Chapter Fourteen
"Mama, are you sure it's as bad as that?"
Robert stood in the hall outside his father's room at Downton, his mother standing by the door. The doctor was in the room with Lord Grantham. Robert could hear his father laughing from behind the door. An April rain beat against the windows, the paleness of the light streaming through causing Violet to look ashen and tired.
"Yes," she said, her hands rather shaky as she held a handkerchief between her fingers. "Despite all his joking with that incompetent doctor. How old is he?"
"Nearly thirty, I am sure," Robert told her. "I'm sure Doctor Clarkson knows what he's doing."
Violet rolled her eyes. "If you say so." She wiped at her eyes, although she was not tearing up. "The doctor says he has cancer. Where it is, he cannot tell us, but he says it's very bad, indeed."
Robert looked at his mother. She was bearing up very well for the shock the family had received. He felt less strong, placing his hand on the wall to steady himself. Noticing her son's pain, Violet reached for his hand.
"I did not realize—I had no idea that it would happen so…so very soon," Robert said after a few minutes. "I do not think I am ready."
Violet gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "You are, my dear," she said gently. "This is the life you were meant to lead."
"But there is still so much I don't know," he said hastily. "How can I, how can Cora, do what you have done for so long?"
"Your father and I were no more prepared for these roles than you are. When your grandfather died, we did not see how we could manage. But the estate you will receive is in a much better position than it was then—even with your father's failed investment. Cora's fortune has made it safe." Although Violet seriously doubted that the American heiress could fill the role of Countess of Grantham. She still only saw her money as useful.
Suddenly, the bedroom door opened, the doctor standing in the doorway.
"Lord Grantham wishes to speak to you, Viscount," Doctor Clarkson said calmly. His eyes met Violet's for a moment, unsaid words passing between them.
"Thank you," Robert told him. He slipped into the room, the doctor shutting it behind him.
Lord Grantham lay on the bed with pillows propping him up, his thin arms resting on his stomach.
"Papa," Robert said, taking his father's hand as he sat on the bed at his side. "Why did you not tell us?"
"Please forgive me, but I knew nothing could be done. I thought it best to keep it to myself, to spare you all the unnecessary pain."
"Mama has said Rosamund will return soon," Robert told him, ignoring his father's words. "She insists on bringing Mr. Painswick despite the fact that Mama is furious about it."
"Robert, I must say something," Lord Grantham said with a sigh. "You will be Lord Grantham before the sun rises tomorrow."
"Papa—"
"Don't interrupt. I know I don't have much time left. But you can do this," he said, holding his hand out for his son to take. Taking a deep breath, Robert clasped his fingers around his father's. "You must do this. Your mother will be here to help you if needed, of course, but the task of running the estate will be in your hands now. You must promise me that you will care for it much better than I have."
"Father, you have been most ardent in your running of the estate. I'm sure you have done all you can to the best of your ability," Robert insisted.
"There were many investments I should have not made, some choices I could have considered more carefully. But, at the time, I felt they were right and I have very few regrets. Except for not being able to let you marry where you choose. That is my biggest regret." Lord Grantham averted his eyes and blinked a few times, attempting to conceal the moisture in his eyes.
Robert looked compassionately at his father, his fingers tightening around the man's withered hand.
"Papa, do not say that," Robert told him. "I don't regret it."
Lord Grantham met his eyes, his brow furrowed. "Have you finally come to care for Cora?" he asked quietly.
"I'm not quite sure," he admitted. "She is still more lovely and kind than any woman I've ever met. But I do not regret her. I only regret that I am such a fool. Do you really think she can be the next Countess of Grantham?"
"I have much faith in her," the father said gently. "Her potential is great. You mentioned her kindness, and I believe that will serve her well as the wife of an Earl. She will be beloved—perhaps more than your mother. But don't tell her I said that. Death is supposed to be peaceful. I doubt it will be with your dear mother's nagging voice in my head. There's nothing worse than taking a quarrel to the grave."
Robert found himself laughing at his father's statement, the old man joining in.
"Go and fetch Cora, dear son. I wish to speak with her for a moment," Lord Grantham requested, his voice rather tired after the laughter. Robert gave his father a questioning look, but the old man simply lowered his eyelids slowly. Realizing he must do as his father asked, Robert got to his feet, swiftly leaving the room.
"Mama, do you know where Cora is? Papa has asked for her," Robert told his mother, who had been hovering by the door.
"Rosamund just arrived," she said absentmindedly. "I believe she's welcoming them."
Filled with sadness for his mother, Robert gave her hand a quick squeeze before hurrying to the entry hall. Sure enough, Cora was greeting Rosamund and Mr. Painswick, who were both a little damp from the rain falling outside.
"Brother, dear," Rosamund said as he hastened down the stairs. "How is he?"
"Papa has asked to speak with you, Cora," said Robert, ignoring his sister to meet Cora's eyes.
"With me?" Cora asked in confusion. Robert nodded before offering her his arm. Hesitantly, she took his arm, allowing him to lead her to Lord Grantham's sick room.
"Sir, you wish to speak with me?" Cora asked when she had entered the dying man's room, much to Violet's disapproval ("Before his own daughter sees him?"). Cora observed that he looked so small in the large bed.
"Cora, dear," Lord Grantham said. His voice was so faint she almost did not hear it.
She crossed the room to where he lay, taking his feeble hand in her warm one.
"I am very proud of you, my dear," he said gently. "You will make a fine Lady Grantham."
Cora's eyes filled with tears at this statement. "I hardly know what I am to do, sir," she said honestly.
"I have faith in you, Cora," he replied.
She blinked, wiping at her eyes with her other hand.
"Do not give up on Robert," he said suddenly. "I am sure he loves you."
"Dearest Lord Grantham," Cora said sweetly, patting his hand. "You have always been so kind to me. Whatever will we do without you?"
"Promise you won't give up on him, please?" Lord Grantham asked, a note of urgency in his voice.
"I won't," she said determinedly. "I couldn't."
He looked at her for a few minutes longer, a smile on his face, before closing his eyes slowly. She looked at him for a long while before realizing he would not open them again.
"Help! Please, Doctor Clarkson!" Cora shouted, still gripping his hand tightly. "No, please," she whispered, tears falling down her cheeks as the door whipped open. The doctor rushed in, followed by the rest of the family. Doctor Clarkson approached the bed, his fingers wrapping around Lord Grantham's wrist, searching for his pulse.
"I'm so very sorry, Lady Grantham," the doctor said after a moment, his eyes meeting Violet's. She was staring at her husband, her eyes strangely empty. Then, she walked forward to the other side of the bed and sat down next to her husband, her hand resting on his arm. As Cora watched, Violet suddenly began to sob uncontrollably, pressing her lips to her husband's limp hand.
Cora looked amidst the grief-stricken room, her eyes searching for Robert. He stood near the doorway, behind Rosamund and Mr. Painswick, who both looked shocked at both Lord Grantham's death and Violet's loss of composure, although Rosamund's eyes were wet with tears. Meeting her husband's eyes, she noticed an intense sadness in them that she had not expected. But instead of leaving the room, as Cora half-expected him to, he walked up behind his mother, resting his hand on her shoulder.
"I'm so sorry," Cora whispered. Only Robert heard her words over the sobs of his mother. He looked at his wife, desperation in his eyes. Without realizing it, Cora understood his meaning. She got to her feet, allowing Rosamund to take her place on the bed. Marmaduke patted Cora's arm gently before she left the room.
She walked in a daze down to the hall, where Mr. Carson was carrying a try into the parlor.
"Mr. Carson," Cora said, wiping her tears away quickly. He turned to face her, noticing the distress on her face.
"Yes, m'lady?" he asked in a solemn voice, already fearing the worst.
"Could you ask cook to just make up some sandwiches for dinner? I'm afraid most of us won't feel like eating," she told him shakily. Somehow, she managed to keep from breaking down, although Carson noticed the tremor in her voice.
"Of course, m'lady," he replied in a gentle voice. "I'll inform the staff of our terrible loss."
"Thank you, Carson," Cora said, nodding slowly.
"Would you like me to bring you anything, m'lady?" he asked in a fatherly voice.
"Some tea, I think. And more for the others, if they come down," she added as an afterthought. She had no idea what she should be doing. She'd never experienced the loss of someone that she could remember. Her Grandfather Levinson had died when she was two, while her other grandparents only visited on holidays. Even though Lord Grantham had not been her father, she felt as if the house had lost a great deal that day.
(So sorry about this—that's why I'm posting two chapters at once. Go read the next one! And thanks to Kristin at givenmylifetodownton for all her help and ideas with this so far! xoxo)