Cora was looking forward to her first dinner at Downton. She longed for company and conversation after spending a lonely afternoon wandering the grounds, encountering no one except the odd deferential gardener. Robert had left her soon after their arrival - he needed to inspect the estates and talk to staff and tenants, seemingly so essential after a month's absence.
Cora's new maid helped her with the jewellery that would complete her evening outfit. One of the stipulations of Cora's marriage settlement was a new, French maid, Larochelle, expertly trained in the very best of hairdressing, jewellery and fashion. Looking in the mirror now, Cora was delighted with Larochelle's creation. She wore a shimmering silk evening dress set off with tiny crystals and metallic threads. Cora smiled fondly as she remembered the deliberations over her trousseau and her mother's insistence that Cora should have the very best. Cora wished her mother could see her now. A knock on the door brought Cora back to reality. She turned round to her husband, noticing with a smile how well he suited his white tie and tails.
Robert was in good spirits. He had spent an enjoyable afternoon in the sunshine and was reassured that everything at Downton was as it should be. He looked forward to making the improvements his wife's fortune would purchase. As he entered his wife's room, Robert was surprised to see Cora's attire. She looked like she had come from a Parisian ballroom (or worse). The shimmering fabric and crystals caught the light, reminding Robert of a Christmas decoration. He had agreed to the French maid – after Cora's family's concessions on everything else, it seemed churlish to deny her own choice of maid. Yet Parisian maids seemed best suited to Paris, certainly not an English family dinner. On seeing his wife's smiling face, he decided against making any suggestions. He didn't want to upset her and anyway, his own ignorance of female attire meant he had no alternative ideas to offer. Robert resolved instead to speak to the maid tomorrow.
"I didn't realise we were on stage." Lady Grantham looked stunned. She held up a hand as if to shield her eyes. "Are you sure those crystals are safe?"
Cora was aghast. After spending so much time selecting and perfecting her outfit, she was shocked that it was so unsuitable. Why hadn't Robert warned her? She felt incredibly self-conscious as Robert's father, trying to disguise a smile, led her into the dining room.
It did not get better when they were seated. Lord Grantham's announcement of a dinner party to introduce her to the community and family was met with met with disdain. "I look forward to the next outfit."
Lady Grantham seemed to use every opportunity to criticise her. Cora was beginning to see why Robert had left his mother out of their wedding plans, with the now characteristic understatement that his mother was merely "very conservative." She looked towards Robert, who was telling his father about his experiences on the estate this afternoon. Cora decided to placate her mother-in-law herself.
"I take it you don't like my attire. That can always be changed. I'm a fast leaner."
"Learn?" Lady Grantham looked affronted. "One does not learn the ways of the English gentry, my dear. One is born into the aristocracy and imbibes its values from the nursery onwards."
Cora tried again. "Nevertheless, I chose to come here. Therefore I will learn."
"Of course you wish to live at Downton, although I question your how easily you can dispose of parents and country in the process."
Cora took a gulp of wine, not used to such an onslaught. She looked over to Robert and his father, still deep in conversation. They didn't seem shocked by, or even to notice, Lady Grantham's witticisms. It was as if they were a normal part of life.
A new reality was beginning to dawn. She felt unwanted. She felt that, despite her efforts, fitting in was not possible because of who she was and what she represented –America, new money, new blood . She felt alone in an alien family where she was nothing but provider.
Cora now did something which she would never have dreamed of in New York. "Excuse me. I have something of a headache."
Violet, Lady Grantham watched Cora leave. She turned to her husband.
"I suppose you're glad to see your plan come to fruition. That American arriviste will one day be lording it over Downton."
Lord Grantham sighed wearily. "My dear, without the American arriviste, there would be no Downton to lord over."
"I must check Cora is alright." Robert was glad to get away. He was tired of the by now familiar argument between his parents.
Robert knocked and entered his wife's room. Cora was in her underclothes, having swiftly stepped out of that dress. "I'm sorry..."Robert licked his lips and got his breath back. He felt like he was a naughty schoolboy.
"No, come in." Cora swiftly dismissed her maid and turned round to him, clearly bemused at his embarrassment. She couldn't resist coming closer to him.
If Robert felt awkward before, he was seriously embarrassed now. She was close enough to reach out and touch. He could smell her perfume.
"I came to see how you were."
Cora smiled and raised her eyebrows, making it quite clear that she was well. "I can see why you haven't mentioned your mother before now."
He rolled his eyes. "She's just smarting that she wasn't consulted in my choice of wife. She will come round." Robert spoke more in hope than expectation.
"And in the meantime, I just have to put up with her rudeness."
"My mother isn't going to change, Cora." Robert felt uneasy with Cora criticisng his mother, however valid the criticisms.
"No, but I would appreciate your support. Why didn't you warn me the dress was too much?"
Robert turned away, exasperated. "Fashion is hardly my forte," he snapped.
"If you had even an inkling what your mother's reaction would be-"
"It is not my job to dress you!" Cora jumped at Robert's sudden burst of temper. Noticing Cora's reaction, he lowered his voice. "We'll talk in the morning. Good night."
Robert left the room, not waiting to hear Cora's hasty "Good night." He wasn't used to being questioned, not least by his wife. He was glad to get back to his own room. He was missing his own bed, his own valet, his own space.