disagreed immediately. "I wouldn't understand just how much he meant to you if he hadn't."
Phyllis's hands clenched in frustration as she hissed, "What are you talking about?"
"You hide yourself." Emma replied simply. "That's not a bad thing, really, but you do it. Dad has always been so open with us about how much you mean to him, and of course I never once thought you felt any different, but I didn't know why you were so closed off."
Phyllis once again just stared at her daughter, her expression a mixture of confusion and frustration.
Emma's continued explanation was much gentler this time, her hand reaching down to find her mother's as she whispered, "It's because he's sacred to you."
Phyllis's eyes slammed shut as she let out a poorly strangled sob in response to her daughter's simple statement of something that was impossible for her to put into words.
"It's okay to cry." Emma reminded her patiently. "In fact, I think a lot of us would be relieved if you would."
Phyllis shook her head as she wiped her eyes before the tears could fall. "I'm not ready."
"What do you mean?" Emma's nose scrunched in confusion.
"It's been over thirty years since I dealt with anything like this alone." Phyllis explained hoarsely. "Even during those years before you came to Downton, he was on my side from the day he met me. Every terrible thing he learned about my past made him treat me with even more care. He never let me do any of it alone." There was a long silence before she managed to add, "I don't know how to grieve for him alone."
Emma nodded in understanding as she pulled her mother tightly against her side, waiting until the familiar weight of her mother's head was resting on her shoulder before she spoke again.
"I don't know how, but I didn't really realize until recently how lucky we were to have him." Emma whispered softly against her mother's hair. "He didn't just save you, he saved us. All three of us. Over and over again. I don't think there's a right way to deal with a loss of that caliber."
Emma didn't realize her mother had started crying until her tears soaked through to her shoulder. "You don't owe us anything." She assured her mother further with a tight squeeze to her hand. "You don't have to grieve to make us feel better. Take all of the time you need, alright?"
Phyllis nodded, moving her free hand up to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
"Sybbie and I are going to take Elizabeth with us to York." Emma informed her mother once again. "I promise I'll take care of her."
Phyllis didn't protest this time, her breath shaking slightly as she nodded in silent assent.
A few days into the trip to York both Elizabeth and Emma were cornered into helping Beatrice with a project.
"You two." Beatrice pointed to Elizabeth and Emma. "Come with me. I've got something I need your help with."
Emma shook her head in confusion as she looked at her kids at the table in front of her. "I've got to watch the–"
"Richard's doing it." Beatrice cut her off as her brother walked into the room before looking down to the twins with a stern expression. "You two, terrorize him while we're gone, you understand?"
She was rewarded by a chorus of "Yes, Bea!" from the kids before she turned back to Elizabeth and Emma and directed once more, "Let's get going. We've got work to do."
Once they made it outside Beatrice helped both of them onto the wagon hitched to the back of her horse by the farmhouse, before hopping onto the saddle herself and guiding her horse out to the old crumbling cottage at the far end of the Ellis property where she promptly dismounted and waved for the girls to follow her towards the nearest wall.
"Here." Beatrice hefted a sledgehammer that was leaning against the wall into Emma's unprepared hands. "Hold this for me."
Emma shook her head in confusion as Beatrice lifted the other sledgehammer herself. "What am I meant to do with this?"
"Break something." Beatrice replied easily.
Both Emma and Elizabeth's eyes widened in surprise, but only the latter replied with a confused, "What?"
"We've got an old building to get down." Beatrice motioned towards it as if it was obvious. "I'm not one to waste a good outlet for rage, so have at it."
Emma stared at her in bewilderment as she struggled under the weight of the sledgehammer in her arms as she repeated, "What?"
"Oh come on." Beatrice sighed in obvious annoyance. "Give it a good swing, and tell it why you're angry. Yelling is my preferred method."
Emma nodded, eying the wall in front of her for several moments before hoisting the sledgehammer to her shoulder and swinging it forward as she angrily screamed, "I hate that my baby sister was raped!"
Elizabeth stared at her sister in silent shock only to be caught off guard when Beatrice took a swing for herself.
"I hate that sexual assault happens to women in this country every damn day!" Beatrice shouted as she took a swing at the beam Emma had splinted with her own sledgehammer.
Now fully on board with the plan Emma swung forward again with a shout. "I hate that even if we'd reported what happened people would blame her!"
The pair went back and forth for some time until they were both startled by the sound of a cracked voice whispering, 'I…"
Emma whipped back around to look at her younger sister who seemed equally surprised to have heard her own voice with her jaw dropped.
"It's okay." Beatrice encouraged her gently. "What do you hate, Lizzie?"
Elizabeth took a moment before she tried again, "I… I hate… I hate that I had to have a baby I didn't want."
After a beat of silence Beatrice prompted, "Well… take a swing." She motioned towards the collapsing wall in front of them as she handed over her sledgehammer.
Elizabeth took to the task with a surprising amount of force, quickly taking down half of the wall as she swung and grunted over and over until both Emma and Beatrice realized that beneath the rage Elizabeth was quietly mumbling, "I hate… I hate…" as she choked on her tears.
"Hey." Emma stopped her gently as she moved to take the sledgehammer from her shaking arms. "It's alright."
Elizabeth's sobs continued as she crumbled to the ground and Emma was at her side in a second to pull her into her arms."I hate that the last thing I said to our Dad was that I would never forgive him." Elizabeth sobbed against her sister's chest. "I hate that I'll never get to tell him… to tell him…"
"Shhhh." Emma tried to comfort the shaking form against her. "It's alright. You're alright."
"I hate that everything in my life has become about what that man did to me." Elizabeth gasped anxiously. "Dad confronted him and fixed it all and I despised him for it."
"Lizzie." Emma shook her head in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"That night." Elizabeth gasped through her sobs. "He told me he got me my degree."
Emma's head continued shaking as she tried to piece together the information her sister was giving her. "What? That doesn't make sense. You didn't finish the program."
"The reason I didn't finish was because my advisor kicked me out when he found out he'd gotten me pregnant." Elizabeth explained quietly, "Dad confronted him for me. He got my degree for me and I told him never to talk to me again."
"Oh, my baby sister." Emma pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You've been so very brave and so very frightened for so long. Dad knows you love him and he loves you so much. No matter what."
"But I told him—" Elizabeth managed to choke out before collapsing into tears once more.
"It doesn't matter." Emma insisted firmly. "He never would have wanted you to feel the way you have been."
"I hate that I'm too afraid to paint anything now." Elizabeth admitted. "I feel like I'm letting him down."
"You can still paint, Lizzie." Emma tried to reassure her. "Especially since you have your degree. That opens up so many more opportunities for–"
"I can't!" Elizabeth burst out in a fit of panic. "Do you know how many famous painters used their students as figure models? Do you have any idea how many of them have painted women being raped that I had to study? Do you think it's all a coincidence that so much art is focused on how men look at women?"
"I don't." Emma shook her head slightly. "But you clearly do."
"I'll do my best to not be a burden anymore." Elizabeth pleaded anxiously. "Just please don't make me go back to that world. I can't be with all those men. Not anymore."
"You're not a burden." Emma insisted immediately. "And you don't have to go anywhere. But we wouldn't mind if you kept talking."
Elizabeth nodded against her chest in agreement. "That I think I can do."
NOTES:
Content Warnings:
PTSD/Panic Attacks; Major Character Death (Aftermath); Referenced Rape/Sexual Assault
Chapter Recap (Contains Spoilers):
Thomas comes to town to help relieve Emma of her duties helping out her mother. Thomas comforts Phyllis and she tells him about the fight between Elizabeth and Joseph the night before he died. Emma and Sybbie discuss Elizabeth's shut down. Later that spring Emma and Sybbie bring Elizabeth with them to the Ellis farm in York where Beatrice helps break through Elizabeth's walls.
