Elsie Hughes had no particular love for her employers and didn't see exactly why, that Mr Carson had to run through the vast castle one last time at night before he is allowed to retire. He looked about ready drop when she saw him downstairs for their customary glass of wine, so she told him to go up to bed before he passed out in her dining room. He had protested quite loudly about draughts from open doors and lights being left on, or a stray dirty glass that had been overlooked when they had last tidied up. Mrs Hughes was forced to volunteer to check over the house once again, if Mr Carson was to get any sleep at all. That's how she had come to be standing in the great hall, ten minutes past midnight, and witnessing something far too intimate and emotional for her eyes.

Lord and Lady Grantham were known, and widely gossiped about, for their peculiar marriage. It wasn't really the fact of it being a business arrangement, as that happened a lot with almost everyone in the aristocracy. No, they were talked about for the fact that they were different, she was different and what they did together was different. They actually slept together for starters, they fell madly in love for another, and lastly, probably the most damaging to both their reputations, they did what they wanted in front of anyone or anywhere. They kissed in the drawing-room and danced closer than deemed respectable. He held her hand in social situations, and she would smile coyly at him over dinner, even if she was aware that other people could see. The servants knew this and over the years had come to respect the couple even more for having a loving marriage together. Mrs Hughes had heard of stories from a flustered Mr Carson about the couple partaking in scandalous positions in various rooms around the Abbey. She had hoped that she would never encounter or have to see a scene like that for herself. But what she was now a spectator of was far more intimate than a rushed but heated coupling in the library.

Lord Grantham held his wife in his arms with nothing but a cotton nightgown and silk pyjamas between their bodies. They swayed gently to silent music with the Countess' head rested on his chest and her usually perfect hair let loose down her back. The scene was beautiful and almost picturesque until Mrs Hughes saw His Lordship's cheeks glisten with trails of wetness and heard Her Ladyship moan with strangled sobs into his torso.

The housekeeper wanted to move and run back to the servant's hall but something would not let her move a muscle. Whether it was curiosity, shock, or wanting to support them in some way, she would never know.

Then suddenly the Lady stopped and wound her hands around her husband's neck, "I'm so sorry Robert, I wish I could forget for a little while but when I get these horrid nightmares I remember that my baby is dead and I shut you out. Can you forgive me?"

Her voice cracked with heavy emotion and His Lordship's silent tears only seemed to increase as she talked while running her fingers through the salt and pepper curls at the base of his neck. He closed his eyes briefly and rested his forehead against his wife's, wrapping his large comforting arms further around her small frame and sheltering her from the cold. It looked like he was cradling her to Elsie, like, the closer her body was to him than the more protected they both felt. She watched his throat move up and down in an attempt to steady his voice before replying to Her Ladyship.

"My darling, there is nothing to forgive, you have done nothing wrong. Our little girl has passed and there was nothing we could have done to save her precious life. She was and always will be our gorgeous baby but she would want us to move on and treasure her memory. I can't forget either, I see her everywhere. I see her in the colourful bloom of her favourite flower and for some reason chocolate reminds me of the day she left a bar in our bed and you blamed me…" At this bit of his speech Mrs Hughes heard Her Ladyship sob but smile at the same time. As if she was remembering a little girl covered in chocolate and shamefully admitting that it was she who made a mess in mama's bed and not her papa. The Housekeeper smiled herself when she imagined the Earl getting told off by his wife and made to sleep in his dressing room for spoiling her sheets. But she quickly wiped any trace of a grin off her face when she recalled that young Lady Sybil was not eating sweets and making trouble but instead, she was six feet under the ground half a century before her time.

"…I see her in the colour blue that reminds me of her rebellious eyes and that dreadful mad outfit with legs she once wore to dinner. But most of all my love, I see her in you. I wish I could erase your pain and take away your nightmares, but you definitely do not have to apologise to me. For I am the only one who could possibly understand what you're going through."

Her Ladyship didn't reply for a long time, Even Mrs Hughes couldn't think of a reply to that. When the Countess reached up and pressed her lips insistently upon her husband's, in a way that would imply that he was her lifeline and only source of happiness, Elsie knew she was invading on a private moment. She had to leave the couple in peace and let them mend each other, open doors and bright lights be damned! She took one last look at the suffering lovers and when she saw His Lordship's tongue slide into his wife's mouth, she hurried down to the servant's hall as quietly as possible. Elsie still heard their moans and occasional sobs when she walked down the spiral steps that led downstairs.

Mrs Hughes felt sorry for Lord and Lady Grantham, for their painful loss of a child and their recently broken marriage. But she also envied them for everything they had and quite possibly took for granted. She envied them for being able to sleep in with the person they love every day. She was jealous of the fact that The Countess had someone who would take her for a midnight dance when nightmares haunted her relentlessly. She was jealous of The Earl who had someone who he loved so much that he could trust her with his tears and sentiments. She was surprised, and quite taken aback, that when she imagined herself having someone who would dance her troubles away and would whisper his deepest emotions in ear, she imagined Charles Carson.