II
Cora had done her best to stay out of the fray. Mama was the better fighter than Cora ever was. But it was rare indeed that she was on Mama's side opposing Robert. Cora and Robert never had a disagreement like this before. There had never been anything this important before.
Mary was supposed to marry Patrick Crawley, and in doing so, she and her children would inherit the Grantham estate and with it, Cora's own fortune. But now Patrick was gone, and a new heir was coming to Downton, some distant cousin whose relation to them that Cora could not really understand. It hardly mattered who it was. What did matter was that Mary's prospects would change. She would be taken care of by the estate, of course, an allowance for her life, just as Cora and Edith and Sybil would all have. But Mary was their eldest. Were she born a son instead of a daughter, there would be no question about the inheritance.
These thoughts had been bothering her for days. And she had been allied with Mama in figuring out what to do. She was shrewd with her insistence on things, her ability to fight for her own way with intelligent persistence. Cora did not have that ability. Not really. She adapted herself to circumstances as best she could and used charm and reason to prove her point when necessary. But more often than not, she would just bend to Robert's will. She was his wife, she was supposed to always support him.
But this wasn't about Robert. This was about Mary. This was about Cora's own father's hard-earned money going to a stranger instead of Cora's child. And it just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Cora hadn't been able to have a son. It wasn't fair that she had been bullied by Robert's father into signing that gift deed on the day after they married, giving her fortune to her new family with the assurance that it would still be hers to pass to her children. Circumstances had proved different, and the unfairness of it all was practically overwhelming.
"Hello, darling," Robert greeted, walking into the dayroom and sitting down with one of the afternoon papers.
Cora glanced up at him and frowned, turning back to her needlepoint.
"Is something wrong?" he asked innocently.
It was a fair question, she was usually of a very pleasant demeanor, and she endeavored to be particularly pleasant to her beloved husband. But she could not muster the effort for it today. Not now. She snarled, "Yes, your horrible entail is wrong. You're stealing from me and my family and our daughter, and you're not going to do a damned thing about it."
"Cora!" Robert scolded. She was not known to use such language.
She felt the threads of restraint snap inside her. Cora stood up, tossing her needlepoint aside and standing up. "I mean it, Robert, you are allowing strangers to steal from your own daughter!"
"It is the entail, as I have told you countless times. Murray has said—"
"Ask someone else!" Cora shouted, cutting him off. "Why have you given up fighting for Mary? I know you wish she were a son but—"
Robert flew up from the chair, this time interrupting Cora. "How dare you say such a thing! I have spoken to three different solicitors in York and in London, I have inquired into a parliamentary act to change the entail, because what my father did to take from you for the benefit of the Crawleys should benefit our daughters and no one else, but I…"
He trailed off and grimaced. His chest started heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Cora watched in horror as Robert clutched his stomach. "Robert? What's wrong?" she asked, panicked.
"I've been having these pains," he forced out through clenched teeth. "It'll subside in a moment."
"Sit down," she insisted, trying to lead him to his chair.
But Robert pushed her hand away. "Stop it, we are not finished with this," he snapped.
"I don't want you hurting yourself. We don't need to be shouting at each other," she pointed out.
His face was full of thunder, even as it was still contorted in pain. "If shouting at each other is what it will take for you to understand the efforts I have gone to and the fact that there is nothing to be done, then so be it."
Cora knew she should be concerned about these pains he was having, but his words riled her up again, and the anger that had evaporated when he was hurting was now back in full force. "So you have given up? You have given up on Mary?"
Robert's face went red. "Cora!" he bellowed.
But she did not shrink from his anger. Let him shout till his red face went blue. Cora would not back down, not until they had some kind of solution for their daughter. Cora stood before him, tall and defiant.
"I…" Robert's words trailed off yet again.
Cora opened her mouth to say something instead, but the words never came. Robert's entire body heaved and something sprayed from his mouth all over her.
Blood.
She was frozen in shock until Robert collapsed, coughing and spitting up blood, and she screamed. "Help!" she cried out, begging someone to hear her. She could not run for help.
She flew to Robert, kneeling on the floor and turning his body so the blood could fall from his mouth and allow him to breathe. Cora didn't know how she knew that, but she didn't know anything in that moment.
A door opened somewhere and others were shouting, but Cora couldn't hear them, she held Robert's face in her lap, holding a handkerchief by his mouth. It was now soaked through with blood.
"If this is the end," he choked out as he gasped for air, "know that I have loved you very much."
Tears filled Cora's vision. "I know, darling," she assured him. Her voice cracked. Were the tears falling down her cheeks? She didn't know. Terror gripped her heart, and she had no idea what was happening. "We won't let this be the end." It was a plea more than an assurance.
"William has ridden into town for Dr. Clarkson," Carson said, standing behind her.
Cora didn't answer him. Robert's eyes had fallen closed. His body convulsed with each breath as more blood fell into her lap. She just sat there, hoping he was as comfortable as could be, silently begging for him to be alright.
Someone came with towels to help clean her up and to replace the ruined handkerchief she still held. She didn't know if it was a maid or a footman or whatever else. She didn't know anything. But she knew that Robert was still breathing. He was still alive.
There were more shouts in the distance. The girls were crying, she thought. But the vague sound of Mrs. Hughes's Scottish brogue was there to take care of them. The girls were fine. Robert was not. She couldn't leave him. Not for anything. Not now.
"My Lady, the ambulance is here," Carson told her.
Someone took Cora's arm, helping to pull her aside as men put her husband on a stretcher to carry him away. She stumbled after him, but she was held back.
"Lady Grantham, let us take care of him now," Dr. Clarkson said.
"I'm going with him," she insisted. Her face probably betrayed the fierceness she felt, for the doctor let go of her arm and gave a solemn nod.
Cora had never ridden in the back of an ambulance before. She'd never ridden in the back of any vehicle like this. She hoped she never would again. She sat in her blood-soaked dress, clutching Robert's hand as the doctor and the other men started doing whatever were they doing.
"What's happened to him?" she asked. Her voice hardly had any volume. She was starting to feel numb as the fear and panic overtook her completely, subduing her into nothing.
"If we're lucky, it's an ulcer that's burst. I can repair it in surgery. If it's a tumor in the lungs or throat…"
Cora vaguely knew enough to know that none of those options were good. Surgery was incredibly dangerous, and even if he survived whatever had caused this problem, he might not be able to recover from getting cut open by the doctor. But Cora could not lose hope. She had tried to promise Robert that this was not the end. She could only pray that her words would come true.
At the hospital, a nurse led her to a chair beside an empty bed, shielded by curtained dividers. She could not be with Robert during the surgery, she knew.
But at least she was alone. She did not want anyone to see her like this. Petrified with fear for the man she loved more than anything in the entire world. He was her entire world. Who was she if not Robert's wife? Countess of Grantham was a title she had because of him. Cora Crawley was a name she had because of him. Cora Levinson was a young, naïve girl who she'd left behind long ago. All for Robert. Everything was because of Robert. Because of him and for him.
The very idea that she might lose him, that the last thing they'd done together was fight, it was all too horrific to imagine. But, she realized as the tears filled her eyes again, Robert's last words—God, she hoped they were not his last words—were to remind her of his love. And oh, did she love him! She had loved him since their first meeting, she thought. She had danced with Robert, and he had made her laugh, and she had eyes for no man but him from that moment. And in all their years together, through the difficulties of their first year of marriage before he loved her, the trouble of having their children, the grief of losing his father and the fear of Robert going off to war, all of it they'd weathered because they loved each other. She didn't know what to do without his love.
"Cora?"
She looked up to see Mama come in and sit beside her. "Wh—" Cora couldn't even put a full word together.
"Thomas delivered a note to me from Carson, that Robert's had an accident of some kind? He said you came to the hospital by yourself, and he and Mrs. Hughes thought the girls should remain at home," the Dowager Countess explained.
Cora nodded. She was a mother who had to be strong for her daughters. She couldn't do that now. They couldn't see her like this.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
"Robert and I were arguing about the entail. Shouting, actually. And he stopped and clutched his stomach. He was in terrible pain. And then all of a sudden, he was vomiting blood," Cora told her, still barely able to speak.
"I can see that," Violet responded.
Cora looked down to see her skirt covered in blood. She could hardly imagine what the rest of her looked like.
"Let's get you home to clean up." Mama took Cora's arm to have her stand.
But Cora refused. "I won't leave him. Not until I know what's happened. Not until I…until I know he's alright."
She could feel Mama's gaze on her, scrutinizing her. Probably finding all sorts of flaws, judging her for her choices, as usual. But Cora couldn't possibly care at all about that now.
"It's no secret that I did not want Robert to marry you."
Cora let out a snort. It was no secret at all.
Mama went on, "He married you for your money, as you well know. He would not be dissuaded, even when I tried to find more suitable girls who had money. He was set on marrying you, and it took a long time to see the benefit. We've had our difficulties, you and I, but I did not know that my son could be so happy as he is with you. I did not know, in fact, that such happiness was possible. Not for people like us. We do our duty, we marry to carry on as we must. But you and Robert love each other very much."
"We do," Cora said with a nod. The tears filled her eyes again.
"And you have made each other very happy."
Cora nodded again. She could not speak. It was more than she could take, the possibility that the love and happiness she and Robert had together might be at an end. That her last moments with him were in anger and then in fear.
That thought destroyed her. A horrible sob ripped from the back of her throat, and Cora felt her whole body shake as she wept. Mama put an arm around her. "Shh, my dear." That was all she could say, for there were no other assurances Mama or anyone else could make.
She continued to cry until she could cry no more. Cora was utterly wrung out, exhausted and hollow. Her breathing slowed until she was silent, hardly able to hold herself up in her chair. And it was then that Dr. Clarkson appeared.
"Lord Grantham's surgery was a success. It was indeed a burst stomach ulcer. The bleeding has been stopped and the damage repaired. We shall be doing what we can to keep the wound dry and clean, and he should make a full recovery."
Cora gaped at him. "He's…he's alright?" she croaked.
Dr. Clarkson smiled. "He'll be brought to this bed in just a minute, and he should be awake in a little while."
"Thank you," Cora breathed.
And sure enough, Robert was carried on a stretcher and transferred to the hospital bed. His broad chest was bare and his stomach wrapped in white bandages. His face looked a bit pale, but he was breathing and was otherwise peaceful.
Cora moved to sit closer to him as soon as he was settled in the bed. She reached out and took his hand. She would not let him go ever again.
"My dear, I shall go to the house to give the good news, and I'll bring O'Brien with a change of clothes for you."
"No, that's alright. I'll go home later. After Robert's awake," Cora said.
"But wouldn't you be more comfortable if—"
"No," Cora insisted.
"Very well," Violet allowed.
Cora was left alone with her husband, then. She did not know how much time passed. She just remained where she was. The blood dried on her dress, making it stiff and a bit sticky, but she hardly noticed. All she could do was sit and hold Robert's hand and watch his chest rise and fall with each blessed breath.
But eventually, Robert stirred. His color was starting to come back. A pained groan came from his parted lips.
"Robert?" she murmured gently.
"Cora," he answered.
"Thank god," she breathed, leaning in and kissing his hand.
His eyes fluttered open, and when he saw her, he smiled.
"I'm here, darling," Cora assured him. "I'm here, and I love you, and everything will be alright."
"Cora, I'm sorry about—"
"No," she interrupted, "none of that now. All that matters right now is that you're here with me."
"I do love you so," he told her.
Cora just smiled and sighed in relief.
