September 12, 1888

Robert,

I was so glad to hear that you had a nice time in Duneagle. The way you describe it sounds so wonderful. I hope that I will get to accompany you there someday. Do you go for the hunt every year? I would love to join you next year after we are married. I have never been to Scotland. And I have never been hunting before. Do you do that on horses with dogs and such? Or is this sort of hunting with rifles? And come to think of it, I don't actually know what you hunt. Your letter did not say. I'd love to hear more about it if you want to tell me. Though by the time this letter reaches you, I'm sure you'll have other things on your mind. I want to hear whatever you want to tell me. As I said when I saw you last, I hope you can give me news of Downton so I am all caught up by the time I arrive.

Speaking of which, Father has made the arrangements for my return to England. Mother and I will be taking a ship from New York on January 3. I believe that means we will be in London and then on the train to Downton to arrive somewhere around January 15 or so. Lady Rosamund offered for Mother and me to stay at the Painswick home when we arrive in London. I shall have to write to her with our updated plans.

Father and Harold plan to join us about six weeks later so that they can meet your family for a little while before the wedding. I am glad that I'll be returning as early as possible to see you in January. Four months is still so very long to wait, but at least we will have those two months together before the wedding. I hope you will permit me to say that I am so very much looking forward to our wedding.

Please write back soon and tell me anything and everything on your mind. I miss you terribly, and I long for my return to Downton when we can walk through the grounds and talk together. I go on walks in New York sometimes, while the autumn weather is still rather nice, but I find myself wondering what Yorkshire looks like this time of year. Do the leaves change color and fall to the ground? Do they crunch under your shoes as you walk, or do your groundskeepers sweep them away? Does Norman like the colder weather? I don't think it has begun to snow yet there—it hasn't yet here—but I find myself imagining your sweet dog bounding through snow and delightedly biting at the snowballs you throw for him. Maybe you don't throw snowballs for him, but I should like to hear if you do or if you might like to try.

I'll not take up any more pages now with my silly musings. I hope this letter finds you well and I hope to hear from you soon.

All my love,

Cora

September 29, 1888

Cora,

Thank you for your last letter. I did not realize I neglected to tell you enough about the hunt at Duneagle. We were hunting deer and grouse. Both use rifles, neither use horses and dogs. We do a fox hunt each year at Downton, which we did earlier this month, where I take Seymour out and the other men are on their horses, and the other dogs chase the foxes for us to follow. It is great fun. At Duneagle, though, we go deer stalking, following the herd through the highland hills and taking our shots at the bucks as patiently as we can. The grouse shooting is much more energetic, and I am not certain which I prefer. Depends on my mood, I think. We go every year, unless something prevents us, and it is always a highlight for me. I suppose that you shall accompany me next year after we are married.

You asked about the weather, and I will tell you that the leaves have been turning from green to brown and fall off some of the trees, but many of our trees stay green the whole year round. The groundskeepers do keep it quite tidy for the most part. Norman likes chasing the leaves that blow in the breeze. The air is getting much colder, and he seems to enjoy it more than the heat of summertime. It usually begins to snow just before Christmas each year up here. Norman does not like the snow at all. He does like to run through it, but he quickly gets upset over the cold on his paws. I have never tried to throw snowballs for him. I shall have to see if he likes it, though I do not imagine he would be interested in doing it for too long.

There is not much news to share of Downton. I believe my valet, Willis, may be leaving me soon. He has not said anything, however. He has often been a confidante to me. Almost a friend, as much of a friend as a member of the staff can be, I think. There has been a distance growing between us, I feel, and I think it means that me intends to hand in his notice soon.

Our old butler, Stephens, is leaving us soon. That is certain. His hearing is getting bad. Carson, the underbutler, is doing most of Stephens' job anyway. Papa always ensures that the staff make their own choices in cases like this, which is why he has not forced Stephens into retirement a year ago when Mama started to notice some problems. Carson has stepped up to fill in the gaps, and he shall be an exemplary butler when he officially takes on the position. It will all be in place before Christmas; I don't imagine Stephens will have it in him to organize a Downton Christmas, nor would Mama let him try in his condition.

One last thing I will share, as it was just relayed to me by Mama receiving the letter in the library here as I write to you: my friend Dickie Grey has just gotten engaged to marry a young lady from Lancashire by the name of Ada Gillow. I shall attend the engagement dinner at Cavenham Park next week. I believe they shall be married before us, though I do not know that to be a fact. My family and the Greys have been friends for many years, so I am sure you and Lady Ada shall become friends as well.

I shall close here. Enjoy the autumn in New York.

Best wishes,

Robert

October 10, 1888

Cora read through Robert's last letter three times as soon as it arrived. There wasn't much in it, which she tried not to let disappoint her. The worst of it, though—aside for the banal discussion of the weather and staffing changes at Downton—was Robert's closing. Best wishes. Well, it could have been worse. He was wishing her well, at least. Cora signed all of her letters with love. She considered signing the next one 'all my love, your Cora' but perhaps that would be too much. For all that she longed to be with him and talk to him and kiss him, it did not seem that Robert missed her at all. As though his life had not changed at all due to their engagement. Maybe it hadn't.

The last two months since leaving London, Cora's life had changed immensely. She still did all the same things she'd done before going to England, and she still saw all the same people and such. But knowing she would be married in just over five months was constantly on her mind. Every interaction Cora had seemed colored by Robert, even though he was so far away. She found herself wondering what Robert would like of whatever person or place in which Cora engaged. Would he have enjoyed the symphony she attended? Should she mention it in her next letter? Did he enjoy Chopin? Did he prefer Bach to Mozart? Did he have a favorite theatre in London or somewhere in Yorkshire? Would he take her to concerts when they were married?

Not a minute passed when Cora did not think of Robert. It annoyed her family to no end. Father did not like the idea that Cora's dowry would go to the Grantham estate. Lord Grantham had been writing to explain the arrangements to be made. Mother never let the opportunity pass to discuss how self-important and borderline rude Lady Grantham had been. Sometimes far over the border of rude, in fact. And Harold, not having anything to do with any of it, just like the chance to tease Cora over being enchanted by the handsome young viscount.

"Of all the fellows that came to try and marry you, Cor, he has to be the most boring. He barely talked when he was here for dinner," Harold pointed out.

"He doesn't talk unless there is something to say, which is a trait you might do well to emulate," Cora fired back.

"I can't believe you're going to marry such a wet blanket," he scoffed.

"Robert is not a wet blanket!" she defended.

Harold rolled his eyes. "Mother," he called as Martha Levinson walked through the drawing room where Cora and her brother were bickering, "is Cora's fiancé a wet blanket?"

Their mother sighed. "Well, just because no one else can see what's so good about him, Cora likes him anyway. And the more you tease her, the more stubborn she will be. If you keep this up, she's going to run away back to England tomorrow, and I don't think the Crawleys will want her if she did that. So knock it off, Harold," Martha scolded.

All of this talk was giving Cora a terrible headache. She took her letter from Robert with her as she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

"Ladies don't slam doors!" Martha shouted in Cora's wake.

"Then I'd better get it out of my system before I become a lady," Cora muttered to herself as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom.