It had been yet another long night. Robert came back into the bedroom after having his valet dress him, dark shadows under his eyes. He sat on the chaise, and Mary ran over on her stocky little legs, lifting her hands up to him. He swung her up onto his lap and looked over at his wife.
"Cora, we can't keep doing this. It's exhausting enough for me; I can't even imagine how tired you must be." Weariness edged Robert's voice. He wrapped his arms around his daughter, cuddling her close and brushing the hair back from her face.
From her place propped against her pillows in bed, Cora glanced up from watching baby Edith nurse. The deep purple patches beneath her eyes matched her husband's. "What do you suggest, Robert? I'm not sure what will help."
Robert pressed one of Mary's ears to his chest and covered the other with his hand, saying very softly, "For one thing we need to stop letting Mary sleep with us at night."
"Darling, she can't help that she's having nightmares," she said, smiling at her eldest.
"Mama, Papa, I can still hear you," Mary's voice piped up.
Robert moved his hand away from Mary's ear, and Cora laughed. "Mary, you should go to your nanny now and get dressed. Papa will come get you for your lessons in a little while." She shifted Edith a bit in her arms.
Mary fixed her papa with pathetic eyes and a wobbly chin. "Do I have to, Papa?"
Dropping a kiss on his daughter's head, Robert nodded. "Yes, Mary. Run along, and I'll be there soon, and I'll read you your favorite book."
Grinning, Mary scrambled down from her papa's lap and ran to the door, waiting for him to open it. When he did, she sprinted down the hall to her own room.
Closing the door again, Robert sighed.
Cora extended her hand to him, and he sat on the bed, holding her hand in his. "It won't be forever," she consoled him. "I'm sure the nightmares will stop once Mary realizes she isn't being replaced by her baby sister." She chuckled lightly, pulling her hand away so she could rest Edith on her shoulder, patting her back to burp her.
Passing his hand over his eyes, Robert sighed once more. "Edith's five months old, Cora, and Mary doesn't seem to be getting better. In fact, if you ask me, it's worse. She didn't used to knock on our door in the middle of every night."
"No, that's true, darling. I'm endeavoring to look on the bright side here."
Robert looked at her. "I'm sorry, my dear one. I'm simply very tired, and I know you are. Besides," he leaned closer to her and whispered, "I miss you."
Glancing at him empathetically, her voice soft, she said, "I miss you too. It's been far too long. And I don't mean just that." She blushed. "But since we had an entire night alone together."
Leaning even closer, Robert pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, then one to Edith's forehead. "Why can't she stay in her nursery at night, again?"
Shaking her head slightly, Cora repeated for what felt like the tenth time, "It's really not fair to the nurse, Robert. She needs her sleep too."
"And we don't?" Seeing her frown, Robert rubbed his eyes again. "I didn't mean to snap, darling. I suppose I was looking forward to the baby finally sleeping through the night more than I realized."
Cora shifted Edith to one arm, lowering her voice so as not to disturb the baby's sleep. "You and I both. I hadn't counted on her teething so early and painfully. My poor little girl." She put her hand on top of Robert's. "We'll think of something, my love."
Robert nodded at her, taking in how very beautiful she looked – despite how the long nights getting up with Edith and comforting Mary were showing on her face. He knew why she wanted Edith with them, and it wasn't for the sake of the nurse's sleep. It was because her mother's heart couldn't bear thinking of her baby in pain and someone else soothing her. As for Mary, the theme of her nightmares made Cora want to reassure her there was room for both her and the baby in Mama and Papa's heart and life. Apparently this translated very literally to include their bedroom and, in fact, their bed.
At Cora's suggestion that he sleep in his dressing room so he might have a chance of getting a little more rest than he had been, Robert told her no, without a moment's hesitation. It wasn't just that he felt a fatherly duty or even a husbandly duty, but that, every morning they awoke with Mary between them, he wondered if being physically separated by their children might turn into a different type of gulf between them. He didn't want to put any more distance between him and Cora than there already was. And he certainly didn't want her to feel he'd abandoned her with the children, even if it was her suggestion.
No, they would stick it out together, he'd decided. And his reward – for, in spite of the lack of sleep and missing time alone with his wife, there were indeed rewards – was moments like these, where he watched his wife and baby in a serene tableau, Cora smiling her sweet smile at him, or early morning cuddles with Mary, or being able to be the one who consoled her when she came in from her nightmare and Cora already had her hands full with a fussy Edith.
Yes, the rewards were sweet.
However, (and as much as he hated himself for thinking it) he wasn't sure they completely made up for the time alone with Cora he was missing.
But she had said they would think of something. So, kissing her tenderly, he departed to send her lady's maid and Edith's nurse to the bedroom, and to collect little Lady Mary for her "lessons."
Several weeks later, Perkins sat alone in the servants' hall, repairing one of her mistress' tea gowns. It had been ripped. The tear was almost unnoticeable, but of course an excellent lady's maid – as Lady Grantham's was – would notice the unnoticeable on her employer's things.
Perkins' forehead creased with a frown.
The lady's maid had only been at Downton for a relatively short time, arriving only one day after Lady Edith. Hired for her sweet temperament and for her superior sewing skills, Perkins had fit in comfortably with the other staff in the house. She approved of the way the household was run, even though she quickly realized that some of the habits of Lord and Lady Grantham were… odd, particularly given their station and standing in the community. One of the most unusual habits to which Perkins had to become accustomed was that the two slept in the same bedroom. Despite this, she'd taken to the gentle, foreign Lady Grantham, and she had also developed a great respect for Downton's generous master, Lord Grantham.
Over the months she'd been there, she could see that the lord and lady of the house felt a genuine love for one another. It was rare in this type of household, and it touched her in a way she couldn't quite explain. She would inadvertently witness unexpected kindnesses and shows of affection of lord for lady. And, invariably, after one of these exchanges had occurred – whether his lordship had presented her ladyship with flowers, or had sat with her and their daughters for a while, or had simply given her a soft kiss on her forehead or touched her hand, which was all he would do when he knew Perkins was watching – Lady Grantham's eyes took on a look of adoration. Perkins felt some unaccountable need to protect such a beautiful thing.
The past few weeks had passed very similarly to the ones before. Lord and Lady Grantham still had teething baby Edith in their bedroom at night, and Lady Mary continued to waken from nightmares and pad to her parents' door demanding entry in the middle of the night. The parents and toddler would awaken late in the morning from a long night, and little Lady Mary would be sent to her nanny, Lord Grantham would remove to his dressing room to get dressed, and Lady Grantham would nurse Edith before calling for Perkins. For the rest of the morning, his lordship took Lady Mary into the library for what she called her "lessons." These consisted of his reading to her from her favorite books, helping her carefully trace her letters – at her insistence – with his hand guiding hers, and father telling daughter stories of the things he learned in school and all about the estate and house. Lady Mary took these "lessons" very seriously and chided her father when he tried to put her off (usually because he wanted a nap). She was a precocious little girl and loved to learn – especially since realizing that correct discourse aided her in telling her parents and nanny exactly what she wanted. While father and daughter were busy with this, mother and baby would be washed and dressed before it was time for another feeding.
Lord and Lady Grantham allowed Lady Mary to join the adults for luncheon, a priviledge of which she was supremely proud. There had been only a few days when little Lady Mary proved too bad-tempered for polite company and had to be removed from the table.
In the early afternoons Lady Grantham, Lady Mary, and baby Edith napped while Lord Grantham went out on the estate. Lady Grantham would wake when Edith was brought in for another feeding, then she would rest for a few hours alone in her room. Everyone in the house was to leave her ladyship strictly alone during these hours: even Lady Mary learned to play in her own room while her mama had this necessary respite, and the baby's nurse entertained Edith. The family all met together again for tea, the parents paying special attention to their eldest, attempting to assuage her jealousy over the baby. Lady Mary and baby Edith would be taken to their nurseries so the lord and lady of the house could dress for and have dinner. It appeared to be their favorite time of day; they often dined alone, since having company over was too taxing when combined with their restless nights, although at least once a week they would have the Dowager Countess to dine with them. This was perhaps more taxing than other company might have been, but was also a necessity.
After dinner, the entire cycle would begin again. Perkins wondered that Lord and Lady Grantham didn't simply collapse from fatigue. And then there was the question of when they could ever be alone together….
Perkins considered it part of her job to notice the unnoticeable, things that most people would never remark upon, simply because they were unremarkable. Except Perkins had always thought that, at times, those things were the most interesting and telling. Over the past weeks, the lady's maid had gathered up a few of these unnoticeable and unremarkable things concerning her mistress. At first, they really were tiny things. One evening a few weeks ago, while Perkins was changing her ladyship for tea with her family, she noticed that her mistress' tea gown was fastened all wrong. Deciding that Lady Grantham had perhaps been overly warm and taken it off in the privacy of her room and had tried fastening it herself too quickly, Perkins said nothing. Then it began to happen more often, and Perkins started to wonder. But, it not being her place to say anything, and not wanting to be thought nosy, she still kept mum.
Another thing Perkins had noted was the satisfied, happy almost smirk on the face of her mistress after her few hours of solitude every afternoon. Lady Grantham still appeared exhausted – perhaps even more so, which was peculiar after hours of supposed rest – but pleased, gratified. Like the cat who had the cream. This expression had only showed itself a few times the first week, but for the past two, Perkins saw it on her ladyship's face every day.
She had also begun to smell men's cologne on Lady Grantham's tea gowns.
Perkins couldn't help it. She was worried. She had become fond of her young mistress, and she didn't want to cast aspersions upon her, but the evidence continued to pile up. And now here was a tea gown, ripped. Perkins felt sure that if her ladyship had caught it on something, she would have said something to her. Lady Grantham generally apologized if she damaged a piece of clothing, never wanting to give her maid unnecessary work. But this went unremarked.
Thinking of Lord Grantham, of how he looked at her ladyship, of how obvious it was to the lady's maid – to all in the house – how much he loved his wife.…it pained Perkins to think that something she felt such a strong need to protect might be damaged. Or that one of the two people she respected most might hurt the other one.
For if what Perkins thought might be happening in Lady Grantham's bedroom during her solitary rest time was in fact happening, it was when Lord Grantham was out on the estate.
The thought nearly brought her to tears. She shook her head, attempting to put the odious thought out of her mind. But it wouldn't go. It all added up. And to nothing good.
Perkins put her things into her work basket, folding the tea gown up neatly. She hadn't finished mending it, but her fingers were shaking too badly to continue work on it. Placing the basket in her apartment, the lady's maid started toward her ladyship's room. Perkins was, at the heart of it, a very honest, straight-forward person, and she did not like to jump to conclusions.
Thus, she decided to simply ask her ladyship about the whole business. So, in the quiet of the afternoon, Perkins approached her ladyship's door.
What she didn't expect, as she raised her hand to knock, was to hear noises from just behind the door. Low groans and dull thuds, as if someone were already knocking on the door, but from the opposite side. Perkins covered her mouth, her eyes wide. She could hear heavy breathing now, and then her mistress' voice, breathy and low – if Perkins wasn't standing right where she was, she wouldn't have heard it – and interrupted by the thudding, "Can we – " thump "do this –" thump "against the – " thump "other door?" thump "Someone – " thump "might hear…" After this Perkins heard her ladyship gasp, "Ooh!" before the noises grew almost inaudible for a while.
Perkins finally realized she was standing there, listening at her employer's door, and was about to beat a hasty retreat when an unmistakable cry of pure delight reached her ears, followed closely by a second, much gruffer one.
Nearly running down the stairs, Perkins hoped she wouldn't meet anyone on the way, because she still had her hand clasped tightly to her mouth and was close to tears.
It was true. Lady Grantham was having an affair.