Hi everyone!
I had a lot of fun writing this story, and i hope you will have just as much fun reading it. The whole thing is so hush-hush in the show, i thought it would be interesting to see what would come of the real story. Thanks!
Please enjoy and review!
love&peace&joy
Cora did not hate her husband. But she didn't love him either. No, she didn't love him. Not really. Not the way she had loved Loren.
Cora was the youngest of three sisters. All bloody, messy, high risk births. On lazy mornings when their mother wasn't so hungover that she couldn't get out of bed, she would tell her daughters of the evil hex put on the family when they were still over in Spain. It dictated that the youngest daughter would in turn bring forth three more daughters of her own when the time came. No more. No less. And no boys. This terrified Cora, not because her mothers was a particularly good storyteller, but because of what it foresaw for her.
The family lived on a spacious estate in New York. A few hours outside the bustling city. Cora's mother had been the precious youngest daughter of an extremely well to do lawyer. Her father had served the country as a soldier early in life so he could retire to his enormous fortune (inherited form a grudging father) at the ripe old age of twenty-nine. With the spoils combined, the Levinsons could afford to raise their daughters in sweltering luxury. And enjoy a good many expensive parties themselves.
The oldest of Cora's sisters, Madge, was ravishingly beautiful in face...not so much in body. Her numerous rolls of fat swayed as she walked and her ankles were a non ending constant torment to Mrs. Levinson. But i t was nothing a few good corsets (and a good lot of clamping herself to the bedpost and having the servants pull until a size 18" waist was acquired) and some longer dresses could not conceal. Because of this, she was quickly married off to a doting, pasty man who was so much fatter than herself, so he could not possibly be bothered by her own size. She always said he made her very happy. No one ever believed her.
Her next sister was pale, sallow and all together unhealthy looking in both figure and contour. She was the least payed attention to growing up, and was quiet, but lacked the intensity that often made quiet people bearable. When men looked at Rosemary, they saw a woman who could not match them mentally, physically, or emotionally. They passed her by. She did cause a bit of an uproar at age Twenty-two, when she mysteriously disappeared in France one fall season. She came home exactly two years later in the full garb of a nun. This was a grand surprise for daddy Levinson, for he had raised the girls as god fearing Protestants.
As her father liked to put it, his little Cora had stolen all the beauty from Rosemary, and all the brains from Madge. It was true that where the other sisters lacked, the youngest Levinson girl always delivered. She had high cheekbones, long dark eyelashes, thin red lips and rolling, shiney, sensual hair. Her mind was sharp as a freshly sharpened razor, and she never failed to be able to articulate her thoughts tactfully and with finesse. This is what Loren often said he loved best about his petit fiance. But more on that in a minute.
Cora claimed the highest quota of affection from her father, and thus had a very desirable dowery. A shrewd mind a suspicious nature had to be adopted when at parties or when courting, for many of the men who tried to charm her were just after her money. She had to be careful.
She met Loren at an outing, the first summer she came out in good society. The tall semi-Irish gentleman had introduced himself cordially, found her a glass of something good, and then dove right into a lively story about how he would catch goats on his grandpa's farm as a boy. She was so taken aback by his vivacious attentive manner that she quite forgot herself and spent the rest of the evening with him, even refusing to dance with other men so she could sit and just be in his radiating presence. He was lean and had a toothy grin which she delighted in. He would often run his hand through his spiky red hair and say, "So what's new with you?" in such a casual, perfect way, Cora would almost cry.
In a way he almost seemed too big for his clothes half the time, even though he was a very slender man. He would pull at his tie and adjust the creases in the pants and stretch his waistcoat, as if he was always constricted in some way. He loved to ride, and taught Cora how to himself. Many happy hours were spent in the rolling acres of his estate, to the clip-clop of horse hooves and the gentle autumn wind that so characterized England. They spent so much time together out there that the servants began to talk. Just what exactly was this young couple doing for all these hours unsupervised? We have nothing but the fact that Loren was a self-categorized gentleman, and that Cora never got pregnant during those gay, sunny months.
Everyone said they couple was a match made in heaven. With the money they could keep Loren's cozy estate, the family's seemed to tolerate each other well enough, and no one could think of any two they had ever seen more madly in love than Cora Levinson and Loren O'Darren.
This is why it came as such a shock when Loren was suddenly killed in a fiery train wreck.
You can expect the next addition next week, probably Tuesday. Thank you so much for reading (and hopefully reviewing!). I really hope you loved it, and are ready for more:)