The air was stifling. Cora had asked Joan to loosen her corset and had selected the airiest of her gowns, but it made little difference. Her head still swam and her skin still burned, but she had to carry on. Joan had offered to call Doctor Clarkson, but Cora had immediately declined. She hadn't seen Doctor Clarkson since the accident and the thought of being examined filled her with unspeakable dread and made her even more nauseous than she already felt. She hadn't missed a single dinner since the accident either and only because she had been practically comatose, and she wouldn't start now, even if she did feel more ill than she could remember feeling in her entire life.
She couldn't help but long for Sarah now. Cora couldn't imagine anything more conductive to her recovery than the other woman's arms around her and her lips against her temple as she cradled her close, and her heart ached at the thought of the distance between them, and with how much she missed Edith too. But Cora couldn't bring herself to separate Edith from the farm, not when she was so terribly happy there, and it warmed her heart to think of her daughter in the company of the woman she loved. At least a part of her was there, even if she couldn't be there herself.
"Are you sure you'd rather not have a tray, my lady?"
Cora smiled and patted Joan's arm gratefully. She might not be Sarah O'Brien but she'd grown fond of the woman. She'd lost her husband in the Boer War, and the man she loved soon after though Cora hadn't yet been brave enough to ask how. It was none of her business really, but the way Joan spoke about John Smith made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.
"I'm fine Joan, thank you."
Joan looked sceptical and Cora fought back a laugh. She might be her replacement, but Sarah would like this one; she didn't believe a word her mistress said. She sighed affectionately. "I promise, you can put me to bed after dinner. I'll even go quietly."
Joan's lips twitched upwards. She would believe that when she saw it.
"If you say so my lady. Just ring the bell when you're ready to come back up."
She gave Cora small curtsey but she waved her away; she hadn't bothered with formality with Joan because she hadn't wanted to encourage a routine. Sarah would be back where she belonged eventually and she would find Joan a new place, and most likely with her sister-in-law in London. By all accounts Andrew Lang was settled in Eaton Square and doing well, and Cora couldn't think of a more generous employer for Joan. Rosamund had been the one to recommend her after all; she would be more than happy to take her on herself!
On the stairs she was met with precisely the same concern from Mrs. Hughes, but she shook her head and soldiered on. Lavinia and Matthew were here and there was their wedding to discuss, and with Mary and Sir Richard here too Cora would need to be at dinner to manage the tension at the table.
As expected, dinner was a veritable nightmare and five minutes in, the conversation became little more than a dull murmur in the background. She could feel her head spinning more and more by the second, and her skin seared to the touch. She was glad of the distraction of the wedding. The others were far too occupied by the conversation to notice her increasing dizziness, and she had never liked making a fuss. She liked it much more when everybody was getting along and that was almost impossible with Cousin Isobel and her mother-in-law sitting at the same table that she preferred to suffer in silence to preserve the peace for as long as she could. Robert was being awfully quiet though, and she looked up curiously and seemingly precisely at the correct moment to see her husband and his housemaid exchange a look across the table.
It was so charged with emotion she felt suddenly sick, and she feel something of a hypocrite given her relationship with Sarah O'Brien, but to look at her like that right in front of her eyes was positively insulting, and worst of all he had probably forgotten she was in the room at all. Tears pricked at her eyes and she felt a rush of sadness that did nothing for her aching body. Her chest felt like it was being flattened at the same time as her heart, and she couldn't stay here anymore. She had to get out of this room and into be, but she wished, more than anything, that she'd decided to stay in Lancashire after all with her daughter and the woman she loved.
"I hope you'll forgive me," she interrupted Richard Carlisle, something about one of his papers, and smiled apologetically. "But I simply have to lie down."
Violet narrowed her eyes and frowned across the table, but Cora was relieved to see concern in her eyes and not irritation. "Are you quite well my dear?" she asked with considerably more softness than Cora was used to. "You're very pale."
Cora smiled tightly and nodded her head, but even that simple action made her feel positively ghastly. She pushed herself up from the table with obvious difficulty, and smiled gratefully as she felt Anna move instantly to her side. Should she keel over, and she rather felt like she might, at least she would have something to catch her.
"I'll be fine if I can just lie down." She caught Robert's eyes briefly across the table, and thankfully he had managed to drag his gaze from Jane. He graced her with a supportive smile and nodded his permission for her to leave, and Cora was glad to see he still cared.
She apologised again before allowing Anna to help her to the stairs, and sent the young woman away to fetch Joan who would no doubt phone for Doctor Clarkson, and Cora would let her. Whatever was wrong with her, she hoped it would pass in the next day or two.
She didn't want to worry Sarah.
The village was busier these days as more and more of Scouthead's sons and husbands returned from France, and for once Sarah was glad to hear someone shouting her old nickname at her on every corner. She'd rather hear it from George and John but they'd heard nothing of their coming home yet, and it was getting harder and harder to prop Julie up. The poor cow had done her best to stay positive but she could only imagine the pain she must feel if she imagined Cora in a soldier's uniform at the front, and lord knew that wouldn't be happening anytime soon.
She sighed as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, only to freeze as a familiar face practically stumbled into her path. She had expected him to be gone from the village by now, but then that wasn't very fair of her. He had as much right to be in Scouthead as her, and Sarah couldn't help but be glad to see him, despite the circumstances of their parting.
"Mickey?"
His lips curled up in a tight smile as he caught sight of her and stopped. "I thought you'd be long gone back to Downton by now."
He couldn't help but hope she had changed her mind, but he didn't think so; besides, he didn't want to make a life with a woman who so clearly loved somebody else. It wouldn't be fair to either of them, least of all him, and it was about bloody time he found himself someone who'd love him the way Sarah loved her lady.
"Not until the boys're back," Sarah shrugged, doing her best not to be so bloody awkward, but it wasn't everyday she saw the man whose heart she had broken twice for the same woman. She wouldn't – couldn't – bring herself to regret the decision though with the memory of Cora's lips burnt into her skin.
"Have you heard from any of 'em?" Mickey asked.
He might not be marrying Sarah – that he knew for certain this time – but the O'Brien boys were as good as brothers to him and he couldn't help but worry.
"Every so often. I know the war's nearly over but it doesn't mean they're safe. Cora's doin' all she can to keep 'em safe out there but—" Sarah looked up, cutting herself off and cursing herself immediately at the sight of the pained smile on his face. "Mickey, I'm sorry—"
"You don't have to apologise to me," Mickey interrupted quickly and he meant it. Sarah had hardly fallen in love with a married Countess on purpose and she could be a sarcastic cow at times but she wouldn't hurt a fly if she could help it, and never him. She might have chosen the Countess in the end but he'd never doubted she loved him. And she'd probably saved his life too.
"Don't you have 'er daughter stayin' with you?" he quickly changed the subject.
"Lady Edith?" Sarah smirked. She felt considerably more comfortable on safer ground and felt herself begin to slowly relax. "She's a bit more 'andy than 'er mother, that's for sure."
"You mean she can actually peel a potato?" Mickey teased, and was relieved to hear Sarah laugh and felt the tension begin to lift.
"Just about," she smiled "She's much 'appier drivin' the tractor though. We can't get 'er off it some days."
"And don't tell me," Mickey smiled, "Jimmy's smitten?"
Sarah rolled her eyes good-naturedly. She really should have expected that one. Edith was every bit as lovely as her mother and James had fallen fast, and she had the sneaking suspicion Cora's daughter had done the same. She couldn't help but wonder how Cora would feel about it, but hoped she'd be happy. James deserved to be loved by a good woman, and Edith was as good as they came. "We O'Brien's don't 'alf pick the complicated ones."
Mickey smiled with a hint of sadness. "Well why not, if they're the right ones?"
Sarah was silent for a moment as she held Mickey's eyes. "She is the right one for me Mickey. You're a stupid bastard for bein' so forgivin' – I 'ad no right to let you think we'd live 'appily ever after – but I know she's the right one. Not in the eyes of the law maybe, but since when did we give a toss about that?"
Mickey shrugged. "S'not that I'm not disappointed but," he smirked slightly – he knew how Sarah felt about all the romantic bollocks other women treasured, "who am I to stand in the way of true love?"
Sarah scoffed and reached out to smack his arm. Stupid beggar had to be smug, didn't he? "I'll 'ave none of that, thank you very much."
Mickey sniggered as they made their way into the post office but Sarah couldn't help but smirk over at the counter, and nudged the man's arm.
"She 'as a crush on you, y'know. I bet she'd marry you." She nodded to the post girl, a pretty dark-haired thing about the same age as Edith, who blushed and ducked her head at the attention.
"You're kiddin', aren't you?" Mickey arched his brow. "This is real life y'know and real life doesn't sort itself out into tidy little packages."
"Maybe not," Sarah muttered, looking up at him with a sympathetic smile. "But I think we both deserve an 'appy endin', don't you?"
"Lucky for you," Mickey muttered with a vague smile as he nudged her in the direction of the counter. He saw Rita's eyes flicker to his ring finger, and perhaps Sarah wasn't so mad after all? Maybe they could both have a happy ending? "You've already got yours."
Sarah felt like a daft soppy cow, but smiled all the same and thought of Cora, back at Downton now but by no means out of her thoughts. She barely thought of anything but Cora and those three whispered words before the other woman had screamed out her name.
She reached out to take the telegram from Rita, flashing a vague smile before turning her attention to the little envelope and ripping it open. It bore none of the usual signs of it being a telegram from the war office so the likelihood of it being bad news was low. And for the first time since Alfie died she was happy; she didn't need any bad news today.
She smirked slightly as she looked up to see Rita chatting nervously to Mickey, and for all his apparent heartbreak at their parting it didn't seem to stop the man from flashing his pearly bloody whites and leaning over the counter to have a good and proper natter. She was busy anyway; the telegram was from Yorkshire, from Downton, and it could only be from—
Sarah's heart froze in her ribcage. She read Thomas' words once, twice, over and bloody over until they finally sank in and fear tightened her chest. She might have fallen if Mickey hadn't suddenly been by her side with his hand gripping her arm and keeping her upright.
"Sarah?" Mickey pressed, doing his best to meet her eyes. She'd gone so pale all of a sudden, and the hand holding the telegram shook so much he had to take it in his own to steady it. "Sarah?"
"It's Cora. She's sick."
"How sick?"
"S'the Spanish Flu."
Jesus Christ. They'd heard enough about Spanish Flu to know the Countess had to be in a bad way and Mickey nodded, gulping as he gave her hand a squeeze and slid his arm around her, shielding her from the nosy bastards surrounding them. She might not be his fiancée anymore but he refused to let her grief become other people's soddin' entertainment.
"I'll get you back to the farm. You an' Lady Edith can get in a car an' go right there." He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, but he knew how he'd feel if it was Sarah. Mickey doubted there was much she could do for Cora now, but he'd have to be dragged from Sarah's bedside kicking and screaming and lord knew Sarah was even more stubborn than him.
"She'll be okay, Sarah."
It took her a good few hours to convince Edith to go and get some rest. There was nothing she could do anyway, nothing any of them could do but wait, and that was killing Sarah inside. She did her best – mopped her brow and neck and kept her as comfortable as she possibly could but the rest was up to fate; it didn't seem fair when Sarah would carve out her own bloody heart to keep Cora alive.
She looked beautiful, even now, soaked to the sodding bone in sweat and shivering like she'd been dropped naked in the middle of the bloody arctic; even on her last legs she was a fucking goddess, and none of them deserved her, not even her, but least of all Robert Crawley. She'd practically had to manhandle Edith from the room herself, and Sybil had been a damn nuisance hovering around them in concern – even Mary had been up here and fussing over her mother like she'd never done before, but her husband had been nowhere to be seen.
She shouldn't give a damn really – she loved Cora and Cora loved her so why did it even matter that he was absent from what could be his wife's death bed? – but it didn't make one fucking bit of sense. He was the luckiest bastard in England being married to Cora, so why abandon her now?
"Sarah?"
It was little more than a breathless croak but Sarah heard it and sat up abruptly, holding Cora's hand as tight as she dared and leaned to brush her damp hair back from her face.
"I'm 'ere darlin'."
"You came."
"Of course I did. Your Edith drove us over 'ere so quickly I thought we were goin' to crash into a tree."
Her heart clenched at the sight of a tiny, exhausted smile; Cora could hear her. Whatever else happened, she could hear her now and that only boded well for her recovery, didn't it?
"I'm glad…you survived."
"I did, an' don't bloody think you won't either."
"So…tired."
Sarah's heart broke in her chest at that and she leaned to press a desperate kiss to Cora's forehead. "I know love, but 'ang on. Please 'ang on because I can't lose you."
"I'm…not going…anywhere."
"Good," Sarah choked out. "Because I'll follow you Cora, I bloody swear it; you're not goin' anywhere without me, not again."
Cora's lips drifted up in a weary smile as her eyes fluttered shut again. She would be out any bloody minute now, but Sarah was determined to enjoy the brief flicker of consciousness before she lost her again, but she wouldn't lose her for good.
"Love you," Cora whispered, half knocked out already but Sarah smiled anyway, blinking back tears and stroked her thumb over her lover's pale cheek.
"I love you."
Cora soon got worse, and two bloody hours later, the longest of Sarah's life, she had finally stopped convulsing, and lay deathly still with her hair fanned out on the pillow, so stark in contrast to the worrying pallor of her skin. She'd washed away the blood and everything else this miserable illness had forced from her, and now she looked like Snow White herself, except Cora wouldn't be awoken by a kiss. Whether she woke up at all was entirely left to chance now and Sarah didn't know how she'd get through the rest of the night.
His lordship had long since retired and Sarah didn't care anymore. He could run off to Outer bloody Mongolia for all she cared and never come back – she was more than capable of taking care of Cora and she'd prefer to have him out of their lives for good.
"Miss O'Brien?"
Sarah looked wearily up from Cora's pale face to see Mrs. Hughes standing tentatively in the doorway. She was the last person Sarah had expected and she sat up straight, momentarily thinking the worst.
"Mrs. Hughes. Is everythin' alright? Is Mr. Carson-"
"Mr. Carson is fine, lucky beggar," Elsie assured her softly "He certainly hasn't had as hard a time as her ladyship." Her eyes drifted in the direction of the woman in the bed. "How is she?"
Sarah looked quickly bad to Cora with an aching heart. "Not well. They say if she lasts the night…" Sarah trailed off. Mrs. Hughes was smart enough to put two and two together and she couldn't bear to say the words.
Elsie nodded silently. She'd seen enough death in her time to know how close the Countess was to it, and few people deserved death less than Lady Grantham.
She forced a smile. "I have a letter for you, from home. I didn't know whether now would be a good time."
Sarah sighed wearily. "It can't be any worse than this," she muttered, her voice cracking in a rare display of emotion that Elsie was surprised by, and she quickly took the letter from the other woman's hands.
Her eyes quickly scanned the words and Sarah let out a breath, momentarily closing her eyes as she held both the letter and Cora's hand tighter.
"They're sendin' the rest of my brothers 'ome."
She was ashamed to think she'd forgotten about her brothers, but they'd forgive her she thought, given the circumstances. At least Julie and the kids would be alright now.
"That's wonderful news, Miss O'Brien."
Sarah's lips drifted up in the vaguest of smiles. "Why don't you call me Sarah? I'm not 'er lady's maid anymore."
"Perhaps not," Elsie murmured. "But you're certainly something to her."
Sarah's spine prickled in momentary panic – how the bloody hell did Hughes know? – and sent a brief look of accusation in Elsie's direction, but the woman looked nothing but insufferably innocent.
"A friend, I 'ope."
"Oh, undoubtedly."
Elsie moved, sitting down on the other side of the bed after a minute of hesitation and reached to smooth out a stray crease in the bed sheets. She doubted it would make much difference though; she'd heard how her ladyship had convulsed earlier and she'd seen Miss Swire toss back and forth.
"I can't help but think his lordship should be here. It doesn't seem right, does it? Him being elsewhere whilst his wife…"
Sarah snorted, all the bitterness coming back to the fore. "He'd 'ave a bloody job gettin' close to 'er now."
"You know then," Elsie ventured. "About Jane?"
"Jane?" Sarah repeated, looking up sharply with a knitted brow. The name rang a bell but she couldn't place it and she was immediately alarmed by the look of panic on the other woman's face.
You've really done it this time, Elsie!
"Never mind," she smiled quickly and moved to stand up before she said anything else she might regret. "I'd best be getting back downstairs."
"I don't bloody think so!" Sarah interrupted sharply before Elsie could stand up completely. Anything to do with Cora, she wanted to know, and if her suspicions were correct she didn't think she could stop herself from interfering on her lady's behalf. "Who the 'ell is Jane?"
"Must I remind you that I'm the housekeeper here—"
"Forgive me Mrs. Hughes," Sarah interrupted drily. "But right now I wouldn't care if you were the Dowager Countess 'erself. And like I said, I'm not 'er maid anymore, which means you're not my boss."
Elsie's lips curled up in a wry smile for a moment before she cleared her throat and conceded. "A housemaid. I'm not exactly sure but…I believe she and his lordship are…involved."
"Involved." Hughes didn't need to elaborate, and Sarah nodded shortly as she turned her attention back to Cora's pale, but impossibly beautiful face and stroked her thumb softly over the palm of her hand.
"e's even more of an idiot than I thought," she muttered, and Mrs. Hughes arched an eyebrow but Sarah dared her to comment. Besides, for all of her loyalty, Sarah suspected the housekeeper felt precisely the same.
"I should get back to work," she said after a moment. "With her ladyship sick and Mr. Carson the same, there's a great deal of work to be doing." She stood up fully this time, before fixing a sharp look on the other woman that was mingled with concern. "You will rest, won't you Miss O'Brien?"
"Perhaps," Sarah muttered noncommittally with utterly no intention of sleeping until Cora was awake and well and drinking and eating properly. She stroked her thumb over her cold hand as she turned her attention back to the Countess completely. "Give Mr. Carson my regards."
"She's so pale," Edith whispered, breaking the spell of silence that had engulfed the room for the last hour or so. Visitors had come and gone with the exception of his lordship, but none more so than Lady Edith and Sarah was glad of that. She had become even fonder of the girl since she had been at the farm – but not quite as fond as James had – and if there was anyone she wanted to share this nighttime vigil with, it was her.
"She's always been pale," Sarah replied softly, smiling weakly at the girl. "Silly woman doesn't eat enough."
"She's terribly pale though. She looks like a corpse."
Sarah's heart clenched at that and she pushed aside the pain the word produced because it simply couldn't happen. She wouldn't bloody let it happen. "She isn't a corpse yet m'lady, an' she won't be if I can 'elp it."
"You're so good to her O'Brien." Edith flushed at the older woman's pointed look. They'd already discussed this, and she quickly corrected herself with a small smile. "Sarah. You've always been so good. I've never seen such devotion."
Sarah's smile was strained. She hadn't always been good to Cora, and didn't she deserve to know? She'd given Cora her heart and soul, but not the full truth. "It's my job. At least it was."
Edith shook her head immediately. "No, it's more than that. You haven't left her side."
Not for a second in fact, save a few hurried dashes to the bathroom next door, but never more than ten seconds or so. She didn't think she would ever forgive herself if Cora died alone.
"I'm 'ardly goin' to leave her. She deserves a friendly face when she wakes up."
And she wanted it to be hers. She didn't want it to be Robert bloody Crawley, she wanted Cora to wake up and see her and know how desperately loved she was. She hadn't given up on her, and she never would.
"It won't be Papa's."
Sarah looked up in surprise. She'd forgotten just how sharp Lady Edith was, sharper than Lady Mary at any rate, but what exactly did Edith know?
"M'lady?" It was Edith's turn this time, and Sarah smiled apologetically. "Edith."
"They're not the same anymore," Edith elaborated quietly. "They were so close before; it was rather sickening really, but that's all gone now. Papa's not even here when Mama needs him the most."
Sarah reached to squeeze Edith's hand. The young woman didn't need a rant against her father now, she needed her support. "We're 'ere though. Sybil's been in and out as often as she can, and even Lady Mary 'as deigned to shed a tear or two."
Edith giggled quietly at that, and Sarah arched her brow.
"Don't look so surprised, m'lady." She squeezed her hand again. "You were always my favourite, an' now you're my brother's too."
She smirked conspiratorially and Edith blushed brightly.
"I'm not sure what you mean, O'Brien," she quipped.
Sarah grinned teasingly. "Oh, now it's O'Brien again?"
"If you're going to be presumptuous then yes!"
For a moment Sarah was concerned she'd overstepped the mark, but Edith's words were tempered by a smile that soon faded as her eyes returned to her mother's ghostly form. She gripped her hand tighter, and Sarah grasped right back.
"I can't remember a longer night than this one."
"Not long left now," Sarah said gently, and let her eyes return to Cora's pale face. "She's come this far already, an' I don't think she'd ever leave you."
"Nor you. She's very fond of you, Sarah."
Sarah smiled absently and ran her eyes over Cora's face and forced the tears back once more. She would shed them when this nightmare was over and Cora was safe, and not a minute sooner.
"Not as fond as I am of 'er."
