Darkness was a curious thing. Now in the company of Robert, she could not attribute anything sinister to its quality. It was merely an absence of light due to a lack of windows in the stairwell. To the earlier blackness, she was resolved to think of it no more, for it certainly had been only her imaginings. But despite her resolution, Cora couldn't help but listen intently as they descended the many stairs to the basement, hearing only the sound of their muffled footsteps and soft breathing. She hoped it was a sign that James had had his fun and no doubt a good laugh, and would be satisfied enough to leave her in peace.
Because they were unable to see where they were going, Robert had taken her hand in his to help guide her through the black labyrinth. The need for a candle hadn't occurred to her until they had reached the servants' stairs, but she relished the warm press of Robert's hand in hers and refused to regret their lack of light.
Finally reaching the bottom floor, they blindly made their way to the kitchen. Entering, Robert suddenly dropped her hand and Cora felt bereft. For a moment she thought he really was angry with her for striking him, that he had only held her hand out of duty and not out of real regard for her. But his reason soon became apparent. In the middle of the work table, an oil lamp had been placed, waiting for the scullery maid to use in the morning. Robert picked it up and twisted the pin, causing a dim light to fill the room. It glowed more than shone, but it was enough to see.
"That's a bit better," murmured Robert.
Cora hummed in response and made her way to the ice box. "Does the cook keep small chunks of ice in here?" she asked, opening the door and rummaging around.
"I don't know." He crossed the floor and came to stand behind her. "But what do you want ice for?"
"Your eye, of course," stated Cora. "It's nice and cold."
"But wasteful," he said. He gestured to the stack of meat on the right side. "That steak there should work fine."
"I can't think it is very sanitary," she observed.
"I've never had a problem before," he shrugged. Reaching in, he pulled out the slab of steak and placed it on his eye. "See, already helping."
Cora pulled a face. "Helping or not, I insist you at least wrap it in a cloth."
She closed the door and crossed the kitchen to where the dish rags were drying in front of the stove. Selecting one, she walked back to where Robert was leaning against the table and took the meat from him, wrapping it carefully and gently returning it to his eye.
With his arms folded across his chest, Robert crooked a brow at her, a teasing smile wreathing his lips. "Better?" he asked.
She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips to keep from laughing. "Yes," she answered.
A comfortable silence enveloped them as Cora maintained her hold on the compress. She felt terrible for having inflicted pain on Robert. If she had retained a level head and not gotten caught up in childish fantasies, he would not have been hurt. Shame burned her anew as she recalled what she had almost done to James. The very idea of her, a married woman, sneaking into the chamber of a man who was not her husband painted her cheeks with mortification. She would be forever grateful that her sense returned before she humiliated herself and the rest of the family.
A creeping awareness of an unacknowledged reality came over her. Her lack of recollection at how she ended up in front of James' door bothered her immensely, as did the absence of an explanation for the very real darkness that had overtaken her and the voice that had enticed her down the hall. Loathe as she was to admit it, the entire event seemed to have something to do with James and his macabre tale. But it was just a story, she told herself, just like the ones she and Harold would exchange as children. Surely Robert or, more namely, Rosamund would have told her of any strange occurrences in the house…
"Robert?" she began shyly. "Do you…"
"Do I what?" he asked softly when she lapsed off.
Cora opened her mouth to ask him, to relay everything that had happened. But she snapped her jaw shut and shook her head. It was just too ludicrous and the last thing she wanted was for him to laugh at her.
"Nothing." She forced a small smile. "Nothing at all."
"You don't have to keep holding that," he stated. "I'm more than capable."
"I know," she whispered, "but I want to."
Their eyes met for a brief moment before Cora returned her gaze to where her hands were holding the steak, the intensity of his regard overwhelming. Despite her averted eyes, she could still feel his fixed stare, could feel the way he studied every inch of her face, and her cheeks warmed. They had never stood so close to each other in the short length of their marriage, even when dancing, and the nearness was equal parts disconcerting and intoxicating. The only time they had so little space between them was in the darkness of her room while they attempted to conceive an heir. But for some reason, standing with him in the tenebrous kitchen, pressing a steak to his face, felt more vulnerable and intimate than the nights spent in her room. Shyly, Cora shifted her gaze over to his and looked at him through lowered lashes. The dimness of the lighting deepened the already rich blue of his eyes and she found herself drowning in their depths.
Slowly, Robert brought his hand up and gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand away from his face. His gaze was intense and full of an emotion Cora couldn't place as he leaned towards her, his lips seeking hers. With her heart pounding in anticipation, Cora tilted her face up as her eyes fluttered closed. Finally, his mouth was on hers and Cora melted into him. It was slow, it was long, and it was deep. And Cora relished it. She couldn't remember him ever kissing her with such passion. Absentmindedly, she dropped the steak on the work table and wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers threading through the hair at the base of his neck.
Much sooner than she would have liked, Robert broke the kiss. He rested his forehead against hers for the briefest moment before straightening the rest of the way.
"We should head back to bed," he murmured.
Cora merely nodded in response, not yet trusting herself to speak. She watched with hazy eyes as Robert picked up the steak and returned it to the icebox, leaving the cloth with it so the kitchen maids would know it was in need of washing. Turning back towards her, his gaze met hers and held. Cora stared at him unmoving, the kiss having affected her more than she would care to admit. His brow quirked in inquiry and crimson blossomed across her cheeks. She vainly hoped the poor lighting would mask her bashfulness as she averted her gaze and nodded her head. Twisting the pin, she extinguished the lamp and they were once again cloaked in darkness.
Together, they mounted the first set of stairs, their hands on the banister instead of entwined. Cora's shoulders had slumped in disappointment when Robert had started up before her. She missed the weight of his hand in hers, missed the assurance she felt at the contact. It was utterly ridiculous, really, to be so attached to her husband. She couldn't imagine what her pithy mother-in-law would say if she knew Cora didn't want to walk up the stairs without Robert's hand in hers.
Passing the green baize door and moving to the next set of stairs, they heard scratching coming from the Great Hall.
"Sounds as though he's still at it," remarked Robert.
Rolling her eyes, Cora let out a sigh and continued up the stairs. "I suppose there is no way we can get him to leave earl— Robert, where are you going?"
But he didn't answer. Cautiously, he pushed the door open and watched. After a silent moment, he stepped through the doorway, letting the door fall shut behind him.
Standing alone in the dark stairwell, Cora's ears strained to hear what was happening on the other side of the door. But all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing. The earlier feeling of being watched returned and a cold sweat dotted across her forehead. Her blood rapidly pumped through her veins, her breaths becoming heavy as she waited, more words from the gruesome tale ringing in her ears.
A crack of lightening flashed her eldritch shadow onto the wall, the light glistening off of her sanguinary knife. Vengeance. Death.
Cora could feel it again, the enticing pull to find James' room and enact her revenge. Clamping her eyes shut, she tried to dispel the voice from her mind, rid herself of the conjured images of shadows and James' terror stricken face. But they continued to bombard her, surrounding her so she couldn't escape. She broke out in a full sweat, the perspiration coating her palm and causing her tight grip on the banister to slip.
She crept on silent feet over to the bed, her grip tightening on the blade, her blood soaked hand slick against the hilt. Slowly, she raised her dagger…
"I didn't see anything," came Robert's voice as he slipped back through the green baize door. "I suspect it was just a mouse. I'll tell— Cora! Are you alright?"
She had slumped down onto the step with her knees drawn up against her chest, her breaths still coming in heavy gasps. Feeling him grip her upper arms, she blinked her eyes open and found Robert anxiously looking at her.
"I'm alright," she rasped.
"You are not," he argued. He brought his hand to her face and pushed back her sweat soaked hair. "You are clammy and entirely drenched in sweat. What happened?"
"I just let my imagination run away with me." Biting her lip, she looked away, fingers twisting into the fabric of her dressing gown. "It's nothing."
Robert tucked his hand under her chin and raised her head. His eyes were soft and his voice gentle. "Cora, what is it?"
"It's James," she murmured, "or more accurately, his ghost story. I just can't get it out of my head. The shadows seem darker and menacing and there's this enticing voi—"
She cut off and shook her head again, lowering her eyes. It wouldn't do to tell him the whole of everything no matter how much care he was displaying.
"You must think me quite mad," she muttered with a short sardonic laugh.
"I don't," he answered, wrapping his hands around hers. "I'm afraid James has always found pleasure in tormenting others. But I can assure you, his version of the story is quite dramatized. Downton is not haunted by the ghost of the first countess or anyone else."
Cora returned her gaze to his, relieved to see his eyes devoid of derision. "Thank you," she whispered.
"I'm sure this is all James' doing." He smiled softly. "And he should pray I don't catch him in the act or there will be a ghost in this house."
Cora chuckled softly and squeezed his hands.
"We should get to bed," he said. Keeping his grip on her hands, he pulled her to her feet, his left hand remaining entwined with her right. "Let's go up the main stairs. It's easier to see."
Squeezing Robert's hand in agreement, she followed him down the steps and through the green baize door. Cora scanned the entirety of the Great Hall. Despite Robert allaying her fears, there was still something in the air that caused uneasiness to prick at her spine. Shivering, she unconsciously pressed herself against Robert.
"Are you cold?" he whispered, bringing his arm to wrap around her shoulders.
She snuggled into his side, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. "Not with your arm around me," she murmured.
It was when she caught Robert smiling down at her, she realized what she had said. Warmness spread across her cheeks as she buried her face in his neck. As they neared the top of the staircase, they heard more popping and cracking. Exchanging a glance, they hurried up the last few steps.
"Which way should we go?" asked Cora.
"Are you sure you want—" He stopped when he caught sight of her glower. "To the left."
Nodding, Cora took a few steps before she suddenly froze, her eyes wide. Unaware of her abrupt halt, Robert bumped into her, but she hardly noticed. Up ahead of her, in the darkened corridor, a shadow danced along the wall with a large dagger clutched in its hand.
