Elsie couldn't believe her luck. The very first bug of the season to come through and she had caught it. She just couldn't believe it. She rarely ever got ill. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she had gotten ill. It had to have been ages ago. She groaned as another almighty sneeze left her shivering body, pulling her blankets tighter around her. What was so different now that she fell abed at the first hint of winter with a silly cold?

A draft of air sent her burrowing further under her blankets. The fire had died down a little since Charles had tended it before he left for the Abbey this morning, but it was still fairly roaring. It wasn't until she heard the familiar steady footfalls of her husband walking up the stairs that she realized the draft must have come from the outside door opening. She looked towards the window to gauge the time. It wasn't time for Charles to come change into his evening livery. Elsie didn't even think it was lunch time yet, but she couldn't be sure.

"How are we feeling?" Charles asked gently, stepping quietly into their bedroom.

"Miserable," Elsie rasped. "And cold."

Charles smiled in sympathy, placing a hand upon her forehead. "Your fever seems to have gone down a little. Mrs. Patmore sent some soup. I'll go heat it up and make us a cup of tea."

Elsie hummed in reply pulling her blankets up over her head. She continued to ponder how she had fallen ill in the first place as she listened to Charles move about in the kitchen. She didn't know why he was home now, but she was glad of it. Being alone while sick was one of the worst feelings in the world, but now she had her husband to look after her. She smiled lazily at the thought. She had a wonderful husband to look after her just as she looked after him.

Charles soon came back with a bowl of soup, toast, and two cups of tea. After helping her sit up, he placed the tray over Elsie's lap and then joined her on the bed to drink his tea.

"What time is it anyway?" Elsie asked nibbling on a piece of toast. "I didn't think it was time for you to be back yet."

"It's just gone ten o'clock," Charles said much to her surprise. He answered her unspoken question with a chuckle. "Her Ladyship said it was not done for one to leave one's ill wife alone at home."

"Quite right too," she murmured just loud enough for Charles to hear, making him laugh. Elsie laughed with him until she began to cough uncontrollably. Charles moved the tray as the soup threatened to spill. He watched helplessly until she finally leaned back exhausted and then helped her to lie back down.

"I'm sorry, love," he said pulling the blankets up to her shivering chin.

"It's not your fault," Elsie wheezed. "It's not like you made me ill."

Elsie froze. Charles watched her with concerned eyes. "What is it? Are you in pain?"

"You," Elsie gasped. Charles furrowed his brow in confusion. "You did make me ill!"

"What?!"

"You had the sniffles last week," Elsie accused him pointing her finger at his chest. Charles began to bluster, but she cut him off. "And then you gave them to me!"

"I did no such thing," he denied. "This is definitely not the sniffles so I couldn't have given them to you."

"That's not the point! I never got ill before I married you."

Charles stared at her gaped mouthed. The hurt in his eyes made her instantly regret her words. "Do you wish you hadn't married me, then?"

"No," she whispered reaching out from beneath her blankets for his hand. "I don't wish that. I'm just ill and miserable and looking for someone to blame."

Charles hummed, brushing his thumb across the knuckles of her hand. He moved down the bed to pull her to him. Elsie was dozing atop his shoulder when his rumbling voice pulled her from sleep.

"You know," he wondered, "I really can't recall you ever being ill before we married."

Elsie chuckled. "Well, I suppose if this is the worst thing about being married to you, I can live with it."

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