Alright so this is long overdue. I hope it was worth the wait. We're progressing with the courtship now, so get excited for more Cobert scenes! Yaya! As always, thank you for all of your support with this thus far! If you have the time, reviews/comments/critiques/etc are appreciated. Thanks again, and enjoy!
There was a square patch of green land in the back of Grantham House that closely resembled what one might consider a private garden. It wasn't much. There was nothing more than a perimeter of sculpted, tall bushes, and a few cedar trees that enclosed the space. Rows of blossoming bushes and flowers, were arranged along a narrow gravel path that serpentined in the shape of an oblong, number eight. The various yellow, pink, and purple blooms that sprouted up among the greenery made for a lovely view from one of the benches that resided in the far right corner of the yard.
But amidst all of the controlled chaos of the season that dictated the Crawley's day to day activities, this tiny yard was the one place where any of them might find time to be alone. It was far enough away from the rest of the house where one might find a slice of peace among the cacophony of the city. And quiet seclusion was precisely what Robert required on this particular afternoon.
His mother hadn't stopped to take a breath all morning. On top of chastising the new staff for not doing things the Crawley way and trying to discourage Rosamund from a well to do banker who had caught her eye at the MacDonald's, she was peppering him with questions on the every detail concerning each girl he had danced or dined with to date.
Could she carry a conversation while dancing? Where did she come from? Did she know anyone we do? Did they know of her? What did she intend to do to pass the time? Has anyone else caught your eye besides her? Were her manners in order? Her fingernails clean? Her smile nice enough to look at? Did she give you her calling card?
They were the same questions he'd been hearing for two years now. And for two years, his answers carried on a sort of variance that led her to believe that the girls from the present year were as equally intriguing as the ones from the previous year. Of course, they weren't. But his tactic of simply telling his mother what she wished to hear had prolonged his bachelordom and protected him unwanted marriage thus far.
However, Robert knew he couldn't play by those same rules as he had in years past. The overall premise of the game had changed with the knowledge that they could lose Downton forever should he fail in his endeavor of securing Miss. Levinson's fortune.
He sat on the bench in the far corner of the garden, leafing through one of the almanac's from the library. His thoughts circled back to the dark haired beauty with whom he had the briefest of pleasures dancing with the other night.
She was different. The cadence of her speech was smooth yet assured as she mastered the intricate steps of their dance. She spoke of the various cities where she lived in the New World. They were of course, places he knew nothing about, save for the brief details she relayed to him during the course of the song. And in spite of these foreign, faraway places she hailed from, she nearly carried herself like a proper young lady.
Her connections were few and far in between as was to be expected. Yet, she already forged meaningful alliances it seemed with Rosamund and Susan, and even the Spenser's. None of it would be enough to convince Mama. But for now, it was enough to convince him that she might have a fighting chance.
His mind wandered again to the soft silk of her gloved hands coupled with the soothing scent of jasmine and vanilla that filled his nostrils each time she stepped close to him. And he soon grew lost in the finer details of what made her different, but also curiously similar to him, whenever his father's voice interrupted the quiet.
"Your Mother won't stop talking about Lady Charlotte," Lord Grantham huffed, settling down on the empty space beside him.
At the sheer mention of the eager young woman, Robert frowned and sat back in his seat, "Freddie Spenser's sister?" He balked at the implication of his Papa's words. Shaking his head slowly, he exhaled deeply, "Why does Mama find her a suitable match anyway? She doesn't have much to offer."
Mirroring his annoyance, George Crawley grumbled, "Your Mother hasn't a clue of what it is we need."
"Papa?" Robert implored, "Wouldn't it be easier if you just told her?" How she hadn't discovered their scheme yet, was sheer dumb luck as far as he was concerned. But it wasn't his place to comment out loud on this.
"Robert," His father returned in a stern tone, his face hardening at his son's suggestion, "I do not foresee any scenario where this is easy. And telling your mother at this stage will only make things harder." He paused, allowing the words to sink in before wondering, "Have you promised to call on her?"
He never made promises he couldn't keep. Just as she was undoubtedly raised, for a card hadn't exchanged hands that evening at the ball.
"No," Robert noticed the shift in his father's expression, and he immediately rushed into his explanation, "but she told Rosamund she's coming to Lord and Lady Jarvis' for dinner this evening."
"Well you know what that means?" George Crawley prompted with finality.
He did know it. If the last two years had taught him anything, it was how to follow through with the protocols of the season. And the constant reminders from his mother, and now, his father, only brought out those arrogant streaks of annoyance.
"Yes, Papa," He practically groaned, tossing back his head a bit while he parroted, "I'm to settle myself beside her."
"You must be more aggressive about it, my son." His father scolded, clapping Robert on the shoulder to regain his full attention.
It was then Robert witnessed the anxiety that creased his father's face. The wrinkles seeming deeper now, his hair thinning and grayer than ever before. "I'm told she's already caught The Duke of Cheshire's eye," He went on in his steady voice, strained with concern. "And if she's swayed by his charms, then I'm sorry to say, you do not stand a chance. And we risk losing Downton indefinitely."
The last statement carried enough weight to make Robert's stomach drop. And string it alongside the previous one, and he felt his middle clench uncomfortably. All the rich history his father carried on proudly about. All the sacrifices his mother made to keep the household running. Rosamund's contribution to the cause, albeit an ignorant one on her part. They all had a part to play. And his role was to maintain the balance and order. To ensure none of them wasted away.
If he lost her, then everything would be taken. They'd be wasted and lost, a disgrace at the expense of his own failure. It was a certainly a lot to take in.
"Are we absolutely sure she's the only one who can save it?" He wondered, hoping against all the odds that were seemingly stacked against him that his father might have another plan in place if the Duke of Cheshire didn't allow for this one to take shape.
"Why?" The surprise in his father's tone was startling, but Robert didn't flinch. He maintained his stoicism, staring back at his father, waiting for the obvious question of, "Do you not find her agreeable?" to come out.
"No, it's not that," He sighed, reaching up a hand to scratch the back of his neck.
"Then what is it?" George probed, his skepticism outweighing any ounce of curiosity.
Robert froze. There wasn't anyway to vocalize his thoughts without reopening past wounds the family methodically stitched shut. He couldn't comment on the obvious thoughts that plagued him ever since he first heard Rosamund draw the comparison. Ever since he first laid eyes on Miss. Cora Levinson, and felt she was hauntingly beautiful.
So instead, Robert shrugged and glanced downward, muttering a weak response of, "It's nothing."
"See that it is," George remarked sternly.
"And what of Lady Charlotte?" Robert's head shot up, and offered rather defensively, "No doubt Mama expects me to take her into dinner. Not Miss. Levinson."
His father bobbed his head and squeezed Robert's shoulder before moving to stand, "I'll see that Lady Charlotte is preoccupied." He went on assuredly, "From what I understand, Lord Hayes found her rather enthralling the other night."
Robert let out a sigh and slowly shook his head.
When did it end? The constant cycling of ladies and gentleman, passing one another just like ships in the night. Forcing themselves to make port in the most convenient location, regardless of need or want. He supposed there were worse places one could settle. He only hoped Miss. Levinson wasn't one of them.
She felt the slight crack of her rib, and sucked in another sharp breath as Lucy tightened the cords of her corset. But even that couldn't hamper Cora's excitement at having received yet another letter from "Harold." She had waited for so long. At least, it felt that way, with all the events that transpired since she last wrote him.
Even so, her fingers couldn't tear open the envelope fast enough. Her eyes darted across the page, taking in the words as quickly as she could before they departed for dinner at the Jarvis'.
I'm afraid I wasn't properly acquainted with most of Ann's friends during our time abroad. But based on your anecdote, I daresay I didn't miss much in not knowing them. However, I must remark that Lady Merton sounds absolutely wretched. I hope you didn't take her words too much to heart. She's merely jealous, Cora. Jealous of your beauty, your charm, and of course, your father's extensive wealth. You're quite incomparable to any of them, and unlike the rest of those girls, she appears to know it.
But enough ink and space has been wasted on her. Let me express just how much I would long to hold one of your works in my hands. To drink in what your lovely eyes see within our world as worthy of such attention. To carefully trace my fingertips along the lines and shapes your delicate hands have created. To hang it in my office, so I might have a chance to think of you from time to time when my eyes lift from my work and my mind begins to wander as to where you are and whether or not you are well.
But I am going much too far with my musings at present. You have already assured me you don't know if time will permit such activities. Although, I confess, I hope it will. However, I will settle for a recounting to an exhibit if that is all you can manage. I will relish in your retelling of the experience just as much as I would one of your paintings. For it will surely be more intelligible than any insight I can provide you during my time at The Met.
I have made time to indulge in your request. It's coming together nicely. I can't very well articulate all that I've seen for words on such matters often fail me. Which is precisely why I need you here to help alleviate me from my helplessness.
The stores are doing well enough. I am meeting with a Mr. Isaac Kaufmann. Do you know of him? He's a prominent business man who owns a local store in Pittsburgh. Father believes it might be advantageous to feel him out, and see if he'd be interested in expanding. Of course, it's still early days, but we're hopeful. I will inform you once a definite conclusion has been made in all the dealings. But for now, I do not wish to bore you with such details, my dear.
Speaking of the family, they are all well. Peter's rearing for his chance to break free from Mother's hold on him. She's not quite ready to let her youngest fly from the nest. However, she is focusing her efforts on finding a nice girl at synagogue for me to take around town. Of course, no one has quite caught my eye. I'm not sure they ever will, really. Not when compared to your...
The rapid knocking at the door nearly made Cora jump out of her skin. The paper crumbled in her hands and she quickly stuffed the half read letter back into the envelope just as her mother pushed into the dressing room.
Dripping in rubies and gold, with a shimmering evening gown to match, she practically floated into the room. "Cora," Tilting her head to the side, Martha frowned, her eyes scanning over her daughter's figure, "what's taking so long? We were supposed to have left ten minutes ago."
Feeling her cheeks flush, Cora pressed the letter to her stomach, feeling her heartbeat quicken. Her hands tremble slightly, sliding across the tiny envelope while she remarked weakly, "Sorry Momma. I was just uh...just..." Her mind fumbling for some type of excuse beneath her mother's probing gaze of curiosity.
"Well?" Martha demanded, brow arching while her eyes flickering towards Cora's folded hands near her middle. "What's wrong? Are you unwell?"
"No!" Cora bristled, feeling her heart hammer more anxiously inside of her chest.
Martha took a few steps closer, gesturing to her daughter's hands pressed against her stomach, "Then what's...?"
"I'm afraid it's my fault, Mrs. Levinson," Lucy piped up, tying the final knot in the back of Cora's corset before stepping around her mistress.
Keeping her hands behind her back, Lucy opened her palms, fingers curling in a suggestive gesture that gave Cora enough assurance to casually slip the letter into her maid's hands. "I recommended that Miss. Levinson wear the sea green and gold gown this evening as I heard talk that the Duke of Cheshire is fond of the color." Lucy jerked her head towards the settee at the foot of the bed, leaning forward to finger the edges of the gown in question while keeping one hand behind her back.
"And well, as you can see," She glanced back up at Mrs. Levinson, "it needed some minor alterations."
Cora watched the skeptical creases across her mother's face slowly smooth over. Martha considered the maid's words before glancing back over at her.
"That's right Momma," She flashed a smile, stepped passed Lucy, and slung an arm over her mother's shoulders. "Lucy was just putting on the finishing touches," She promised, steering her towards the door. "We wouldn't want to interfere with that now, would we?" She smiled again, hearing the blood rush through her ears.
"I suppose not," Martha furrowed her brow before glancing back at Lucy. "Well...don't take too long, m'dear." She inclined her head, and remarked sharply, "There's a difference between being fashionably late and causing an unpopular stir."
"Yes Momma," Cora reached to open the door, and usher her mother out of the room, "we won't be more than a few moments." After gingerly shoving her mother back out into the corridor and closing the door behind her, Cora let out the breath she'd been holding in the entire time.
Bowing her head, she hovered by the door for a few moments, basking in the relief that her secret was still buried. Thanks to Lucy's quick thinking.
Cora pivoted slowly on the spot, tentatively lifting her eyes to find her maid's. The corners of her lips twitched upward, and she saw Lucy's stoic expression staring back at her.
"Thank you, Luce," Cora offered gratefully, retracing her steps back to where her maid stood. "You saved me," She admitted, taking the girl's calloused hands in her soft ones.
Lucy nodded, and wordlessly placed the letter back in Cora's hand. "You really should be more careful, Miss," Lucy reminded her. "Keep them hidden. Otherwise it could cost us both dearly."
She looked down as if realizing her insubordination far too late. "Forgive me," Lucy murmured, moving back towards the sea green gown trimmed in golden lace.
"No," Cora remarked softly, instantly feeling a pang of guilt. Turning slowly towards her vanity, she opened up the bottom drawer and pulled out one of her journals. "There's really no need," She assured.
Lucy nodded again, carefully lifting the gown up and turning around to face her mistress, "We should get you into this dress, Miss. We don't want the Duke to think you anything less than fashionable." She flashed a wry half smile.
Cora laughed softly, dipped her head forward and started pacing towards her maid. "If I'm being honest, Luce, I don't particularly care what the Duke thinks of me."
"No?" This peaked her maid's interest while she lowered the opening of the gown for Cora to step into. "Forgive me for saying so, Miss, but you seemed rather intrigued by him the other night."
Cora placed her hands atop her maid's shoulder and carefully stepped into the evening gown. Once Lucy shimmied the dress past her hips, Cora shrugged, slipping her arms through the straps that would settled off her shoulders.
"Well...he's rather interesting," She admitted with a slight shrug as Lucy worked up the buttons on the back of her gown. "But I got the impression that he was more interested in himself than he was in me." Turning round to fall the full length mirror, Cora regarded herself rather proudly. "And I believe my future husband should at least have some interest in me," She confided, playing with the broach that dangling from the center of gown.
"I think that's fair, Miss," Lucy remarked neutrally, her fingers nimbly working to lace her mistress inside the dress.
Cora agreed a bit sardonically, "More than fair, if you ask me." If he wasn't going to love me like she'd been loved before, at the very least he could find something interesting within her character. And if he was to take all that was hers, she didn't think hers was too lofty of a wish.
His height gave him an advantage to see above the heads of people that washed through the Jarvis' house like an endless sea. And so, he didn't have any doubts that he could spot her the instant she stepped into the room. However, what he didn't anticipate was being completely stunned by her appearance and nearly struck dumb.
She was glimmering from head to toe in blue and gold, her dark hair expertly coiffed at the back of her head and adorned with a glimmering, sapphire ornament combed above her right ear. His eyes were then drawn to the shimmering top half of her gown. The gossamer, golden sleeves drooped off her shoulders, and came across the front before disappearing beneath a heavily sequenced, cobalt blue fabric that gathered around her middle and fell down the back in a train that swept across the floor.
Her entrance garnered all sorts of attention, and Robert fought against the urge to rush over and ask to escort her into the dining room straightaway. He couldn't appear too eager. Otherwise, she would sense his desperation. And he couldn't afford such a misstep so early on.
So, Robert nudged his father in the arm, who immediately dispensed with informing Rosamund, who was to keep their mother preoccupied while he went in search of Lord Hayes. And then as planned, he casually strolled around the perimeter of the room, glancing over in Miss. Levinson's direction every now and again to ensure she wasn't in close proximity to the Duke of Cheshire, or any of the other rumored suitors whose eye she had already caught.
She was standing in between her mother, who in contrast wore gold and crimson, and Lady Spenser, who remained in half mourning in a gown of deep plum and black. He thought it curious as he drew closer to her that Lady Ann or Freddie Spenser weren't among them. But he supposed, perhaps they were already otherwise engaged for the evening. Still, this would make approaching her all the more tricky. He only wished there was a way she could know his desire to speak to her, without him breaking with social convention.
He passed another corner of the room, nearly across from her now. And then it happened. A cluster of people dissipated, catching her eye enough for her to turn and find him staring at her. His mouth twitched into an inviting half smile, and she instantly returned the look. There was an instantaneous jolt that hit him in the stomach, and his cheeks grew hot from her acknowledgment.
Robert mentally thanked god, for the plant that rested in the corner as it suddenly appeared more interesting than he ever expected it to. Running the waxy leaves in between his fingers, he pretended to examine it for a few seconds before looking back up again.
She had fallen back into a deep discussion with her mother and Lady Spenser again. Her attention was split between the two ladies, eyes intently trying to keep up with their jabbering. And in knowing she was distracted, he resumed his casual stroll towards her.
He didn't get more than a few paces before she noticed him once more. And this time, a flowering bit of shrubbery that smelled of lilacs demanded to be inspected. Robert bent forward, somewhat awkwardly, and inhaled the fragrant scent while gently patting the buds with his fingertips. After several seconds passed, he stood to full height again and glanced up to find Miss. Levinson conversing with the two ladies in her company.
So he pressed on in this fashion, trying to remain somewhat inconspicuous in his endeavor so as not to make a fool of himself while attempting to have her gauge his intentions. He even passed behind her a few to examine the same vase full of roses and other blossoms whose name escaped him. He only caught snippets of conversation from them, noticing a distinct pause or eye flicker from her twice now. Just as he was about to give up in the task of her initiating further conversation between them, he looked up to see her gliding toward him and the pot of flowers rather confidently.
"Lord Downton," She greeted softly.
Robert felt a wave of relief suddenly course through him, only for it to be soon followed by indescribable nerves.
"Miss. Levinson," He managed and inclined his head politely. "Good evening."
"Good evening," She smiled, and nodded similarly. There was a pause where her eyes drifted to the vase situated on the pedestal between them. "I was wondering sir," She broke the quiet, tilting her head to the side and focusing on him again, "whether or not you had an interest in botany."
He blinked back at her, and felt his throat go a bit dry. "I beg your pardon?"
She inhaled a deep breath before explaining rather quickly, "Forgive me, I couldn't help but take notice you were making your way towards our party, only to stop at every plant that came across our path. And then when you took to circling us, well I felt the need to intervene and inquire as to what you found so intriguing. You know, before you fell dizzy."
His head now felt dizzy indeed after hearing her share as many thoughts as the single breath of air would allow for. But once he was sure she was finished, he couldn't help but mused with a crooked grin, "I-I do apologize if I caused you any such distress. I assure you I am quite well."
"Well that's certainly good to hear," Cora's assured with a warm smile. "But," She cocked her head to the side and probed cautiously, "if I may point out, you still haven't answered my inquiry."
"Forgive me," His brow creased and he frowned uncertainly, "I'm not entirely sure I heard one?"
"About your interest in the fauna on display this evening?" She reiterated before admitting with a shrug of her shoulders, "I'm curious. I didn't notice anything particularly striking about it. But then again, I must confess," Her gaze flickered down to the plant situated between them, and she ran her fingertips across the waxy leaves, "I am rather ignorant on such matters."
"Well, if we are making confessions to one another already, then I feel I must confess," He leaned forward enough to capture her attention once more, and lowering his voice whenever he was sure she was listening this time, "it was not the fauna I was interested in."
"No?" She took a step back, retracting her hand from the plant. Furrowing her brow, she insisted lightly, "But surely, your interest must have lied somewhere close by?"
"You're quite right in your assessment, Miss. Levinson," He commended.
It appeared she was more observant than he initially gave her credit for. And he found himself suddenly fumbling for a response whenever she stared back at him, silently appraising him with her pale blue eyes. It was becoming more obvious that his subtle approach would be lost on her. He would have to be more directly. And he couldn't be more terrified at the thought.
His heart beat quickly and he suddenly felt his face redden. Swallowing the growing lump in the back of his throat, Robert lowered his gaze and stuttered rather uncertainly, "My interest...you see...was in...well...you." His eyes flittered up to find her expression.
Her brow shot up in the center of her forehead, mouth rounding in surprise. "Me?" She echoed in disbelief, placing a delicate hand to the center of her chest.
Clearing his throat again, Robert nodded, and muttered, "Well...yes."
"I see," Was all she said, glancing off to the side and chewing on her bottom lip.
His eyes swept back down to the floor, and he suddenly wished she would start filling the silence with her bubbly voice as she did moments ago. As the seconds past, and they just stood there, eyes darting from one another and to their surroundings in an effort to occupy themselves, he felt the tension continuously build inside his chest.
And then it became far too much to bear, and the words tumbled out far more bluntly than he wished for.
"Miss. Levinson, I wonder if I might escort you into the dining room once dinner is announced?"
She looked to him, her expression unreadable for a few seconds until her mouth edged into a pleasant smile that almost crinkled the corners of her eyes.
"I'd be delighted for you to, Lord Downton," She agreed kindly with an inclination of her head.
He smiled, feeling more steady now that he gained her acceptance. Perhaps the cycling of young ladies around him would soon end, and he wouldn't feel terribly dizzy as he did in seasons past.