AN: the characters do not belong to me. I thank my lovely beta, Granthamfan, for always doing such wonderful work on my edits, and Settees-Under-Siege for giving me the idea for this story through a comment in tumblr.
Apples
The next day, I was taking a lonely stroll outside, hoping to clear my mind in a way that didn't involve burying myself in more war work. Although I had hated seeing Downton turned into a hospital at first, I supposed that Sybil had been the best example to us all of how to be selfless and think of the greater good. I had also faced the irritation of Isobel Crawley and her superiority-driven attempts at telling me how to run my own house. She was resentful of the changes I had made to the nurses' schedules and mealtimes for the staff and servants. The nerve she had to say I'd never had a profession in my life! Here I was, working tirelessly to create the most hospitable environment for the recovering soldiers while still being mindful of my own servants' mealtimes in order to prevent them from starving all afternoon due to the compounded dilemma of both an early luncheon and late tea! I was glad when Isobel had left for France, but sorry in a general, impersonal way when she was nowhere to be found when Matthew was missing for several days shortly after. It had been a relief for Matthew to turn up as Mary and Edith had been putting on their concert for the wounded officers, but I still resented Isobel and her sharp words.
But these were not the topics on my mind as I walked along, more wandering than taking a purposeful path. It faded away or the time being and was replaced by a singular topic. Robert's friendliness, to put it gently, with the maid. That woman. Jane. Why had she come? Weren't there other jobs for a war widow? Had she targeted my husband? Could she be so cunning as to insinuate herself onto her household in order to find her way into his good graces, or perhaps his heart? His bed? His every thought? I couldn't help but feel the hostility whenever she looked at me. I was the other woman. The competition. With a sinking heart, I knew I was already vanquished.
The thought of her had grown odious in my mind, and I chastened myself again from such thinking, as I had done in the library the other day. I was not a jealous woman. I repeated it like a mantra as I walked along, but I couldn't help but feel that what I was experiencing regarding Robert and Jane was not pure jealousy, but the correct wariness given the situation. It was all wrong.
Then I caught sight of a figure on a bicycle meandering up the gravel path toward Downton. At a distance, it was impossible to tell if the rider was a man or woman, but as it neared, I groaned inwardly as I recognized the person as none other than Jane. She was the last person I wanted to see. The basket on the front of her bicycle was overflowing with apples. She turned awkwardly as she saw another figure, familiar to me, but unnoticed. Robert.
"Your Lordship!" Jane was clearly trying to act surprised. She knew exactly what he was doing, trying to portray herself as the innocent. Anger against Robert burned inside me like a fever. How could he be that stupid?
At that moment, all of the apples in her basket tumbled straight to the ground. Gallant to a fault, Robert wasted no time in bending to the ground and helping the maid collect the apples, gently placing them back into the basket. Jane flashed him a smile, leaning her head toward his as if sharing some kind of secret.
He grinned in his most charming way. "Don't we feed you properly here?" He joked with the maid as he picked the fruit up and deposited some of it in her hands. Their touch lingered over the basket.
Jane returned the intimate friendliness. Nodding, she explained. "My mum has an orchard at home and likes to keep me well supplied." She threw her head back in the wind, still smiling with her gaze never leaving Robert.
Robert laughed and even from my distant vantage point, I could see the crinkles forming at the sides of his eyes. It was something else he reserved only for family or members of our household whom he had known well. But, exchanging a war story with Bates was not the same as flirting with a woman who was barely older than one of our daughters, laughing over spilled apples. It was too much. I tried to turn away, but found the act of moving to be physically impossible for a moment.
The tears that had been restrained earlier made good on their threat to roll down my cheeks in equal parts of anger, humiliation and self-doubt. Why must he do this? Had he felt so rejected by not being an active part of the army that he had to behave like this? Was it some way to prove that he was still vital? I shuddered at the thought and groaned as I thought of how embarrassing this would be if it was discovered by anyone else. It was bad enough for our relationship, but I also knew that others would notice. I did not want to be the laughingstock of the county. The countess who couldn't hold onto her man. Even though I usually left it to Robert and Violet to continuously worry about the propriety of things, nowhere would it be acceptable for a nobleman to flirt, or worse, with his maid! Where had I gone wrong? Why was he apparently tired of me? Had his mother convinced him after all these years of marriage that we were such a hideous mismatch that he had to turn away from me now? With a maid who could not contain her obvious lust for another woman's husband, no less?
"Why, Robert, why?" The words accidentally shot out of my mouth, but I was thankful that the distance and the day's breeze that took the sound away, where neither Jane nor my husband could hear it.
It was also becoming harder for me to hear them, but I thought I made out a few distorted words concerning her son Freddy and her desire for to be accepted to Ripon Grammar School. Then, I was quite sure that next I heard my husband offering to put a good word in for the boy, as if he were Robert's own son or grandson. Hardly!
Having heard and watched enough, I headed back to the house on a different, undetected path. I doubted they would have noticed if I'd walked directly in front of them, though. The pain of this was so strong that I began to feel it in my body as I continued on the way. The anger was making my head burn, the heat quickly spreading through my entire body, even into my limbs.
I could sense the worry in O'Brien's voice as she styled by hair before dinner a few hours later.
"What's wrong, milady? You seem troubled," O'Brien said as she arranged my hairpins as neatly and precisely as ever.
I sighed. Part of me wanted to pour my heart out to my trusted lady's maid, but the other part was still nagging on about me being just another insecure wife. I caught sight of my reflection. Cora, Countess Of Grantham, was not one of those women who had ever been clingy or underconfident. With the exception of my first painful year of marriage, until the time I had thought Robert fell in love with me, I never had been one of those women. After that, our relationship had become easy, natural, without a reason to second-guess anything. We knew one another intimately in every way possible, or so I had thought. Nevertheless, I wasn't about to let it show that I had any such feelings now. It was Robert who was in the wrong, not me. Why should I reprimand myself? I had been as faithful a wife as any woman could possibly be!
"I think I'm just tired from everything going on around here," I lied with a kindly smile toward the other woman. "But, I appreciate your concern, dear O'Brien," I finished. At least I could count on one person in the house to genuinely care about my feelings. My daughters understood me well enough, but had bigger issues in their lives than my every emotion. But I could rely on O'Brien to notice the subtleties and care enough to ask.
