prompt: exchanging looks in a crowded room

(set in s4)

The room was buzzing. The giddy excitement was palpable. And Cora felt that's how it should be on one of the first balls of the season. Rose was long off to chat animatedly with her friends, and since the first dance was already over, Cora had left the dancing parquet and stood at the side with Rosamund. Robert was making conversation with two lords he had been fellow students with at Eton. Everything was how it should be.

The things Rosamund was talking about only partly reached Cora's conscience. Her mind was nowhere in particular as she just soaked up the boisterous and warm atmosphere of the ball. She felt like she belonged right in with her shiny light orange gown, bedazzled with stones and clad in exquisite orange sapphire jewellery. She had to admit, Robert really hadn't held back to make sure they had a London season worthy of Rose's debut. There was a fleeting possibility that it was egoistic spending with the way Robert eyed Cora ever so often. She couldn't quite remember the last time his eyes raked over her appearance so devouringly in broad daylight. Cora definitely felt undeniably comfortable in her skin. And Robert's behaviour made her feel like the belle of the ball. She chuckled quietly at that thought.

Standing at the side of the lively ballroom, Cora let Rosamund's words ripple around her. But as much as her sister-in-law was never a boring conversation partner, Cora was somehow wishing for someone else to be by her side. They shared the first dance some moments ago, but she already missed her husband.

Cora wasn't quite used to being apart from Robert anymore. In their domestic idyll at Downton, they rarely decided to part for more than a few hours when Robert was going after his duties to the estate. They preferred being together, even if it was in mutual silence, each with their tasks. When Robert had been to America, it had felt like ages. Long torturous ages. Since he was back, Cora was trying to spend even more time by his side. Sometimes she felt a little foolish for clinging to him in a way only Isis did, but Robert didn't seem to mind. He always had a fresh smile on his face when she sought his company in the library.

But now that they were here in London, it felt strange not attending every event clutching her husband's arm constantly. She had a weird flutter in her stomach when she had to let go of him to talk to others and comply with social customs. Seeing him spending a great deal of these evenings conversing with other gentlemen, seemingly unbothered by her absence, felt strange. She would never say she was jealous. What for? What could possibly make her jealous? They were just following society's standards, and Cora knew very well that Robert was looking forward to taking her to their room afterwards and being alone with her. Oh no, she had been married enough years to not feel the need to be jealous. She was just utterly affectionate this year and she took it as a good sign for their marriage. Hers and Robert's relationship was thriving like she never thought possible for a couple their age.

Though, it was getting harder every minute to stay the relaxed wife and keep up a conversation with her sister-in-law. Cora craned her neck to look for Robert. She made a noise of approval to Rosamund who had asked a question Cora hadn't listened to but Rosamund didn't seem to have noticed Cora's absence of mind.

"Right? That's what I said all the time!" Rosamund proclaimed with emphasis.

Cora's eyes were scanning the room. Through the crowd of dancing pairs, it was hard to get a proper impression of the groups of people. It was then, that Cora discovered her husband in a small circle of men by the winged doors to the neighbouring hall. He balanced a flute of champagne with three fingers and nodded at something the lord with the impressive moustache had said. Cora had forgotten his name. As always, Robert was participating just as he should. He was immersed in the conversation and didn't seem to miss anything.

Cora sighed.

"What is the matter?" Rosamund inquired.

"What? Oh, nothing," Cora waved off. Rosamund had a stern expression on her face. The red of the high collar of rubies around her neck made her eyes pierce even more intensely in the warm light of the candelabras. She was displeased to have the attention snatched from her talk.

"Well, it's just so strange to stand in this ballroom this year, that it's Rose's first season, and knowing we've attended balls here for… how many years? It feels like Mary's first season was just yesterday. And I remember being swirled on this exact parquet myself at this age. It's so strange," Cora said. She looked across the young ladies with pink cheeks and nervous eyes.

"Yes, I guess you're right," Rosamund agreed. "I've lost count of the seasons I've partaken in." She took a sip from her champagne. Cora looked at her and had a thought that had been recurring since she met her sister-in-law for the first time. Rosamund was a lady through and through. Just the way she sipped her champagne pensively, remembering old times, had a poise to it Cora could never dream of matching. The way there was never a redundant motion, her chin always held up high. No matter her real height, Rosamund managed to always seem like the tallest. She was always master of the situation, never lost control. It was impressive. And Cora thought that without any judgement. It was merely an observation she made time and time again.

"Are we getting old, Rosamund?" she asked.

"Old? We? Come on, Cora. I am a widow and not just since yesterday. But I refuse to call myself old. It's bad enough when others do it."

"Of course." Cora didn't want to feel old herself, but there were rare moments when she wondered.

"And look at your husband," Rosamund remarked. She tipped her head to the side and indicated to Robert across the room. "The way he pines for you. Don't tell him you thought we might be old. How ancient would that make him? He couldn't handle it." A smirk ghosted over Rosamund's features.

Cora snickered. She turned her head to look at Robert. He did indeed seem to pine for her. Cora felt the heat rise on her décolleté and cheeks. He still stood along with his peers but looked over at Cora intensively. His glass was empty, and the smirk that flashed across his features was unequivocal. Cora bit her lip. The wide smile she couldn't avoid pushed up her round cheeks.

"You two are impossible," Rosamund said.

'You would be the same with Marmaduke,' Cora thought but knew better than to say it out loud.

"This is not about you, this ball or this season even," Rosamund added. "But somehow you're acting like that." She groaned. "See, that's what I mean."

Cora followed her look and saw Robert coming over with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"You have already been courted," Rosamund hissed.

"Yes," was the only answer that Cora was able to come up with.

"It's not about you," Rosamund repeated. The irritated undertone only bothered Cora very distantly.

By the time, Robert had reached the two women and blindly set down his empty champagne flute on a tray of a passing footman. He clasped his hands behind his back as he entered the ladies' atmosphere.

"I hope I don't interrupt you," he said.

Rosamund already opened her mouth, and Cora saw that she was about to spew something vicious.

"Oh no, not at all," Cora hurried to assure. She smiled broadly at Robert.

"I'm glad," he said. "Would you care for a dance, my dear?"

Cora didn't answer but only took the hand he held out for her. There was a flutter in her stomach and it wasn't of the weird kind. Before she totally succumbed to her husband's charm on the dance floor, though, she turned back around to her sister-in-law.

"Maybe you also find someone who will court you," she spoke softly. Rosamund only rolled her eyes and shook her head in denial.

The next moment, Cora already found herself twirled around between the other dancers. No, she wasn't old. Not yet. At this right moment, she was sure. She had never felt younger.