Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey or its characters. I borrowed Violet & Prince Kuragin from J. Fellowes, the other characters that appear in this story are my creation. This chapter is rated T, but the rating will go up for the following installments. So, consider yourself warned ;-)

The story is again edited by my fabulous friend Gemenied.

The widow

A widow is a fascinating being with the flavour of maturity, the spice of experience, the piquancy of novelty, the tang of practised coquetry, and the halo of one man's approval. ~ Helen Rowland

England, April, 1894

Part 1

Life as the widow of the late Earl of Grantham was as dull as Violet had always imagined it. She had not only lost her husband (dear Edward, may he rest in peace), she had also lost her purpose. She was the Dowager Countess of Grantham now. She lived in the Dower House in the village while her young daughter-in-law was living the life Violet used to have. Cora was the new lady of the manor, while Violet was just the relict of another time, and she was only 52 years old. Too young to be buried next to her late (much older) husband, too old to be of interest for most men – no matter how available or unavailable they might were.

Good, old Edward (in her head she always called her husband 'good, old Edward') had died almost one year ago and this was the first time she had actually decided to follow the invitation to join a house party. She was in half mourning now, which meant she was allowed to smile in public without pretending to feel worse than she did about it. Attending this party meant to show the world that Violet Crawley wasn't done with life just yet. Not that she felt that confident about the whole thing as she pretended to be. At times like this she certainly missed her husband more than she had ever expected. Edward had been a quiet man, reliable, boring, but always there and until his death she had never really appreciated his virtues and his silent support. He had never controlled her or had told her what to do. He had allowed her a lot of freedom, which many other wives would have mistaken for indifference, but Violet had come to understand that it had been his way of showing his love and how he had dealt with the fact that he had been almost 20 years her senior.

Now she was living alone for the first time in her life, with a house of her own and she still needed to find out what to do with her time without becoming one of those overbearing old women who never knew where their place was. If she remembered correctly Shakespeare called the future "The undiscovered country". So how many undiscovered things could lie ahead for an English widow who didn't want to feel or become useless?

The only way to find out was to return to the land of living. And so she arrived in a carriage which had taken her from the station at Carrington Hall, ready to make the best of the days that lay ahead.

As always Violet kept all of these thoughts hidden behind a well trained mask of friendliness. It had taken her decades to put up a smile that gave nothing away of her inner thoughts and these days she could smile and chit chat effortlessly, no matter, how she felt inside. She considered this achievement a victory, earned and granted after many years of self-doubt and pain, inflicted by her parents, her mother-in-law and sometimes by herself.

Her carriage stopped at the entrance and she smiled her perfect smile at her old friend Marjorie, Lady Carrington, as they greeted each other.

"How wonderful of you to come. It's been so long, Violet!" Marjorie said as they went inside.

"Well, a lot has happened," Violet answered with a small shrug.

"I hope your journey was pleasant."

"It was tiring," Violet answered wearily. It wasn't a lie. She felt indeed tired, but she blamed it on her corset and the lack of fresh air, not on the ride on the train.

"I can imagine. There's still time before we have tea, so why don't you lie down for a bit?" Marjorie suggested. "To be honest, Archie's not even here yet. I only hope he arrives in time for tea."

"But where is he?"

"He's left London only this morning... he's bringing another guest for the party. I think it's some foreigner who was part of a commerce delegation. Don't ask me... you know Archie. He's always very mysterious about these things."

"I'm sure he just doesn't want to bore you."

"If you say so... listen...," she leaned in closer. "We've also invited an old friend of yours," she whispered, as she linked arms with Violet on their way upstairs. Violet turned her head and was surprised to see that Marjorie was actually blushing with excitement.

"What do you mean?" Violet asked suspiciously and instantly feared the worst. Marjorie was not only known for her hospitality, but also for her indiscretion when it came to men. Once again Marjorie looked her shoulder to make sure the housekeeper and the footman wouldn't overhear them.

"Lord Hepworth will also attend our little party. But guess what... his wife won't."

Despite her wish to make an ironic comment, Violet managed to keep up a straight face. "How interesting. Has she taken ill?"

Marjorie shrugged impatiently. "Who knows? Who cares? But when Archie told me, he invited him, I thought it would be nice for you to see him again."

"I have no idea what you mean," Violet hissed.

"Oh, I think you do know," Marjorie said and added, "I've made sure his room is just down the hallway."

Violet rolled her eyes. The last thing she needed was a set up by an old friend with an old friend, but she could hardly admit this to Marjorie. She probably wouldn't understand that Violet wasn't interested in sharing her bed with a man – well, at least not Lord Hepworth.

Many moons ago, he had been her lover. The first lover she had ever taken, after she had done her duty and had given birth to a son and the future Earl of Grantham. After Robert's birth, a not every joyful occasion that lasted almost two days, the doctors had told her to her devastation that it would probably be her last baby. Her husband had acknowledged the fact with less frequent visits to her bedroom and she had done what every woman would do: she had seen her needs be fulfilled – only that in case of Lord Hepworth she had been in for a major disappointment. Unfortunately his Lordship had proved to be good at flirting, but when it came to the fulfilment of his promising advances, he had failed. Spectacularly. Violet remembered a very embarrassing quarter of an hour, in which she had heard him panting like a tired horse above her, while she had pretended to enjoy it.

"I'm not sure I understand your implications, Marjorie," Violet said, after the housekeeper had left and the door had closed behind them. "I don't think Lord Hepworth will be interested in me."

Marjorie waved Violet's statement aside. "Oh, but he is interested. Believe me, I know it. He's asked quite a lot about you ever since the Earl died. I think he was genuinely sorry for your loss."

"I'm sure he was... I'm just not sure I want him to feel... sorry for me." Violet gave Marjorie a look.

Marjorie's face was blank. "I understand... at least I think I do."

Violet sighed. She had forgotten how daft Marjorie could be. "I thank you for your... consideration, but I think it's best for me, if I... just enjoy the party. Without Lord Hepworth to console me."

"Anything you say," Marjorie smiled, but Violet knew she hadn't understood a word. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

"Aside from keeping Lord Hepworth away from my tails? I don't think so."

"Very well then. I'll leave you alone. I'll see you for tea."

When Violet was finally alone, she drew a deep breath, realized her corset was indeed too tight and rang for her maid. As soon as she could breathe again, she needed to find out how to make sure no unwanted man would end up in her bedroom.

When Violet arrived downstairs for tea she noticed that her host had arrived from London, before she saw him. Lord Carrington was not only a tall, massive man, he was also as noisy and annoying as a steam engine. Violet put on her smile and told herself to always remember to look for a place far away from Archie – and Lord Hepworth, whose path she hadn't crossed so far.

She mingled among the other guests and was happy to enjoy her first sip of tea, when she felt a certain shiver running down her spine. Like the strange sensation one felt when being secretly observed.

Alerted, Violet looked around as far as etiquette and good manners allowed her to, but she couldn't locate a reason for her uneasiness. Everybody around her was chatting and having tea and cake. Her first instinct was to look out for Lord Hepworth again, but she couldn't detect him in the small crowd and finally decided she was probably paranoid. Yet, the feeling was there and it didn't leave. It only intensified rapidly as the moments passed and it evidently aroused her. She felt how she blushed and how the small hairs of her neck straightened up. It was ridiculous. The last time she had felt this way she had been... - she quickly closed her eyes - in a crowd like this in a room much more splendid and wasteful. A man had been watching her from across a crowded room and once she had realized she was being watched, she had... not hidden from him. There had been no way to hide from a man like him. On the contrary. He had been exactly the kind of man she had waited for all her life and so she had allowed him to watch her and she had enjoyed the excitement his hungry eyes caused in her, before she had finally established eye contact with him...

She emptied her cup with one gulp and wished she could strike these memories from her mind. She hadn't thought about him, had even buried her every memory of him, in years. So why did she have to remember him now? Here of all places? It didn't make sense and only confused her.

The resurfacing of her memories didn't stop. It all came back in flash.

Her weeks in Russia. The merciless cold, the snow, the endless nights of balls and receptions, the dances, the forbidden touches... Now her memories were even attacking her senses. Without forewarning she suddenly sensed his presence, as if he stood right next to her. But that was nonsense, of course.

Still, she could swear to smell him. She even heard the dark timbre of his voice. Against her better judgement she noticed how her eyes were now frantically scanning her environment. It was a maddening experience to think he could be around, so close, too close, but she couldn't help herself. She remembered the afternoons and nights she had spent in his arms. His kisses. His body so close to hers. The naïve plan to run away with him to be free of the life they had been raised to lead.

To save herself from the most awkward situation she had ever experienced Violet got herself a second cup, but the tingle on her skin didn't fade and she didn't know how much longer she could hold herself together without escaping this disturbing crowd around her.

Moments later, it was Lord Carrington who came to her rescue. Archie and his horrible, loud voice tore her out of her memories and brought her back into the present. It felt as if someone had spilled a bucket with ice water over her head, but in the end she was grateful for the distraction.

"There she is! Violet, my dear!"

"Archie!"

He kissed her on the cheek. "It's good to see you. God knows, you're far too beautiful to stay hidden somewhere in the middle of Yorkshire! You look splendid!"

"Always the charmer."

"Violet, I want you to meet someone. I'm sure Marjorie told you I was in London over the last week."

"Indeed, she did."

"I think I've met an old acquaintance of yours there and decided to bring him over here." He took Violet's arm and led her through the small crowd.

"Marjorie's already told me, you invited Lord Hepworth," Violet said, as she did her best to make sure her tea wouldn't be spilled over her dress while Archie pushed her along.

Archie laughed, "Forget about Anthony, the old boy will arrive for dinner. No, no, in London I met someone you and Edward met decades ago. Well, that means he told me he met the two of you."

"Now you've made me curious," Violet admitted and apologized as she almost (thanks to Archie) ran into a footman who carried a heavy tray with cups and dishes.

"I knew you would say that!" He laughed loudly and then he suddenly lowered his voice. "Honestly, dear, even if you can't remember him it would still be kind of you to play along. The man is of great importance for our new trade agreement with the Russian Empire. The new Prime Minister had a rough start and it would help us a great deal, if these contracts worked out."

Violet stopped dead and now the tea really spilled over the cup, but she didn't notice the hot liquid, as it ran over her hand. "Did you say Russia?" she asked, shocked.

"Yes... Are you all right, dear? You look pale."

"I'm fine," Violet said quickly, but she noticed how her heartbeat increased. Suddenly she felt all flustered and again a shiver ran down her spine.

"Who is this man?" she asked and noticed her voice sounded hollow while her imagination went riot, but there was just one answer that would make sense. Her mind supplied only one name. Who else would dare to ask for her? Who else would dare to come here? Who else could cause her to feel like this?

"Prince Igor Kuragin," Archibald answered. "Does the name ring a bell?" he asked hopefully.

"I think it does," Violet answered flatly. "He's a cousin of the Tsar, isn't he?"

"Something like this... a cousin once or twice removed. Who knows how these Russian noblemen are related to each other," Archibald seemed relieved. "He said he met Edward and you at Prince Albert's wedding back then in St. Petersburg."

She nodded absent-mindedly, "Yes. A wedding in January. Crazy idea, don't you think?"

Archie laughed, oblivious to her change of behaviour, "You know what they say about foreign customs. But now come on... let's see if we can reacquaint the two of you!"

****tbc*****