Downton Abbey 1. Chapter 1

A./N.: Hello everybody. This is my first Downton Abbey story, so please be kind. It's a little scene I experienced with my own grandmother. If you would like to read more, please drop me a review.

Disclaimer: I own only the plot but not the characters. No infringement intended, only entertainment.

**_Surrogate Mother_**

Elsie Hughes regretted only one thing in her life. That one thing stood out like a sore thumb in her otherwise pleasant life. When at first her mother had questioned her decision to enter service as a housemaid, Elsie had laughed off her concerns.

_"Ye dunno that ye never'll marry and have bairns of yer own," her mother had said, eyeing her appraisingly._

_ "Oh mother, I don't wanna spend me life like ye … trapped on a farm birthing bairn after bairn and losing half of them because I canna feed them." There was enough truth in her words to sting and she could see tears forming in her mother's eyes._

_ "And what will you do when ye find a man ye're fond of enough to change yer mind?"_

_ "I don't want a husband and children, mother. I want to be my own mistress," Elsie's words were determined and final, but her mother couldn't help to voice her doubts once more before giving up on her stubborn daughter._

_ "Ye say so now, but every woman carries the desire to have bairns in the depth of her heart."_

Now many years later – when it was too late – Elsie finally understood the wisdom of her mother's words. It was true, she had to admit that to herself, as painful as it was, that she regretted never having borne children of her own. She was forever reduced to be the surrogate mother of her charges downstairs and of the one motherless child upstairs. The one currently sobbing in her arms, utterly exhausted but teething and the pain kept little Sybil awake. Elsie walked to and fro with her in her arms, trying to sooth her and lulling her into sleep. She had tried everything she could think of by now. But nothing had worked so far. Not the Brandy (she had begged Mr Carson for it, making it clear it wasn't for consummation) she had rubbed on Sybil's gum. Not the rocking and soothing noises. Not the warm milk. Nothing!

It was frustrating.

And yet she didn't scold the little girl. It wasn't her fault and it hurt her more than it hurt Elsie seeing the girl in distress.

But her legs were getting too heavy to keep walking (she had a job that required a lot of running hither and nether) and she thought, she better sit before they give way under her. Stumbling over to Tom's bed, she sat down heavily (to hell with rumbling the sheets, she can do it up later again) and slumped back until she lay on her back with Sybil sprawled over her stomach and chest. The child was still sniffling wetly, her face being rubbed into Elsie's bosom to somehow alleviate the pain. For a moment Elsie thought her mind was playing her tricks, but then Sybbie moved against her some more and she felt it again. As the infant moved against her breast, rubbing her cheek and face and nose into her bosom, Elsie felt it grow heavy and a deep ache settle in it. Instantly she felt fear overtaking her – what if the Doctor had been wrong and it really was cancer? But then again it was in both breasts and not just in her left one. When it finally hit her, Elsie had the sudden urge to sob her heart out.

Over the years she had closed off her heart. She had learned that a professional distance was essential for her sanity in her profession. The people she worked with were her colleagues and not her children … as much as they were acting like ones most of the time. Some had breached her walls; Anna, William … Mr Carson … no, Charles, she always thought of him as Charles never as Carson the Butler. From the family upstairs only Lady Sybil had jumped the fence and been closer to her than any other. As a small child she had often come down to visit Elsie and be comforted by her. It was as close to having a child on her own as was possible. She had been blessed with many moments Lady Grantham would have had a right to as the girl's mother. This situation now was wholly different, though. For the first time in her life Elsie understood 'maternal instinct' and how a woman's body reacted to a child. Lady Sybil had been three and toddling about, already weened, but her daughter was now searching the only comfort she knew about, and Elsie was wholly unprepared to find her body willing but unable to give that comfort.

"I am sorry, lass," she whispered hoarsely, kissing the girl's head and snuggling her closer to her body. Thinking quickly, Elsie came up with something she could offer instead. Softly she began to sing a Scottish lullaby her own mother had often sung to her and her sister.

After a while the song had an effect; Sybbie began to quieten and her small body relaxed against Elsie. The sleepy weight of the baby and the memory of her mother singing to her worked in tandem to send Elsie into a state of relaxation. Her eyes drooped shut and her breathing evened out. Soon she was fast asleep, her arms securely wrapped around the small bundle on her torso.


	2. Chapter 2

Tom had been eternally grateful to Mrs Hughes for taking care of Sybbie while he and Matthew discussed some estate business. He was sure that now he would have to face the famous Scottish temper of the housekeeper. His daughter was teething and had kept him up almost all night long and driven her nanny off. Mrs Hughes surely had some choice words to say to him – probably about feeding him to the lions for doing that to her. He couldn't really explain what had made him approach Mrs Hughes, instead of his mother-in-law or one of his sisters-in-law, but at the time it had made perfect sense. Maybe because Mrs Hughes was a sort of mother for all downstairs. Maybe because both he and Sybil had always greatly admired her. Or maybe because she had such a soothing influence … he had seen it on countless occasions how she had calmed Mr Carson down from one of his fits and smoothed out the waves of a disagreement between maids or Thomas and the rest of the house. All he knew for sure was that he hoped she had been able to sooth Sybbie.

Slowly he drudged upstairs, partly because he was tired and partly because he dreaded facing Mrs Hughes. As he neared his suite of rooms he was surprised to see the door standing open … and even more surprised when he noticed Mr Carson standing in the doorway. Carefully and stealthily he moved closer, peeking around the bulky butler and into the room.

What he saw there brought a huge smile to his face.

Mrs Hughes lay on his bed, fast asleep and looking years younger in her innocent, relaxed state, and little Sybbie was sitting next to her on the bed, wide awake. It was cute. Tom chuckled to himself as he saw his daughter carefully patting Mrs Hughes' arm and quite happily babbling to her, completely oblivious to the fact that her audience was fast asleep. He noticed, though, that Mrs Hughes looked frazzled, and that Mr Carson regarded Mrs Hughes with a look of pure, unadulterated love.

Tom suddenly felt like an intruder upon this homely scene. He had the distinct feeling that Mr Carson regarded Mrs Hughes and Sybbie the same way Tom imagined he would have regarded Sybil and their daughter. The look in the older man's face was also a little pensive, making Tom wonder what he thought about.

Apparently he had either spoken out loud or the older man had noticed his presence, for Mr Carson suddenly addressed him.

"She is so very sad. I hear her weeping at night … she has lost one of her daughters," he spoke quietly, not turning around to Tom. His eyes stayed fixed on the two ladies on the bed. "When she thought she would lose Anna because of Mr Bates trial, it was like walking through Hell for her. Losing Lady Sybil … it cut her heart out."

Tom ducked his head. Yes, he imagined it would have and he felt badly for ignoring the pain of the rest of the household and getting so lost in his own grief. "Sybil loved her very much. The first letter she wrote home from Ireland was addressed to Mrs Hughes, because she feared her parents' reaction. Did you know that Sybil invited her over for our wedding?" he asked softly, his own eyes swivelling back to his daughter and surrogate mother.

"Yes, I knew. She asked for the time off, but Lord Grantham was adamant that she shouldn't go and give the impression of approval." He smiled wryly. "I heard some choice remarks about His Lordship."

Tom laughed out loud before trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to muffle the sound and not wake Mrs Hughes. "I bet," he said with emphasis and the broadest grin since his wife's death. "She sent a wedding present through Lady Mary, though."

That certainly caught Mr Carson's attention and he turned towards Tom for the first time. "Lady Mary – are you sure?" he asked with badly disguised surprise. "Why, this little …" A smile bloomed on his face, his eyes going soft and returning to their observation of the woman he so obviously loved.

Tom recognized that question as being purely rhetorical and didn't answer. Instead he posed a very different question. Ever so tentatively he asked, "Does she know how much you love her?" It was something most of downstairs had long since realised and accepted, even Thomas and Ms O'Brien were aware of the deeper friendship between butler and housekeeper. It only furthered the feeling of solidarity and belonging to a family they all felt downstairs. Even Thomas with his different lifestyle had come to see Mrs Hughes as a mother figure. O'Brien, as much as she would grouse, would inevitably follow Mrs Hughes orders. Anna leant heavily against the housekeeper in times of worry and self-doubt, but was always the first to defend her against any misgivings. Mrs Patmore had all but forgotten about the silly store cupboard key and formed a strong female friendship with her former foe.

"How can I?" came Mr Carson's plaintive counter question. "We would be made hypocrites, we would lose our positions, scandal would ensue, and it would be said we had an affair before. Her name would be sullied. I've seen it before."

And with that Carson's shoulders drooped down and he slinked off towards the servants' staircase. Tom stared after him, in complete and utter disbelief.


	3. Chapter 3

Rather groggily Elsie became aware of a tiny hand tucking gently at her hair. She groaned and tried to open her eyes and see who it was. Then with a sudden jolt to her heart she remembered little Miss Sybil, whom she had tended to before falling asleep. What if the girl had fallen out of bed and hurt herself? What if she had lain on her and suffocated her? In a flash Elsie sat upright and searched the room with eyes wide-open in panic. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Miss Sybil toppling over next to her, surprised and losing her balance by Elsie's sudden movements. Startled the girl began to cry and Elsie hurriedly gathered her into her arms.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, love," she murmured to her, nuzzling her temple and placing feather-light kisses to her forehead and cheeks. "For a moment I thought you were hurt. You know, I'm starting to believe it's a good thing I'm not a mother … I fear I would have made rather a mess of it …"

"Well, I disagree … and from the looks of it so does Sybbie."

Tom's voice caught both his daughter and the housekeeper unawares. Mrs Hughes pressed a hand to her heart in startlement but Sybbie crooned at her father the moment she recognized him. Giggling and smiling she wiggled out of Mrs Hughes arms and crawled over to the edge of the bed where Tom happily picked her up.

"How are you, little princess? I hope you didn't give Mrs Hughes too much trouble?" That last question was more addressed to the housekeeper than Sybbie, who couldn't answer in any event. He noticed that Mrs Hughes still looked quite flustered and tired instead of refreshed after her nap on his bed. Quietly he observed how she raised a hand tiredly and dragged it through her hair, that – thanks to Sybbie's attention – was half out of its customary bun. Tom felt a stab of remorse for putting her through his teething daughter's tantrums pierce his heart again.

"Oh no, it was …" With a gasp Mrs Hughes jumped up from Tom's bed. "Oh, I apologize profusely, Mr Branson. This is unforgivable. I …"

She lost her footing on the edge of the carpet due to her fatigue and stumbled backwards against the wall. With a dull thud she collided with it and a cry of pain escaped her.

"Mrs Hughes!" Tom exclaimed loudly, shocked and frightened for the housekeeper.

The next thing Tom perceived, as he still tried to figure out where to put his daughter so he could help Mrs Hughes, was a blur of black rushing past him and coming to a stop in front of Mrs Hughes.

"Mrs Hughes," the booming voice of the butler broke through Elsie's foggy mind as she struggled to regain what little she had left of her dignity and to straighten herself out. A strong pair of hands gently grasped her elbows and tried to help steady her, preventing her from falling flat on her face ("How attractive that would be in front of Mr Carson!") or sliding down the wall ("Not much better."). Her traitorous legs were still not cooperating and she leaned heavily against the broad chest in front of her. She sighed in relief and closed her eyes again.

"What's wrong with her, Mr Carson? I've never seen her like that?" Tom asked with a note of worry in his voice. Still holding Sybbie securely in his arms, he moved closer and squinted down at Elsie.

"I'm alright … just tired …" she tried to reassure the young man, but Mr Carson would have none of that.

"Mr Branson, may I ask you to get Dr Clarkson?" he asked, easily overriding Mrs Hughes feeble protests. "We'll watch out for Miss Sybil."

And before Elsie could further protest that she most certainly did not need the doctor, Mr Carson had picked her up and gently placed her back on Tom's bed while the younger man placed Sybil back onto her torso.

"You'll look after our Mrs Hughes," he instructed his daughter cheekily before hastening out of the room.


End file.

Downton Abbey, Family, Hurt-Comfort