...through these eyes i see your truth...
A series of loosely connected vignettes - the love story of Robert and Cora through the eyes of those around them. They are not even remotely chronological and many chapters are named from something that showed up on itunes while I was writing them. However it is NOT songfic. ;) I'm fascinated by third person POV stories, and how different characters interpret what they see.
M rating for individual chapters, not the entire story. No idea how many chapters there will be. Let's just take it as it comes, shall we?
I. Bird and Tree, Sun and Sky (K+)
If Richard Carlisle was honest with himself, the entire trip to this god-forsaken corner of the country had netted him very little. Mary was infuriatingly distant and he could almost touch the Earl's disdain; it was so thick it was nearly corporeal.
He would have been lying if he said he didn't hope to get a bit more out of the invitation, if not more forward motion with Lady Mary then certainly a little bit of gossip to take home to his paper. He'd often heard, even reported on, the more lascivious lives of the peerage and he believed that Downton Abbey had the same predilection towards secrets and intrigue. But he would give them this: if they were no more proper than the others, they were certainly far more discreet.
It seemed even the servants, usually so easily bought with a few pounds, would close ranks around their beloved family in a show of loyalty that Richard thought was more than a little naive. As if the family wouldn't sell one of them down the river if it meant less scandal on the house.
In any case, he found himself wandering the vast estate beside Mary as her parents walked a few steps ahead, no doubt speaking of him and his appearance in Mary's social sphere. Lady Grantham was kind enough, beautiful but a little dull, following her husband quietly. He'd expected more from the American and was more than a little disappointed to find she thought her husband hung the moon. Easily directed by him, she was exactly the kind of wife Richard expected Mary not to be. That suited him quite well.
And Lord Grantham...well. Richard wasn't convinced he didn't have a lover on the side, as many men of his station did, but he'd yet to find any evidence. He was insufferably full of himself, sold on his own power in this little corner of England. If it didn't mean putting his courtship of Mary at risk, Richard would take great pleasure in removing the self-satisfied grin from the Earl's face. He was comforted by the thought that having Mary for a wife would be enough to cause the great and powerful Earl much consternation, to speak nothing of the irritation of the old Dowager.
"I'm tired." Mary spoke through a sigh, breaking a lasting silence between them. "Let's go back to the house. I'll just tell Mama..."
"No, let me." Richard waved her off. "You head back and I'll catch up to you."
The Earl and Countess had disappeared around a bend several moments earlier and Richard jogged in their direction as Mary turned to trudge back to the house. The set of Mary's shoulders told him she wasn't simply tired of the walk, and he wondered if he'd given away his private thoughts somehow. She didn't seem to want to quarrel with him, but she was certainly keen to judge him.
Irritation spiked but he held his tongue. Anything worth having was worth the fight to get it, and he truly believed Mary Crawley was something worth having. A bit of a rebel, outspoken and with a tendency to resist the family order (or so he'd heard) meant she was just the kind of woman who would marry a mere reporter into her vaunted family halls. And of course, wasn't he just that reporter.
Turning the corner Richard drew himself up short and stepped sideways behind a low-hanging branch. It was mostly bare, the entire countryside preparing for winter, but the couple he watched took little notice.
It seemed the Earl did, in fact, have a lover. He stood in his wife's arms, his wide palms resting gently on her waist. Her gloved hand cupped his face and she placed several chaste kisses against his lips, her thumb brushing up over his cheekbone. Crawley's fingers flexed against the material over her hips and she stepped even closer to him.
It was fascinating to watch such an intimate moment in such an exposed place. But they were mindless of possible interruption and Lady Grantham rocked back on her heels, dragging her husband towards her, fingers curling against his neck, tugging him closer. They stumbled just a bit, shared a touch laughter, and their kisses resumed.
It was the flash of the Lady's pink tongue as her husband scooped her forward into his embrace that finally forced Richard's hand. He may not have any great love for the Earl, but he had no desire to humiliate Lady Grantham by becoming a voyeur to this passion. And so he stepped sideways, purposely crunching on a rather large twig.
The effect was instant and Crawley loosed of his wife's waist and she slid to stand, looking at Richard over her husband's shoulder.
"Mr. Carlisle?" She asked, and to his surprised she didn't look the least flustered. Her hands had slid into Crawley's lapels and she held her husband there, not slackening her grip on him.
Her eyes were bright, her cheeks a breathlessly rosy pink. Her mild expression gave way to the amused quirk of her lips.
Richard wondered internally if he hadn't underestimated the wiles of Lady Cora Crawley, or at least the spine.
"Mary is tired and has headed back. I'll catch up and escort her back." He let his gaze slide over them, finally rising to meet Robert's. The older man's ears burned fuschia at the tips, but Richard gave him credit for remaining stoic. Of course. His blood and training could never truly be overcome by passion, even as the lovely woman and his arms tried to light that fuse.
"Don't wait for us." Cora dropped her hands from Crawley's label and threaded her arms through his, urging him deeper into the bare woods of the estate. "We'll be back shortly."
As Richard turned back in the direction Mary had gone, he made a mental note to inspect their appearance when they returned. He had a feeling they would return more rumpled than they'd gone.
Respectable indeed.