I suppose I should just be glad my son comes off as so obviously honorable that you felt this was a reasonable chance to take. Her mother-in-law's comment had been made hours ago, but Cora's hands still trembled with anger when she recalled it…and she'd recalled it numerous times.
Tonight was Violet's reception for the new couple, and she had arrived back at Downton this morning. Most of the dowager countess's day had been spent ordering around the florists and caterers and other professionals who had been hired for what was shaping up to be a terribly grand event, but Robert had introduced her to Cora over lunch.
Cora did not think she had ever met anyone so cold, and she knew she herself had never been regarded with such a disapproving stare. Violet had not been outright rude—indeed, Cora suspected someone so proper had never in her life been rude—but she had made it abundantly clear that it was her belief that Cora had seduced Robert with the intention of getting pregnant so that she might trap him into marriage, gaining a title and an estate in the process. Robert's mention of Cora's original hesitancy to contact him because he was a viscount had been met only with soft laughter, as though Violet had heard these kinds of stories before.
For her part, Cora had protested that she had never expected Robert to marry her and was intensely grateful that he had, but Violet had just smiled knowingly in a way that made Cora want to slap her. (Robert, meanwhile, had been horrified by Cora's speech, telling her as soon as they were away from his mother that he did not want her gratitude. "I wanted to marry you," he said heatedly. "It is for me to be grateful to you for turning your life upside down on the spur of the moment!")
She'd shrugged and brushed the conversation off, quickly changing the subject as she and Robert headed out for a walk in the village. She did not like to think of her marriage in terms of gratitude, regardless of which side it was from. There was nothing unusual about their marriage at all, she preferred to tell herself. They were always going to get married and have children together; it was all just happening a bit sooner and faster than planned.
Cora was now upstairs in the Mercia bedroom, readying herself for the party. Or rather, planning to ready herself for the party—at the moment, she was flopped across the bed dreading the party and trying to convince herself to go and shower. The plan had been to give the impression to the majority of the Crawleys' acquaintances that she and Robert had wed earlier in the winter in New York, but of course that deception couldn't apply easily to closer relatives. How many of Robert's family knew that they had just gotten married a week and a half ago to accommodate her pregnancy? And how many of those would see it like his mother, had been encouraged that way by his mother? The questions would be in the back of her mind with each relative she was introduced to this evening.
How odd, she thought, to dread her own wedding reception. For she supposed that was what this was—it could not have felt less like it, but she doubted the awkward dinner she and Robert and her parents had gone out for after they'd been married in New York had much counted.
Not that Cora was dressed for a wedding reception. She'd seen no point in buying a gown for a short courthouse ceremony—it had seemed silly to wear anything more than a casual knit dress for the occasion. It also didn't seem quite right to buy one merely to wear to a party nearly two weeks after the event—a party where she would know no one, anyway. Her plan had been to wear the red dress she'd used for her Valentine's date with Robert, but she'd realized in a panic two days ago that it no longer fit quite right. While she didn't truly have any belly to speak of at this stage, her midsection had grown thicker and rounder, and every cocktail dress she owned had stretched uncomfortably and unattractively across her front. Prominently displaying her pregnancy was the last thing she'd wanted for tonight, and so she'd rushed out with Robert yesterday to buy something new. He'd taken her back into York, but of course very few special dresses are found in one afternoon of shopping. She'd come home with a loose-fitting, navy blue dress that she didn't particularly like.
Don't be so melancholy, she admonished herself. She wanted to be excited about tonight. She meant to be excited.
"Darling!" She sat up at the sound of the bedroom door opening, accompanied by Robert's voice. "A package just arrived for you…from Ohio, it looks like." He stepped into the room lugging a large cardboard box, which he set down on the bed.
"Oh," she murmured softly. Cora was in no great hurry to see what was inside—the box was addressed in her mother's handwriting with her parents' return in the upper left, and she suspected she'd been shipped every childhood artifact Martha Levinson could get her hands on to throw out of the house.
Embarrassed at her hurried, "shotgun" wedding, Cora had tried to talk her parents out of flying to New York for the ceremony, suggesting they come to visit her in London over the summer instead, and then perhaps again next Christmas after the baby was born. They'd agreed to the visits to England, but they had also absolutely insisted they see her married, and thus she'd endured an awkward two days with them.
Her mother, it was clear, was nothing short of horrified at her daughter's situation. It was not that Martha was overly conservative—indeed, she'd more than once told Cora she was too hesitant about sex and that her plan to sleep with one man only was simply unrealistic in today's world. She was thus not the slightest bit disappointed in the loss of Cora's virginity, which in her opinion should have happened several years earlier. Rather, she was appalled at Cora's foolishness in letting herself conceive, and much of her time in New York had been spent berating her daughter about how very many contraception options had been available to her—as though the deed could be undone if they all simply wished hard enough. She had also made it quite clear that she thought that Cora was far, far too young to have and raise a baby and that the plan to marry Robert and run off to the U.K. with him was nothing short of mental. "You've got your whole life ahead of you, Cora," she'd said in a tone of disgust when it had become clear her daughter would not be talked out of the nuptials. "You're twenty-four."
Worse for Cora, though, had been her father's mournful silence throughout much of the visit. She was used to not seeing eye-to-eye with her mother, and while it was a painful occurrence on her "wedding day," it was a feeling she was well-versed in dealing with. Disappointing her father, however, was a new and deeply unsettling experience, and her heart had broken at the sadness in his eyes when he regarded her.
"I'm sorry," she had murmured that evening on the walk he had suggested they take alone. "I'm sorry for the mess I've made, and I know how disappointed you must be."
Isidor had taken hold of her arm, forcing her to stop and look at him, for she had delivered her apology to the pavement. "No," he had said, with a sharpness that surprised her. "You have not made a mess, and I am not disappointed."
"I can see it in your eyes," she had protested, but he had shaken his head.
"What you see in my eyes, princess, is grief that my girl is moving thousands of miles away—not disappointment in what she's done or the woman she is."
Cora could not have felt less like a woman—having to explain herself to her parents had made her feel like a teenager who had been very stupid on prom night. "I've acted like a sixteen-year-old," she had argued softly, but Isidor had taken her chin in his hand, raising her downcast eyes to meet his.
"No, you have not, my dear," he had said firmly. "You have acted like an adult who has made a very grown-up decision to do a very grown-up thing in marrying Robert and starting a family with him, and I could not be any prouder."
She had cried then, feeling her heart lighten at his words and his sincerity, but it could not have been clearer that her mother did not share the sentiment, and that disapproval still stung days later and an ocean away.
"I brought scissors up with me," she heard Robert say excitedly, drawing her back to the present. He was clearly too pleased at the arrival of a mysterious package to notice the consternation on his wife's face. He pointed to the postage sticker. "It must be quite important, because your parents paid to get it here very quickly."
He tried to hand her the scissors, but she shook her head. "You open it."
It was clear that no instruction could have pleased him more, and Robert enthusiastically attacked the box and its packing tape, opening the flaps to reveal a slim, sealed envelope resting on the white tissue paper that hid the rest of the contents. Cora had been scrawled across the front, and, hesitantly, she picked it up and ripped it open.
My darling, the note inside read, your father told me on the way home that you are troubled at the thought that I am disappointed in you. Please know, dearest, that nothing could be further from the truth! I could never be disappointed in you, never. Rather, you make me very proud in all of your decisions, and I will be very proud to see you as a mother yourself later this year.
What I was was disappointed for you, out of a fear that you would not have the life you've dreamed of, that you would not have the future you've worked so hard for. But more than anything else, I want you to be happy…and you are old enough to know what will make you so. I hope that marriage to Robert will indeed make you happy, and as long as it does, there will be no reason for me to be disappointed at all.
I did fear that your wedding itself was not a happy occasion for you—not because of whom you were marrying or the decision you were making, but because of the nature of the ceremony. I know Robert's mother is hosting a reception for you in England, and I hope this gift will make that event a bit closer to the wedding I know you have always dreamed of.
Cora, I love you.
"What does she say?" Robert asked, but Cora folded the letter, not sure she wanted to share it.
"She's…proud. And she wants us to be happy," she said softly.
"Are you going to open the rest of it?" The forced casualness in his tone made her smile. He was as eager as a little boy at the thought of a present, and it wasn't even his.
She, on the other hand, was hesitant, for now she had a wild suspicion of what this might be, and she was almost frightened at the thought of discovering otherwise. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the tissue paper, to reveal folds of soft, white silk.
"What is it, darling?" she heard Robert ask softly as she felt a tear slip down her face.
"A wedding dress," she whispered. "She's sent me a wedding dress."
"Oh, Cora, you look so beautiful!" said Robert's sister, Rosamund, who had come upstairs to help her dress, for Cora had not wanted him to see her before she was entirely ready.
Cora saw her own cheeks grow pink with pleasure in the full-length mirror. "I do love it," she said, studying the dress. "I actually can't imagine that I would have chosen anything else if I'd done the shopping myself." As touched as she had been when she'd realized what her mother had sent her, she had briefly feared that the gown would be her mother's style, a gigantic monstrosity of lace and tulle and poof that looked as though it were wearing her. But it hadn't been: Martha had selected a dress she would never have encouraged her daughter to wear, but it was one hundred percent Cora.
The gown was straight and simple, getting its femininity from the soft flounce of its light silk fabric, rather than from the volume of its skirts. There was a loose-fitting empire waist that both accommodated and disguised her slight weight gain and a thin white sash that tied just below her chest. Above this sash, the silk fabric was covered in ornate lace which extended past the top of the dress to form sheer, delicate cap sleeves. The lace appeared again at her feet, peaking out for a short train. Her dress was soft and romantic, at once both elegant and casual, and she had fallen completely in love with it.
"Your mother must know your tastes very well," Rosamund said, and Cora nodded, considering that perhaps Martha truly did.
"Your family…" Cora began, unsure how to phrase it. She liked Rosamund so far, and she did not want to make an enemy so early by seeming to complain about Robert's mother. "That is, those who will be here tonight…do most of them know I'm pregnant?"
Rosamund shook her head. "No, I don't think the news has been widely shared yet. And you can't tell in that dress, if that's what you're worried about. I doubt it would be apparent in any outfit at this stage, really—and even once your belly's visible, I think you'll have at least a couple months in the 'maybe she's just had one biscuit too many' stage, if you don't mind my saying so."
Cora giggled. "No, I don't mind, and I suspect you're right. So…they don't know how quickly we married?"
"No, Cora, no one knows you're up the duff and rushed to the altar immediately when you found out." Cora knew she likely would have taken offense at the sentence, and the blunt way it had been delivered, under most circumstances, but there was a warmth in Rosamund's tone and her smile that made Cora feel she was being laughed with and not at, and she smiled in return. "That is," Rosamund continued after a thoughtful pause, "I imagine my grandmother must know. She'll be late tonight—doesn't like to run the risk of arriving when there are only a few others and having to talk to my mother," she said wryly. "But I'm sure Robert would have given her all the details."
"Of course," Cora said, leaning into the mirror for a final check of her make-up to give herself an air of nonchalance. But inside, her stomach was suddenly churning. She suspected that the elder dowager countess would be far more dragon-like than Violet, and she could not imagine an aristocrat in her eighties smiling on an out-of-wedlock pregnancy.
"May I tell you something?" Rosamund asked lightly, and Cora nodded, dreading what she might hear. "Don't be ashamed of your pregnancy. You—"
"I'm not ashamed!" Cora burst out, her cheeks reddening.
Rosamund waved her protest away. "Or embarrassed, or shy, or whatever it is you are about it. You've got nothing to be ashamed of. You and Robert love each other very much, and you're going to have a beautiful baby together."
"It's only that I think—people might—the timing…"
"Oh, I understand it isn't ideal. Not what you would have planned. But think of it this way: you know going into your marriage that you can have children. You'll never have to worry otherwise."
At twenty-four, the question of whether or not she was able to conceive had simply never entered Cora's head, and she was taken aback at her sister-in-law's suggestion.
"I can't," Rosamund said in answer to Cora's silent question. "Duke and I found out a few months ago."
"I'm sorry," Cora said, embarrassed at how ridiculous her own nerves and hesitancy must seem. "I didn't mean to—"
"No, I'm not offended," Rosamund said, and she truly did not look it. "I just hate to see you anything less than ecstatic about your baby, because you absolutely should be."
"I am," Cora said quietly. "And I will try to remember that." But deep down, she knew her happiness and her thankfulness for the life inside her would not make her squirm any less in the presence of Robert's grandmother.
"Are you ready to go down?" Rosamund asked her now, and Cora detected an air of Robert's childlike enthusiasm in her tone. "I'm sure Robert's wearing a hole in the carpet, pacing as he waits to see you."
"I am, I think," Cora said, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. Robert would be with her. His grandmother and all the rest of them didn't matter as long as he was with her.
Robert was indeed pacing on the landing of the grand staircase, and his eyes snapped up to her immediately as she began to descend.
"Cora!" he called out, and there was such love and joy in his voice that she thought her heart might burst at the sound. "Oh, darling…you're beautiful."
She smiled so broadly she thought her face might crack. Oh, how glad she was for the dress! This was near enough to walking down the aisle and seeing Robert at the end of it.
"So you're pleased with your overseas bride, Lord Grantham?" she asked, laughing softly.
"My darling, I am so much more than pleased." She had reached the step above the landing, and his arms slipped around her, drawing her to him for a soft kiss.
"You don't look so bad yourself," she said when they had finished, running her fingers lightly along his cheek. "I didn't know you were going to wear a tux!"
"I wasn't, but then when your dress showed up, I figured I had better take my own attire to the next level." He kissed her again. "Although I'm still going to be terribly outshone by my new wife. You do look so, so beautiful, Cora." He gently caressed her stomach and lowered his voice. "And all the more beautiful because I know you're carrying our baby."
She smiled down at his hand, for she did so love this habit, before she pushed it away. "You must not touch me there tonight, or they'll all guess our secret."
He sighed and embraced her again, whispering in her ear, "Would that be so very terrible? My mother's given them the impression we were married shortly after the new year. I wouldn't mind announcing that we're expecting tonight."
Cora shook her head. "No, I don't want it shared just yet." She knew the pregnancy was no longer their exclusive secret, with close friends and family already aware, but the news still felt too fragile and wonderful and private for it to be spread abroad. "I…don't want to share the baby with the world right now. I like it being ours."
He laid a kiss just above her eyebrow. "As you wish, my darling."
"Robert! Cora!" Robert pulled away immediately at the sound of his mother's voice, and Cora sighed. She would have liked to have gone on being held, alone on the staircase, for just a few more minutes.
"There you are!" Violet, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs, stopped short as her eyes took in the couple. "That's a lovely white dress, my dear," she said, lingering ever-so-slightly on the word white.
Cora felt herself flush, but Robert took her hand and said proudly, "Yes, it is, isn't it? Cora makes a beautiful bride."
"There are quite a few people in the drawing room already," Violet said, pointedly ignoring Robert's statement.
Cora would not have wanted to admit it, but the slight did sting, and she felt Robert squeeze her hand in apology as they followed his mother across the great hall toward the drawing room, where she could hear the low hum of conversation.
AN: This has nothing whatsoever to do with this story, but does anyone have any favorite books set in Australia or New Zealand? (I prefer historical fiction, but I'll read contemporary stuff, too.) I'm heading down under in January, and I love reading books set in a destination before I travel there, but I'm having trouble finding much for that region. Please PM me if you've got suggestions. Thanks!