A Marriage of Convenience
She stood alone, facing the mirror of someone else's vanity, trying in vain to sort out who stood peering back at her. If it was indeed her own reflection, she certainly didn't recognize it. But it had to be hers, for she could feel the austere, lace collar of her dress clutching her neck a little too tightly for comfort, and the pins, which pulled her dark, curly tendrils taught atop her head, digging into her scalp. She closed her eyes, trying to reassure herself with as deep a breath as she could muster from within the prison of her corset. From the adjacent room, she could hear her mother's voice. She was no doubt telling some terribly charming story about that fateful first ball of the season, where one dance had set the course for the rest of her life. Her mother's shrill laugh echoed in her head, her knees weakened, and despite having been forbidden from doing so by the woman who would, in a matter of hours, become her mother in-law, Cora collapsed into the chair set beside the vanity, crushing her dress underneath her. She lifted her finger to her earlobe, slowly circling the pearl which hung from it. It and its partner had been given to her by her grandfather as a parting gift before she set off on her passage to England. Cora had been reluctant to accept them, perhaps because she knew that if all went according to her mother's plan, she would not be coming back and the earrings would only be a reminder of everything she had left behind. Now, however, on the brink of abandoning the last of Cora Levinson that reminded, she was glad she had them. Originally, she was not even meant to wear them for the occasion, as they were, in her soon-to-be mother in-law's words, "dreadfully American". Cora fought for them, however; her small rebellion against everything her mother and future mother in-law were fashioning her to be. If she could no longer be her own person, she would at least have a small reminder of who she was and the future she could have had. She turned her head to stare out the window, but through the droplets of English rain that clung to it, she could hardly make out the alien world she found herself in. Feeling terribly lost, it took all her strength not to weep.
A rap came at the door. Cora hurriedly stood up, trying to shake the wrinkles out of the folds of her dress so as to avoid being reprimanded for her careless American nature. Satisfied that the worst of the damage had been undone, she answered.
"You may come in."
Isidore, her father, walked in, smiling tenderly at her. Cora sighed with relief.
"I was afraid you were Robert's mother."
Her father chuckled heartily.
"You needn't worry. Your mother has not stopped talking long enough for Violet to manage an escape." He walked towards her and wrapped his hand around her clammy fingers, rubbing them gently like he had every night before tucking her into bed as a young girl.
"You look beautiful, my darling."
"I certainly don't feel it. Not with this awful collar wringing my neck."
"The English never were ones to sacrifice style for comfort," Isidore responded wryly as he pulled her near him for a hug. He had always been sensitive and affectionate, for which Cora was deeply thankful. With her mother always pushing her to climb the social ranks, their relationship was strained at best. Her father, on the other hand, was always there to envelop her in his arms and calm her nerves before some ghastly social event orchestrated by her mother.
"You know, it is never too late to put an end to all of this, if that is what you want. I should hate for you to be miserable and so far from home."
Cora nestled her head deep into her father's shoulder, considering the option. The truth was, however, that she truly loved Robert in spite of everything. Granted, they had hardly come to know each other after only one season, but she felt a deep sense of security when in his presence. It wasn't committing her life to Robert that terrified her, but rather what she would have to leave behind in order to be with him. She wasn't quite ready to give up hugs like these.
"No. I feel very deeply for Robert. I only wish I could marry him and not the entire estate."
She pulled away from her father and sat back down in the chair, returning her gaze to the rain-soaked window. He moved behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders and massaging them through the heavy lace of her dress as she continued.
"Of course, he would never have me if it weren't for what I can do for Downton. Or rather, what my money can do."
"I don't believe that for a moment, my love. When he asked me for your hand he said he believed the two of you were very well suited."
"That is precisely what I mean, Papa. Whatever his motivation is to marry me, whether because I am well suited for him or because I can bring money to the estate, it isn't out of love. Love is far too much of an inconvenience for the English."
Her father laughed as he pulled her up to her feet, and stared her in the eyes.
"As inconvenient as it may be, mark my words that Robert Crawley will come to see everything I see in you, dearest Cora. And when that happens, he will not be able to help but fall irrevocably in love."
Blushing, the corners of Cora's mouth turned upwards into a faint smile as he pecked her on the cheek. He looked into her eyes again, almost sadly, for he knew his days with his beloved daughter were coming to a close.
"Now, I believe it is time for me to give you away."
