AN: Thanks for all the support as ever! I was a few reviews and views down this week, so I sincerely hope you're not getting bored! If you're still with me, just dropping me two words is greatly appreciated.
This chapter is Cobert heavy, so to my fellow shippers, I hope you enjoy!
December 1918.
"You look beautiful Mama." She was getting ready for her and Robert's dinner out and Edward was with her watching as she put on her jewels. She never failed to be amazed by her little son, he acted as though he was ten and he'd only just turned four.
"Thank you poppet." She adjusts a curl around her ear before she turns fully to look at him, having one last glance around the room, checking she hadn't left anything that was meant to be in her case. Robert had surprised her by booking a suite in the hotel he was taking her to dine and she hardly wanted to turn up unprepared.
"You know Papa is wearing his new suit." Cora did know, but she wasn't going to tell Edward that, not when he looked so proud at having knowledge he didn't think she had.
"Oh, really?" She tries not to blush as her mind seems to churn to he surface all the images of the last time he'd worn that shirt.
"Yes. I told him he'd look smarter in the other one- like a proper Earl, but he told me you preferred that one." Cora knows she blushes this time because Edward's forehead crinkles and he stuffs his hands deep into his pockets.
"Why are you blushing Mama?" She shakes her head and looks down before stretching out her hand to him.
"Because I'm so proud of you my little miracle." She plants a kiss soundly on his forehead as his arms wrap around her shoulders.
"Why am I your little miracle?" He mumbles the question against her shoulder.
"Because your Papa and I were very shocked when we found out we were having another baby. We called you 'our miracle.'"
"Why were you shocked? Mary says people usually know, like Lavinia did." Cora looks at her little boy, no longer really a baby as he stares at her and she smiles again.
"It's complicated my darling. But we thought we were too old to have more children."
"But if children are given by God why did you think you were too old? Surely he gives to whomever he thinks will be a good Mama?"
"Um, but usually he chooses young people first. Your Papa and I thought we were no longer on the list, as it were." He frowns at her again, his little forehead creasing.
"But you're happy with me?" She feels the tears before she quite processes the words he's said; she pulls him closer again, lifting him into her lap and kissing his curls.
"Edward. We are far, far more than happy. Your Papa and I adore you. We love you, every little part of you."
"But Sir Richard keeps saying that-" Cora takes the biggest deep breath she can, if that man had been calling her son names again she was going to have to tell Robert.
"What's he saying?"
"He hasn't called me 'bastard' again, in fact he hasn't said anything. But he looks at me funny. But don't tell Papa, Mama else he'll be angry and Mary is already in trouble with Sir Richard." Cora sighs but kisses his cheek, her little miracle really was so much wiser than any other child of his age. She doesn't want to worry about the fact that Sir Richard and Mary are obviously not well suited: Mary as always had got herself in a mess and there wasn't much any one but her could do to get her out of it. But she'd have to keep an eye on him being rude to Edward.
A knock sounds at the door just then and Robert enters, his black tie on a slight skewed angle, no doubt due to Bates being away (his wife had just died, Cora had been told it was suicide, but well...Bates had once been violent).
"You look magnificent darling." She blushes and buries her cheek in Edward's hair, but he jumps down and scampers to the door with a hurried wave and a kiss. Robert strolls over to her, and as she stands and turns one last time to check her reflection his hands slide into her hips, a kiss finding its place to the nape of her neck. "You don't need to change anything. You look, as I said, gorgeous."
"You don't look too bad yourself." He chuckles at that before taking her hand and propelling her to the door.
Sybil hadn't realised that she'd been waiting for this day, the day they stood together and decided on the date. The date of their departure. They'd go after Christmas. She had desperately wanted to tell her family but she couldn't not with all that was going on, Patrick, Matthew and now Sir Richard. She was better to just slip away as unnoticed as she could. She knew it wouldn't go unnoticed after a time and that they would come after her, try to find her, but at this moment she couldn't bear to tell them. She was firstly too desperate to be going with the plan, to be getting ready to marry Tom and because she dimly realised, somewhere deep down inside of her; she was scared of telling them- she was scared of their reaction. She knew whatever they said would never change her mind but she did love them and she hated the thought of leaving knowing they disagreed, she'd rather cut and run, never remembering their stares or harsh remarks.
"We'll meet in the lane, on the south of the estate, yes?" He nods vigorously but there seemed to be something haunting him, she can see it in his eyes. "What is it?"
"I don't want you falling and getting hurt or something. I'd never forgive myself."
"Tom, I've walked those roads a thousand times, since I was a little girl. I'll be fine." He still doesn't look convinced but he still nods. "You're not sure are you?"
"No, I love you and I couldn't bear for something to happen."
"Tom, is there any way, anything I could do that would convince you that I'll be fine."
"Not really, but...but...never mind." She tilts her head at him thinking she knows what he was going to say, and unlike last time he'd tried she's sure she wouldn't turn him away this time, she's sure she'd let him.
"You want to kiss me?" She steps closer towards him as she looks up from the ground, placing her hands over his folded ones where they sit on his chest. His gaze meets hers and he's blushing. The realisation that she had guessed correctly makes her blush.
She always thought she'd hesitate when they did this the first time, but she doesn't. If anything he's the one that hesitates. Her fingers tangle in his hair quickly, her whole body pressed to his as she stands on her tiptoes desperate to cover his whole mouth with her own. It seems perfectly natural to part her lips to his inquisitive tongue. She does surprise herself when a faint murmur escapes her throat as his tongue explores places she never knew would feel so good.
Her mother had always told her that you'd know when you'd found the right man. Obviously that had never been a free rein to go as kiss thousands of men just to find the one that 'worked.' But now she knew, she'd known for some time that Tom was her man. The kiss had just confirmed that; she was desperate for more; she knew she had that twinkle in her eye that she sometimes saw in her mother's after Papa had kissed her on the cheek, or very quickly in public and Sybil knew: Tom was her man and she'd never want any other.
Edith sat trying not to look at him. He was waiting. It was strange, she'd waited all this time for a man to make her an offer and now that one had, one that she did love, she didn't know what to say.
"Edith, you don't have to make a decision now. It's a big thing I'm asking, it would be without the unusual circumstances." Edith thought back to William and Daisy. The way Mr Travis had to be bribed into marrying them- wouldn't the same apply to her and Patrick, he was dying after all. What in any case was the point in marrying him, only really to protect any children born and they could avoid that, surely?
"It's not that I don't want to-"
"You just worry about what people will think of you marry a dying man?"
"No, I just why do we have to marry? Why can't we just...just be lovers?" He stares at her, his eyebrow raised and he reaches his hand forward to take hers before his lips curl into a smile.
"So, it's definitely not what people think that's worrying you."
"The war has changed me Patrick. I nursed our footman, he was dying but he was determined to marry Daisy, the kitchen maid. It was all such a hassle. And for us, Mama and Granny will persist on a grand wedding and we don't have time for that." He chuckles as she curls her fingers quickly around his.
"I never thought I'd hear Lady Edith Crawley propose that we go about things in an unorthodox manner."
"It's funny, our lifestyle. Men have mistresses all the time, and nobody calls it wrong, but for an unmarried woman to take a man into her bed-" He leans forward and she stops talking, his breath falling on her lips as his forehead hits hers.
"Edith, we'll be careful, I promise." Her hands automatically rise to his shoulders, smoothing invisible creases.
"I never doubted that Patrick."
"We won't move too fast either. You are in charge; always." She moves her hands closer to his neck, twisting the ends of his curls.
"Kiss me." She hardly hears herself say the words she mumbles them so quietly. But with the small space between them it seems to echo and then his lips touch hers, very briefly. So briefly she barely realises it has happened until the feeling passes and he pulls away.
Mary knew she shouldn't be tempting fate. She knew she shouldn't be sitting before him on the bench. She shouldn't be laughing at his jokes. Not when Sir Richard was in the house, probably watching her. But she couldn't help herself not when Matthew needed someone to talk to, Lavinia after all had returned to Eryholme.
"I'm not sure I could trust myself alone with you if I didn't know you were engaged to Richard." The very mention of his name makes her shiver. Not only was he threatening her he had started on Edward, and my, that really wasn't fair, he was only a child.
"You being married doesn't bother you then?" He opens his mouth as if to speak, his gaze falling to the band of gold on his finger. Had he momentarily forgotten?
"I-" And then the tears fall down his face and she doesn't know what to do. He sobs for some time while she just rubs his back, not saying anything, goodness she'd cried enough recently to know that sometimes you just don't want anyone to say anything. "I know it should bother me and it does. I love Lavinia, or maybe I was pretending I did, I don't know. I just...she hates me at the moment. She doesn't deserve me that's for sure."
"It's too late now." It was, they'd both made their decisions and Matthew was lawfully stuck to his and as for her well, it was either Richard or nothing. And when he could give her everything there wasn't much competition.
"Oh Mary, what happened to us?" He looks so imploringly at her, like a puppy and she smiles taking his outstretched hand.
"We danced but never managed to collide Matthew." He tilts his head quizzically at that. "It's something Mama always used to say about her and Papa. As girls Edith and I used to ask her about her courtship and how she met Papa and fell in love and she always said: 'we danced for weeks on end, but then you do with every man, but your Papa was different; we danced and then collided.' I never understood it until now." He chews the inside of his mouth and Mary takes her hand from his not wanting to prolong an interaction that could quickly get out of hand.
A silence envelopes them for some time and Mary wonders to herself if his thoughts are where hers are. Thinking of the words she'd just spoken and the relationship those two people had. Her parents were ridiculously happy, they were setting off today on a romantic treat all planned by her father. She couldn't see Richard ever surprising her, unless it was with some big and vulgar house similar to the one he'd just purchased down the road. She wondered if in Matthew's mind all the kisses, all the touches, Edward's birth and various other moments he'd witnessed between her parents were replaying in his mind as they were replaying in hers. But there was one that haunted her above all else. The one in the rose garden shortly after she had turned Matthew down, when Mama had still been pregnant with Edward. She sees them sitting there, exactly where she and Matthew sit now, her father pressing a rose to her nose and talking of her beauty, flirting with her. Not threatening her, flirting with her.
"Is something the matter?" She looks up startled and then her hand whips to her cheek, moving the stray tear.
"No, nothing. I...we should get back." But he reaches out her hand and pushes her back to the bench with surprising force for an invalid.
"Mary, I hope it hasn't come to the point where we can't even be honest with each other. You're worrying about Richard, aren't you?" She doesn't even nod. Her eyes begin to sting and they reflexively close, her eyelids crinkling as they tighten, desperate to keep the tears within. But the sting grows painful and she lets it spill. She lets him see her cry. She begins to sob knowing that the crying alone proved everything. She'd only ever cried in front of two other people, her mother and Anna. Both she knew deep down, even if she pretended differently with her mother, were people she trusted beyond all others. Matthew was one of those. He also shared something else in common with them; she loved them all.
Robert had itchy feet. He'd waited for this night for some weeks, and now it was here and he was sat with Cora in the new restaurant in York and she looked superb, which was serving to be excessively distracting. The courses they'd ordered over an hour ago were trickling onto the table and the wine and the food was disappearing fast but Robert wanted it to vanish faster. He was being like a young school boy, infatuated by some girl he just met, he knew he was. But he couldn't help it. Cora was just so stunning and more important than all of that, he loved her, they got along tremendously well; they could laugh together, tease each other, they were essentially the best of friends.
"What are you thinking about?" Her bright sparkling eyes glance up at him, her chocolate dessert halfway to her lips. He's sure his mouth opens and then closes again rather quickly. But she doesn't say anything, so he hopes it doesn't.
"You." She lowers her eyelashes at that, a blush warming her cheeks that only makes her look more adorable. "You look very pretty tonight. Beautiful in fact."
"You've already said that at least three times Robert." It was four in fact, but he wasn't about to correct her. "I've been meaning to ask you about that maid, Jane, has she still been eyeing you?" The strawberry in his mouth doesn't taste quite as good as it did a moment before, suddenly turning rather sharp he swallows it down with some difficulty, Cora's gaze finding his.
"Yes. She keeps trying to corner me. At breakfast, or luncheon sometimes I get the distinct feeling she leans too far over me as she offers the food."
"Why is she serving at breakfast?"
"It's only been once, maybe twice when I've been down late, but unlike Carson, she doesn't just stand there. She persists on passing from the sideboard what I want." It had been upsetting him for a while now but he hadn't told Cora, she'd been busy and her frayed nerves, and her state altogether had worried him for some time. And then there was the fact that he just didn't want Jane and Cora to have an argument or something. They'd be better getting rid of her quickly and quietly. He's amazed when Cora starts to chuckle.
"Oh, she really is infatuated! I want to see some of this play out."
"Cora, are you sure-"
"Oh come on Robert, it's like having a debutante in the servants hall. Wafting about trying to ensnarl you." She seems to sense he's not amused because she stops and reaches her hand over to his. "This has been bothering you hasn't it?" He only nods, the dinner that had been going so smoothly suddenly making his stomach churn. He feels the liquid in his eyes and the next thing he knows Cora is around the table, perching herself on his lap. In that moment he's more than pleased he booked for a private section of the dining room, a little screen hiding them from the rest of the diners. He knows it shouldn't bother him, her sitting on his lap, but his childhood, the strict rules in which he'd been bought up seemed to be forever etched in his mind. He lets her slowly smooth her fingers over his hand, her creamed hands so smooth against his callous ones; her touch feather light where his would be clumsy; her hand and fingers tiny where his are chubby.
"I don't know what to do about it. I can't just turn her away, not with her husband dead."
"I want going to suggest you did. I think, perhaps she has some genuine feelings for you. All we need to do is make it clear where your attentions lay." He grins at that, a rather naughty image springing to mind. But then he realises that perhaps they can manage the same ends with a little less of a spectacle, as his mother would say. "Now, I don't believe you bought me all this way and spent far too much money to think about Downton. Shall we dance?" He smiles and presses a gentle kiss to her cheek. She slides from his lap and drags him in the direction of the music. Before he fully comprehends what has happened, he'd been far to busy getting lost in her wide smile, she's in his arms, her face hovering dangerously near to his shoulder, as if she's going to lean on him. He obviously shows his disapproval at her position as she smiles and straightens up. "You are funny you know, one minute you're staring at me ardently across dinner and the next you're worried about me getting too close."
"I hadn't realised you noticed me staring." She chuckles.
"When one is being admired by her man, one always notices." He leans closer and she raises her eyebrows but he just lets her perfume wash over him.
"Who says I'm your man?"
"You better be teasing me Lord Grantham." He kisses her cheek and moves them back to their table, taking her clutch bag from the table.
"I am. But I must say I'm tired of dancing. Our room is waiting, and I've ordered some champagne and chocolate." He can't help but be amazed at how quickly his mind had raced back to his earlier musings, and mixed with Cora's giggling beside him he feels like he's on honeymoon all over again.
When they reach their suite on the third floor Robert is amazed when she presses her finger over the lock: her other hand reaching up to grip his arm.
"Robert, before we get carried away." She fingers both sides of his lapel on his new jacket. "I love this jacket, although that wasn't what I was planning on saying." He chuckles and she smiles up at him, her eyelashes fluttering adoringly. "I wanted to say thank you for this, for taking me away. For the dinner, and the room and...yes, just being you."
"You don't have to thank me my dear, it's you that's made me into who I am. And, I love you." He twists the key in the lock at the same moment he pushes her against the door, her lips already pressed to his.