X. How Not To Lose Things (spoilers for 2012 Christmas Special)
During the summer of 1921, Susan Flintshire found herself in a very odd situation. Upon the arrival of the Crawley Family for their Holiday, she was confronted with a somewhat startling revelation. Cousin Cora, the American, had somehow gone from being the interloper to an object of envy for Susan. Where she had once been a shy, unsure girl overawed by Duneagle and all the rest, she now stood a formidable woman. In years past, Cora Crawley would have been (uncharitably) considered gaudy. Over time, truly overnight it seemed, she had become an elegant, fashionable and genuine woman. It would have been easier for Susan if Cora had also become catty, rude and snobbish. Quite frankly, for all the abuse she suffered from their set over the years, it was something of a miracle she hadn't. Instead, she was calm and tractable, with a dry sense of humor.
All that, Susan thought, she could forgive. The part she found most difficult to reconcile was Cora's apparent happiness in her match with Robert. The looks they shared, their quiet conversation, the ease with which they simply sat in silence, were all difficult to ignore. To add insult to injury, their very happy presence appeared to intensify all of the shortcomings in Susan's own marriage. Her husband, usually difficult and distant at the best of times, became particularly untoward. Just when it seemed she would acclimate to the stoney distance that existed between herself and Shrimpie, he would take a swipe at her and her confidence would plummet. Having Cora around was as though she had an indispensable ally and her dearest enemy staying in her home.
Susan resolved to watch, and learn, just what it was that set Robert and Cora's marriage apart from her own. Perhaps then she'd know where they had gone wrong.
They loved.
Susan tried to appear unruffled by the realization that Robert still shared a room with his wife. Not that there was anything wrong with it, surely not, but it was yet another sign of the unconventional that appeared to be functional for the couple. They retired together the first night, Robert waiting on Cora until she had seen to the comfort of her daughters. They held hands up the wide stone staircase, Cora leading the way by a few steps and tugging him behind her. His face was alight with anticipation and when Cora reached the top she turned, pulling Robert towards her. Her smile, wide and open, was tinged with heat and just as they passed out of view, his arms circled his wife's waist.
They flirted.
Robert chose to sit beside his wife at the luncheon by the Loch, and whenever Susan glanced their way their heads were together conspiratorially. They seemed to enjoy the lack of structure found in the formal dining room, and instead of joining in on the conversation of the table they were wrapped up in one another.
Robert rested his hand beside Cora's on the table, and every so often his fingers would nudge at hers, until they were playing a chaste game across the cloth. Cora even blushed when Robert leaned close to whisper in her ear, turning away from him and tucking her chin. It was reminiscent of their courtship, except now Robert's interest was genuine. The entire trip back to the house found both Cora and Robert sending looks in one another's direction, slanted eyes and half smiles and swallowed grins.
Inspired by their child-like play, Susan sidled up to Shrimpie as they unloaded the vehicles. Her shoulder brushed his, and she readied a small smile.
He stepped away, a vague apology tumbling from his lips, not even bothering to look at her.
Summarily rebuffed, Susan returned to the house by herself avoiding the sight of Robert leading Cora into the garden.
They mourned.
Late into the evening, as the family filtered to bed, Susan ghosted the halls of her own home. The tapestries and paintings, the heavy ornate silver, haunted her. They were relics of a past life, for she knew they would be gone before the turn of a new year. For most of her adult life, these things had been a source of pride for her. Over time they had become trappings of a most elegant prison, and she looked on them with disdain. She intended to settle in the library, the only room that didn't seem to mock her with opulence, but when she opened the heavy oak door she found Robert and Cora seated side by side on the sofa closest to the fire.
Cora was tucked into Robert's protective embrace, her pale face turned into the curve of his throat. His arm passed soothingly over her back and her shoulders shuddered. The tiara she had worn earlier dangled from her fingertips and tendrils of her hair fell to brush her cheeks. When she realized they weren't alone she sat upright abruptly. Her nervous expression melted instantly when she saw the intruder was Susan.
Tear tracks reflected in the firelight and Cora offered her cousin a tremulous smile. Robert did not loose of her, holding her tight to his side.
"I just miss her so much." Cora explained, and Susan could only nod. For all their rough patches, Rose was still very much alive. Susan had the strongest urge to run to her youngest daughter and embrace her. But she knew it wouldn't be desired or appreciated. Instead she excused herself, and Cora melted back into the arms of her husband.
They laughed.
Cora hovered over Mary incessantly, her concern reflected comically in her eldest daughter's eyes. Susan knew Mary to be almost insufferably independent, a streak that had obviously not diminished with age nor marriage.
After the luncheon Cora perched beside Mary and patted her knee, concern gracing her delicate features. Robert stood behind his wife's chair, his expression proud but indulgent. He had once told Susan that he liked to think Mary the most like him, that it seemed to be a source of pride for Mary herself that she was so like her father. But when he looked at Mary, with her willfulness and her determination, he saw reflected Cora. Perhaps Mary was more English than her mother, with marginally less sentimental sensibilities. But in Mary he also saw a strength of character far surpassing his own. Mary, he knew, would be the architect of her own destiny. In this way, she favored her mother. Cora, and Mary, had a steely determination that brooked no argument. Mary went about securing her destiny in a more forthright manner, while her mother was far more subtle. But the two women shared a strength of character that Robert often marvelled at.
"Mama," Mary tried to speak sensibly, but a hint of the recalcitrant child bled into her tone. "I'm fine. Really."
"You are stubborn as your grandmother." Cora sniffed, irritated.
"I'm not the least bit stubborn. I'm simply correct." Violet added, though nobody was speaking directly to her. Cora and Mary rolled their eyes in unison and Robert merely grinned.
"I seem to recall you were equally resistant to anyone telling you what to do when you were pregnant, my dear." Robert reminded. His tone was gentle, but Cora turned narrowed eyes on him nonetheless.
"Pardon me?" He was unphased by the ice in her tone, his mouth tilting upwards in a sly grin. This was obviously an old conversation reborn once more.
"I can do it myself, Robert." The entire family parroted before dissolving into laughter. Even Violet twittered behind her fan. Robert's palms cupped his wife's shoulders and she brushed her cheek against his fingertips.
Susan had difficulty returning the smile Cora sent in her direction.
The Gilles Ball turned out to be the boiling point. Susan, feeling outnumbered and cornered, argued with Shrimpie in the back stairs, not even bothering with abashment when Robert interrupted them. She didn't care if he knew, if everyone knew, just how unhappy she was. She would expose the farce of their life, if she thought it would do any good at all.
What resentment she felt towards Cora and Robert dissolved over the course of the evening, as she slowly came to terms with the true source of her sadness. She watched as Rose gravitated towards the Crawleys, choosing to find shelter in their harbor, looking more relaxed when she was near them. The closer Susan got to her daughter, the darker Rose's expression became. The young Flintshire danced with Robert, and her smile was more genuine than Susan had seen in years. When she settled once more between Cora and Violet, stress seemed to melt from her face...until she caught her mother staring at her.
It occurred to Susan, over the course of the evening and a handful of drinks, that Rose was not seeking out people, but warmth. It was evident that the Crawleys, all of them, had a deep affection for one another. Mary and Matthew were terribly happy together, and their future child. Cora and Robert could not have been more obvious in their devotion. The usually cutting Violet was uncharacteristically protective of Cora, and could often be seen bestowing consoling looks and touches on her daughter-in-law. Even Edith, who had so often been distant and grumpy with her lot in life, was energized and devoted to her family. It seemed as though loss really had tightened the fabric of their relationships.
Rose was searching for the thing that was missing in her own home - love. And while both Shrimpie and Susan adored their daughter, their issues with one another were slowly asphyxiating their youngest child. Rose, who was full of life and excitement, was all that Susan had left of the good years of her life. Loathe as she was to let her child go, she knew that it would be the kindest thing to allow Rose to experience a true family while she was still impressionable enough to appreciate it.
The last thing she would ever want would be for Rose to acquire herself an unhappy match like that of her parents. Unconventional as the Crawley family might have become, they were still looking like a better choice.
How humbling, Susan thought.
"Shrimpie wants her to live at Downton while we're in India."
Susan perched gingerly on the edge of Cora's bed, battling a remaining niggle of jealousy as Cora sat with her breakfast tray across her lap. Even newly risen from sleep, Cora was lovely. Perhaps it was happiness that kept her so youthful, and the years of stress and despair that had aged Susan so wretchedly. It didn't matter, not really, and Susan set her thoughts aside to focus on the conversation at hand.
"I've told Robert I would never agree to that against your wishes." Cora's blue eyes were so terribly kind, Susan couldn't help but feel a measure of relief. Cora was truly an ally, and someone it seemed Susan could trust with her beloved, infuriating child.
"I know. Thank you. It's not often I get support in this house." She thought maybe Cora would understand, Susan's mind wandering back to the rocky first years of Cora's appearances at Duneagle. "But I wonder now if he isn't right and we don't need a rest from one another. Apart from anything else, I can't bring her out from Bombay. Would you be prepared for all that?"
"If you want me to be, and only if you want it." Cora's eyes narrowed, and something like pity edged into her gaze. "But what about you and Shrimpie?"
"Oh, we'll soldier on. Our sort never accept defeat." Susan spoke dismissively, although truthfully. She thought she could face anything, even a loveless marriage, if she could be assured her daughter was safe and happy. And still... "Even if I wish we could."
Susan stood to leave but slowed and turned. One more worry still existed. "Will you speak well of me to her? Not every day..." Her voice cracked just a little, as she was faced with the realization that she was essentially giving her daughter over to another. She was giving up on herself as a mother, in order to ensure the happiness of her child. That had to count for something in the grander scheme. "But sometimes."
This time Cora's expression was deeply sad and she tilted her head just a little. "Of course I will, I promise."
The trip back to her own room left Susan time to think, to ruminate, and to second-guess. How their lives had changed over the years.
But this...this was a good choice. It was a choice for Rose. Susan hoped that what Rose witnessed in Downton was what a family should be like. What love should look like between a husband and a wife. What a real life, an honest life, could bring her. Rose was so hungry for adventure, for excitement, to break the chains binding her to her parents. It was no wonder, as her parents were perpetually unhappy. If only Rose saw what life could be - not the speakeasies and the dancing and the liquor. But the rest of it.
Downton, it seemed, was Rose's best chance.
Yes, it was strange how things changed. If she and Shrimpie couldn't change with it, at least they would send Rose with those who could.
I am so terribly not entirely happy with this, but I soldiered on and posted it. This was NOT intended as part of the original story, so I'm not sure why I kept beating at it, like my brain against a brick wall. But now I've exorcised it so I can get back onto plan. Shellz Kiwi offered a challenge that I'm integrating into this story so technically there are 3 more chapters planned (2 more than the original total). What that means is...who knows how long this will be. LOL!
ANYWAY. I truly think Susan decided to send Rose to Downton because she watched this family - this family that she stood as judge and jury of for so long (it was Susan, was it not, that originally wrote the letter to Violet about Pamuk?) - and realized how much they love each other. Robert and Cora are walking around, eyeing furniture like horny kids. Mary got her fairytale wedding, her perfect husband, her baby AND an inheritance to save her father's bacon (AGAIN). Edith, despite not having a traditional path, is invigorated and happy with her occupation and her borrowed husband-boyfriend. This family has stumbled and struggled but survived because they genuinely care about each other. I think Susan also realizes how toxic her relationship with her husband is for her daughter. If Shrimpie doesn't value his marriage (and make no mistake, he does NOT) and belittles his (equally) shrewish wife, is that the example they want to set for Rose? Rose who is already searching for the polar opposite of her parent's relationship in the most unhealthy way possible. Shrimpie says it best, about learning to love young. They both want Rose to have a better example of love.
OK. Notes almost officially longer than story. Shutting up now.