AN: I obviously don't own Downton or any of its characters. And the title, "The Gifts of the Magi", is the title of the famous O. Henry story. This story works loosely, very loosely, on that plot...more just inspired by its themes more than anything.
December 1920
Cora sat, her face angled toward the window of the train car, though Robert doubted she saw anything beyond the hollow lines of her own reflection in the glass. No, she couldn't possibly, with eyes that remained transfixed and unblinking. The train panted heavily along the track, the couplings clanking in protest as they pushed through the cotton covered landscape. As the metallic groans grew in volume the further they traveled from London, so did Cora's silence. A silence thicker than the steam plumes belched into the air by the engine's chimney. It was a new habit of hers, one Robert was learning to live with, just as he was learning to live with the edge her sudden retreats left him hanging on.
Shifting, Robert peered out the small window, squinting as his shallow breaths met the cold glass, each exhalation creating a spider web of frost that slowly distorted his view. Not that there was much to see save the giant, fluffy flakes of snow tumbling haphazardly from the sky. A million of them, chasing angrily after each other so that, as the sun left the earth for one more night, all that was discernable, was white.
Sighing, Robert fell back into the stiff cushion of his seat and drummed his fingertips against his knee, the action only serving to increase the tension in his muscles. For the handful of days they'd spent in London, Rosamund infusing every moment with conversation and activity, Robert had almost forgotten the heartache lodged in his chest. Even Cora had seemed more herself, laughing and smiling, two of the many things lost that haunted his sleep these last few months.
The rustling of wool and silk captured Robert's attention and he quickly looked across to his wife as she fidgeted in her seat, looking for comfort. The conductor had skittishly coaxed the train along for miles now, the angry whine of brakes and the hiss of the whistle punctuating the low murmurs of conversation throughout the car. Glad that she was out of the strange fugue she so easily slipped in and out of, Robert relaxed his face into a smile as she met his eyes.
Blinking rapidly, Cora turned from him once again and Robert felt the stretch of his lips fade into a frown until her tongue peaked from the cover of her lips, wetting the fragile skin of her mouth.
"It looks fierce out," Cora said softly and Robert listed forward, eager to catch the words she spoke.
"Hmm," Robert agreed. "There's no sign of a let up. I've been watching since we boarded. I think it's getting worse."
"Well, we are sure to get a white Christmas," Cora observed, the words lacking any of the excitement usually accompanying the sentiment and Robert reached across the space between them, covering Cora's hand with his own.
"Cora...darling…" His words caressed the air and she closed her eyes and let her head fall just slightly, leaning into the touch of his voice.
Robert would have said more. There were so many words hammering away in the walls of his head, fighting to race down his tongue, but Cora's quietness at times begged to remain undisturbed. And he was loathe to be the one to break it, to ruffle the fragile feathers of their newly born peace.
He would follow her lead, too afraid of the alternative to do otherwise. But sometimes, sometimes the need to speak to her, to say the things ballooning in his chest, pressing against his heart, was too painful to ignore. Robert opened his mouth but his voice was soon cancelled out by the screech of wheels as the train decelerated suddenly. The jarring motion pushed Cora forward and Robert braced her by the shoulders, holding her steady.
High pitched, startled gasps and deep, demanding rumbles erupted around them, the friction of discontented noises electrifying the air. The hair on the back of Robert's neck rose and he leaned toward the window, looking out once more into the inky night. Exhaling loudly, Robert eased back at seeing the snow swirling in the halo of the station's lamps, men clad in wool coats pushing snow off of the platform.
"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention." The attendant bellowed, his voice containing an authority that was undermined as he hastily swiped the sweat off of his glistening brow.
The shuffling and murmurs of the other passengers petered out as the people in first class turned back around to face the man speaking. Clearing his throat, the attendant balled his kerchief in his hand and straightened into rigid attention.
"I am sorry to inform you that this will be the last stop for the evening. Our mechanics up ahead aren't able to keep the track clear."
"Robert-" The rise in Cora's voice as her fingers tucked themselves into the folds of his coat sleeve preceded the rise in commotion within their car as passengers destined for the station they remained parked at gathered their belongings in a rash relief, glad to have reached where they needed to be. The others, now stranded as he and Cora were, started up in protest.
"What do you mean, sir?" One gangly man bellowed, standing up and over the green looking attendant. "What would you have us do?"
"You...you can remain on the train." The attendant stammered. "The boiler will be kept running. It shall be warm enough."
"Stay on the train?!" Robert spat, jumping from his seat. "This is madness!"
"Robert-" Cora tried, laying a hand on his arm, which he shrugged off as he grabbed his hat and overcoat.
"Sir, I assure you-," the train attendant choked on the rest of his words as Robert looked over his shoulder, his blue eyes wide and bulging.
"Lord Grantham!" Robert growled. "Cora, come!"
Cora snatched up her clutch and rushed from her seat, Robert's back was already far down the aisle as he stomped to the door of the train. Not stopping to make sure of her progress, Robert was on the platform as Cora reached the iron steps leading her out of the train. Gripping the offered arm of the station guard, her wan smile twitched at him automatically. The wood under her feet groaned and the heels of her boots pulled her in precarious directions as they met the icy coating underneath. The guard tightened his hold on her, keeping her upright as the cold air momentarily seized her lungs. Once steady, Cora searched for the edges of her coat, intent on closing up the gaps that allowed the bitter air through the fibers of her clothing, but her hand only met the delicate silk buttons of her blouse at the base of her throat. Sighing she turned back to the shuttered up train, realizing she had left the garment in her seat as she had tried to keep up with Robert.
Turning in the direction he had pounded off in, Cora thought a moment of running back into the warm compartment but Robert showed no signs of slowing and so she quickly made off in his direction, arms flailing to hold herself upright as she skidded once more.
"You there!" Robert demanded as he rounded the ticket booth and advanced on the car park.
The cabbie he had spotted halted his movement into the motor and searched the pinched face of the man bearing down quickly on him. Before the man could respond, Robert was opening the back door himself, holding his hand out for Cora to enter. It was then he noticed she was tenderly placing her steps on the snowy platform as she slowly walked in his direction. Huffing out a quick burst of air, Robert brought his attention back to the cabbie.
"We will need you to drive us to Yorkshire." Robert stated, swatting at the snow weighing down his eyelashes.
The man shook his head before answering. "No sir. There'll be no driving tonight. The roads are a beast."
Clenching his teeth, Robert stepped closer. "I will pay you double your fare."
The cabbie crossed his arms and lifted one eyebrow. "That's a tempting proposition, my lord, but no."
Throwing his arms up, Robert reached in his breast pocket for his bill fold. "Here. It's all I have. Let me take your car, then. I'll have my man drive it back to you in the morning."
Screwing his mouth up incredulously, the cabbie snatched the money, his jaw slackening as he counted the currency. Placing the bills in his pocket he handed Robert the keys.
"Good luck," the man muttered and flipped the collar of his coat up against a gust of snow, hurrying across the street, in the direction of a lit up inn.
Cora sighed loudly as she approached Robert's side, her breath materializing in the air around her mouth as it's warm moisture mixed with the cold. Robert took her by the elbow and guided her around to the passenger door, stopping with confusion as he was met with resistance.
"Robert, what are you doing?" Cora asked, her forehead wrinkling as her brows rose.
"We are driving home." Robert replied, tugging her to follow.
Cora leaned away, planting her feet where they stood. "Are you serious? Be sensible!"
Robert dipped his head closer to hers, holding her eyes with his own. "What do you suggest we do, Cora? Camp on the train? I know your American sensibilities allow for almost any concession, but I for one am not about to spend the night with a gaggle of strangers like a common band of gypsies."
Robert let go of her arm and strode to the driver's door, opening it and sitting down. Starting the car, the motor whined to life, it's machinations clacking and snuffling its song into the night. Grinding her teeth together, Cora's ire at his insults and foul mood flamed hotly for a moment before it just as quickly snuffed out, as most intense emotions did lately. Numbness tingled over her once again and her shoulders slumped forward before she slowly rounded the car and took her place in the seat.
Without looking at her, Robert threw the shift into gear, pressed his foot to the pedal, and the car jerked into motion, carrying them into the snowy landscape.
"I won't miss Sybbie's first Christmas."
Robert's words were almost lost over the noise of the car, but Cora heard them. She felt them in the burning squeeze of her heart and the lingering toss of her stomach. Her hands balled into fists, the blunted nails of her fingers painfully burying themselves into the flesh of her palms.
Sybbie's first Christmas.
Cora's mind wandered to the Christmas before. She saw it, as though it were still tickling her hand, Sybil's letter to them. She was going to have a baby. Cora had been full of joy. Her first grandchild. And then Matthew had proposed to Mary and everything had seemed so very hopeful and possible.
How their fortunes had changed in the span of a year.
Sinking further into the chilly leather of the seat, Cora shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle, closing her eyes as the familiar sting pricked her lids.