Of all the luck! It had been one time. Just one. And now here she was, spewing up last night's salmon mousse into her chamber pot. Breathing deeply, Rosamund leaned against her bed. Her damp nightgown was stuck to her back and her skin was pale and clammy. She grimaced at the taste in her mouth and cast a look at the glass of water on her bedside table. She wanted to rinse the taste from her mouth, but a part of her refused to let herself move. She almost felt that if she stayed rooted to that one spot, then time would stop altogether. And the minute she began to move, it would start again. And then she would have to acknowledge what was happening to her. What was happening to her body.
This wasn't the first time Rosamund had awoken with vomit in her mouth. Not even the second. And she dare not think back to when she last had her courses. Not since before that night. She had just gotten back from London, having done the Season for roughly the sixth time. And still no offers. Mama had warned her to be less sharp and testy with prospective suitors, completely unaware how hilarious that statement had been coming from her. When they returned to Downton they were greeted with the oh so wonderful news that little Lady Mary had said her first word. Looking at Robert and Cora's ecstatic faces as they gave the news, Rosamund felt no qualms about telling them that 'bab' was not a word.
Not that she need have bothered, even Mama and Papa was cooing over the dark eyed baby. She was unheard.
Dinner that night had been cloying. Mama had made a few 'subtle' jabs about Rosamund's lack of success of finding a suitor, and Robert and Cora entertained the family with updates about Mary. For example the time where Mary grabbed one of Cora's necklaces and broke it. Or when she nearly ate a slug. And of course there was the riveting tale of when they became convinced Mary was choking to death, only to discover she had simply drunk her milk too quickly.
Rather abruptly, Rosamund stood from her seat. Then, claiming a headache, she excused herself. Instead of making her way to bed, she decided to cool herself off by going on a walk in the cool night's air. That was when she bumped into him. Rosamund knew him by sight but not by name. She had occasionally seen him at church and in the village, but that was all. A local farmhand. Not worth her notice really. That said, she rather liked the look of him. Broad shoulders, dark hair and cold blue eyes. His smile had an ironic, sarcastic tilt to it that when directed at her, made Rosamund feel as though the two of them were sharing a joke against the rest of the world.
"Excuse me," she said imperiously, "But what are you doing here?"
"What's it matter to you?" he demanded.
"Quite a lot, actually," Rosamund replied, sticking her chin up, "Seeing as this is my garden,"
"Sorry M'lady, but I was under the impression that this was Lord Grantham's garden. And I rather doubt you're 'im. Course you might have a point if you were Lord Downton's bride, seeing as she paid for this place. But you ain't American so that can't be it,"
Rosamund's lips thinned, "I don't like your impertinence. And I happen to be Lady Rosamund Crawley,"
"Oh? The spinster daughter?"
Rosamund turned white with rage. "Why.. you-" she stuttered.
"Don't fuss yourself," he interrupted, "I'm in the same boat. My girl who works at the house just told me to scram. So I'm left without a special someone either,"
"Maids are not meant to have Gentlemen callers," Rosamund replied coldly.
The man smirked, and waltzed over. He leered down at her arrogantly. "But you are, aren't you? What does it say about you when a kitchen maid can get a man, but Lady Rosamund Crawley, daughter of the Earl of Grantham can't?" He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "Or may be she can,"
Rosamund refused to remember any more of that night. Refused to admit it even happened. Forget stopping time. Instead she wished she could turn it back. Back before he saw him in the garden. Back before that disastrous Season. Back before Robert had brought him his nimby-pimby baby voiced bride. Just turn everything back! A though it had never happened.
But it had. Rosamund lay a shaking hand over her belly. And here was the undeniable proof.
DA
She had thought it better to come clean. Reveal the truth with some dignity while she still had some. So head tall and shoulders back, she marched into her father's office and gave him the horrific news.
She was pregnant.
Rosamund remained straight back and tall even as her father raged at her. Unflinching even when he hurled his wine glass at the wall, causing the glass to shatter into a thousand sparkling shards. And she kept her dignity even as Papa revealed the news to her horrified mother and shocked brother and sister in law. Through every sharp rebuke and thundering threat, Rosamund stayed cold and aloof. Until eventually, Violet collapsed to the sofa and sighed.
"What is to be done now?" she asked to mid-air.
Rosamund remained quiet as different plans were discussed. Her opinion was unwanted, for it was she who had threatened the family with scandal. Eventually it was decided that Rosamund and Violet would go to France for a few months, for Violet's health, and have the baby there. The child would be adopted.
At this point, Rosamund spoke. "Leave my baby with strangers?" she whispered. No, she wouldn't do it. She had been determined to stay strong and proud through all this, but now she was willing to beg on her knees to avoid such an outcome.
It had been Cora who became Rosamund's unlikely champion. She suggested that they give out that it was she who was pregnant, not Rosamund. Then the Doctor will order her to go abroad for a better climate. After all that, Cora and Robert would return to Downton with a new baby for the nursery. Robert had been skeptical, but Cora had him wrapped round her little finger and he soon agreed.
Rosamund was still not happy, but she saw that it was the best thing she could achieve.
Cora turned to Rosamund with a simpering smile. "That way you can still be the Baby's Aunt," she said, as though expecting to be thanked.
Rosamund longed to give her a slap.
DA
Rosamund's belly had only slightly started to swell by the time the family left for France. With her corset's tightly laced, she had been able to hide her condition from everyone. Outside the family and Dr Clarkson, only Violet's devoted Lady's maid; who had been waiting on her and would be accompanying the family to France, knew the truth.
As the luggage was loaded in the car, Rosamund watched as Cora bade Mary a tearful farewell. Mary was too young to go with them, instead she was to be packed off to Duneagle. Watching Cora give Mary one last embrace, Rosamund found herself surprisingly unwilling to roll her at eyes at the vulgar display of emotions. Instead, a cold dread swept over her.
If handing her baby to relatives for only a few months brought so many tears to Cora's eyes, then what would it do to Rosamund to give away her child indefinitely? Even if Cora was American.
She lay a hand over her rising stomach. Rosamund had not told anyone, but she had felt the baby kick. For the first time it had truly sunk in that she was carrying a child in her belly, as close as two beings could be. And in a few short months, the two would be parted in a whirlwind of blood and tears.
DA
Whenever Rosamund had thought of France, she naturally assumed Paris. Instead, the family hid themselves away under a false name in the countryside. The tiny village was called something she couldn't spell, and the house they had rented was small and poky compared to Downton, with only a maid, a cook and a handyman. None of whom spoke any English. Both her Papa and Mama complained continuously.
Not that Robert and Cora seemed to mind. Far from the stifling confines of Downton, the two basked in their love for each other. There was a small, isolated beach next to the house, where Cora and Robert would frolic bare footed. From her window, Rosamund watched the pair build sandcastles and jump the waves. Seeing the two of them together made something inside her burn.
Rosamund had overheard them once. They had been lying together on the beach. Sand was in their hair and their clothes were in a frightful state. They had been talking about what to name the baby. Her baby. She thought of the way Cora eyed her growing stomach and asked to feel whenever the baby kicked. Circling her like a vulture.
Rosamund knew she was being unfair. Robert and especially Cora had been kinder to her than necessary and sometimes she felt guilty about the way the sight of them made her want to wretch in disgust. But then she remembered the loving touches they exchanged, the look of bliss they had in sharing each other's company. The beautiful child they had waiting for them back home and that when this would all be over, they would have another baby to fuss and pet. Whereas she would return to being the tiresome spinster.
And Rosamund knew that Robert and Cora should be the last ones complaining about life's unfairness.
DA
Through an exhausted fog, Rosamund watched as the midwife took the bloody, screaming baby and wrapped it in a towel. Too tired, and in too much pain to protest, she saw Cora cradle the roaring infant in her arms and leave the room.
Two days later; as Rosamund lay recovering, Lord Grantham, Robert and Cora left for Downton.
"Who's nursing the baby?" Rosamund asked her mother listlessly from her bed. She had hoped she would be allowed to do it, even though she knew that this way would hurt less.
Violet did not look up from her embroidery.
"A local woman will be accompanying them to Paris, where they will meet the wet nurse they hired. We leave for Paris the day after tomorrow, where we will take to opportunity to 'soak up the ambiance' for two weeks. We will be back in time for her christening,"
'Her!"
Rosamund rolled over to look at her mother. "It's a girl?" she croaked.
Violet paused, and looked Rosamund in the eye. Then, in a surprisingly gentle voice she said, "A lovely, healthy girl. With gold hair and brown eyes. They decided to call her Edith,"
"Edith," Rosamund repeated.
"Lady Edith Crawley, second daughter to Lord and Lady Downton, the future Earl and Countess of Grantham," Violet squeezed Rosamund's hand. "And it must remain that way,"
DA
Paris was wonderful. The museums were wonderful. The food was wonderful. The hotel was wonderful. Everything was simply wonderful! And Rosamund smiled and smiled and smiled until it felt as though her cheeks would burst.
"Tiresome, isn't it?" Rosamund heard someone murmur over her shoulder.
She and Violet were listening to a rather dull lecture given by their guide about the architecture of the palace they were visiting. And though her cheeks remained in a firm, polite smile, Rosamund's mind had begun to wander.
The stranger smiled politely. "Marmaduke Painswick," he said by way of introduction.
Rosamund nodded back. "Lady Rosamund Crawley,"
It transpired Mr Painswick was staying at a hotel close to their own. Over the next few days he began to squire both she and Violet about, escorting them from one amusement to the next.
"He's not quite what we hoped for you, of course," Violet noted, "I think his grandfather was a clerk. And a Banker! Of all things. Still, at this point we have no choice of being picky. You could do worse and he's far from poor. You will want for nothing,"
Rosamund let out a harsh bark of laughter at this. Want for nothing! When the only thing she wanted was curled up in a bassinet an ocean away, forever tied to somebody else. Still, she raised no objections when Violet invited Mr Painswick to stay at Downton for a week on his return. She liked him as much as she could like anything at that moment. And maybe it would be better for her to move to London and live her own life, rather than wasting away at Downton, watching somebody else raise her child.
"And other children are likely to follow," Violet added.
Because of course, all children are replaceable.
DA
Back in time for the Christening, just as Violet had said. The house teemed with servants, arranging flowers and setting up for the receptions afterwards. Rosamund could not stand the activity and constant hustle and bustle and so she remained in her bedroom whenever she could. And at all costs she avoided the nursery.
Yet, on the morning of the Christening, Rosamund found herself leaning in the Nursery doorway. She watched as Cora bounced little Edith up and down, trying to soothe the wailing baby. Instinctively, Rosamund said "Can I hold her?"
Cora looked up in surprise, but to Rosamund's slight shock she agreed.
"Do you want to go to your Auntie Rosamund?" Cora cooed.
'Auntie Rosamund'.
With Edith safely nestled in her arms, Rosamund began to gently swing the baby from side to side. Slowly, Edith calmed down and nodded to sleep. In her white lace robe and with her golden curls, she looked like a little doll. And yet she was warm and soft. Flesh and blood. Her flesh and blood. Rosamund made her way to the window, her back to Cora so that she would not see the tears Rosamund was furiously blinking back.
"I think that I will go check on Mary," Cora announced, before going off in search of her eldest daughter, leaving the two together. Rosamund heard the door shut behind her.
"Hello little one," she cooed, "I'm your Aunt Rosa- I'm your mother. Robert and Cora will be your Mama and Papa and they will take good care of you. They love you very much my darling. But I'm your mother. Never forget that. And no one," Rosamund whispered furiously, "Will ever love you as much as I do,"
And with that, Rosamund lay a tender, lingering kiss on Edith's forehead. Then, she left the nursery to find Robert or Cora, and give them back her baby.