After nearly a year of inactivity, I suppose I'm going to reopen this can of worms. This definitely isn't my best work, but jumping back into a universe you created nearly one year prior never is. Anyway, hopefully you enjoy this. I've had to rethink my whole process for this work, but hopefully this is still an enjoyable read.
The suggestion that his mother "get to know," Mrs. Levinson and her most charming daughter, was met with as much resistance as Violet could muster without inciting a heated row in front of her children. She rerouted their conversation the entire carriage ride to Covington Place, as if by not acknowledging that her husband and her son simply refused to count her opinions on the matter, she might be able to change the outcome.
But as they slowly shuffled into the grand entrance way, and nobody seemed to wish to comment about the newly installed (and rather ostentatious) chandelier hanging in the atrium or the up to date floral decor that was carved masterfully into the pillars they stood in between, she gave in.
"Which one is she?" The question came out as an exasperated sigh, her eyes straining to look over the shoulders of those moving through the grand atrium of the house.
Robert found himself directly at his Mama's side, and with the best vantage point to see over the sea of bodies that flooded the room in graceful waves. And then he discovered that he was face to face with her piercing gaze; a look that inspired fear as well as proved to obtain desires results.
He cleared his throat, eyes flickering among the guests, searching for any familiar feature that he grew accustomed to belonging to her. His eyes scanned the back of ladies heads, hoping to find her distinguished ebony coils she generally piled high above her head. There were several ladies with shades similar floating about the room in a frivolous fashion. But he knew none of them were her. For none of them were accompanied by a woman with a shocking shade of copper hair who had suddenly tossed back her and let out a booming cackle.
Robert immediately felt a shot of blood course through his ears, followed by a rush of warmth that crept up the back of his neck. Willing himself to remain wholly unaffected by Mrs. Levinson's outright display of emotion, so as to not to give Mama any further satisfaction, he leaned closer to her and kept his eyes focused forward on the Levinson women. He spoke calmly and clearly, nodding in their general direction for his mother's benefit, "See that woman standing near Charlotte, in the orange? That's Mrs. Levinson. And beside her in red is her daughter, Miss. Levinson."
His eyes shifted, attempting to gauge his mother's first general impression. She blinked a few times, as if she had developed an impediment to her eyesight. And then came her taken aback exclamation of, "Gracious, did they buy out the entire Worth collection, I wonder?" Her hand flew to the gold broach clasped at her throat, her fingers running across the simple, diamond studded surface.
"Violet," Came Lord Grantham's gravelly warning tone from behind them.
"What I would give for a gown like that!" Rosamund whined enviously.
Robert shot a barbed look over his shoulder, to which she shrugged and gaped openly, "What? They're stunning!"
"And rather gauche," Violet added sharply, rolling her eyes at Rosamund's enthusiasm.
They moved a few more paces towards the receiving line, and Robert's stomach tightened as they drew closer. He felt his fingers curling into his palms, fingernails digging anxiously at the flesh there. His shoulders tensed as he heard another intake of breath from his mother, and he braced himself for another sharpened remark regarding the Levinsons.
"And the stones, do you think they mined half of the new world for the sake of dressing themselves up this evening?" The words nearly came out in a strained chortle, signaling Mama's amusement at her latest critique.
Rosamund exhaled out of exasperation, "Stones are in style now, Mama."
"In style, yes," Violet inclined her head before she lifted her index finger, and added knowingly, "But not in abundance." Her hand swept in the Levinsons general direction as she went on brusquely, "They look more out of the place than Louise's new chandelier in the foyer."
"Violet," Lord Grantham warned again, the words sounding gravellier this time, "try and find something kind to say to her."
"Why should I?" She immediately balked at this statement.
Robert immediately felt his hands ball into fists. Why did she have to make matters more complicated than they already were? And of all times, why now?
"She thinks she can just breeze across this world with her good looks and lavish clothes and take a position just to appear fashionable to her friends back home."
"I'm not so sure she sees it that way," Robert argued, his narrowing gaze finding his mother's.
Violet blinked back at him for a few seconds, her brow arching rather curiously. And then he saw the ripple across her jaw, and felt himself recoil at the words that followed, "Well how else would she see it, Robert? She has yet to see Downton."
"But she's seen Robert," Rosamund interjected hopefully, "Perhaps that is enough." Her lips curled into a knowing smirk, and she tried to murmur under her breath, "It certainly was before."
Robert felt his cheeks flush with heat, and as soon as he saw his mother's head whip around and produce a scolding glare at her daughter, he knew she had heard the snide remark. A reference to what he felt was approaching ancient history, however, it was a moment in time still lingering closer to the present than the past.
"Rosamund," Violet practically growled, her hand curling around Rosamund's forearm as she continued through gritted teeth, "you will hold your tongue on matters you do not understand."
She wrenched her arm away from Mama's grip, and countered rather acridly, "Or matters you think I don't understand Mama!"
"Rosamund," Papa admonished through terse lips, his eyes flashing venomously. "Listen to your Mother. Violet," He paused, his tone then lightening, and his lips curling in an attempt to produce an amicable smile, "please. Let's just try to enjoy ourselves this evening and not make waves. Yes?"
"Oh darling, don't be ridiculous," Violet gushed with a falsetto that only those in the immediate proximity could detect, "when do I ever make waves?" A look of pseudo innocence crossed her face for a split second, and then she was turning back towards the receiving line and greeting each of them as though nothing had happened.
"Oh Louise! How good it is to see you, my dear!" Violet reached for her hands, grasped them, and leaned forward to kiss both of the older woman's cheeks. She turned to the rest in the line, greeting each of them in a similar fashion. "And Freddie too! We haven't seen as much of you lately! But with a new wife, I'm sure that's to be expected. And of course, here is the lady of the hour. Dear Charlotte, I do hope you will be kind enough to save room for Robert on your dance card."
Robert's ears burned from the sudden mention of him in such a manner. He immediately countered as politely as possible, "Oh Mama, I'm sure Charlotte's already been bombarded with more than enough suitors for this evening."
"I do have one spot open," Charlotte's soft voice reached his ears.
He readjusted his focus to Charlotte, her thick lashes fluttering as a warm smile creased her lips.
"Oh, what luck?" He heard his Mama resound in a seemingly innocent voice. "Isn't that lucky, Robert?"
He was on the verge of suggesting that it was lucky for politeness sake. And it most likely was lucky. But not for him. No doubt some other man would be lucky to have her in his arms in place of him. He wasn't much in the mood for dancing with a variety of women tonight.
"It's a waltz," Charlotte went on tentatively, her smile deepening. Her ivory cheeks flushed rosily as she stammered, "I-I remember you saying how much you preferred to waltz over anything else at the Jarvis' ball." Charlotte offered hopefully and he found he couldn't refuse her.
"That I did," He remarked, his eyes moving over to find Miss. Levinson with her head bent towards Rosamund's as they spoke in lowered tones.
Something he couldn't hear was said, and suddenly Miss. Levinson was grasping Rosamund's hand and letting out a shrill melody of giggles. His mouth twitched at the corners, and her eyes traveled across the cluster of people to rest upon him. And then something changed. She swallowed the lingering notes of her laughter, her smile morphing into a more reserved expression. She looked away, turning once more to speak to Rosamund, as if what his sister had to say was entirely captivating. And he wasn't entirely sure, what had incited such a reaction in her.
"Robert," Violet snapped, prompting Robert to nearly jump out of his skin. "Are you going to make this poor girl suffer to wait for your decision? Or will you indulge her?"
"Sorry," Robert blinked, and with a shake of his head, he tore his focus away from Miss. Levinson. "Of course," He offered his best smile to Charlotte, "I would be honored to share a dance with you Lady Charlotte."
"Good," Violet inclined her head, a satisfied smirk spreading across her lips.
Charlotte smiled warmly, eyelashes fluttering unnecessarily as she offered her dance card to him with a grandiose amount of showmanship, "The honor is mine, Lord Downton."
He scrawled his name without preamble or further comment, keeping his focus on the present task at hand. Robert heard his father introduce in his assured tone, "Mrs. Levinson, I wonder if I might present my wife to you? Lady Violet Crawley, the Countess of Grantham. Violet, this is Mrs. Martha Levinson of Newport. And her daughter, Miss. Cora Levinson."
"Lady Violet we meet at last!" Martha instantly came alive, taking both of Violet hands much to her shock. "I must confess, we thought you were something of a mirage." She chuckled as though amused by her own words.
Robert felt his shoulders tighten as he watched his Mama tense.
"We've heard your name so many times in conversation over the course of the season and yet…we are only just meeting you now that it's nearly over," Mrs. Levinson cocked her head to one side, and smiled, revealing two rows of shockingly straight teeth.
"And such a pity that is," Violet returned with much less enthusiasm. She removed her hand's from Mrs. Levinson's, and arched a brow as she chose her next words carefully. "But I'm sure you have made numerous acquaintances this season, Mrs. Levinson. Or at the very least, caused something of a stir with your presence."
"Well I should hope so," Mrs. Levinson replied, seeming nonplussed by the slight Violet had intended to unnerve her. "Otherwise what would have been the point of this trip?" She let out another chorus of ringing laughter.
Robert felt his heartbeat quicken as his Mama paused, the muscles along her jaw rippling. He inwardly prayed that she would remember his father's earlier words and find something kind to say to them.
"Was that what you were hoping to accomplish?" Violet wondered as though it was a rather curious objective to wish to possess. "I would have thought your motives rather different." With this statement, she allowed herself to chirp delightedly.
Robert watched Mrs. Levinson's self-assurance shake a bit. Her broadened smile shrunk into a knowing smirk, and then she rebutted in an air of pseudo amazement, "Oh you English astound me. Everything you say is a riddle to be deciphered."
"Well I suppose they don't emphasis the art of well-crafted conversation in America," Violet chortled momentarily, prompting a scowl to etch across Mrs. Levinson's expression.
Robert felt himself swallow hard, and his head began to spin as he racked his brain for a way to intercede. But they were too quick, and even his father, who usually could take control of his wife in the social arena when necessary, was distracted by a side conversation with Miss. Levinson and Rosamund.
"But," Violet interjected, her gaze traveling over to the group that had gathered on the other side of Mrs. Levinson, "I suppose Miss. Levinson has other qualities to offer."
"Cora's rather skilled with discussion," Mrs. Levinson argued, seizing her daughter's forearm, and pulling her closer in a rather violent fashion.
Robert watched the gaiety suddenly vanish from Miss. Levinson's pale blue eyes, and a deep shade of scarlet invade her cheeks. Her full lips rounded into a perplexed oval, and when she found Mama watching her intently, she lowered her eyes to floor.
"Really?" Violet resounded in shock, "Well, perhaps it is a talent that takes time to uncover then."
"Gracious Violet," George practically snapped, nearly losing all sense of composure, "you haven't given the poor girl a chance to chime in. She's got on just fine with Rosamund and I for the last several minutes."
Her mouth drew into a tightened line, and she retorted swiftly, "And knowing you, my dear, I'm sure the topics were just stimulating. Were they not Miss. Levinson?" She looked back at the young girl expectantly.
Lifting her eyes, a fraction of an inch, she managed to respond with a sweet smile, "Lord Grantham is an excellent conversationalist."
"Well, I suppose anyone can be for a few minutes at a time," Mama huffed.
George grumbled, "Yourself included, dear."
Thankfully Mama had enough tact to ignore him, and she found another topic of conversation to explore, "Your gown Miss. Levinson…it certainly is…interesting."
"It's a Worth," She replied a bit stiffly at his mother's intense analysis of it.
"Yes," Violet inclined her head before remarking, "So I thought it might be. I recognize it from the show last year in Paris. I can't say I thought any young lady would dare to wear such a thing. But I suppose that's another difference between us and you Americans."
"You must forgive my wife, Miss. Levinson, she has a rather jealous streak when it comes to ladies' fashion," Lord Grantham placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, squeezing it until she relented and took a step closer to him. "But I'm afraid I'm partially to blame because I haven't indulged in her need to enjoy the finer things in life as of late."
The muscles in his mother's jaw rippled, and she casually brushed off her husband's hand with a light flick of her lace trimmed fan.
"You carry it quite nicely though," His father went on, admiring her in a purposeful manner. "A rather suitable color for such an exotic beauty such as yourself. Wouldn't you agree Robert?"
When her gaze fixed upon his once more, Robert found he couldn't quite speak straightaway. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, feeling a rush of warmth that spread throughout his ears. "Uh, yes," He cleared his throat with a slight cough and nodded deliberately this time, "yes, the colour is a suitable one, indeed. Yes."
She smiled until that familiar sparkle reached her eyes, and he couldn't look at her any longer for fear he might collapse from the increase in temperature.
"Cora," Mrs. Levinson nudged her daughter's side, "well? What do you say to such a generous compliant?"
"Thank you," Her mouth stretched into a tight smile, and she bobbed her head politely, "you're all very kind."
"Yes, well, if you'll excuse us, we must be moving along now," Violet returned the same tense expression before shooting a momentary glance over her shoulder. "We don't want to be the sort that holds up the line. It's rather an improper practice here, you see. Besides, I think I see Lady Shackleton over by the refreshments. Rosamund owes her son a dance, so we must be off." Her eyes casual scanned the crowds, and she gestured vaguely in a direction that was on the opposite side of the room.
"Oh what a pity," Mrs. Levinson remarked sardonically.
"Yes," Miss. Levinson piped up insistently. "It is a pity Lady Grantham."
Violet shot her an indifferent look, assessed her expression for a few seconds, and then added, "No need to be so emotional about it, my dear."
"I only meant…" She tried again, faltering a bit under Mama's unwavering gaze, "...I was hoping to know more of you."
"Oh have no fear, Miss. Levinson," Violet reached for her hands, patting them rather listlessly. "I am quite sure Lord Grantham and Lord Downton will insist upon placing us in those sorts of positions." She managed a smile that appeared more like a grimace before releasing the young woman's hands.
She was then intercepted by George, who placed another hand on her shoulder, steering her away from the group. "And you will insist upon learning more about Miss. Levinson, won't you Violet?"
Per usual, Mama was not acknowledging his attempt to control her in this moment. Turning away from all of them, she raised a hand and called out to someone who was apparently lingering across the room, "Oh Esme, darling! How lovely to see you again? Rosamund, come along now!"
Attempting to keep calm, Lord Grantham chuckled softly as though amused by his wife's behavior. He made a point of cordially acknowledge the Levinsons, "Well it was a pleasure seeing the pair of you again."
They exchanged similar pleasantries before watching Lord Grantham take his leave.
"Well Lord Downton," Mrs. Levinson intoned, "are you planning on being the sort your mother so clearly disapproves of?" She jerked her head in the direction of the newest arrivals to the party.
He felt his throat tickle from a light peal of laughter, "Well I...it's just that...I wondered if Miss. Levinson might wish to join me for a bit of refreshment? Before all the dancing begins?" He looked hopefully to her, and then back to her mother.
"Oh a drink would be divine!" Mrs. Levinson exclaimed, clasping her hands together in delight, "These ballrooms are always so hot and stuffy." She flicked open her fan and began fluttering it in front of her face as if to accentuate this point.
Robert looked back to Miss. Levinson, only to discover she was keeping her focus mostly downward, only catching his attention from beneath her eyelids, "I find myself rather content at the moment, but thank you for the offer, Lord Downton." She tried to smile, but there was something behind her eyes that didn't convince him.
"You might not be in need of refreshment, but I certainly am!" Mrs. Levinson nudged her daughter towards him, "Go on with him Cora, and bring something back for your poor, old mother!"
She took a few paces forward, but didn't lift her eyes more than a fraction.
"We won't be long," Robert assured the both of them, offering his arm to Miss. Levinson.
Mrs. Levinson waved him off, half turning towards the newly arriving guests, "I'm not going anywhere, take your time."
Cora slowly linked her arm with his, and let him guide her through the throngs of people chattering about the room.
He dared to cast a sideways glance at her, seeing a vacancy cross her profile. She seemed to focused on the refreshment table, her steps mechanical as they maneuvered carefully.
Clearing his throat, he stole her attention, and tried on a smile. "So...you've now met Mama," He stated rather obviously.
Her mouth curled up at the edges, and she inclined her head, "Yes."
Looking ahead again, Robert hesitantly probed, "What...what do you think?"
"She's…" Cora paused, chewing a bit on her bottom lip before deciding humorously, "rather…sure of herself."
"Indeed she is," He chuckled with similar amusement. "Sometimes too sure, I'm afraid."
"Well it is a rare quality to find in an English lady," She snorted a bit at this, obviously looking to him for a comparable response.
But he didn't quite catch her meaning. Pinching his brow, Robert wondered rather curiously, "What makes you say that?"
"Well I…" Her eyes widened, and she unhooked her arm from beneath his, "...I don't know exactly…forget I said anything of the sort." She turned towards one of the staff who was pouring and serving freshly made drinks.
Robert took one of his own from the young man, inclining his head in thanks. And then he watched her from the corner of his eye, as she drained the contents of the glass, recalling her earlier aversion to his request for refreshment.
"Miss. Levinson?" He couldn't stop himself from frowning out of concern. He leaned in, capturing her eye as she took another glass from the staff member. "Are you…is everything alright?"
"Oh yes," She arched a questioning brow as if the motive for his question was unfounded, "yes, everything is just fine."
He remained unconvinced, "Are you…quite sure?"
"Indeed," She assured, flashing what he deduced to be a tired smile. Then she looked over her shoulder, and muttered rather distantly, "Now, we should be getting on. My mother...she'll be expecting her drink."
Robert felt an unexpected pang shoot through him, and he couldn't help the protest that came out, "Surely she can wait a moment. She did say we needn't hurry back." He reached forward, catching the black silk of her gloved forearm.
She looked back at his hand on her arm, and then up at him. "I suppose, she did," She stated plainly. And for a moment, he noticed the muscles in her face relax. But then, something caught her attention from the corner of her eye, and she remarked softly, "Even so, I won't keep you. I'm sure your Mother would like…"
"My Mother is too fixated on settling Rosamund this evening," He assured.
"I'm sure she'll want to settle you in as well," Cora lowered her eyes to the floor, murmuring quietly in an almost inaudible tone.
His mouth dropped open, and he suddenly felt utterly helpless. "I-I don't understand."
She flinched at his tone, and then shook her head, "I-I'm sorry. I-I am being rather foolish this evening." She laughed anxiously, "Forgive me."
He didn't see a reason for her to be apologizing, and so he could only surmise it had something to do with the earlier exchange with his mother. "Miss. Levinson if my Mother has offended you in some way…"
"She has not," She replied flatly, trying to shoot him a reassuring smile.
Robert started tentatively, "Then…forgive me, but I'm inclined to believe based on your sudden change in demeanor that everything is not just fine."
She blinked at him a few times, considering his words. And then, she told him, "I suppose I'm a bit tired. All the excitement of the summer is having an effect on me."
He supposed part of it was true. But there was something guarded about her, that suggested something much bigger than fatigue was playing a part. Still, it was apparent she wasn't inclined to divulge more to him. So he decided not to press the matter, and instead, he merely commented, "Well I certainly hope that's all it is."
"I'm sure of it," She nodded, her attention fluttering about the room.
Robert took a sip of his drink, because there wasn't really anything else he could think to say or do at the moment. His heart was hammering fiercely inside his chest again. But this time, it was for a very different sort of nerves that took hold of him. The damage had been done.
The cloudiness that descended upon her mind was lifting. But in its place, a sort of fatigue had fallen over her. And Cora wanted nothing more than to leave the merriment that soared throughout the party in giant waves. Still, everyone else seemed intent on keeping her alert and lively.
Her mother kept pushing them into social circles with the ladies, insisting it would only help her further solidify herself in this world in a way she could never be in New York. Charlotte, giddy with more champagne and offers from men all over the county, took every opportunity to pull Cora aside and bestow her with confidences. As if, Cora had somehow become an expert on dealing with gentlemen. A thought that was nearly laughable to her. She could barely handle the one that preoccupied most of her time, let alone the handful Charlotte's youthful charm had brought along in a singular evening.
But her mother, determined to not allow Lady Grantham think her daughter "too weak or frail," to keep up with her English counterparts, brashly accepted each of Lord Downton's requests to "get some air," or "see this new painting that Freddie's told him all about." Like everything else in her life, it appeared Cora had little choice.
Still, following her last shot of champagne, she was grateful for the cool night air that swept around them as they strolled along the balcony. She ran her hand along the gray stone railing, feeling the roughness beneath the silky quality of her gloves. Her eyes flickered out into the darkness that engulfed the sweeping grounds. Her eyes lifting up to the tiny pinpricks of light that winked across the raven sky. And then she caught it, the brilliant sheen cast from the engorged orb of light. It cast a soft glow to the hills that lay beneath it. And Cora was suddenly struck with a memory that made her lips curl upward at the corners.
But then he, like all the others, was saying something. Forcing her back to the present. And the vivid image suddenly blew away, like the wisps of smoke from a candle newly snuffed out. Cora found herself scrambling for something that wouldn't sound too disingenuous.
Turning her attention back to Lord Downton, she arched her brow, and wondered in the sweetest tone she could muster, "I'm sorry?"
"I said, the music…it's been rather lively tonight," He repeated himself, clearly unnerved by the quiet reverie he was intruding upon.
"Oh yes," She inclined her head in similar agreement, "I found myself nearly losing my breath during that last waltz." She flashed him a smile before looking down at the empty path before them.
"Perhaps, we should find a bench then?" He suggested most chivalrously, gesturing towards an empty one carved out of stone.
"If you like," She replied, sinking down onto one side. Her crimson skirts trimmed with black lace and beads took up nearly half the thing.
They both chuckled in quiet amusement by this realization that neither one of them vocalized. And then, they were cloaked in a most uncertain silence.
Her hands rested atop her lap, folded together most properly. And she cast a sideways glance at him to see his rigid atop each of his knees. His eyes met hers, and she felt her cheeks flush, and the desire to look away shot through her.
But in spite of this, he asked, evident concern flooding his voice, "How are you feeling?"
Another look over at him, another smile, this time accompanied by the shrug of her shoulders, "About the same."
"I hope you aren't ill." He remarked a bit solemnly. She noted the shade of his pale blue eyes had shifted here, "I heard Lady Ann had fallen ill before the ball and…I...I would hate for you to catch whatever it is she's come down with."
The thought of Ann struck through her heart like a mortal wound. Her poor, sweet Ann, she was forced to abandon for all this frivolity. Her dearest friend. Her most trusted companion. At the heart of her suffering, she was locked away, to endure it all without any ounce of kindness.
Cora felt her vision blur at the mere thought of it all. And she swallowed the lump in her throat, blinking several times and shaking her head, "No, no, I don't think it's that."
And then she found, she had to look away. She felt as though her eyes betrayed her. She felt like her expression read as clearly as the pages of a book.
He must have noticed, he had to have, for all he could bring himself to say was, "Well, good."
They gave themselves to the sounds of the night. The faraway screeching of the string instruments accompanied by the rhythmic thud of feet scrapping across the floor. The sounds of laughter breaking through the muffled hum of conversation that ran continuously, like cogs in a greater machine.
Then the crickets chirped in a melody all their own. The leaves rustled as another slow breeze came through. And the hurried crunch of footsteps on the graveled path below, soon followed by a peal of raucous laughter, signaled some mischief was afoot nearby.
This realization made the pair of them feel a bit disoriented, for they both sought to bring the conversation back to life.
"So…"
"There was…"
"Oh…" She chuckled, and then he did, both their faces reddening a bit.
"Go on…"
She smiled, a bit relieved that her nerves weren't the only cause of their stunted conversation, "I was just going to remind you, there was something you wanted to talk about." She looked over at him from beneath thick lashes rather expectantly.
His expression brightened a bit at her mentioning a sliver from their prior conversation that evening. A bit that he clearly thought she would have forgotten. And then he nodded, suddenly more animated, "Oh yes, well, Papa…and Mama of course…wanted me to ask you if you'd…well if you and your Mother would like to visit us at Downton."
In that moment, her heart stopped. And it suddenly felt hard to breathe. Still, Cora had been born and bred for a moment like this one, so she did her best not to appear too stunned for too long. "Oh?" Her mouth rounded, head tilting to one side as though this was a most unexpected invitation, even though she'd spent the whole summer anticipating it.
"Yes, we're retiring at the end of this week," He looked ahead, his fleetingly sentimental tone suddenly retreating to a bit more formal air. "Our village has an annual church bazaar and well…it would be good of you to come. If you'd like to." He glanced back at her, allowing his mouth to crease in a hopeful smile at the last phrase.
"Shouldn't our mother's settle this?" She wondered, attempting to sound more rational than her expression was allowing her to feel at the moment.
Lord Downton seemed a bit taken aback by this, yet he nodded, "Yes, of course. Of course, it's just…I was hoping to…" He hesitated, his pale blue eyes, full of a sort of anxiety that she recognized as filling her insides. And then he allowed himself to finish the thought in a single breath, "...well I wanted to see what you thought of the idea."
It was Cora's turn to feel taken by surprise now. "You want to know what I think?"
"Yes," There was a fleeting moment of hurt at her disbelief, but he soon overcame it with the reminder of something he evidently thought he had spoken to her before, "...of course. I've told you before that I…I care to know your opinions."
He cared. Her heart swelled with this sentiment. And her body filled with an unexplainable warmth that nearly carried away all of her sensibilities. She felt as though she were floating above the scene, not actually participating in it.
And then it was his tone of questioning, that drew her back. "Well?" He prompted, inclining his head.
Shaking herself out of the sensation that overtook her, Cora decided rather brightly, "Well then, if we are both in agreement that we'd like to learn more or one another, I think me visiting Downton is a fine idea."
"Splendid!" Lord Downton exclaimed with more enthusiasm than she was accustomed too. He reached forward, his hand covering hers as he assured, "I'll see to it that Mama gives your mother the dates."
She smiled, although the thought in itself made her stomach twist in knots.
I know this was massive. And probably kind of pointless/not very good. But I do want to thank the select few who have consistently expressed interest in this work. You know who you are, and you are absolute gems. Your support, love & encouragement has meant a lot to me! Thanks for pushing me to write & I hope that I satisfied your curiosity with this update! Also...I apologize for the typos, I hope they didn't make this too horrendous of a read.
Much Love,
Lynnie