"You must have cut yourself shaving, darling."
Robert shook his head, examining the curious little wound closely in the mirror. When he had first noticed the injury he had had the same thought, but it was the fifth day in a row he had seen such a mark and surely he wasn't that clumsy? His wife was, undoubtedly, but he had always been a rather sensible, steady man. "I'm sure I would have remembered."
"We've all been rather preoccupied, what with the war." Cora eyed her husband carefully through the mirror. "Just be careful next time."
"But I'm certain that's not the case. And look," he indicated the markings in question; "these cuts are hardly shaving wounds. They look like puncture marks."
Cora sighed. This was the fifth time she had heard this over the course of one week and she was beginning to tire of her husband's paranoia. "What exactly are you saying, Robert? That you were attacked by a vampire?"
Robert almost seemed to flinch. "Of course not. That's absurd...isn't it?"
Her husband looked doubtful. Honestly, he was nearly fifty years old and he still believed in such superstitious nonsense? Cora swiftly pulled on a glove.
"Perfectly. Really Robert, you must get more rest."
There was a soft knock at the door, saving Cora from further histrionics. They were due downstairs in a matter of minutes and she was in no mood for her husband's dramatics: she was hungry after all.
"Come in, O'Brien."
Behind her, Robert glanced up in surprise and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. She forgot how limited men like Robert were, who left nothing to chance and needed to see to believe, but Cora could smell her, soap and musk, with the faintest hint of lavender, and had detected her scent nearly ten minutes before she had knocked at the door.
Cora licked her lips.
"You're just in time." She smiled wryly as Sarah closed the door behind her. "Lord Grantham has been bitten by a vampire again."
Robert bristled. "I never said that!"
He still wasn't convinced, but he was hardly going to embarrass himself in front of his wife's maid: the incident would be all over the house in minutes knowing O'Brien.
"Let's forget we ever mentioned it. I must have cut myself. I'll be more careful in future." He made a beeline for the doorway. "Shall I see you downstairs?"
"See you downstairs, darling," Cora smiled sweetly.
The click of the door as Robert exited was satisfying, but the look on her maid's face was not. She knew full well what she was thinking and it would have galled her if she hadn't been so fond of the woman. Besides, Cora could hardly blame O'Brien: she looked positively exhausted. She couldn't imagine it was easy to take care of her needs in winter.
"Don't look at me like that, Sarah."
Sarah sighed, loosening her grip on the basket now there was no chance of his lordship glancing inside. "You're getting careless, love."
"It's hardly my fault!" Cora protested. "Would you be able to resist with his neck practically in your face every night?"
"I could try!"
Cora pouted. "Don't be jealous darling. I can hardly drink your blood, can I?"
Sarah refused to give in, no matter how adorable her ladyship looked with her bottom lip so prominent and her eyes so soft.
"You could at least wait 'til I've 'ad a chance to go 'unting."
"I get hungry! It's not like there's an abundance of absurdly rare beef. There's a war on!"
"Really?" Sarah drawled. "I 'adn't noticed, even though your 'usband says the word a thousand times a day."
"Darling, you know I would drink your blood first and foremost but I don't want to hurt you!" She slinked closer, sliding her hand over Sarah's hip. "I'm terribly fond of you, after all."
Sarah snorted, but could feel herself melting quickly. "At any rate 've brought you some dinner."
She reached into her little basket, rummaging through needles and thread until her fingers curled around something decidedly warm and squishy and utterly repulsive but her lady seemed to like it, and whatever her lady liked she would get for her.
But this had all taken some getting used to. The first time her ladyship had told her she was a vampire, she had nearly laughed in her face. The fangs had changed her mind, of course, but even then she had been convinced she was so bloody overworked she had finally lost her mind.
No such luck. Her ladyship was a vampire and she was still her lady's maid and not only did she have to wash her stockings now and her soiled bloody underwear, but hunting had been added to her job description.
"Here," she let the delicately wrapped organ fall to the table with a dull thump. "It was the best I could do – it is winter after all."
"Oh darling, you're much too good to me."
Sarah snorted. She was rather, but then Cora was suddenly closer, pressed up against her with hand in her hair, and reason was utterly lost to her. Close up she was terribly pale, but at least she knew it wasn't illness, but it was her eyes that thrilled her: usually so brilliantly blue they were the colour of midnight now and Sarah released a groan of desire as she felt hot lips pressing eagerly against her neck.
"One of these days, my dear, I'll have to make you just like me."
Cora pressed a knee between her thigh, nudging her legs apart. They didn't have nearly enough time for this, but she had managed to conceal her condition for over three hundred years now, so she was sure she could manage an excuse for a few minutes' delay.
"Your little friend can join us."
Sarah presumed her little friend was Thomas.
"I thought you didn't want to 'urt me, m'lady?"
"No," she conceded, dragging her tongue over Sarah's neck and tracing the pulse point that seemed to throb underneath her ministrations. "But I wouldn't want to live without you, either."
She would give anything to sink her teeth into the soft flesh beneath her tongue but she had sworn to herself she wouldn't. She wouldn't take an ounce of Sarah's blood until she could drain it all and make the woman hers for forever. She had waited three hundred years for a human as worthy of her love as Sarah: she didn't mind waiting a little longer.
After all, what good was eternity without somebody to share it with?