FIC: Visitors pt5
Another wee installment to keep you ticking over -
Title: Visitors Pt 5
Rating: PG
Spoilers: SEASON 3 EPISODE 2 (& possibly some Episode 3 related chat)
Once Lady Grantham and the Dowager Countess had excused themselves it was all Elsie could do to keep her eyes open. It seemed ridiculous that the simple act of getting up, having someone help her dress and sitting in the garden having tea was enough to exhaust her but none the less, she slept solidly for three hours before being woken in time for supper. The fact that she was being so comparatively idle in association with thirty years in service where you ate at what would normally be considered odd times, meant that she had been struggling with the routine of the hospital and it’s meal times. She knew she needed to eat to regain her strength but she just couldn’t seem to face more than a few mouthfuls of anything. Still, she did well enough this evening that the nurse who cleared her tray didn’t comment. It wasn’t long after that that the evening medication was doled out and almost against her will, she found herself drifting back to sleep.
Possibly because she had slept so long the previous afternoon or perhaps just because it often worked out that way, she spent a somewhat restless night and by the time the sun rose she had been staring at the ceiling for some time. Once breakfast was over it was time for morning medications and Elsie eyed the nurse suspiciously as she measured out her own.
“Forgive me for asking,” she began, “but that looks rather more than I have been taking recently.”
“Dr Clarkson has noted that you should have a higher dose today, it should make your journey more comfortable.” She thought to protest but just as the words were on the tip of her tongue the doctor appeared in the doorway.
“Good morning Mrs Hughes, I trust that there isn’t a problem?”
“Of course not, Doctor,” she said, taking the proffered cup and swallowing her medicine.
“Good, I’ll want to check your wound before we finally discharge you,” he continued, pulling the screen around the bed to afford them some little privacy.
It was a familiar routine now and she followed his instructions while trying to actively think of something else.
“Well everything looks fine. You will remember the exercise we went over yesterday?”
“Of course, Doctor.”
“And I want you to remember everything we discussed about what you should and should not be doing.”
“It has been made quite clear to me what the alternative is,” she said wryly and the doctor looked at least moderately sympathetic.
“Well you’ll be in good care no doubt, speaking of which…” he trailed off as the sound of visitors arriving came from the sound of the room outside. “Ah, Mrs Patmore,” the doctor greeted, “I trust you’re here to escort our patient home?”
“Mr Carson’s sending the motorcar down shortly but I thought and come and see you right.”
“Thank you,” she said, glad at least to know what the plans were. During the dark hours of the night she had wondered if perhaps Mr Carson might come and escort her home but it seemed not. She had understood his not visiting her thus far; not only was he likely to be horribly busy with doing her job as well as his own, he was so entirely uncomfortable with anything that delved into the realms of emotion or ‘womanhood’ that the idea of him sitting at her bedside would no doubt bring him out in a cold sweat. That said, she missed him dreadfully. They would at least be in the same building shortly and she knew he couldn’t avoid her forever.
“Well I’ll leave you ladies to get organised. I shall see you next week Mrs Hughes, unless you have any concerns at which point I expect you to contact me directly.”
“Of course, Doctor.”
“In that case, good morning,” he said in parting.
“Shouldn’t you be dealing with breakfast,” Elsie asked, once they were alone.
“It’s all in hand,” the cook said, but obviously Elsie didn’t look convinced. “Daisy is perfectly capable of providing breakfast for the family. Now, Miss O‘Brien asked me to give you this,” the other woman said, lifting one of her favourite dresses from her basket. “She said that she‘s left plenty of fabric in the seems for when you fill out a little and that she‘s left a little extra room for your bandages for now,” she continued but Elsie’s attention was distracted as the garment was unfolded. For all that she and Sarah O’Brien didn’t always see eye to eye, the housekeeper had a great deal of respect for her skills if not always her attitude. In this case though, it seemed that she’d been well off the mark. “Whatever’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Beryl‘s voice cut through her thoughts.
“Just the ghost of an old waistline,” she said quietly, reaching out to take the garment. She had been quite petite in her day, slender almost, but with age her waist had thickened as women’s often did. It wasn’t that she didn’t know she’d lost weight recently but she had no idea what had gotten in to O’Brien if she thought that even now she’d fit that.
“I think you’d be surprised,” the other woman said watching her carefully, “but we’ll not know until we try though.” Elsie nodded wearily in agreement and shifted forwards so that she could stand.
“My corset, slip and stockings are in the cupboard, would you mind?” she asked, as she carefully undid the fastenings at the top of her nightgown. Despite her rather extravagant personality, Beryl was practical at heart and Elsie was glad it was she who was there. The act of dressing was still a challenge and she relied on the other woman’s help get into her under things.
“Shall we see if we can get the fit right?” Beryl asked, pulling at the lacing in the back. She gave a stiff nod in reply; she hadn‘t bothered with the thing at all yesterday but it had more or less fit her before she had come to the hospital. “Just let me know if there’s any discomfort.” It took a few minutes work but it was strangely comforting to feel it’s gentle support. “Right. All done.”
“Thank you,” Elsie said and perched back on the bed so that the cook could help her into her stockings. “I think it’ll be easiest to step into the dress,” she thought out loud once that was done.
“Here, lean on me,“ Beryl said, as she arranged the newly altered garment low to the ground. Elsie stepped carefully over the fabric, trying not to lean too heavily on the other woman’s shoulder for the sake of both their comfort. “Now how best we go about the sleeves?”
“Left first, it’s a little more stiff still,” she said, bending her elbow and lifting her arm to slide it into the sleeve. “If this doesn’t fit I think I might have to convince Her Ladyship to get rid of Miss O’Brien,” she muttered as they worked the fabric up her arm.
“There we go,” Beryl said as she slipped the shoulder into place, “other arm. There we go, what did I say?” Now that both her arms were in, it did appear that the dress was going to fit after all.
“I’ll manage the fastenings,” Elsie said, trying to cover her own surprise.
“Well I put your things in your case and then we’ll be all set to go when the motor arrives.”
Elsie’s fingers were not as nimble as she was used to but she managed to get the closures done eventually. When she was done, she ran her palms over the planes of her new figure trying to gage what she must look like. Well at least she was smaller all over she supposed and really she wasn’t any more flat-chested than Lady Mary even if she must look gaunt and haggard with it. Beryl snapped the catches on her small case and brought Elsie back to the present.
“Right,” she said, taking ownership of the situation. “Do you have my boots there?”
By the time they had gotten her boots fastened, one of the nurses had arrived with a selection of bottles and powder packets that the housekeeper thought excessive.
“That should be everything you need for this week Mrs Hughes,” she said brightly, “and there’s a motorcar outside that I think must be for you.”
“Thank you. For all your assistance,” she added as the cook carefully packed away all the medication into her basket.
“Coat,” Beryl said holding up the garment. Elsie eyed it for a moment; the journey would only last five minutes and the effort it would take to get in t it hardly seemed worth it. “You will be wearing it. The last thing you need is to be catching a chill.”
“Yes Ma’am,” she said, unable to temper the sarcastic bite in her tone. Beryl simply raised her eyebrows and stood there until Elsie realised that it was hardly worth the argument. With a sigh, she turned around and thread first one arm then the other into her coat.
As soon as she’d gotten outside she was grateful for the extra layer though, and that Beryl had produced her winter shawl and gloves in addition to her hat, as there was a definite nip in the air. She didn’t even complain when, after the chauffer had helped them in to the back seat, Beryl unfolded a woollen blanket and draped it across her knee. Once she was settled however, it was as though all the activity of the previous hour caught up with her and her limbs seemed to turn to led. When the engine started however, any thought that she would drift off was snatched away from her.
“It won’t take long to get back,” Beryl said, watching her closely, “then I think it had best be tea and back to bed for you.”
“I’m sure that wont be necessary,” she said, mostly because the thought of climbing the four flights of stairs to her own room seemed like an impossible task, “they gave me a rather heavy dose of painkiller this morning it’s left me a little drowsy.”
“And still wincing every time we go over a bump.”
A/N: Love to hear what you're thinking :)
Title: Visitors Pt 5
Rating: PG
Spoilers: SEASON 3 EPISODE 2 (& possibly some Episode 3 related chat)
Once Lady Grantham and the Dowager Countess had excused themselves it was all Elsie could do to keep her eyes open. It seemed ridiculous that the simple act of getting up, having someone help her dress and sitting in the garden having tea was enough to exhaust her but none the less, she slept solidly for three hours before being woken in time for supper. The fact that she was being so comparatively idle in association with thirty years in service where you ate at what would normally be considered odd times, meant that she had been struggling with the routine of the hospital and it’s meal times. She knew she needed to eat to regain her strength but she just couldn’t seem to face more than a few mouthfuls of anything. Still, she did well enough this evening that the nurse who cleared her tray didn’t comment. It wasn’t long after that that the evening medication was doled out and almost against her will, she found herself drifting back to sleep.
Possibly because she had slept so long the previous afternoon or perhaps just because it often worked out that way, she spent a somewhat restless night and by the time the sun rose she had been staring at the ceiling for some time. Once breakfast was over it was time for morning medications and Elsie eyed the nurse suspiciously as she measured out her own.
“Forgive me for asking,” she began, “but that looks rather more than I have been taking recently.”
“Dr Clarkson has noted that you should have a higher dose today, it should make your journey more comfortable.” She thought to protest but just as the words were on the tip of her tongue the doctor appeared in the doorway.
“Good morning Mrs Hughes, I trust that there isn’t a problem?”
“Of course not, Doctor,” she said, taking the proffered cup and swallowing her medicine.
“Good, I’ll want to check your wound before we finally discharge you,” he continued, pulling the screen around the bed to afford them some little privacy.
It was a familiar routine now and she followed his instructions while trying to actively think of something else.
“Well everything looks fine. You will remember the exercise we went over yesterday?”
“Of course, Doctor.”
“And I want you to remember everything we discussed about what you should and should not be doing.”
“It has been made quite clear to me what the alternative is,” she said wryly and the doctor looked at least moderately sympathetic.
“Well you’ll be in good care no doubt, speaking of which…” he trailed off as the sound of visitors arriving came from the sound of the room outside. “Ah, Mrs Patmore,” the doctor greeted, “I trust you’re here to escort our patient home?”
“Mr Carson’s sending the motorcar down shortly but I thought and come and see you right.”
“Thank you,” she said, glad at least to know what the plans were. During the dark hours of the night she had wondered if perhaps Mr Carson might come and escort her home but it seemed not. She had understood his not visiting her thus far; not only was he likely to be horribly busy with doing her job as well as his own, he was so entirely uncomfortable with anything that delved into the realms of emotion or ‘womanhood’ that the idea of him sitting at her bedside would no doubt bring him out in a cold sweat. That said, she missed him dreadfully. They would at least be in the same building shortly and she knew he couldn’t avoid her forever.
“Well I’ll leave you ladies to get organised. I shall see you next week Mrs Hughes, unless you have any concerns at which point I expect you to contact me directly.”
“Of course, Doctor.”
“In that case, good morning,” he said in parting.
“Shouldn’t you be dealing with breakfast,” Elsie asked, once they were alone.
“It’s all in hand,” the cook said, but obviously Elsie didn’t look convinced. “Daisy is perfectly capable of providing breakfast for the family. Now, Miss O‘Brien asked me to give you this,” the other woman said, lifting one of her favourite dresses from her basket. “She said that she‘s left plenty of fabric in the seems for when you fill out a little and that she‘s left a little extra room for your bandages for now,” she continued but Elsie’s attention was distracted as the garment was unfolded. For all that she and Sarah O’Brien didn’t always see eye to eye, the housekeeper had a great deal of respect for her skills if not always her attitude. In this case though, it seemed that she’d been well off the mark. “Whatever’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Beryl‘s voice cut through her thoughts.
“Just the ghost of an old waistline,” she said quietly, reaching out to take the garment. She had been quite petite in her day, slender almost, but with age her waist had thickened as women’s often did. It wasn’t that she didn’t know she’d lost weight recently but she had no idea what had gotten in to O’Brien if she thought that even now she’d fit that.
“I think you’d be surprised,” the other woman said watching her carefully, “but we’ll not know until we try though.” Elsie nodded wearily in agreement and shifted forwards so that she could stand.
“My corset, slip and stockings are in the cupboard, would you mind?” she asked, as she carefully undid the fastenings at the top of her nightgown. Despite her rather extravagant personality, Beryl was practical at heart and Elsie was glad it was she who was there. The act of dressing was still a challenge and she relied on the other woman’s help get into her under things.
“Shall we see if we can get the fit right?” Beryl asked, pulling at the lacing in the back. She gave a stiff nod in reply; she hadn‘t bothered with the thing at all yesterday but it had more or less fit her before she had come to the hospital. “Just let me know if there’s any discomfort.” It took a few minutes work but it was strangely comforting to feel it’s gentle support. “Right. All done.”
“Thank you,” Elsie said and perched back on the bed so that the cook could help her into her stockings. “I think it’ll be easiest to step into the dress,” she thought out loud once that was done.
“Here, lean on me,“ Beryl said, as she arranged the newly altered garment low to the ground. Elsie stepped carefully over the fabric, trying not to lean too heavily on the other woman’s shoulder for the sake of both their comfort. “Now how best we go about the sleeves?”
“Left first, it’s a little more stiff still,” she said, bending her elbow and lifting her arm to slide it into the sleeve. “If this doesn’t fit I think I might have to convince Her Ladyship to get rid of Miss O’Brien,” she muttered as they worked the fabric up her arm.
“There we go,” Beryl said as she slipped the shoulder into place, “other arm. There we go, what did I say?” Now that both her arms were in, it did appear that the dress was going to fit after all.
“I’ll manage the fastenings,” Elsie said, trying to cover her own surprise.
“Well I put your things in your case and then we’ll be all set to go when the motor arrives.”
Elsie’s fingers were not as nimble as she was used to but she managed to get the closures done eventually. When she was done, she ran her palms over the planes of her new figure trying to gage what she must look like. Well at least she was smaller all over she supposed and really she wasn’t any more flat-chested than Lady Mary even if she must look gaunt and haggard with it. Beryl snapped the catches on her small case and brought Elsie back to the present.
“Right,” she said, taking ownership of the situation. “Do you have my boots there?”
By the time they had gotten her boots fastened, one of the nurses had arrived with a selection of bottles and powder packets that the housekeeper thought excessive.
“That should be everything you need for this week Mrs Hughes,” she said brightly, “and there’s a motorcar outside that I think must be for you.”
“Thank you. For all your assistance,” she added as the cook carefully packed away all the medication into her basket.
“Coat,” Beryl said holding up the garment. Elsie eyed it for a moment; the journey would only last five minutes and the effort it would take to get in t it hardly seemed worth it. “You will be wearing it. The last thing you need is to be catching a chill.”
“Yes Ma’am,” she said, unable to temper the sarcastic bite in her tone. Beryl simply raised her eyebrows and stood there until Elsie realised that it was hardly worth the argument. With a sigh, she turned around and thread first one arm then the other into her coat.
As soon as she’d gotten outside she was grateful for the extra layer though, and that Beryl had produced her winter shawl and gloves in addition to her hat, as there was a definite nip in the air. She didn’t even complain when, after the chauffer had helped them in to the back seat, Beryl unfolded a woollen blanket and draped it across her knee. Once she was settled however, it was as though all the activity of the previous hour caught up with her and her limbs seemed to turn to led. When the engine started however, any thought that she would drift off was snatched away from her.
“It won’t take long to get back,” Beryl said, watching her closely, “then I think it had best be tea and back to bed for you.”
“I’m sure that wont be necessary,” she said, mostly because the thought of climbing the four flights of stairs to her own room seemed like an impossible task, “they gave me a rather heavy dose of painkiller this morning it’s left me a little drowsy.”
“And still wincing every time we go over a bump.”
A/N: Love to hear what you're thinking :)