A/N: I wrote this before I had finished the series, so Tom hasn't moved back from America yet in this (don't worry, it's inconsequential to the story, but it explains an otherwise odd conversation).
To Violet's surprise, weeks passed before she was able to physically manifest again. In that time the showery spring had turned into a bright summer, albeit with a few rainfalls here and there - it was England after all. Violet had been in and out of Downton - when she was there she was wandering the halls of the big house or looking over Isobel, but when she wasn't she didn't know where she was. However, decades of living in Downton meant that she could tell when she was; the sunlight and preparation for the annual cricket game told her that it must have been July, possibly August. Violet was sure she didn't approve of a cricket game in half mourning, but she did approve of her family getting back to normal, and the cricket match undoubtedly gave her son some joy and Cora something to do.
So, when Violet found herself back in back in St Michael's Church cemetery, she was baffled as to why Cora was roaming the family plot. Didn't she have work to do? She had to run the house and organise the cricket match! Didn't she teach the woman anything?
In hurry, Violet strode over to the wooden bench Cora had perched herself on. However, Violet stopped short when she came within a few feet of her daughter in law. Silent tears streamed down Cora's face, glistening in the sun beams that illuminated the poised woman. Violet settled herself next to Cora, wishing that Cora could sense her presence and compose herself, as she had done a few times before. The elder Crawley couldn't decide where to look, both Cora's tears and Violet's own grave in front of her unnerved her; she was as jittery as a mouse in a lion's den. Crying women were not Violet's forté.
Cora wiped her tears away from her face, ever the image of grace even in such obvious grief. "I fear for him mama. He regrets his passing years, and he won't easily admit his weaknesses. His father died at such a young age and I cannot bear to live all of the years you had without your husband without Robert." Cora's concern was infectious. Violet no longer had to worry about her own place in the world - being dead meant that the luxuries she had in life had already been given up - so her one concern about being the matriarch of the Crawleys was her family. Despite years of resentment towards Cora and the continuous rejection Violet dished out, she had fostered some affection for her daughter in law, as reluctant as that may be. Violet decided she would give her son a kick up the backside later for scaring his wife so, but right then her priority was ensuring Cora could return to the lady she was meant to be and stop crying in public (if Violet provided some emotional comfort, she mused, it would merely be coincidental).
"Cora dear, whatever's the matter?" Violet inquired. However she had misjudged her timing, and had startled Cora so badly that the usually dignified Countess let out a yelp and jumped to her feet.
"What on earth is this? Someone needs to explain themselves, and quickly!" Cora's gentle voice had turned deadly, a hoarse anger that neither lady knew who it was directed at, for Cora kept turning sharply to ensure no one was tricking her. After a silent moment, Cora collected herself and returned to the bench with a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry for shouting. You surprised me."
"On the contrary, you've taken my appearance the best so far." Violet threw her a bemused expression, slightly taken aback at how calm Cora appeared to be. She expected Cora more dramatic in private, yet she was ever the Countess in private the Countess that she was in public.
"If I'm being honest I'm wondering what took you so long. I expected you to appear a day after and start bossing us around." Cora chuckled, all trace of tears and anger forgotten.
"I decided to wait until half mourning; it would be impolite otherwise."
Cora hid a smile, unsure if Violet was joking or not. Her death hadn't changed her, Cora was sure. Another silent pause passed before Cora spoke again: "Who else have you spoken to?"
She failed to meet Violet's eyes when the elder looked at her.
"Well, it was Tom first, and then Cousin Isobel."
"Tom? But he has only visited once since the funeral."
"Yes, well. He had developed a nasty habit involving cars."
Cora smiled again, enjoying the civil conversation. "I thought during dinner one night that something had spooked him. Although I hadn't believed it so literally."
"Oh don't be so crass! You make it sound as if I waited for him behind a corner and shouted 'boo!' at him."
"Didn't you?" Cora laughed, as if the pair had forgotten about her earlier mutterings.
Violet studied the woman in front of her. Her wide-brim hat kept the bright sun rays away from her elegant face, leaving it in shadow. There was almost no indicator of anything bothering her, although Violet knew that Cora was about to bite her lip, an unmissable sign of distress for the Countess. "What were you talking about, when you mentioned Robert earlier?"
As predicted, Cora bit her bottom lip softly at Violet's gentle voice. "I'm worried for his health. We're not so young anymore."
"The pair of you both certainly act like you're not in your sixties." Violet was glad her son had such a loving relationship, but she couldn't keep a hint of disdain out of her voice at the thought of the couple's affections in public.
"That's exactly what I mean! He feels he can launch himself into a cricket game with no practice; he's not as fit as he was when he was a young man, and I fear he will work himself too hard."
"And he's not listening to your concerns?"
"No. He's a stubborn man." Cora grumbled.
Violet shifted her weight, placing her cane on her lap in lieu of leaning on it. "He will learn."
Cora whipped round to face her dead mother in law. "Surely you don't mean-"
Violet frowned. "Of course not. I meant that eventually he will find his joints stiffen up far too often to play sport more than once in a year, or that he will fall asleep if he does not limit his workload. The body has its own small ways to show your limitations Cora, and I am sure that the both of you are feeling those already. He will not ignore them for too long." Violet sent a haughty look in Cora's direction. "And neither will you, for that matter."
Cora wrung her dainty hands in her lap. "You make it sound as if we will have no fun when we get old."
Shaking her head, Violet chuckled. "It has its benefits. When people aren't busy ignoring you, they will cater to your every whim. And there is little point in getting older if you can't get a little ruder too."
Cora struggled not to roll her eyes, the ghost of a smile dancing across her face. "Thank you for your tips, mama." She replied dryly.
Violet reached out and patted Cora's hand. "Don't worry dear, it's all about perspective. To Sybbie, Tom is old, yet to me, you are still young. Both of you have some years left in you yet."
"Thank you. Truly." This time Cora's thanks was sincere. "I hope I've done you proud."
A genuine smile from Violet lit up the pair. "You've done me proud and more, Cora. The county adores you, and Downton has been saved from ruin in many a way because of you. The family would be tripping over themselves to find that an American has done so much for them."
Cora's hands were released from Violet's grasp as Violet stood and straightened her back as far as she was able. A gentle wind blew, swirling around Violet as she faded out of existence, once more leaving the scene as Cora, Countess of Grantham, sitting alone on an ancient bench in front of a revered family plot, with crystalline tears running down her cheeks reflecting the beautiful sunlight that bathed the entire area.
