SISTERS

Chapter 4 New Perspectives

A Burden Shared

They arrived at Downton in time for Her Ladyship to change, which was just as well as the Dowager had invited herself to dinner and if anyone showed up in informal attire when she was present, they never heard the end of it.

The Carsons saw each other only briefly before he went upstairs to attend to his duties.

"Did you have a good trip?" he asked cautiously, as aware of her reticence with regard to this subject as he was of the public nature of the downstairs passage.

"I did," she said, and gave him a warm smile to send him on his way.

They ate dinner in the servants' hall and made their way home after it in the chill and darkness of a moonless night. She asked some perfunctory questions about how he had got on without her and felt a wave of tenderness flow over her when he admitted how difficult it had been to sleep without her by his side.

"You've done it all your life," she reminded him. But she was only teasing him and, furthermore, knew exactly what he meant, for she had keenly felt his absence on her night in Lytham St.-Anne's.

"Yes," he said agreeably, "and I never want to do it again."

"Then we are agreed on that," she assured him, tightening her arm around his.

He did not press her on her visit with Becky, still hesitant on this issue with her. She was glad, for tonight anyway. She wanted to think.

When Her Ladyship asked for her the next morning, Elsie did not connect the summons with their sojourn in the seaside town. It was not unusual for the lady of the house and her housekeeper to confer on pertinent matters several times a week. Not all such encounters were arranged in advance.

Elsie had resumed her role at Downton when she put on her ordinary black day dress and fastened the ring of keys to her waist. With this uniform she also resumed her professional mien. When she appeared before Her Ladyship, it was with a solemnity that did not admit of the casual adventure they had had together only the day before.

But Her Ladyship had called the housekeeper to her sitting room for the very purpose of discussing their experience.

"I hope you don't mind, Mrs. Carson..." At Becky's prompting Her Ladyship had begun referring to her by her married name and it now rolled smoothly from her lips. "...I wanted to ask you a few questions about St. John's House. It's just that it's a subject about which I know so little and now I want to know so much more, and you can help me."

"I will if I can, my lady." Elsie did not know what Her Ladyship wanted, but was prepared offer what assistance she could, within reason.

"I imagine you did your research on these sorts of residences. What made you select St. John's for your sister?"

Well, that was straightforward enough. Elsie told her of how she came to hear of the place and how well it compared to similarly-appointed homes that she had visited. She noted the advantage of its relative proximity to Downton. "Of course, it's too far for a half-day, but I was prepared to trade away convenience for quality of care."

Her Ladyship nodded in understanding. "They took me into every crevice of the place," she said. "It really is amazing what a note from the right person can do. And I was favourably impressed for the most part and think you made a sound choice for your sister."

"But you have reservations?" Elsie was interested. Her Ladyship had seen much more than she ever had.

Cora looked a little perplexed. "The essentials were all in order. But it seemed rather...drab to me, Mrs. Carson. The walls were all a dull grey - as if there is any other kind of grey! - or a somewhat unpleasant salmon colour in some rooms. And the residents were all dressed the same, in those grim steel-blue dresses. It's as if there was a deal on that fabric down at the warehouse and only one pattern at the dressmaker's. The quarters where the women sleep were tidy and clean, but there were almost no personal effects about, and no...personal presence. It might as well have been a soldiers' barracks. Not that I've seen many of those! But I found the...regimentation...off-putting."

Elsie could not argue with her on that, for she had thought much the same thing. "I'm sure it has to do with economy mostly, my lady. The food is very good."

"Yes, it is," Cora agreed heartily. "I went through the kitchens and they made me taste the soup!"

"And I think the colour scheme is deliberately dull. Lively colours excite, or so they say...," Elsie could not help but betray her own scepticism of this reasoning, "...and they like to keep everyone calm. And the lack of personal touches is for the same reason. They...discourage gifts...," another practice with which she disagreed, "...so that one resident doesn't have more than another. They think such inequities encourage jealousy and hostility."

Cora's eyes were round with disbelief. "I don't know about you, but that sounds like communism to me! I think that a happy group is more likely to be content than a depressed group. Surely it wouldn't hurt to put up a few pictures and splash a little yellow paint on the walls, or maybe even a brighter shade of pink, if that isn't too revolutionary!" The issue was a serious one, but she tried to temper her criticism with a smile. "It's unfortunate you can't bring your sister any presents, too."

Elsie shrugged. "I take her a few chocolates from Staunton's in the village. She can eat them when we're together and that gets us around that rule." She was glad to have this opportunity to speak to Her Ladyship, because she had something to say as well. "I want to thank you, my lady, for what you did yesterday. I would have been disappointed not to have seen my sister."

"Of course, you would have."

"And I want to thank you for...joining us for lunch and a walk on the beach. You were very good with Becky."

A slight blush coloured Cora's cheeks and her smile widened. "I hope being a mother of three girls has been good training for something," she said modestly.

But the housekeeper doubted that it had been the lessons of motherhood at work. As she saw it, Her Ladyship's openness and ease were reflections of her character and spirit.

"I enjoyed myself," Cora added enthusiastically. "It was nice to be able to let go for once. And it was refreshing to be with someone who has no expectations, who wasn't bound by all the social conventions of our world. I love my life, Mrs. Carson. I wouldn't want to give you the wrong impression about that. But romping on a beach with your sister was a wonderful moment of escape."

Elsie found herself looking at the Countess of Grantham from a new perspective. Her Ladyship's next words jarred her from this pleasant reverie.

"I asked you here this morning, Mrs. Carson, because I wanted to say two things to you." Her Ladyship still wore a congenial expression, but her tone was more serious.

"I will keep your confidence about your sister not because there is anything shameful about her, but because she is part of your private life and I respect that. I was admitted to this confidence only inadvertently. Knowing about Becky, I appreciate now the extent of the fright you must have had when you thought you were ill, having to worry not only about yourself, but about your sister, too. It must be a relief for you to have Carson now."

This was an astonishing turn in the conversation and Elsie had to scramble to reply. "Mr. Carson is very supportive," she responded, in her understated way. And he was, insofar as she would let him be.

"I would expect nothing less of Carson," Cora said sweetly. She knew what a stalwart figure the butler was in Robert's life. "Too often we bear our burdens in isolation, I think, worried about depending on others or on what they might say. But sometimes it is useful to share these things. I know about your sister now, Mrs. Carson, and that is a good thing. If ever you are in crisis again, or require help of any kind for your sister, whether it has to do with the system that cares for her or your own capacity to do so, you may turn to me. I feel a responsibility for the vulnerable in our society, and acting on that might as well start close to home."

This was generous, but before Elsie could acknowledge it, Her Ladyship went on.

"The other thing I wanted to say is that the Sisters of Charity at St. John's House now know that you have connections to the Countess of Grantham and, through me, to the Norfolks. St. John's is a fine institution - apart from the drabness. I saw that. But it is a closed shop, as so many of these places are. I'm not being critical of the Sisters per se. But until the system changes, influence is important. And now they know you have it. It's unfair and I revile it, but that is how it works. You may be assured, Mrs. Carson, that my intervention on your behalf will not have an adverse effect on your sister."

Elsie left Her Ladyship's presence rather overwhelmed. She remained wary of the benevolence of the aristocracy, which she knew to be as arbitrary as the influence they exercised. But Elsie's impulse was to trust to the sincerity of Her Ladyship's words. The evidence was in her actions of the previous day. She had righted the injustice that had denied Elsie access to her sister. And her interaction with Becky had been something to behold. There likely was that element of escapism to which Her Ladyship had alluded, but beneath that surface frivolity, Cora Crawley had revealed a genuine compassion and openness to difference that Elsie had rarely, if ever, encountered where Becky was concerned. And yet Elsie had hesitated to confide in her.

Perhaps, she thought, she ought to take more risks.

Sister Antics

He was already in bed reading when she finished her washing up for the night. She lingered for a moment in the shadows of the passage just outside the bedroom door, considering him.

She hadn't confided in him about Becky. Telling someone a secret when you felt you had no alternative was not a confidence. It was a confession. He had heard her out in confusion - that he had not known such an important thing about her; in compassion - for the burden he then realized she had long borne and its implications for her present and future; and in shame - his own, for pressuring her to do something that was beyond her means. And when he knew all, he deliberated on it carefully and then made sound, practical plans for their future, which he knew would always include Becky. And then he had presented her with those plans, as a fait accompli in that he had registered the house in both of their names, and yet also with a humility that did not assume her consent. He had tried since then to learn her heart where her sister was concerned and to become acquainted with Becky, if only through her eyes. And she, Elsie, had rejected his overtures on both counts. It occurred to her that she might have been wrong to do so.

She climbed into bed beside him pausing to reflect for a moment on how much she enjoyed this aspect of marriage. She cherished his presence in the companionable silence of reading their books together, in conversation about things light or profound or confidential, and in the intimacy of body, as well as heart, mind, and soul, which marriage had opened to them.

He glanced at her with a smile as she moved to his side. He thought she must be tired after a long day, readily acknowledging that even a brief break from routine required a readjustment and that that was a drain. In consequence, he was expecting nothing more than a goodnight kiss and the welcome warmth of her body curled up beside his. She had other plans.

"When I was a girl," she began, taking his arm, "my sister Becky and I slept in separate beds, which was a little unusual on a farm. But my father was a fair carpenter, among his many other skills, and he made me my own bed while Becky was still in her cradle. So later he made one for her, too."

His book lay forgotten in his lap, his eyes transfixed on hers from her first word. He hardly dared move lest he disrupt her tale.

"And almost every night after we got into bed, Becky would come across and get into bed with me. Which I didn't mind. But then she would put her feet up against me...," as she said this, she shifted her own feet until they were firmly placed flat against his hip, "...and would...push me out of my own bed!" And she shoved him, too, as she was saying, giving him a great jolt that took him completely by surprise.

"Ow! Elsie!" He'd hardly moved an inch - she couldn't shift him that easily - although she might have given him a bruise in the process.

She laughed at his shock, and then smiled contritely and pulled him back towards her, giving him a kiss by way of apology. He was easily mollified.

"So I would land on the floor, and pick myself up and go and get into her bed. And wouldn't she then come right after me and do it again!" She shook her head in mock exasperation at the memory. "And only then would she settle down so that we might go to sleep!"

He laughed with her then, and put an arm around her so that she could snuggle more closely to him and perhaps be prevented from repeating her assault.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked gently, exhilarated by her confidence, but curious as to why she should be making it. This was more than he'd gotten out of her on the subject of Becky in months of trying.

She turned her head against his shoulder that she might look into those wondering eyes that only ever reflected the great love he had for her.

"It's time," she said.

THE END