He's always running with no one to keep warm
It's like he's flirting
With the smoke alarm
His fire is fading
•July 1, 1925•
Dower House
1:40 AM
Violet woke with a start, her chest heaved and she could feel the cold sweat slowly dripping down her temples. Pulling herself up, Violet leaned her head back against the wooden headboard as she tried to regulate her rapid heartbeat. Inhaling deeply, Violet turned her lamplight on and placed her glasses on her face.
Once her heart didn't feel like it was going to jump out of her chest, Violet hauled herself out of bed, ditching her cane for once. She trudged slowly to her vanity, Gods be damned if she needed that blasted cane to walk such a short distance.
Finally reaching her vanity, Violet sat down heavily on the seat, hip throbbing slightly. She rubbed the edge of her hip gently in hopes to soothe it.
Thin fingers reached for the jewelry box pressed up against the mirror and Violet unlatched the lock gently. It opened with a small click and creaked when Violet lifted the lid.
The Dowager Countess reached for a familiar velvet box she had hidden underneath... what even was inside this thing?
"These things should be in the family vault," Violet murmured as she started to remove the pieces she would put away for safe keeping.
That kept her rather busy for the next fifteen minutes.
After everything was where she wanted it to be, Violet turned her attention to a velvet box. The only piece of jewelry that was placed inside a smaller box. Steeling herself, she opened the box slowly and almost immediately tears sprung to her eyes.
It looked just the way it did fifty years ago. Perhaps a bit dusty, but it still took her breath away as if they were still hiding out in abandoned apartments of the Winter Palace.
Picking the engagement ring up gingerly, she examined the diamond carefully. Violet rubbed her thumb over the stone, finding comfort in the smooth expanse. Holding the ring to her lips, she placed a fleeting kiss on it before placing it down on her vanity.
And she stared. For quite some time. The way he felt, the way he smelled, the way he smiled. Thoughts of him, and only him swirled through her mind.
Violet smiled ruefully as she continued to stare at the offending piece of jewelry.
Realizing it was deep into the night and she (probably) was the only one awake, Violet slipped the ring onto her finger.
It felt almost... right. However, bile rose up her throat as memories of the Princess Kuragin came flooding back as well.
•December 31, 1874•
St Petersburg, Russia
Igor quietly helped Violet into the carriage with a slight smile. She closed the carriage door silently, and turned back to him with a bright smile.
"I can't believe we're actually doing this," Violet whispered giddily. She pushed thoughts of Robert and Rosamund aside, focusing on her newfound happiness.
Violet clutched a picture frame close to her chest. A photo of Robert and Rosamund was placed inside, and she smiled sadly at their beaming faces.
"Are you ready?" She felt, rather than heard, Igor whisper in her ear. She nodded at him tearfully and he went to signal the coachman.
As the horses started to trot along the pavement, the door on Violet's side had flown open. The couple came face to face with an irate Irina Kuragin.
"You bitch," she snarled and Violet's breath caught in her throat. They had been caught red-handed.
Irina's scowl deepened as she surged forward, grasping Violet's red locks tightly in a fist. The Countess cried out in pain and Irina slapped a free hand over her mouth.
"You leave us quietly, and no one needs to know about this," she whispered menacingly.
Violet glared at her in spite of how her head was angled and Irina pulled her hair back further.
"Who do you think you are," she growled. With that, she dragged the Countess of Grantham out of the carriage by the hair, causing Violet to stumble. Irina didn't seem to care as she continued to walk, Violet forced to hunch her back to lessen the pressure on her head.
They made it to the private gardens when Irina released her hold, shoving Violet down in the process. As Violet sat there, gingerly touching the back of her head, Irina tackled her, wrapping manicured fingers around Lady Grantham's throat.
"I told you I want you gone," Irina started, her brown eyes piercing through Violet's blue ones. "And when your husband decides he wants to leave, you go with him."
The Princess tightened the hold of Violet's throat, cutting off most of the woman's air off and she nodded frantically in fear of her life. Before releasing her hold on Violet, Irina leaned down to whisper one last thing in her ear.
"He will never be yours. In this life or the next."
•July 1, 1925•
Dower House
2:50 AM
She's been awake for over an hour, staring at an unfulfilled engagement ring and reminiscing over a dead Princess. Smirking to herself, she sighed.
What had her life come to?
Looking up from the ring, Violet stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was old and frail and tired. Wrinkles lined her face and her skin had sagged. It didn't sag all that much, but they could still be seen. She turned her face slightly to the left and delicately ran her fingers along the curvature of her jawline.
The skin of her jaw sagged too, what once was sharp and proud had become old and soft. She remembered what it felt like to be beautiful. An exhilarating feeling, really. It could be quite bothersome as well, but it was nice to feel wanted then.
She smiled fondly as she recalled bits of a conversation she had with Robert Williams before she ever met Patrick. Oh, how she missed him and the way he made her smile.
Violet quickly brushed away a stray tear that had managed to escape from the corner of her eye. As she did so, the diamond of the ring had glistened in the mirror, causing Violet to look back at it once more.
She memorized the way it looked on her finger, and slowly slipped it off, placing it back in its box.
Breathing in shakily, Violet then placed the ring box into the larger jewelry box, making sure to lock the latches carefully. She sat there, staring intensely at the now closed box before deciding to get up.
Placing both her hands on the table, she pushed herself into standing, wincing as she felt her hip start to throb again. Looking around her bedroom, Violet realized that her cane was next to the bed, and there was no point trying to get it.
Bracing herself, Violet staggered slowly to the bed and when she reached it, slumped into it with a sigh of relief. Tucking her legs underneath the duvet, Violet pulled the covers up to her chest and looked up at the ceiling.
Her right hand twirled her wedding band around her finger, and the motion had helped the Dowager Countess to fall asleep in a dreamless slumber.
•September 4, 1857•
A hidden garden... somewhere
"I'm telling you, it actually works!" Robert told her excitedly. Violet looked at him questioningly, lips pursed in apprehension.
"I doubt it does," she told him gently, but he wouldn't be swayed. Robert shook his head frantically and tugged on her hand. Violet squealed as he pulled up from the grass, tangling his fingers in hers. "What are you doing?" She asked him with a laugh.
Robert smiled mischievously before running off, pulling her along with him. The wind whipped her hair in all different directions and the sound of Violet's laughter pushed him to keep running.
Releasing their tangled fingers, Violet ran ahead of him, her hat falling off in the process. Robert bent to pick it up quickly before catching up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
Violet Ames giggled as he caught her, pressing her hands against his chest to steady herself. She looked up at him with bright eyes and a large smile. Robert kissed her briefly, before pulling away from her and taking her hand once more.
Almost like Deja-vu, he started running once more with Violet's hand in his.
Once they had reached a lovely patch of garden, the fertile soil covered in bright flowers, Robert turned to face her once more. Gathering her slender frame into his arms, he twirled her around and reveled in the sound of her giggles.
"It's a very beautiful garden, isn't it?" He whispered into her ear, and he felt Violet nod against him.
She pressed her forehead against his chin, and Robert inhaled her scent of honey and lavender. If this is what serenity felt like, he would stay like this forever if he could.
•July 1, 1925•
Cavenham Park
2:05 AM
After tossing and turning for God knows how long, Igor threw the covers off his legs and reached for his dressing gown. He secured the belt around his waist before walking to the halls of Cavenham's West Wing.
Igor walked the length of the halls in hopes exhaustion would set in, but his attempts were fruitless. Rubbing his hands over his face with a sigh, Igor walked down the steps slowly, in fear of waking up the Lord and Lady Merton.
Although their bedroom was all the way in the East Wing, he couldn't take that chance. Once he had gotten to the bottom of the grand staircase, Igor shoved his hands in the pockets of his dressing gown.
He came to a stop at the French doors that opened to the vast grounds and gardens of the estate.
Unlocking the door quietly, Igor stepped out to the gardens for the first time in months. He walked along the garden for some time before finally stopping to sit on a bench. He spread his arms on either side of the bench's backing and closed his eyes, sighing contently.
The distinct smell of lavender hit his nose and he opened his eyes, realizing that the flower he remembered so fondly was in the garden behind him.
Reaching out to rub a bud between his fingers, his thoughts drifted to Violet and all of their broken promises.
"I'm going to marry you if it's the last thing I do," he whispered to himself. Those had been their parting words when she left Russia... for good.
•July 1, 1925•
Dower House
11:00 AM
Isobel marched up the stairs of Cousin Violet's house, accompanied by Denker.
"Her Ladyship was still asleep when I brought her breakfast tray up," the lady's maid started to explain. "But she was still asleep and when I went to wake her up, she told me not to bother." Isobel nodded as she followed along with her story.
"And now?" She asked, halting her steps to look at Denker expectantly.
"She still refuses to get up. I was hoping you might be able to coax her out of bed, Milady." She admitted. Isobel nodded once more as she continued to walk the path to Cousin Violet's bedroom.
The two women made it to the door when Isobel turned to face Denker.
"I can take it from here," she told the woman.
Sensing Lady Merton's dismissal, Denker bowed her head slightly and started down the hall once more.
Knocking gently on Violet's door, Isobel called out.
"Cousin Violet?" No answer. She knocked again, and she still heard no sound on the other side of the door. Rolling her eyes in exasperation, she gripped the doorknob and with a firm twist she opened it.
Violet heard knocking a on her door for what seemed like the seventh time and ignored it, rolling over so her back was facing said door. Her half-conscious mind seemed to pick up on a voice from out in the hall.
Waving it off as Spratt and Denker back with their daily squabble, Violet tuned out the sound of the voices (like she usually did when they argued) and nearly fell back into the realm of Morpheus.
The door creaked open and the Dowager's eyes shot open quickly. Oh, she was going to kill whoever just entered.
Violet turned her head to see who had come in without her permission (it most likely Denker) and was taken aback when she was met with Cousin Isobel's look of disapproval.
"W-what are you doing here?" Violet asked her cousin blearily, trying to blink away the remnants of sleep. She balanced herself up on one elbow, staring at Isobel with her eyes only half open.
"I was told you refused to get out of bed," the Baroness replied simply. She glared heatedly at her cousin, which didn't exactly have the desired effect.
Instead of looking like the imposing Dowager Countess persona she had built for herself, she ended up looking like an angry little kitten. Isobel couldn't help but chuckle.
"That look doesn't work when you're still in bed and half asleep," Isobel told her cousin teasingly. Closing the door gently, she walked up to Violet's bed and prodded her blanket covered legs.
"Let's get up," she tried to coax. "Or we're gonna miss luncheon." Isobel told Violet, who still refused to budge.
"I got very little sleep last night, Isobel. Please let me be." Violet sighed. Responding to Violet with a sigh of her own, Isobel sat down on he edge of the bed.
"What? Are you going to drag me out of this bed?" The Dowager snapped irritably.
"No..." Isobel said patiently. "I'm going to figure out why you're a lot grumpier than usual." Isobel told her cousin, speaking slowly. As if she were speaking to a misbehaving infant.
Realizing she wasn't going to be able to sleep any longer, Violet blew a tendril of hair out of her face and sat up slowly. Leaning against the wooden headboard, she looked at Isobel with a raised brow, hands placed in her lap.
They stared at each other for a long moment and Violet finally spoke.
"There was an engagement ring." Isobel stared at her dumbfounded, and a bit of disbelief. Violet rolled her eyes again. "Yes, an engagement ring. Like the one Dickie gave you when you said you'd marry him?" Violet asked, enjoying Isobel's speechlessness.
"Yes, I'm quite familiar with the term," Isobel snapped back quickly. The Baroness touched the marquise-cut diamond thoughtlessly. "Just... who gave it to you? Robert Williams?"
Violet shook her head and suddenly Isobel understood.
"Igor..." she voiced her cousin's unspoken thoughts. The Dowager's silence was enough confirmation for the both of them. "Is he the reason you won't get out of bed? You've managed to function for the last three months with him near, why pout about it now?"
"Don't be daft," Violet admonished, shooting her cousin a deadpan look. "I'm still here because I haven't gotten enough sleep," she told Isobel with narrowed eyes.
"Why?" Isobel asked, her head cocked to the side. "You've never had a sleepless night? Other than tonight, of course."
The Dowager looked almost affronted at the thought.
"Having sleepless nights is an ill-bred thing to have," she said indignantly, challenging Isobel with a look and an arched eyebrow.
"No, dear. That's being unhappy in a marriage," Isobel told her with great amusement, taking pleasure in the way Violet swore under her breath (what an undignified thing to do).
Violet rubbed her temples tiredly, trying to fight the oncoming headache.
Patting her cousin's leg, Isobel stood up.
"Come on. Get up. We'll go somewhere for luncheon." Violet peeked one eye through her fingers (which she had been rubbing over her face as Isobel spoke) to look at the Baroness.
After realizing she wouldn't budge, Violet nodded grudgingly.
"I'll call you Denker," Isobel said over her shoulder as she stepped back out to the hall, closing the door behind her.
Once Isobel had gone off to find her lady's maid, Violet slumped back against the headboard. She sighed deeply as she prepared herself for the next day.
Oh, why couldn't she just go back to sleep?
•January 1, 1876•
Lady Grantham's Bedroom
Patrick kissed the junction of his wife's neck and shoulder delicately. "Happy New Year, Darling." Violet smiled slightly at her husband's affection and turned around in his embrace.
"Happy New Year," she whispered back with a smile, tracing her fingers against his lips. She pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth and snuggled into his chest.
"Why haven't we been doing this ever since?" He murmured into her hair, and Violet sighed lightly. She dislodged herself from her (very comfortable) position, propping herself up on one elbow.
"Because back then... we could care less about each other," she told him bluntly, feeling Patrick wince slightly from underneath her. "We had... different interests at the time." Violet added, knowing that Patrick wasn't the only one at fault here.
He kissed her forehead gently before drawing Violet back into his embrace.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, kissing her temple lightly. Patrick felt Violet nod against the crook of his neck and he relaxed his shoulders slightly.
She pressed a kiss against his pulse point and let herself relax with his arms around her. It's been so long since she's felt beautiful and loved. Not since... Igor.
As if sensing his wife's thoughts, Patrick asked.
"Do you still have the ring?" Violet furrowed her brows in confusion and tilted her head to look up at him.
She held up her left hand and the round cut diamond of her ring caught light of the rising sun through the sheer curtains.
"This one?" She asked, confused and Patrick shook his head.
"You know the one I'm talking about," he told her quietly. Violet sighed and dropped her hand when she figured out what he truly meant.
"I do," she admitted to him just as quietly. "Do you want me to get rid of it?" Violet questioned, burrowing deeper beneath the duvet.
"No." Patrick said solidly and she looked at him in surprise.
"Are you sure?" His Countess asked tentatively and he nodded in confirmation. Lifting one hand to her cheek, her caressed her soft skin and leaned closer to place a tender kiss to the top of her nose.
"I am."
"Why?" Violet said, her voice barely above a whisper. The Earl of Grantham sighed deeply and paused before answering.
"Because I've been a terrible husband to you for the past fourteen years, Violet." At this, she looked off to where the windows were, blinking back bitter tears.
"I might be your husband, but he loved you more than I ever did back then. And I refuse to be the person that erases the only memory of the man that made you happy when I couldn't."
•tbc•