This WILL be a oneshot, I can't write more of this, my heart will break. This is a fanfic of a fanfic- of Onesimus' The Last Will and Testament of Charles Carson- to say thank you for the fanfic of my fanfic. This is, I will be honest, what I thought that story would be and the idea filled me with dread, for I knew there would be angst. I also did a tiny bit of line-borrowing from The Chalk Garden.

She had had hard days before, she had thought. Somehow, they didn't quite match this one.

For most of the day, she had walked around in kind of a daze; not really allowing the news to sink in. It was too awful to really contemplate. It appeared that he had gone peacefully last night, simply gone to bed and not woken up again. He had looked very tired in the evening, but she had not thought a great deal of this, reasoning that he had probably just had a particularly stretching day. She had never imagined that this...

She drifted past people, accepting their condolences with good grace but without really listening to the words. Why people thought she should be suffering more than them was beyond her, they had all lost a friend as well as her. But somehow, even thinking this, she got the feeling that she was. For the best part of the day she tried to keep herself busy, always finding something to do, which was not difficult a seen as now the house was without a butler. It did not escape her notice, however, that her employers were making a special effort to be kind to her. She wished they wouldn't.

She allowed herself to stop for a moment as the evening was drawing in, pausing over the sideboard to which she had just delivered the crystal flask of wine. There was an odd feeling at the back of her throat, not pain exactly, but more like an obstruction that she could not shift. The rest of her had no feeling at all. It was like the rest of her body ceased to exist somewhere along the line. There was a tap on the door. She turned around sharply, rather embarrassed at having been caught loitering. It was her Ladyship.

"Mrs Hughes, I'm sorry to disturb you," Lady Grantham told her gently, "Cousin Matthew would like to see you."

"Mr Crawley?" Elsie asked, wondering what on earth he could want with her.

"Yes. He said it was a matter of business," her Ladyship clarified. "He's in the library."

Bemused, Elsie made her way out of the room, and down the main stairs to the library. She entered the library quietly, seeing Mr Crawley at a desk, his mother sitting beside him. The other woman's presence acted to sooth her a little from wondering why on earth she had been called in to see the young man. Before she had been feeling rather alone. They both smiled sadly as they saw her arrive and gestured that she should sit opposite them.

"How are you feeling, Mrs Hughes?" Mrs Crawley asked, very kindly.

Elsie could not answer. Burned out. Lunar. Like the moon. Her eyes stung and she stared at the table. Mr Crawley cleared his throat a touch.

"Mrs Hughes," he told her softly, but thankfully getting to the matter in hand, "I would like to talk about a matter of business with you. If you're feeling up to it?"

She nodded brusquely.

"Excellent," he continued, "The matter concerns the late Mr Carson's estate."

"Oh, I see," Elsie thought that that at least made sense. Everyone, including herself, had assumed that she would be left in charge of arranging his funeral, "Did he stipulate a sum?"

"Yes, he did," Mr Crawley, for some reason, looked rather disconcerted, "Quite a substantial amount as it happens."

Elsie smiled sadly.

"He deserved the best. I'll see to it that he's done justice. Do you think," she asked the pair of them, "That you cold ask his Lordship if all of the staff could attend? I know it's a lot to ask, but so many of them were fond of him."

"Naturally the funeral will need attending to as well," Mr Crawley conceded, "I don't imagine you have any objections to it being paid for out of your legacy? There's no where else it can come from really."

"I beg your pardon?"

What had he said? Her legacy?

"My, my legacy?" she repeated, not trusting herself to have heard properly.

The two of them were watching her very closely.

"Yes, Mrs Hughes," Mrs Crawley said softly, "Your legacy. Mr Carson has named you the sole beneficiary of his estate."

"He... What?" Elsie could not quite believe it. Convinced that there had been some kind of misunderstanding, she glanced bemusedly from one to the other.

"He came to see me a while back," Mr Crawley explained, "He had no close living relations. He asked that you inherit everything."

She was utterly stunned.

"He thought very highly of you, Mrs Hughes," the young man assured her, "That much was obvious."

That was too much. The lump in her throat hitched and she suddenly found she was sobbing, her face hidden by her hands, not caring who sat across the table from her. She couldn't quite believe that he was gone, especially not now that she knew this... Life, and the absence of it, just seemed at that moment too cruel.

She felt Mrs Crawley's arm around her shoulder as the woman hurried around the table to comfort her.

"There, there, Mrs Hughes. There, there."

All she could do was cry on.

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