The dense smell of the flowers was overwhelming. Everywhere he seemed to go in the house, it lingered. Robert didn't understand the sentiment of sending flowers to a bereaved family. Rosamund, on the other hand, would sniff every bouquet and read the forwarded letters and telegrams, saying how very sweet it was. Of course, the passing of an earl was very newsworthy. The paper had every detail of the funeral and, near the end of the column, a fairly accurate description of the next earl and countess - he and Cora. Robert felt an uneasiness in reading it. He felt an uneasiness in all of it. The only place he could feel some relief was his dressing room, so he too often found himself there alone, sitting in the chair near his window, overlooking the grounds through a small opening in the otherwise drawn curtains. He wasn't avoiding anyone, nor was he angry or in denial of his father's passing. However, it was easier for him this way. It was easier to sit alone here than to see his mother and sister all dressed in black, uncharacteristically residing together in peace. It was easier than the silence at breakfast. It was easier than the servants feeling unsure of how to address him.
As for everyone else, they all coped in their own ways. Violet was strong, of course, but it was obvious to everyone that she keenly felt the loss. She kept mostly to herself and during dinners, when Cora, Rosamund, and Marmaduke would make polite small talk, Robert would notice how her eyes drifted to where his father's empty chair was opposite her.
Rosamund was more open with her grief, remarking how often she thought of her papa and how she missed him when they were gathered together and one of those moments of silence settled upon the group. Marmaduke would take her hand and nod comfortingly. Cora would smile empathetically. Mama, all too often, would sigh seemingly tired of the whole ordeal. Robert would blankly stare. He wasn't quite as able to show his grief. Not like everyone else, so he remained isolated.
Although he enjoyed his solace during the day, he slept with Cora at night. He would enter after she was changed and wordlessly slip into her bed next to her. She'd close her book, blow out her candle, and kiss his cheek, draping her arm across his chest. Most times they'd fall right to sleep, a word not passed between them. It was almost as if she understood his need for everything in his world to be quiet for a time. Change was not something that came easily to him.
However, for Cora, it was as if she thrived with it. He watched with wonder as she so smoothly assumed her new role, taking up the tasks his mother had usually been responsible for. She had managed to arrange thank you's sent to nearly every family who had shared their condolences, and being such a prominent family, that was quite the task. She had met with Mrs. Hammett, the housekeeper, and Mrs. Lancaster, the cook, to plan their dinners and approved pantry orders. She had even met once with Jarvis, albeit briefly, and bought Robert another 3 weeks before they spoke business, in order for him to mourn his father properly. She amazed him, and he was grateful at how quickly she assimilated and adapted.
But, as is always the case, time marches on, and Robert's accepted period of isolation had to draw to a close. Business had to resume as normal. Life had to go on. Nearly two months had passed since his father's death. Two months of what seemed like forever and yet like he was just standing graveside, the vicar praying over his father's coffin.
"I can hardly believe he's been gone two months," Rosamund mentioned one night glancing up at her fiancé next to her. Maramaduke grasped her hand.
Robert didn't feel the need to respond, but after sensing his companions staring at him, nodded and took another drink of his brandy. The room fell silent again, except for the crackling of fire in the fireplace.
Again, much to Robert's chagrin, Rosamund spoke, "Do you meet with Murray tomorrow?"
Robert took a moment before he shook his head, "I meet with him on Wednesday."
"And Jarvis?" Cora asked.
Robert looked at her, sighing quietly, "Yes. Jarvis tomorrow." He added, with perhaps a little more annoyance in his voice than he meant, "Why?"
Cora shifted a little and looked across at Rosamund. "Well, I feel that perhaps it's time to discuss the new budgets and expenses."
Robert furrowed his brows. "What new budgets and expenses?" He too looked across at Rosamund and then back over to Cora. "What are you talking about?"
Cora took a breath in and out. "I'm talking about your mother's allowance. And living expenses."
Robert allowed a small, exasperated, exhale and answered curtly. "Her allowance was provided in Papa's will, and her living expenses shouldn't be any different from ours. Why would they be?"
Silence once more, at least for the moment, and Robert was glad of it. Cora tilted her head, looked across at his sister, and then back at Robert. "Robert, your mother won't be living with us. It's time we begin discussing her arrangements."
Robert looked at Cora incredulously, and although he felt his expression harden, she retained a calm countenance. He shot a look over at Rosamund who in turn looked away into the flames of the fireplace. His father had only been dead for two months. She couldn't be serious.
"No. It's too soon."
"Well, obviously not right away, but surely we've got to prepare her home. Ask her which house she'd prefer. It'll take time." Cora's voice was soft, but anger swelled within him. How dare she suggest this?
"Have you even discussed this with her?"
"Well, no, not yet..."
"How do you think she'll take it? Being kicked out of her own home? Hmm?" He knew his voice was biting, but he meant it this time.
"But Robert, I thought..."
"I won't discuss it." He stood and faced the fireplace. Cora rose from the sofa and approached him gently.
"Of course, it's difficult, but we all must…"
"Cora! I said enough!" His voice echoed across the library and he could feel Rosamund and Marmaduke's eyes burning into the back of his neck at the shock of his response.
Gracefully, Cora nodded, perhaps a little embarrassed, and then nearly whispered. "Well, then, I'll say good night."
Much to his surprise she pressed a feather-light kiss upon his cheek, then smiled a shy good night to the others.
After she had left, Rosamund spoke up. "Robert, she didn't mean any harm."
"No?"
"And she's right. Mama won't live here forever. Just as Grandmama didn't before her."
Robert couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could his own sister be so willing to move on?
"But so soon, Rosamund?"
"It takes planning, Robert." Rosamund stood now as well, looking up into Robert's face. "Haven't you noticed, Robert? Cora has taken on all of Mama's typical responsibilities, and quite well, considering she's an American." Robert rolled his eyes, but Rosamund continued, "There's nothing left for Mama to do, except, of course, to criticize every detail of Cora's doing. Mama needs her own house to run, Robert. She understands that her time as countess is over."
Robert put a hand on the mantle and leaned toward the fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rosamund nod to Marmaduke and the two began to move for their rooms. Before leaving, however, Rosamund stopped at the door and added, "And be gentle with Cora. She could use some extra care, Robert."
"She could? What do you mean, her? She hasn't lost a father or husband."
Rosamund looked up at Marmaduke and back at Robert, shaking her head, sighing. "Nothing. Never mind. Good night, brother."
Robert turned back to the fireplace and peered in his glass. Empty. He turned and walked back to the table with the decanter on it, pouring the last drops of brandy into his glass. He replaced the crystal stopper, and paused, listening to the silence. He looked across the library, the shadows dancing along the walls, along all the titles of all the books lined neatly in their places. Papa was so proud of this library. "One day when its yours, Robert, I trust you'll cherish it as much as I do." He could hear his father's voice clearly. Almost too clearly.
When it's mine, Robert thought. He glanced over the library once more. It was his. He had become Lord Grantham, and Cora, Lady Grantham. For the first time since his father died, he didn't feel solely anxious at the thought. He felt pride. Gratitude. But the fear still remained.
Robert placed his glass down and walked to his father's desk. He pulled the chair for himself and sat, putting his hand on the desk and touched a couple of the documents there. Cora's handwriting was scribbled on the top of one paper, "Pantry Expenses" and again on another "Linens, etc.". Cora had become Lady Grantham, it seemed, while he wasn't sure where to begin in becoming Lord Grantham, the role he had been groomed for since birth.
He felt a strange sense of jealousy. Although proud of Cora, he couldn't help but to feel as if he was the one whose handwriting should be scribbled on these documents. Perhaps she was right. Robert sighed. Of course she was right.
He snuck upstairs and crept into his wife's room. Her room was dark with the exception of one candle lit on the side of the bed he had claimed as his own. He watched Cora's face as she slept. He saw how her chest rose and fell easily.
He found her hand lying out by her side, picked it up, and kissed it. She stirred a bit and then opened her eyes, squinting to see him.
"Robert? Everything alright?"
He nodded. "Yes. Everything's fine."
Cora hummed and blinked a little, her brow still furrowed and eyes squinted.
"And you're right. It's time to begin to plan for Mama."
At this admission, Cora opened her eyes wider and moved a little to see him better. "I'm right?"
"Of course, darling." He kissed her hand again. "It's much too soon for Mama to leave; it's only been two months, but we must plan."
Cora smiled a little at him.
"I'm going to call for Carson, now. Unless you'd like to help me?" Robert grinned mischievously, leaning down and kissing Cora on her mouth.
She hummed again afterward, but didn't move. "Oh, my dear. As tempting as that is, I am very tired."
Robert couldn't hide his disappointment, but conceded graciously. "Oh. Yes. I'm sure you are. Well, I'll go and change, then."
Cora smiled again and snuggled deep into her pillow before closing her eyes. "Hurry back," she muttered.
As Robert slipped into his dressing room, he noticed Cora's smile never left her lips.
The next morning, after Carson dressed him, Robert passed back through the dividing door into Cora's room where Perkins finished the last touches of Cora's hair.
"I'm surprised to see you out of bed. Have you finished breakfast?" Robert glanced over at the bed where her breakfast tray stood; a cold, untouched bowl of porridge and side of eggs rested on it, but it seemed the toast had been eaten.
Cora nodded and greeted him with what seemed a tentative smile, which he returned and sat in the chair near her to wait on her.
"You look very nice."
Cora looked over at him, "Oh, thank you."
Robert chuckled a little, "You don't sound happy to hear it."
"Will that be all, my lady?" Perkins asked, stepping back from Cora and tilting her head a little to the side to catch Cora's reflection in the mirror.
Robert watched as Cora inspected her hair and thanked Perkins. "Yes, that'll do nicely. Thank you, Perkins."
She turned to Robert. "Oh, it's nothing, Robert. I..." she brought her hand up to her mouth for a moment and closed her eyes.
Robert looked at her with concern, "You aren't getting sick, I hope."
Cora shook her head and stood up. "No. I don't think so, Robert."
"It's all this business you've gotten your nose into. You should spend the day resting."
Cora sighed, "No, really, I've got to go to the kitchen to meet with Mrs. Hammett and then we're interviewing for a new maid."
He looked her over. Perhaps it was the black, but she appeared a little paler than usual. Paler, but even more beautiful, which he found an interesting paradox.
"We?" He inquired as he opened the door for her and they stepped into the hall.
"You don't think your mother would possibly allow me to interview a maid myself, do you?" Cora asked, more rhetorically than anything, as she tugged on the front of her dress.
As Robert was about to respond, in Violet's favor, his mother interrupted from behind them. "Certainly not. It would just be one more thing I'd have to go behind you and correct."
Violet brushed past them, not even bothering to glance their way, and descended the stairs as they looked on.
Robert looked over at Cora and raised a brow. "My darling, I'm not sure Mama is quite ready to give up the reins. Perhaps we not discuss the matter of her impending living arrangements quite yet."
Cora looked displeased. "It won't do to put it off, Robert."
Robert followed his mother and began down the stairs, calling after him, "There isn't any rush, Cora, and there are plenty of rooms."
He could sense Cora following him. "Not quite a rush, no, but there are some rooms we'll need to make more suitable."
Robert met Carson at the bottom of the stairs and took the hat and gloves from him. "Suitable? Suitable for whom? Are we expecting a great crowd to move in soon?" He chuckled to himself.
"No, not a crowd."
Robert stopped pulling on his glove and looked at Cora. There was something in the way she said that. It made him feel as if she meant something more by it. She stood still and pressed her lips together, as if she was suppressing a grin.
Robert narrowed his eyes and turned his head. "Cora?"
"Good morning, my lord, my lady," Jarvis's voice came ringing through the hall. Robert turned his attention to him.
"Good morning."
"The carriage is waiting, my lord, when you are ready."
Robert turned back to where Cora stood, but to his surprise she was gone.
He shook his head a bit and held his hand out to Carson for his hat. Carson nodded, handing the hat to him, and Robert couldn't help but to notice that the usually stoic valet had the smallest trace of a smile playing on the corner of his mouth.