December 13, 1890 – Eighth Night
Cora sat upon the chaise lounge, trying to concentrate on the Jane Austen novel she'd been trying to lose herself in. When all else failed, Northanger Abbey always seemed to distract her and transport her away from life and into the silly gothic horror of Catherine Morland and Henry Tilney.
But not so today. She had woken up so happy, naked and sated in Robert's arms. But the room had gone cold, the fire barely a glowing ember as they woke. The firewood was almost gone, and there wasn't much they could do about it. They had breakfast of porridge and weak tea. And it was all starting to weigh on her once more. She'd thought she'd come to some kind of acceptance and calm about their circumstance, but her unease had returned. Thankfully, the pregnancy illness had remained at bay. But though she physically felt alright, she was left without the distraction that being sick had provided. There was nothing to get her mind off their troubles now, not even Jane Austen.
And speaking of her Jane Austen, there was a strange glare coming off the page that forced Cora to squint in the brightness. It was most uncomfortable.
A glare.
There was a glare on the page. Cora sat up suddenly, whipping her whole body around.
"Cora, what's the matter?" Robert asked, taken aback by her sudden movements.
She turned to the window and saw what she'd hoped it would show. She squealed in delight. "Robert, look! Sunshine!"
Her husband followed as she scrambled up and went to the window to look outside. And there it was. Brightness. The darkness of the snowstorm had dissipated. There was no snow falling. The clouds were bright white, and the sun shone through them, reflecting off the blanket of thick snow all around.
"The snow's stopped!" she exclaimed excitedly.
Robert put his arm around her shoulders. "Good lord, it has!" He gave her a gentle squeeze. "We must see what can be done." He moved away and pulled the bell.
Cora could not keep her eyes away from the lovely scene outside. She thought she could almost see the snow melting before her very eyes. Behind her, she heard Smithson enter and Robert instruct her to fetch Carson. The butler arrived a minute later. Only then did Cora turn away.
"Carson, it seems the snow has stopped. Do you think we might be able to find a way to try and clear some of it from the doors? See if anyone can get to the village? I know we aren't completely out of danger yet, but surely it's worth trying?" Robert asked expectantly.
"Indeed, milord. I shall see if we can send one of the lads out to get news from the village at the very least," Carson replied with a respectful bow of his head.
"Thank you, Carson," Cora added kindly.
Carson gave her what could almost be described as a smile. Perhaps he was starting to come around on her. It was hard to know with Carson.
But that wasn't of any concern for right now. The butler left and Cora returned her attention to the window. "Oh Robert, do you think this might be the end of it all, finally?"
"I do certainly hope so, darling. It will be nice to be able to get out of the house and out of each other's hair," he commented.
She knew what he meant, but she could not resist teasing, "I don't recall you complaining about my company last night."
A slight blush crept up his cheeks. "No, of course not. But we can hardly spend all our time like that."
Cora nodded in feigned seriousness. "We'd need to eat at some point."
He laughed, "Yes, you're certainly right. God, I can't wait to have something to eat besides rice and porridge and eggs. I never thought I would beg for asparagus, but I find myself desperate for it."
"Oh my, that does sound nice. I could go for some strawberries and cream. I know we won't get any till the summertime, but I have been dying for a fresh strawberry for months."
Robert smirked. "Perhaps it's the baby who wants strawberries," he pointed out.
Cora put her hands on her belly, as she always did whenever the baby was mentioned. "You might be onto something there. Though this poor child will probably be born before strawberries come back in season," she lamented.
"I shall bring you strawberries to drown in as soon as we can get them," Robert told her, taking both her hands in his.
"Oh my gallant hero husband," Cora chuckled.
"Sometimes you are very easy to please, my darling, and I enjoy pleasing you very much," he said, bringing her hands up to his lips and kissing each one.
"You certainly pleased me last night" she quipped.
"Cora!" he exclaimed, scandalized by her forwardness. "The way you talk…"
She laughed at his reaction and leaned up to kiss him briefly. "I should think you've noticed that I am no longer the blushing bride, Robert. I've been fortunate enough to be shown the ways of carnal delights from a very skilled lover."
Robert's blush returned to his cheeks at the praise and the purpose for which he received it. He seemed to have lost the power of speech.
Cora just kissed him once more. "Come on, let's see if we can manage to go outside. I'd love to get a bit of fresh air if we can. And then afterward, perhaps we can pass the time in bed."
His face turned worried. "In bed? Are you feeling ill again?"
"No, I'm feeling wonderful, darling. That's why I'd like to take you to bed again."
That solved the mystery for him quite well. His blush deepened, but he grinned.
Their time outside was brief indeed. The snow was still too thick to pass through. They only managed to trudge about ten feet from the front door before they discovered the futility of their efforts. Feeling a little silly, Cora let herself fall backwards into one of the snowbanks. Her coat got all wet from the slowly melting snow, and she sank further than she'd expected into the slush. Robert thought she'd fallen by accident and rushed to her aid, but she just pulled him down with her. In his efforts to keep from falling on top of her and risk hurting her or the baby, he'd ended up flat on his face in the snow. Cora could not help her giggles, and Robert got quite cross over the indignity of it all.
Cora then had to call her maid and Robert had to call his valet to run baths for each of them; Carson had thankfully informed them that one of the footmen had been able to get to town on horse and arrange for a deliver of some things. It wasn't much, but there was enough firewood to get them through the night and to heat water for the baths, and there would be bread for breakfast. They even managed to get potato and onion enough for Miriam to make latkes one final time, much to Robert's delight.
For what would hopefully be the last evening for quite some time, Robert and Cora ate dinner on trays in their bedroom. They thanked the footmen and dismissed them, leaving the trays on side tables for the time being. The couple had one task to attend to before they ate.
Robert lit the single taper candle for the eighth time in as many nights. "Last one," he noted.
Cora hummed in acknowledgment as she lit all eight of the candles on the menorah. It was the last night of Hanukkah. And the last night of the storm. Funny how that worked out. "The miracle of Hanukkah," she murmured to herself.
"What was that?"
She explained, "The oil in the temple lamps lasted eight nights instead of just one. We ended up with enough supplies to last eight nights, to keep us all going through the storm. I think we both know it was getting close to dire around here. Maybe it was the holiday miracle that kept us safe and well."
Robert smiled and kissed her temple. "Perhaps it was. Happy Hanukkah, my darling one."
"Happy Hanukkah, my love," she replied softly.
They ate dinner quietly, enjoying the solace and solitude this last night provided them. And later in the evening, when the candles had burned down to almost nothing and Cora lay bare and sated once again in her husband's arms, he spoke quietly as they both watched the Hanukkah lights reach their end. "I think I'll have those saved."
"Hmm?"
"The candelabras. The makeshift menorah. I think it might be nice to keep them separate from the rest of the silver. Perhaps next year we can do this again."
"I don't think we can celebrate Hanukkah when your parents are at home," Cora reminded him.
"Not in the library, perhaps, but why can't we here? We can light the candles in here each night and no one else need be concerned. Unless you don't want to," he added nervously.
"No, I think that's…oh Robert, that's wonderful." She pulled herself up her body to kiss him. "Thank you."
Robert just smiled. He did not speak, but she knew what he was thinking. Or at least she hoped she did. He was happy to be able to make her happy. He'd enjoyed this tradition from her heritage. And he loved her enough to want to continue such things in the future. More than anything, that was what Cora Crawley knew in that moment. Her husband loved her very much indeed. Even if she was American and had a Jewish father. Well, maybe even a little bit because of those things. Maybe.
THE END