Chapter 37 – To Rome

Martha Levinson looked negatively at her daughter, who returned her perturbed stare with one of her own. Finally, Cora asked, "Mama, will we be continuing this staring contest all the way to Rome, or will you tell me what the matter is?"

Her mother turned away and looked out the window of the train carriage. "Janine told me what you were up to; what you did. Don't you dare think you can keep it a secret."

"Up to?"

"Yes! With that Englishman!" Janine had spilled the beans of course, and she had also grilled George who told her all about the encounter in the café. Whatever Cora told her would not be a surprise, but she had to get Cora to confess what had happened. More importantly, what did Cora think about it?

"Oh, mama, he was just a man, is all," Cora answered. "But a rather nice man," she added dreamily.

"Ah-ha! I knew it!"

"Knew what?"

Martha blew air from her nose. "Well, it was entirely too forward! What were you thinking waltzing up to a strange man like that? I ought to paddle your behind!"

"Oh, mother, you will do no such thing."

That made Martha jump out of her seat and bending down put her face just inches from her daughter's nose. "You, young lady, are asking for it! Entirely too big for your britches!"

The train carriage gave an extra jolt just then, so Cora took her mother's arm to keep her from landing on her. "Steady, mama."

That made her mother laugh. "Oh we are a fine pair aren't we? Cackling at each other like broody hens?" Martha had come up with the idea to find Cora a husband in Europe, so what was she so angry about? "At least he spoke English."

Cora chuckled. "Well, after what I heard some of the Frenchmen saying behind my back…" she arched her back. "It was rude…" but Cora thought it was also gratifying to know that some men thought she was desirable.

"Oh…" sniffed Martha, "yes, some men can be that way."

Cora rolled her eyes. "If we woman are beautiful to attract men, then what are you complaining about?" She stared directly up into her mother's eyes. "This is what this is about, isn't it? Finding me a husband? A man to marry? Have children with?"

That took some of the wind from Martha's sails. "Oh. I… well, not exactly."

Cora shook her head. "Oh? Now you are telling me a story, mama. I do wish you would stop this farce."

Martha slowly lowered herself back into her seat. "How long have you known?"

"Not exactly, known, but I have suspected. It must have been in Paris. All that to-do about Mr. Worth's fittings. Really, mother, I'm not stupid." She sighed, for she also wanted to say something about George; George Ackerman who kept looking at her with the most mournful eyes. She liked George for he was smart, a good looker, and he made her laugh, unlike most of the boys who had been sent her way by family and friends. "For God's sake mother…"

Martha lashed out and lightly slapped Cora's face. "Don't you dare speak like that!" She pointed a sharp finger at her child. "You will meet and greet with those men that I arrange for you, daughter, and no one else!"

Cora held her hand to her burning cheek. "I can't believe that you slapped me," she whimpered.

Martha crossed her arms. "I did and I will do it again if you do not behave." She watched as Cora brought herself under control, watching the tears get wiped away as the pink color retreated from her face. If there was one good thing to be said for Cora she could be very self-controlled. That she was also gorgeous and very intelligent only served to add to her cachet. "Now, as I was saying…"

Cora stood up slowly, and looking at her mother said, "I am not some, some…. oh… pig or cow to be auctioned off!" Then she turned to leave the compartment.

"Daughter?" Martha said softly. "Please, don't go. I… apologize. I am sorry."

Cora looked over her shoulder. "Do you think that little of me? That I'm just someone without any feelings?"

Her mother stood up straight and touched her elbow. "Cora, my child; the child of my body. Please, please don't fight with me. I only want…"

"Want mother? Only want what you want? Is that what this is about? Where does that leave me? She sniffed. "Don't you care about me?"

"Oh, Cora I care for you so very much. But we have to think about your future." She lowered her voice. "We must be very careful now."

"Why's that?" Cora turned to face her mother. "Why exactly?"

Martha sighed, thinking about her niece Tilly, for if Mattie had paid more attention to the girl, and stayed in control of her, then rumors about the family would never have happened. "Cora, a woman's… oh, reputation once… gone cannot be replaced. But it's ever been that way."

"Are you saying that I have done something wrong?"

"No," Martha took firm control of herself. "You are quite the perfect creature, so lovely and full of life, that your father and I agreed that we had to find a perfect husband for you. Someone with breeding and connections."

"And someone not like George," Cora said softly.

"No Cora. George is a dear, my dear, and he has been very helpful to us, don't you think so? And if your papa had not trusted him?" Martha snapped her fingers. "We'd never see him again."

It was true, Cora knew. George was sweet, but there was something that had been going on the whole trip with him. "You! You warned George to stay away from me!"

"Correct."

"But, he's… my friend." Cora's heart sank, hurt by her mother's actions.

"And good employee that he is, Cora, he can never be anything more. Oh George Ackerman has been very useful and your father will be ever so glad to hear it. He will be rewarded when the time comes."

Cora sank back down on the cushioned train seat. "So… it's like that. I'm to be your prisoner? Like Rapunzel locked up in her tower? Only to be released when you say so?" It was true, she thought. A toy for mama's plans. But what about George? Her heart fell for she knew it was true. Papa would never allow him to be… close. And her mother? Mama actually ruled the roost.

Martha put her hand under her daughter's chin and lifted her face so she could peer into her eyes. "Dear sweet Cora. You feel things too deeply sometimes, but no matter. Tell me about this Englishman of yours."

"He's not mine, mother," Cora answered frostily.

"But you spoke to him. Who is he?"

"Robert Crawley. The Viscount Downton."

Now Cora had her mother's full attention. Viscount? "What? Who? You'd best explain." She felt her heart leap in her chest.

Cora twisted her hands together. "His father is Lord Grantham, of Downton Abbey, I think I said it right." She saw how her mother's face lit up, so she continued. "Downton Abbey is Yorkshire, he told me. I think that's up in northern England."

Martha nodded. "This, what did you say? Viscount?"

"Robert."

"Yes. What did you think of him?"

"He's a little shy. But he was charming after he found his tongue. I think he was flabbergasted when an American girl actually walked up to him and introduced herself."

Martha bit her tongue, for she knew Americans were a different breed, so less formal than the Europeans or the English. Cora had broken any number of rules in the encounter; both written and unwritten.

Cora was still speaking, saying, "So I put out my hand and he shook it."

"You shook his hand?"

"I did," Cora sighed. "He has nice hands." She blushed, thinking she ought not to have said that. "But anyway, he met Tillie, and George. Janine too." She bit her lip recalling the dark look that George gave Robert, and her, when she asked Robert to sit with them. "But he was just…"

Martha shook her head. For all her scheming, perhaps…perhaps her daughter had jumped the gun? "And he was just what, Cora?" This will be some research on this person.

Cora smiled for the memory of that hour in the cafe burned in her head, as well as body. "He was nice mama. Very… oh, so nice."

Martha looked carefully at Cora, as she saw the color rise in her cheeks, her eyes grew moist, and her lovely bosom rise as she took deep breaths. "Nice. A nice man," Martha replied. "Well that is something." When George found out more about these Crawley's or Grantham's, or whoever they were, that would help to settle this issue, one way or the other.

Cora blinked. "Yes, yes he was, uhm, is."

Martha leaned forward and patter her daughter's hand. "We shall see, Cora."