But still we laugh

We cry, we fall, we get high

Just like we were kids

Just like we were kids again

•December 28, 1876•

Downton, The Library

"Happy Birthday Darling," Patrick whispered with a smile as he handed Violet a glass of champagne.

"Thank you," she whispered back, taking the flute with a sweet kiss to his lips. "What prompted the celebration?" She laughed as he pulled her closer by the waist with his free arm.

She pressed a chaste kiss against his lips as she was pulled and leaned her forehead against the side of his face.

"To make up for all the missed birthdays," Patrick responded simply, a hint of remorse in his voice. Violet nodded against his cheek, saying nothing.

"The children have been put to bed," she informed him after a minute of silence and she felt her husband nod against her.

"I know," Patrick murmured softly. He relinquished his hold on her and walked to the desk across the fireplace. Looking over at her husband curiously, Violet shrugged inwardly and went to sit in an armchair.

A neatly wrapped present that Patrick waved in front of her face startled Violet out of her musings. She looked up at him questioningly, and he merely smiled.

"It's for you," her husband prompted gently.

"Oh," Violet said, the surprise evident in her voice. She took the box from his hands and he took the flute of champagne from her in turn.

The Countess peeled the paper off to come face to face with a velvet box. Her smile faltered somewhat. The last time she received a velvet box... it was from him.

However, this one was quite large. It seemed to be about the size of her face even though it was rather light for its size.

She opened the box cautiously and gasped as she saw the contents.

"You can't be serious," she told Patrick disbelievingly as she looked up at him. Her husband only smiled in amusement as he placed both champagne flutes down before walking toward her.

"I'm quite serious," he responds easily, sitting on the chair's armrest as he pressed a fleeting kiss to the top of her head. "I had it made for you," the Earl added nonchalantly.

Violet opened her mouth to respond but soon closed it after realizing she had no response.

She inspected the tiara in the box, feeling a little apprehensive about taking it out. The diadem was nestled in silk and encrusted with diamonds. The shape of the tiara itself had been reminiscent of that of the Greek Queen Hera.

"I... thank you," she finally says after a few moment. "What prompted this?"

"It's your birthday." Patrick said simply, and Violet felt her stomach flutter.

This was the first time in years she had gotten birthday present (excluding Robert and Rosamund, of course).

Her father had always prioritized Victoria over herself and Vivienne and Igor... well. Igor's ring couldn't exactly be considered a present anymore, could it? More of a broken promise.

Shaking thoughts of the Russian Prince out of her head, she smiled up at her husband.

"Well, thank you." She said, taking one of his hands in her own and kissing it.

"You're very welcome," he responded kindly. "Why don't you try it on?" Her husband offered and Violet laughed slightly.

"I don't think my hair would be able to handle it," she said lamely and Patrick raised an eyebrow at her.

"That, is quite possibly the most pathetic excuse I've ever heard in my life." Violet shrugged her shoulders carelessly.

"It's the only excuse I have," she offered looking up from the box.

"Yes, I realize that." Patrick replied in amusement. "Please? For me."

Sighing heavily, Violet gave in knowing this was a battle she wouldn't win. She handed him the box and watched as he carefully lifted the tiara out of its box.

"Do you know how to put a tiara on a person?" She asked with a cheeky grin.

"I can certainly take them off," he muttered to himself and Violet felt her heart drop. Unwanted tears head welled up in her eyes and she blinked rapidly in hopes they'd disappear. Memories of Patrick and all these heiresses had sprung to her mind and she couldn't help but feel the hurt pounding in her chest like a drum.

Patrick sensed his wife's discomfort, and immediately wished he could take his words back. He forced another smile on his face and turned the diadem around in his hands. He grasped Violet's free hand and hauled her up.

The Countess of Grantham was a rather tall woman however, she was still a few inches shorter than he was.

"Bend your head a bit, Darling." Patrick whispered to her, and she did so obediently. It was such a fluid motion, as if she was expecting him to say so. Safe to say, it unnerved Patrick more than anything.

Trying to recall the things his mother would droll on about to his sister, he placed his thumb on the dimple of his wife's chin and his index finger on the space between her eyebrows. As he placed the tiara on her, he moved his fingers up so that his thumb took the place of his index finger. Said index finger had touched the tiara's base and he smiled contentedly.

"There," he said proudly and Violet reached up to touch it lightly.

"What was with the finger thing?" She asked, going slightly cross-eyed as she looked at her husband's thumb that was still pressed against her forehead.

"It was something Mama would always nag Elizabeth and her lady's maid about. I never understood why, but she did." Patrick answered and Violet nodded. "It looks lovely on you," he murmured gently, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you," Violet blushed lightly, the slightest shade of pink coloring her bridge of her nose and the column of her throat. She reached behind her to pick up the box Patrick discarded on the armchair and opened it again. The Countess ran her fingers through the nest of silk with an absent mind, beginning to feel the weight of the tiara upon her head.

As Violet did... whatever she was doing with the box, Patrick took the opportunity to study his wife in a manner he hadn't done since the day they first met.

She had been young when his father brought her and her two other sisters to meet him. They had all been young. His mother detested every bit of Violet and adored every bit of Veronica. The only one who hadn't been vain or meek or... pathetic, really.

She didn't fawn, she didn't care. She didn't want to be his accessory. She was her own person who wanted an equal, and it was clear she didn't find that in him. And yet, he chose her.

•July 1, 1925•

Cavenham Park

12:30 PM

"I can't believe you," Violet grumbled to Isobel grumpily. The Baroness remained unfazed by her cousin's foul mood as she sipped the water Mead poured out for them.

"I had to get you out of bed somehow," she responded nonchalantly, eyeing Violet with a cheeky smile.

"Hitting me over the head with a pillow does not speed up the process." The Countess complained, picking at a piece of lint that had clung to her dress.

"Evidently, it does," Isobel shot back just as quickly. Violet glared at her cousin, but said nothing more on the matter. "So what had been bothering you the past few days?" The Dowager arched an eyebrow at Isobel before shrugging her shoulders.

"I'm getting older," she replied simply and Isobel sighed heavily.

"Must you always be this stubborn?" The brunette asked in exasperation and Violet looked to her haughtily.

"Not stubborn. I am just a very self aware person," she said defensively.

"That's the diplomatic way of putting it," came a voice from the door, causing both women to look up. Violet gasped lightly, something that was not lost on Isobel.

The Baroness started to get up from her seat saying, "I think I'll give you both some privacy." But a quick look from Violet had her sitting back down, folding the corners of her napkin.

"There's no need Lady Merton," Igor added as he walked further into the room. The Prince stopped directly in front of the two women, staring intently at Violet.

The Dowager looked up, staring back at her former lover unflinchingly. Isobel looked off to the far wall, resisting the urge to get up and flee.

"It's been so long since we've seen each other face to face," Igor started softly, pulling out the chair intended for Lord Merton and sitting down.

"Yes, because fifty years pales in comparison to three months," Violet replied crisply as she straightened her back. (Which was quite a feat considering she was already wearing a corset.)

Isobel pursed her lips at Violet's rather dismissive tone but said nothing.

Igor, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by the Dowager's smart remark and continued to speak.

"Why are you avoiding me?" He asked bluntly and Violet seemed taken aback for a moment.

"Why are you still in England?" Violet countered and Isobel rolled her eyes. This was going to be a long conversation.

"You still haven't given me an answer," Igor continued softly and Violet held her tongue for a moment. "I told you I would wait for as long as you wish."

"I never wanted you to wait for me," Violet replied just as softly, a slight rasp in her voice. "Our time together has passed and you should be mourning the death of your wife. Not pursuing an old lover." Isobel had to concede with Violet's point on that one, as much as she hated to admit it.

"I loved you more than I loved her," Violet laughed bitterly as he said this.

"That's what you told me when we were looking for Irina." She said softly and Igor chuckled.

"And it's still true."

Isobel sighed to herself. It was like Romeo and Juliet... but Romeo and Juliet are six times older.

9:25 PM

Dickie walked into their bedroom later that night and Isobel smiled at him. "How was London?" She asked as he walked over to the bed to kiss her cheek.

"It was quite tiring," he admitted as he shed his coat. Isobel nodded in agreement.

"I can imagine," she said with a soft chuckle. As the Baron got ready for bed, she turned another page in her book before looking back up at him. "Our estranged lovers finally met again." Dickie froze and turned to look at his wife with wide eyes.

"How? When?" He asked, stuttering slightly.

"Here," Isobel replied, amusement coloring her voice. "I had to drag Cousin Violet out of bed, so I brought her here for luncheon." At this, Dickie raised a brow. Sensing his confusion, Isobel filled in the blanks for him.

"How did you manage that?" He asked and Isobel couldn't help the light giggle that escaped her.

"Let's just say that pillows can be quite useful when it comes to getting a person out of bed." She replied, still in a fit of giggles. "It took some time, but it worked." Dickie nodded slowly, more amused by his wife's laughing than her actual response.

Shaking his head, he sat down on his side of the bed and returned to the matter they had been speaking about previously.

"Were you able to catch a few words of the conversation?" Dickie asked, looking at his wife. Isobel sobered up and cleared her throat before answering.

"A few words? I was present for the entire conversation," she nearly exclaimed, just barely keeping her voice at a reasonable decibel. "Cousin Violet didn't want me to leave the room. It was incredibly awkward for me and no doubt for her." At this, Dickie inclined his head and spoke in agreement.

"Who wouldn't be? Coming face to face with an old flame who had proposed marriage more than once, it puts you in an odd spot."

"Igor didn't seem to phased by it though," Isobel added thoughtfully. "I know he was aware I was in the room listening to every word. After all, he told me I could stay. Cousin Violet just glared."

"What did he say?" Dickie questioned as he tucked his legs underneath the duvet.

"He wanted another answer from her. He told her he would wait for however long. But I think you could guess what her answer was." Isobel gave her husband a meaningful look and he had fit the pieces together.

"She still said no." Dickie said, disbelief coloring his voice.

"I think that on some level, Cousin Violet does want to marry him. She's just afraid of the scandal. Considering her relationship with Igor was ridiculed in the papers, I wouldn't be surprised." Isobel mused quietly, marking her place in the book before putting it on the bedside table.

"But the scandal never mentioned their names." Dickie added, the confusion evident in his voice.

"No. No it didn't. But it was still a scandal." Isobel said softly, crawling underneath the covers as well. They were silent for a few moments before Dickie spoke up once more.

"What happens now?"

•tbc•