The house was quieter than it had been in a long while, Cora noticed, as she left the stifling heat of her room. Walking by the empty rooms of the upper gallery, a brief moment of sadness tightened her chest as unbidden thoughts clouded her mind. The Abbey could be incredibly intimidating and lonely when unoccupied and Cora had forgotten this. She was reminded of the first year of her marriage, before Mary filled the silent spaces with her baby cries and laughter, when the house was more museum then home. It had been a difficult year, trying to fit herself into the mold of the family, like a square peg, tiptoeing around so as not to stir the space too brusquely with her new world ideas and American mannerisms. Cora shuddered at the memory of it.
Walking gingerly down the main staircase, Cora recalled her conversation with Robert that morning, mentally ticking off the family's plans for for the day. Robert and Tom were meeting with Murray at Grantham Arms, Mary was off to Ripon for some errands. Edith had been in London for most of the week with Rose. Cora pondered her middle daughter's behavior as of late. When she wasn't in London, she was out of the house, somewhere on the grounds or in the village she supposed. She was vague when questioned and made herself scarce most of the time. Something was clearly going on, and the trepidation Cora felt at what that something could be almost outweighed her concern at knowing.
"Milady?" Carson's deep tones interrupted her train of thought and she was momentarily startled at hearing a voice outside of her own head. She gripped the banister to steady herself and Carson stepped forward.
"Should you be downstairs milday?" Carson's eyebrows furrowed together like two squirrels battling in the middle of his forehead and Cora had to swallow the giggle bubbling in her throat. Perhaps her fever was higher than she thought.
"Oh I'm perfectly alright Carson. Just a tiny cold. I am getting stir crazy in my room however and was on my way to the library to find something amusing to read." Cora allowed the butler to help her down the remaining stairs, the few days spent in bed draining her energy more than she had anticipated.
"I have strict orders from his lordship before he left to make sure you didn't tax yourself." Carson said in his most somber voice.
Cora's laugh turned into a slight cough. "He is overreacting just a tad but I won't tell if you don't."
Carson bowed in assent and left her at the door of the library. Cora wandered into the room. The library had always been one of her favorite places in the abbey, despite its tendency to be a little dark. The volumes occupying its many shelves had been her most comforting companions when she first came to England and the musty smell of antiquated paper and worn leather was like a favorite blanket enveloping her in their warmth. As a young bride she could almost close her eyes and imagine sitting in the library of her parents home, the smell an exact replica, reading by the fire as her father quietly worked at his desk. The similarity helped her feel a little less alone.
The windows looked out over the lawn and drive, offering a grand view of the front of the estate. She recalled watching Mary and Edith's first riding lessons from those windows, her eyes screwing shut every time they would take a jump on their young ponies. Sybil would be bouncing on her knee, arms outstretched toward her sisters as they galloped around, always so eager to join the bigger girls play.
A smile spread across her face as she peered out into the summer haze and saw Sybbie running ahead of Nanny, who wheeled a sleeping George in his pram. As usual, the sight of her grandchildren caused a content sigh to escape her lips and she lingered at the window, watching until they were small dots on the horizon moving further down the path.
Turning, Cora spotted a number of letters on the desk and feeling slightly listless, went over to look them through, wondering if any had come for her. Picking up the stack and fanning them out, she quickly saw that her name was not on any of them and she sighed, dropping them back on the blotter. Cora was almost turned from the desk when a bundle of ledger receipts, sticking out of an envelope, caught her attention. She wasn't sure where the impulse came from that made her reach for them but before she could think too heavily on it they were in her hands. All were made out to the same person, Jane Moorson, signed by a man she'd never heard of and drafted out of Robert's account. The notes indicated that the checks were made for Freddie Moorson-Ripon Grammar tuition.
Cora descended slowly into Robert's desk chair, splaying her hands over the ink blotter and placing the envelope back where she found it. She worried her lower lip, thinking, sorting out the information in her mind. Robert was paying for some boy's education, and had been for a number of years it looked like. Some boy unknown to her; the checks all made out to some woman. Jane Moorson. She thought on the name, teasing her memory for a connection and although it sounded vaguely familiar, she could not place its origin. Drumming her fingers against the oak of the desk, Cora felt a growing tightness in her chest as her imagination brought forth unbidden explanations to the mystery.
Jane Moorson. Cora kept thinking it over. No acquaintance came to mind. Getting up from the chair, Cora went quickly into the drawing room, rushing to her own desk and pulling out daily duty ledgers. The entire running of the household for the last ten years could be found in her notebooks. Flipping through with agitated speed, it took only a half hour to see the name in print. Jane Moorson. House maid. 1919.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the muffled sounds of Robert's voice in the foyer. Springing from the chair she bounded quietly over to the couch and sat down quickly, arranging herself just as the door opened. Robert looked around the room before settling his gaze on her and cocked his head, drawing his lips into a mock stern line. Cora felt an impulsive sting of tears scratch at her eyes and she blinked a few times, forcing them back.
"Now, I thought you were going to be a good patient and stay in bed." Robert admonished.
Cora forced a sheepish grin on her face before looking down. Robert sat beside her and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, letting his lips linger over her skin and she felt herself start to tremble slightly. Touching her forehead, Robert frowned.
"You feel quite warm darling. Really, can't I persuade you to go back upstairs? What are you doing down here anyway?"
Cora let her eyes rise to his, searching deeply, scrutinizing the concerned bunching of his brow. The questions she had were so close to the surface, almost words waiting to be voiced. The care in his eyes silenced her, made her swallow her suspicion. She couldn't think of anything he had ever done to make her question his fidelity. And yet...Cora shook her head and closed her eyes breathing heavily.
"I was getting bored, dear, so I came down." Cora explained, hoping to cover up the emotions warring within her. "I do feel like I could lie down again however, so I'll say good afternoon."
Robert rose with her, holding her hands and kissing her on the forehead before releasing her. Walking slowly back to her bedroom, Cora tried to puzzle out an explanation for what she had found. Her mind failed in producing a satisfactory scenario and her stomach clenched with renewed fear as she continued to come back to the only truth that fit.
Going over to her window, she gazed outward, not seeing the grounds, but those hard, exhausting years of the war. She couldn't remember a shakier time for her marriage, even their courtship and first year had seemed easier. Robert's aloof indifference hadn't stung so badly when they were first married as it had those years when they should have been coming together, rallying behind their growing daughters in a tumultuous world turned upside down by war. How many evenings had he sat on her settee or looked at her from the door of his dressing room with contempt, rolling his eyes at her Americanness, her 'unfeeling' actions. She somehow had become the embodiment of his growing sense of futility and even as they were pulled further apart she had been at a loss to fix the chasm. At some point it became easier to throw herself into something outside of their own heartache than to try and bridge the gap back to Robert. While she found something to do, he found someone to love apparently.
Cora remembered her vividly now, mousy and innocent looking with big blue eyes, a younger, plainer version of herself. She recalled the girl always being around, cleaning, serving, always entering during the clipped and tense conversations she and Robert would have. Going to her bed, she sat down heavily, running her hand over the brocade, her mind conjuring all sorts of torturous images. He had spent many nights in his own room then, feigning a back ache or a headache or a need to do some mysterious work that just could not wait. There had been many opportunities for them to be alone. Finally laying down, Cora was kept awake, wondering how much of his heart he had given to this woman, and how much of it remained in her own possession.