"I am not going up to London, Mama." Mary sighed. Cora marveled at her ability to be completely bored by a topic about which she was also so adamant.
"It was not a request, dear." Cora was playing hardball now. They would all be in London together for Christmas if it killed her.
Mary noted her mother's steely tone, but could not simply cave in. "Aunt Rosamund will not want us bringing our gloom to her house the week before Christmas. You know how much she loves the holidays."
"Yes, I do know. And that is why we are opening Grantham House."
Mary relaxed at this information. "Oh. In that case, it will never happen, so I won't even waste my breath arguing with you."
"I believe it will happen."
"Then you are naïve, Mama. Thomas will never get Mrs. Collins' cooperation. Not after the things he said last time. There will be blood on the decks, mark my words."
"If you are so sure, how about a friendly wager? If Mr. Barrow can open Grantham House without inspiring a mutiny, you will come to London."
"And if he cannot?"
"Name your price."
Mary considered carefully. "You won't press me to come out of mourning for another six months." They both knew this was asking a lot.
"Very well." Cora agreed.
"Then it is a bet." And Mary shook her mother's hand. Mary was quite confident she would win.
CE—
"I won't be going, Cora." Robert's tone invited zero debate. Cora ignored his tone. She'd already committed a major breach of etiquette by coming to his room after dinner in her nightgown and robe. Mr. Bates had admitted her when she knocked and had made a hasty exit.
"Robert. You are the head of this family and we expect you to be with us on Christmas. I want the whole family together. Even if we just sit and glare at each other the whole time." She sat on the edge of his little bed.
"Doesn't that paint a jolly picture?" He was in the chair, removing his socks.
Still, she ignored him. "I've even managed to get Mary to come. You know she hasn't left Yorkshire since Matthew died. She needs this. Please, Robert."
He was intrigued now. "How ever did you convince Mary to go?"
"I bet her that Mr. Barrow could open up Grantham House without a servant's uprising."
Robert scoffed at that. "That's not very likely." He rose and put his shoes into the wardrobe.
"Would you like in on our bet?" Cora challenged him.
He considered. Had he just walked into a trap? "Why not? If Mary goes, I shall go."
"That's all I can ask." Cora smiled at him. It was the first smile he'd seen from his family in days. He wanted their talk to continue. He wanted her to stay. He was suddenly aware that she was in her night clothes. Boldly, he sat next to her on the bed.
"You've an awful lot riding on Mr. Barrow." Robert teased her tentatively.
"Please don't remind me." Encouraged by his overture, Cora took a risk. "I shall have nightmares and I already have difficulty enough sleeping in that big bed by myself."
Is she flirting with me? Robert was struck by the oddness of the situation. Cora had not been happy with the Carson's departure, but she had dealt with the changes silently and she had not blamed him. She had been cold, but so had he. Robert was the one separating them now.
On some level, he was still ashamed to face her. Apparently, his missteps with Jane had not gone unnoticed. Even if the Carson's had not spread any rumors, others might have seen. Nothing had really happened between them, but he felt guilty for even allowing things to go as far as they had. Especially considering what Cora had been going through and how he had almost lost her.
Would the story ever reach Cora? Would it matter to her that he'd put a stop to things before they had progressed too far? Above all, did it make sense to push Cora away simply because he was so afraid to lose her?
Robert was surprised to find his hand being held between her two delicate hands. He smiled at her and cocked an eyebrow. "Well, if you find you cannot sleep in there, you are welcome to join me here. Though, oddly enough, I've had some difficulty sleeping myself."
"Hmm. That is very odd." Cora leaned closer to him. The smell of her perfume surrounded him, making him lightheaded. "Perhaps we should try both the beds and see which we prefer?"
"I think that is an excellent suggestion, my dear." He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her down onto the little bed beside him.
He had missed her so terribly. He had shut her out for too long. How long? Robert realized that he'd been pushing her away since Matthew's death, thinking she didn't understand. That she couldn't understand. Why did he always insist on underestimating her?
CE—
Robert's mood was much improved the next day, though he received some news later that deflated him somewhat.
Cora was also in improved spirits and a bit of lunchtime information added to her happiness.
"I've spoken to Mrs. Collins, My Lady. Grantham House will be prepared to receive you the day after next. I have already forwarded your menu requests to Mrs. Whitman. "
"Thank you, Mr. Barrow. I appreciate your efficiency."
"Mary will be thrilled." Edith could not help remarking. Rose glanced at her across the table. They had their own side bet going regarding London. Edith did not believe Mary would go to London, even if Thomas did manage to open the house without alienating the housekeeper and cook.
At the end of luncheon, Robert received his bad news. "The Dowager Countess has requested that you call on her this afternoon, My Lord." Mr. Barrow informed him as he exited the dining room.
"Thank you, Barrow." A chill went up Robert's back. Usually, his mother would come to Downton to chastise him. She must be angry indeed to demand that he come to her.
Cora offered to ride into the village with him and wait at Isobel's, but Robert told her it was unnecessary.
The Dowager House servants made themselves scarce as soon as Robert was shown into what he thought of as his mother's 'den'. Tea was already laid.
"Robert. Thank you for coming. Please have a seat." Her voice was all business, but that was normal for her.
The dutiful son, he sat opposite her; right in the line of fire. She began to make tea in the ritualistic way that had fascinated him as a child. Violet let him steep for a few minutes as she wet the tea. She began to speak several times, but then sighed and shook her head as though abandoning that line of thought.
Finally, he could stand it no longer. "Mama?"
She almost seemed startled to find him still there. She looked at him and simply said, "Make it right, Robert."
He dropped his head sadly. "I don't think I can."
"I would not have asked it of you if I thought you could not do it."
He had no response to this and so he remained quiet.
"As you age, the world will move more quickly and you will move more slowly. When you reach my age, Robert, you will find that you will value the constants in your life more dearly. Constants are the things that keep you from being swept away by it all.
"Family should always come first because it is the most fundamental constant. But there are other things and people in our lives that are almost as dependable. They have the added quality of being in our lives voluntarily, which makes them different from family and special in their own way. And then…"
She faltered here. Robert could tell that her thoughts were jumbled. She must be so disappointed in him that she could not even think straight.
"There is a special bond between servants and the families they serve. When Caroline Carson brought us her son…" Violet began to pour the tea now, trying to distract herself from the words. "I was only twenty-two and had not been at Downton more than a year myself when she brought him. Normally, I would not have bothered to meet the mother of a stable boy, but Dickens had asked that I see her.
"She did not want to part with him, but she was over five months pregnant and said they could not afford to feed and educate him properly." Violet handed Robert his cup of tea. Her hands were steady and the tea was perfectly made, as always.
"I promised her that I would look after him. This was the real reason I brought him into the house, though he did harass the dogs and the horses. I promised her… and then she was dead." The memory of that conversation was still crystal clear to her. She remembered a beautiful and delicate young woman to whom life had not dealt gently; a ghost who could never age.
Robert was not sure why she was telling him this. She had a far off look in her eyes and did not seem aware of his presence.
"But I forgot about him. Oh, I remembered from time to time, but I did not look after him as I'd promised."
"It was unreasonable of her to ask that of you." Robert assured her.
"Yes, of course it was. But I still gave my word. The truth is, in time, he looked after us better than we ever looked after him."
Violet remembered a particular day. It was a glum winter afternoon. Rosamund had been married several Seasons and was living in London, Robert was away at school and Lord Grantham was off on one of his trips. Violet was alone in Downton, not for the first time or the last. The young footman had delivered the evening paper to her in the library. She had already read the morning's paper twice and had reread Robert's latest letter several times. She did not enjoy novels.
When he returned a short time later with some tea, Charles had seemed restless and uneasy, which was remarkable in itself. Finally, she asked him what was wrong. "Begging your pardon, m'lady, it is very dark in here and I think perhaps you are hurting your eyes with all this reading. If I might suggest…that is…I could read to you."
Her first instinct was to scold him for an impertinent offer and to suggest that he was merely trying to shirk his other duties, but this was Charles and he was not likely to be impertinent or to shirk. He probably thought she was lonely and was taking pity on her.
The truth was, she was lonely. The house had been ungodly quiet all week. It was not a popular time for visiting in York, as the wealthy prepared for London and the less wealthy silently resented them from a distance. Also, there was no good gossip to be had from her maid. Perhaps being read to was not such a strange thing.
"Very well." She handed him the paper. "And skip all that Khartoum business. I got my fill of it this morning."
"Yes, m'lady." Taking the paper, Charles stood next to the window, ostensibly for the light. "There was fire at a distillery in Hardgate, Aberdeen…"
"Mama?" Robert's voice brought her back to the now.
"As I say, when you get older, you move slower." She tried to laugh it off but was obviously disoriented. As always, she recovered quickly. "Let me just get to the point, since neither of us are getting any younger. I don't know what you've done or what he's done and, frankly, I don't care to know. All I know is that family matters. And Carson is practically family.
"I don't need to remind you of what he did for your father." Robert's ears flushed red at the memory. Violet rushed on to reassure him. "I am not bringing this up to make you feel guilty, Robert. You were a young husband with a baby on the way. London was the best place for you and I do not resent your choice to remain there when your father sent for you."
Was Mrs. Carson right when she said that Carson had more right to call Downton home than Robert? His father's final years had been difficult to say the least. Carson had been his valet, recalled to Downton from London shortly after Robert had married Cora. Carson had cared for the ailing Earl more than his own children had. Not to mention…
Robert shook his head and rose to leave. "I am sorry, Mama. I know you must be disappointed in me, but…"
"Do not tell me what I must be, Robert!" Violet cut him off verbally, simultaneously grabbing her cane and blocking his exit physically. "I am frustrated with you and Mr. Carson at the moment, but I could never be disappointed in you. Even if your actions have not always pleased me, I am proud to say that I believe they have always come from honest motives; which is more than most of us can boast."
Robert sat back down and Violet lowered her cane. "I only bring up your father because…" But she could go no further. Ghosts would have to remain unappeased for the time being.
But Robert thought he understood her. "And you're sure it's not hereditary?" Robert asked quietly. There was something else that could explain his erratic behavior.
"If the doctor's are to be believed." But she did not sound very reassuring.
A/N- It's going to get a bit soapy in here as we hit the home stretch. The fur will be flying as I start picking off those plot bunnies with all the subtlety of a Gatling gun. Yee Haw!