A/N: So this is a shorter chapter but I really don't have a chapter length planned out. Just whatever moves the story along. So bear with me as I continue this fanfiction. :)

—3—

She swept it under her skirt with her foot, and then, when no one was watching, picked it up. The paper was obviously expensive; it was thick and cream-colored. Neat, tiny cursive covered the paper. It hadn't been crossed, so it was easily read. Rosamund wanted to read it there and then, but knew it was too risky. If she was caught, consequences would follow. So, instead, Rosamund carefully tucked it into the top of her corset, the only possible place she could think to put it. When she was a young girl she'd discovered one's corset was an excellent place for storing notes and other small items, and the knowledge had been of use to her ever since.

"Mama," Rosamund ran to catch up with her mother, "I'm feeling rather lightheaded. Might I be excused to go upstairs?"

Violet gave her permission, and Rosamund dashed up the stairway and into her bedroom. The moment she entered she felt immediately safer, flopping onto her bed and letting the soft mattress sink slightly beneath her weight. The recent events came rushing back suddenly, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the tears before they came pouring out. To distract herself, Rosamund opened the letter with shaking hands. She scanned the words, her shallow breathing intensifying with every handwritten character printed on the paper.

No. That couldn't be. Oh Lord, were the words before her eyes just a trick of the mind?

Rosamund lifted herself off her bed, leaving the letter resting on her pillow. She wanted to show Susan and Cora. She had to. They would know how to make sense of the letter, she was sure of it.

She quietly opened the door, so she didn't alert the servants to her movements. For all they knew, she was resting and they were to leave her. She made sure that no one saw her reenter the library, or make her way to Susan, who was standing in the same corner she'd been left in.

"Susan, you must follow me this instant," she said quietly, tugging on her cousin's wrist. Susan looked at her dubiously.

"Must I? Is it really that… Oh, well I haven't got anything better to do I suppose. Not when Hugh won't let the children near me and no one seems to want to speak to me other than our insane Aunt Roberta."

Susan followed her to the hallway, and then obeyed Rosamund's request to go and fetch Cora. She returned a moment later with said sister-in-law, and the three of them climbed the staircase back to Rosamund's bedroom, where Rosamund thrust the letter at Susan.

"Read it aloud."

Susan unfolded the paper and began, "My dearest Dove, I have little time to write. Laurell is only gone for a moment, but I felt I must finish my reply so that I can make the post tomorrow. You say you're staying in a Paris hotel? I have a friend living right near you, Lord Eysmare. Perhaps you've heard of him? My darling, every single moment I long to be with you again."

Cora interrupted with a question, cutting Susan off, "Who's Laurell?"

Rosamund, having already read the letter and having attended many social gatherings, knew and answered for her, "His first wife, Laurell Beckett. She died a month before he married Charlotte. I think it was cancer." Cora seemed satisfied with this reply, and inclined her head for Susan to continue.

"I hear you've got a suitor. He'll make you very happy, I'm sure, but my darling Dove, I beg of you: leave him. Run away with me. You told me the last time we spoke in person that you don't want to disappoint your family by eloping, that you have to be the one to marry well, for your sisters haven't exceeded expectations. But my dear, none of this will matter if you come away with me. Laurell will never know your identity, I can assure you. I will divorce her if I have to, just tell me we can be together. Please, I beg of you."

Susan raised her head from the paper. "Forever yours, Richard Tatem."

Susan and Cora joined Rosamund on the bed, each of them overwhelmed by the contents of the letter. So much so, that none of them spoke. It was very obvious what'd happened: Lord Tatem was having an affair. But it wasn't recent. Rosamund traced the year 1860 with her long, elegant index finger. That was a little over thirty years ago, but had the affair ended? And who was Dove?

As if having heard her thoughts, Susan spoke, "I think there was a woman named Dove at one of Mama's birthday parties… but last I'd heard, she'd killed herself in '56. So it can't possibly be her."

"But then who?" Cora asked, saying aloud the question all three women were wondering inside their own heads.

It dawned on Rosamund that if she wanted to know who this "Dove" was, she'd have to follow the clues. She had never done anything like detective work before, but an opportunity like that was too good to pass up. Besides, if she went to Paris, where this woman had supposedly spent her time, she would get her escape from Lady Violet and her own newborn niece. That was something, wasn't it?

She proposed her idea to the women, and straight away Susan dubbed it "absolutely insane," while Cora was slightly more gentle with the matter explaining that she had a child she couldn't leave. The thought of baby Mary made Rosamund tense; the child just had to be the object of conversation, didn't she? Rosamund honestly couldn't figure out why she had such a dislike for Mary. Some part of her brain contradicted this, saying it wasn't a disliking but more of an anxiety. With Mary present in the scene of Rosamund's life there wasn't much room for her, not anymore. Robert, Cora, and their daughter would inherit Downton in a few years and everything would be happy. Perfectly, perfectly happy. Rosamund would be forced into marriage after Violet had had one too many arguments over her betrothal with Patrick, and then said parents' marriage would end in a divorce, causing the biggest scandal of the century. But Rosamund's brother and his family would be completely fine, enjoying their life full of children and luxury. That's just how life worked sometimes. Rosamund had to remind herself of this daily.

"Cora, Mary will have her father and plenty of nannies. Mama and Papa will be there, too, if need be. You've no cause to worry, my dear."

"Oh, but Rosamund, what if something happens?" Cora anxiously began to twist part of her skirt between her hands. "We'll be across the ocean, we'll have no way of returning home in time."

Susan looked away while Rosamund tried to provide comfort to her sister-in-law. She didn't particularly like situations that could be described as "helpful" and felt compelled to ignore them to the best of her ability. She wasn't even listening, focusing instead on the singular star in the sky. It was the first in what would be a night sky full of stars in just a few hours' time.

"Fine, I'll come with you."

Susan whirled around to face Cora. "What?" she asked sharply. "To Paris? France? You're not saying you agree with Rosamund's scheme."

"I am." Cora grinned.

"Susan, say you'll come with us, please do." Rosamund looked at her imploringly. "It won't be any fun without you."

Susan snorted. "That's the complete opposite of what I'm usually told," she said. Rosamund opened her mouth to protest, so Susan went on, "but," she paused for dramatic effect, "it seems I've no choice. If I refuse, you will surely go anyway, and I'll be left to explain to Aunt Violet where you've gone. Isn't that right? In that case, I will go."

Rosamund leapt to her feet and twirled once, smiling. "We can tell everyone in a few hours, at dinner," she said. "I doubt Mama will take our fleeing the country well, but we shall have to see."

"What do you mean by 'we're spending a short while in Paris'? Are you utterly mad?"

Patrick placed a hand on his wife's shoulder in what seemed to be a calming gesture, but quickly retracted it when he received a death glare from her. Instead, he said soothingly, "Violet, I'm sure Rosamund has a perfectly reasonable explanation for her sudden departure. Don't you, Rosamund?"

Rosamund knew she couldn't tell him the truth. She could practically hear him shouting at her, however calm and patient he was normally. He'd want to know why on earth they'd made such a quick assumption, why she was so certain Lord Richard Tatem had an affair during his marriage to a wife long dead. She attempted to smile at her mama from across the dinner table.

"Yes, Papa. I felt like there were better… men in Paris," Rosamund lied. Susan's head snapped up sharply from where she was sitting to look at Rosamund, her eyes flashing dangerously.

Violet seemed to take in all the information she'd been given, and then said, "Really? Do you mean it, Rosamund? You're looking into marriage?"

A knot of guilt began forming in Rosamund's stomach. She didn't like lying to her mama, not when it seemed to make Violet so happy. She chose her next few words with care, making sure she wasn't actually lying; more like not telling the entire truth. "I am going to Paris, and I hear there are wealthy bachelors my age everywhere one looks. Cora and Susan will accompany me."

"Cora?" Robert turned to look at his wife in one, quick movement. "What do you mean you're going? What about Mary?"

"I won't be gone long," Cora assured him. "I promise to write every day."

Robert let out an audible grunt and settled back in his chair.

"Well," Patrick let out his breath, blowing out his lip, "I guess I should tell Carson to prepare the carriage, then."

"And you're sure this is everything?" asked Cora, eying the luggage. "I'd just hate to leave something behind."

Rosamund gracefully entered the carriage, placing herself in the middle. She beckoned for Cora to join her and Susan. "I promise we've not forgotten anything. You needn't worry."

Cora looked doubtful but climbed in anyway. The footman closed the door behind them, and they were off.