So I didn't intend to start another fic, but well, here we are. First of all, I want to give a HUGE thank you to the kind-hearted breakingunbreaking (via tumblr) for requesting this story & helping to coach me through the overall premise in the first place. You're a gem & this fic wouldn't exist without you so...thank you, my dear! I owe you a great deal.
For those of you wondering, this was a request pulled from a detail in one of the Cobert drabbles I wrote on tumblr. It was intended to be nothing more than a throwaway line, but apparently it stuck out, and this fic was born. The sentence read: "Love letters from her former life that she kept hidden away from him that incited his jealousy." Well, what I tried to condense into a one-shot or mini-series turned into this sweeping epic of a multi-chapter fic hah. (Like I need another novel length fic on my hands *face palms*) Anyway, this is going to be rather lengthy as I currently have 14 Chapters outlined, and no end in sight, so I'll try my best to keep it interesting. As always, if you feel inclined or find some time, your thoughts would be much appreciated. I am always open to criticism so long as it's constructive. Enjoy lovelies!
Her gloved hands ran along the smooth marble banister of the second landing (or the bridge as Harold and her used to call) as she leaned forward slightly to watch the scene unfolding below.
Mother stood in the center of the atrium, barking orders to the staff, who were escorting the various cases and trunks out onto the front lawn where three carriages awaited them.
"Careful with that, Miller!" She shrieked suddenly, gliding towards one of the young men, who carried several precariously stacked boxes in his arms.
He jumped, and if it weren't for her quick reflexes, the top box would have fallen to the floor instead of in Martha Levinson's outstretched hands. "These are jewels from the late Mrs. Levinson!" She scolded, blindly passing them to her right where Mrs. Brown, the housekeeper stood. "Goodness knows if we misplace them she'll crawl out of her grave, and drag me down with her."
A snickering sound erupted from behind Cora's right shoulder, and she saw something flickered across her periphery. Standing up straighter, she turned to find Harold meandering closer.
Arms folded in front of his chest, he slowly shook his head and let out a low, amused whistle, "I find it hard to believe after all that Granny and Mother put one another through, a string of misplaced pearls hardly matters." He glanced down at the scene in question below.
"They meant a great deal to Father," Cora eyed him critically before realigning her focus on what was transpiring downstairs as well. Folding her leather clad hands together, they rested against her middle as she added plainly, "I imagine Mother just wants to honor that."
Harold snorted again, pressing his forearms onto the railing as he stooped forward. "They never honored her in this life, why should she do them any favors now?"
"Because she loved him," Cora affirmed softly, arching a brow before reminding him. "And in spite of everything that happened, Father loved them too."
He hummed, his mouth twitching up at the corners. "And true love conquers all, now does it?" He quipped lightly, shifting his weight.
"Not all," Cora remarked stiffly, lowering her gaze.
She watched Mrs. Brown and her mother, heads bent low in conversation while Mrs. Levinson's hand swirled about every now and again as if to emphasis some point. Mrs. Brown then hurried towards the front door and out onto the lawn after the next round of luggage made its way outside. Cora's gaze trailed after her departing figure, and it was then she noticed Harold studying her intently.
After a moment or so, he murmured in agreement, "No, I suppose not." Pushing off of his forearms, Harold stood up straighter and wondered, "Have you said goodbye to him then?"
She swallowed hard, her hear jerking to the side. Eyes trained forward, she answered hollowly, "No."
Harold let out a heavy, lamenting breath, "Cora."
"Well what would be the point of that?" She turned sharply to face him. Her eyes stung when she found a melancholic pity staring back at her. Blinking several times, she set her jaw and added, hands flying out to the side in exasperation, "We're not going to marry so there's really no benefit in him seeing me off. It's not as though our friendship can continue once I'm married."
"Once you're married, probably not," Harold argued lightly, arching a calculating brow. "But there's nothing that says you can't continue on with it before that time comes."
When she didn't appear convinced, he suggested with a nonplussed air, "It's just writing letters."
Cora rolled her eyes at this, placing her hands on the stone banister. "Mother would never allow it."
"Mother doesn't have to know," He pointed out, tilting his face forward, a mischievous glint dancing through his eyes.
"How could she not?" She frowned, her brow creasing in confusion. "She keeps track of all of my correspondences."
"There are ways around such things, dear sister," Harold remarked with a wry half grin.
Cocking her head to the side, she inquired, "What ways?" She couldn't think of any that wouldn't compromise her virtue or cause her any shame.
"Well…" He squinted, thinking for a moment, "you could always...write to me. And then if you happen to accidentally slip in an additional piece of correspondence to a Mr. Adelberg, I'd be happy to deliver it to him on your behalf." He shrugged again, casually leaning his arm against the railing again.
"You?" She balked, a teasing peal of laughter ringing through her words. "The-Secret-Keeper-For-All-But-A-Minute?" Smirking at him she shook her head, "No, thanks."
"Hey, I happen to like David a great deal!" Harold exclaimed, swatting her forearm playfully with the back of his hand. Tilting back his head he asserted in a tone of mock seriousness, "And I think it's a damn shame the two of you can't marry. You look rather smart together."
Cora blushed at the truth behind his words. Peering down at her feet, she chewed on her bottom lip, stifling the knowing smile that threatened to spread.
It was hard to disagree with Harold on this point. But at the same time, she couldn't allow it be known she was altogether pleased by this statement. There was far too much at stake as far as her relationship with David Adelberg was concerned. She'd certainly risk more than her heart if she confirmed what everyone else merely speculated.
"I don't know Harold..." She sighed halfheartedly, elbow slumping against the banister.
"Well either way," He remarked lightly, opening his palms to the side, "whatever you decide, the offer stands."
She was grateful for her brother's offer. But at the same time, a splinter of suspicion worked its way into her brain. He was, after all, Mother's favorite. Just as she was once Father's.
This thought brought a slight pang to her heart, but she managed to brush it away. Banishing all feelings of sadness, she allowed her curiosity to overtake her, and Cora asked him, "Why would you do this for me though?"
He blinked back at her, clearly surprised by her question. But then his confusion was replaced with a warm smile that reached the surface of his honey hued eyes, "Because you are my dear sister, and I shall miss you terribly while you're gone."
"Don't make me laugh," She snorted.
Cora's head turned to both sides, watching another round of trunks and hatboxes march down both sets of staircases that wound down to the first floor in a curved half circle.
"You'll love having the place all to yourself," She mused lightly, her eyes sweeping across the finer details of the front room, trying to memorize everything about the temporary home she'd soon leave behind.
The red and gold oriental printed rug that ran down the center of both sets of staircases. The black iron spindles that curled beneath the marble stone railing. The white crown molding that stood out regally against the burnt red walls adorned with medieval tapestries and paintings Isidore and Martha had carefully procured with their new found wealth. The cherry wood table with roses carved into the scrolled legs, a white and periwinkle printed bone china vase that sat atop it, full of whatever seasonal flowers grew outside in the gardens. And then the massive chandelier dripping with sparkling crystals, brass candle holders, now vacant and dull against the glittering pieces that shone in the sunlight. The two narrow floor to ceiling windows that were at least ten feet tall, lined either side of the heavy oak door with black iron handle and knocker, letting in a generous amount of sunlight.
What she once thought to be entirely ostentatious decorum seemed more beautiful to her now. And she envied Harold for still having time to enjoy the house.
"Well I won't deny that," Harold teased.
Cora chuckled softly, casting her attention back onto his round, boyish face.
Once their quiet laughter died down, Harold cleared his throat, and took her hands in his. "But really Cora," He adopted a more solemn tone, "you've helped me through a few sticky spots over the years. It seems only fitting that I should return the favor."
She smiled broadly, the corners of her eyes crinkling. Squeezing his hands tightly, she admitted, "I'll miss you too, Harold."
Some things, she learned, were better off unsaid. He seemed to agree with this as he nodded mutely and then let go of her hands without another word.
No sooner was she about to suggest they head downstairs than Martha was calling up to them, her authoritative tone flecked with impatience. "What are the two of you doing up there, idling about? Come along now, Cora! We're going to be late. You too Harold!"
Both of them jumped to attention and began descending the left side, heads bobbing while they walked side by side. They heard their mother murmur something along the lines of, "Just wait until Sally Walton sees we've gone, she's going to die from jealousy."
Cora bit her tongue, shooting a quick look of amusement at Harold before looking down.
He chuckled softly, leaning close enough to whisper in his sister's ear, "And Mother's going to sing the Hallelujah chorus at Mrs. Walton's funeral."
Luckily, Martha was too transfixed with making a grand exit from Levinson Manor to have heard them snicker among themselves. Once outside, they all took great time in saying their goodbyes to one another and the staff. Martha waved enthusiastically to Sally Walton, doing her best to mask her scowling expression from her veranda next door.
Not everyone was pleased to learn The Levinson's might soon be counted as their equals or well above them once Cora married. But Martha chose not to notice.
Once she slid into the carriage beside her daughter, it was apparent nothing could sink her buoyant mood. Not even the scowling Sally Walton, who was already a regular companion of the Mrs. Astor's could force her to look back as the carriage slowly pulled away from their Newport Home.
Cora, on the other hand, couldn't help but leaned forward to gaze out the tiny window. She watched as the familiar houses she'd come to know over the last several years rolled on by. The covered verandas where she took tea and lunch with the other young girls her age, now bare. The expansive, green lawns where they played badminton were vacant. There were few people strolling along the cement sidewalk that ran parallel to the road, however, no one that she recognized or desired to bid an enthusiastic farewell to.
That is, until they rounded the corner of Bellevue and Grant.
It happened so quickly, she wasn't sure if her mind was playing tricks on her or not. But she could have sworn her eyes locked with his, stalling her heart momentarily. Crystalline blue found softened steel, and his mouth edged into a slight curve, hand lifting as if to raise in farewell. Cora twisted in her seat, her hand pressing to the tiny window at the back of the carriage.
He waved forlornly, his figure shrinking into the distance as she was carried away from him. It pained her more than he'd ever know to leave without a word of goodbye. But she wasn't even sure if there were any words she could offer that might make him feel her absence any less.
Her fingers felt for the pink cameo broach pinned to the underside of the lapel of her traveling coat, the ridges of the ivory silhouette and the crystals that outlined the ornament felt just as coarse as her swift departure. Perhaps things would feel smoother as time and space put distance between them. But she couldn't know for certain.
"Cora, sit down." Martha interrupted her deep thoughts, her hand shoving Cora's shoulder down effectively forcing her back into her seat, "Young ladies do not gawk outside an open window," She reminded her in a clipped, automatic tone that suggested she memorized this piece of etiquette from a pamphlet or book she recently read.
Cora's hands flew to the middle of her lap, and she immediately looked down, hoping her cheeks weren't too flushed from slight embarrassment that crept over her.
"What were you looking at anyway?" Martha probed suspiciously.
Swallowing back her guilt, Cora shook her head, trying on an air of indifference, "Nothing important."
An irritated scoff and a keep your head out of the clouds, my dear later, it was clear Martha bought the lie. A shiver of excitement coursed through her body at the mild thrill from disguising the truth from her mother. And Cora suddenly felt emboldened to seriously consider Harold's earlier offer.
Short chapter I know, but it's just the Prologue. The others will be a bit longer/more descriptive. :)