Author's note (and an apology)
For far too long I have neglected Cora Levinson and Robert Crawley in their respective trips to the Continent.
So, to refresh your memories, and mine, here are the players.
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Cora's Journey - Dramatis Personae 1887
Cora Levinson – An 18-year-old American teenager. Heiress of her father's fortune.
Isidore Levinson – Cora's father. A wealthy dry-goods store owner and merchant in Cincinnati, Ohio.
Martha Levinson – Cora's mother; headstrong and independent, for her day.
Janine Bauer – Cora's maid. She is middle-aged and is a widow, after an abusive marriage.
Matilda (Mattie) Baker – Cora's aunt and the sister of her mother.
Frank Baker – Matilda's husband Frank is a wheat exporter, most of which is shipped to England.
Amelia Matilda (Tillie) Baker – Cora's cousin, same age as her. A rather silly and stupid girl.
George Ackerman – 28-year-old secretary to Isidore Levinson. Secretly in love with Cora.
Robert Crawley – Viscount Downton, Lord Downton – The 22-year-old heir to the Crawley Estate, which is Downton Abbey
Richard Crawley – Lord Grantham, 6th Earl of Grantham – Robert's father
Violet Crawley – Lady Violet, Duchess of Grantham
Lady Rosamunde Painswick – Eldest child of Richard and Violet. Married to Marmaduke Painswick.
Sally Ames – Junior lady's maid to Lady Violet
Vance Edwards – Lord Grantham's valet
Phillip Brooks-Hill – A school friend of Richard's, about to marry in Sorrento, Italy. He asked Richard to be his best man.
Signorina Angelina Philogio – The fiancée of Phillip, a 22-year-old Italian woman. Pregnant by Philip.
The setting. Downton Abbey is hemorrhaging money because of falling wheat prices and higher Land Taxes. Violet and Richard decide that Robert must marry an heiress to pump money into the Abbey's coffers to keep the Abbey going.
Violet, Richard, and Robert set off to Sorrento, Italy to attend Brooks' wedding; also, to seek out a suitable match for their son?
Meanwhile from America, Martha Levinson, and her entourage have traveled to the Continent. They will travel to London, Paris, Rome, Naples, Pompeii, etc. The hidden mission is to find a fiancé for the girl. This trip is also an 18th birthday present for their daughter (Cora was born on July 18, 1869).
Isidore sent George Ackerman along to keep his family safe, but also to give George a chance to spend more time with Cora.
After a brief encounter in Paris, Robert and Cora's paths cross once more in Nice, France.
As we pick up the story, Robert Crawley is musing…
The following chapter was originally written in first person, from the standpoint of Robert Crawley. That has been 'corrected,' shall we say?
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Chapter 36 – Making a Move
"Robert, you have been in a brown study for more than a few hours," Lord Grantham said.
"Hm?" Robert looked up at his father who was swirling a glass of brandy. Robert had been reading 'Life on the Mississippi', but in reality, had been staring at the page without seeing the words on the page.
Lord Grantham (also known as Richard Crawley as well as Papa) was standing by the window, the one which overlooked the Mediterranean. "So, what is happening inside your head?" he asked his son, for the boy had been acting quite oddly.
Robert closed the book, marking the spot with a finger. "Oh, tired, I suppose. The train ride tired me out."
"Humph. But I agree French trains can be wearing. But day after tomorrow we leave for Rome. Prepare for more jolting on the iron road."
"Humph?" Robert responded to his papa, for when his father spoke such he had something important to say. "Just what is it you are asking me?"
Richard sipped his drink. "Last evening at dinner you said nothing. At breakfast and luncheon today? The same." He held his glass up to the light and peered through the dark liquid. "This brandy is rather good, for a French bottle, however," but now he looked from the glass to stare at his son. "I can see more clearly through the brandy than into your head, my child."
When papa called Robert his child, he knew it must be a grave moment. He put the book aside, losing his place, but no matter; he'd find the page later. "I… have… been thinking," he said, clearing his throat.
"Thinking? Dangerous at times," Father chuckled. "About your Mr. Twain and his adventures in far-off America?"
"No… more about," Robert sighed, "other things." He shrugged. "People, perhaps?"
Father nodded. "Right."
"I mean… that is…" Robert ducked his head. "This thing… about… Lucasta Ward."
"Oh yes," Richard nodded sagely. "Pretty little thing, isn't she?"
Robert shook his head. "And I know that I told you and mama that I'd consider, oh, seeing her again."
His father put his glass down. "Vance, leave us please."
Papa's valet nodded. "Yes, Milord."
They Crawley's watched as Vance left the room. He was a very trusted valet, having dressed his father for many years, but some things were private, even from staff.
Papa waited until the oak sitting room door closed with a solid-sounding clunk. He put his glass down, setting it slowly and precisely on the table before him, then he turned and walked to where Robert was sitting. "Now, my son, this is not about Miss Ward, is it?"
"You are more perceptive than I realized," Robert answered with half a sigh.
Richard took a seat opposite his child. "I am not quite so old that I do not know that look, my boy," he chuckled and slapped his knee. "So, Robert, just who are you mooning over?"
"Mooning? Have I been mooning?"
Richard smiled. "Oh, my word, yes."
It was time for Robert to sigh once more. "I'm as transparent as that?"
"Assuredly so." Richard pressed his hands together. "Now, who is she?"
"No one."
"Ha! Go on, pull the other leg! Come on now, Robert! Who? Just who has blinded you?"
"I wouldn't say blinded," Robert protested. "More like…"
His father chuckled and smirked.
"Alright, yes, you are right," Robert said. "But thunderstruck might be a better description of what I am feeling."
"Feeling?" Richard wrinkled his nose. "Oh dear. As bad as that."
Robert rose and walked to the window to stare at the sea. He watched as people strolled below on the Avenue des Anglais. "Do you think that anyone down there knows where they are going?"
"What's that?"
"Life, birth, death. Are we doomed to wander along between our first breaths to our last? Or just what?"
"Son, there are some things that we must do for duty's sake, but the rest?" he laughed mirthlessly. "When I was introduced to your mama I was shaking in his shoes. It was arranged; our marriage, if you didn't know."
What he confessed made Robert turn to face him. "Oh. No, I did not." Good lord! He'd had no idea. "But… you do love mama?"
Richard smiled at his son. "I do. Not perhaps as much as I might have done at first, but I grew to do so."
Robert was trembling in shock. "I'd no idea."
His father shrugged. "Marriage has suited me Robert, as it will suit you. But what about what your…" he waved his hands, "thunderstorm, you called it?"
Robert waved the words away. "I didn't mean that Lucasta Ward made me thunderstruck." He nearly shuddered, for only one woman brought that word into his head.
"Then just who?" his gather grumbled. "Come on boy! Out with it!"
Robert closed his eyes. It was time to definitely make a move. "I met someone, just yesterday, although curiously we had crossed paths very briefly not long ago."
"Oh?"
"Yes, but here in Nice I actually met her; spoke words, all that. And it was in a café, where I was drinking coffee, if you must know."
"Humph. Of all places. Out with it boy. Her name is?"
"Yes, well, it seems…" Suddenly the room grew very warm and Robert felt like his clothing was suddenly two sizes too small and there was no air. "That…"
Richard was now hanging on every word. "Yes?"
"Miss Cora Levinson. Cora Levinson."
His father screwed up his face. "Levinson? Do we know any Levinson's? Greenblatt and Samuels, certainly. But not Levinson. Sounds Jewish."
Robert hadn't thought about that. All the same he added, "And she's an American."
"American?" Richard spat back.
"Yes, it seems so. An American girl named Cora Levinson, and she's from a place called Cincinnati." Robert was smiling at his father, but Richard greeted this news with a face of stone.