AN: This fiction has been on the docket for a while. I keep tinkering with it and continue to get nowhere (and by that I mean 18 pages of unrefined drabble). I'm hopeful that posting this first piece will keep me focused, rather than starting a story, within a story, within another story.
This one is focused on Cora and Roberts relationship as it pertains to season 2, episode 8. I've attempted to fill is the blanks within that episode (Cora out with the Spanish flu and Robert…..well, anyways), and created some of my own pre-cannon fair. I'm Just taking these characters out to play, everything and everyone belongs to the keepers and creators of the show. Rated T. Thanks for reading!
The heat from her body was trapped under a mountain of blankets. Her discomfort was increasing by the second. Beads of sweat welled on her forehead and she could feel the dampness of her pillow on the back of her neck. She began to fidget. Using her legs she petulantly kicked at her covers and eventually they shifted off her body, allowing the intense heat to escape like a billow of steam, rising and dissipating into the room. Cora gently rolled on to her side, her bedclothes stuck to her skin. She wanted to cry out, but her throat was dry.
Through the darkness she could hear the muted whisper of hushed voices. Her eyes snapped open. She paused, allowing time for her eyes to adjust, and slowly the darkness softened into shadows. Her attention was pulled to the murmured conversation that was coming from across the room. Two voices. One shadow.
The candlelight flickered, casting a dim glow about the room. Cora watched as their silhouette danced on the wall. Her breathing had slowed and air moved into her lungs at an agonizing pace. She swallowed as silently as she could, knowing that she was not meant to bare witness to the exchange happening at her door. A soft, flirtatious giggle filled her with unease, and she watched as the hazed reflection on the wall separated to become 2 distinct figures. Cora recognized them both.
A rustle of fabric indicated someone was moving towards her. Cora quickly closed her eyes, feigning sleep to the best of her ability. She felt small hands pick up the blankets and shake them out over her body, the cool air helped to calm her buzzing skin.
"Oh, my Dear," a sweet American voice soothed over her ear as cool, gentle fingers traced across her forehead. "Her fever is getting worse."
Cora felt a damp-cloth touch down on her face, and cool relief pushed away all thoughts and understanding of impropriety.
His voice from the door held a tone of concern, "I'll fetch the doctor," a pause "….and her mother."
Cora was six.
"M'Lady?"
Cora left the dinning room as gracefully as she could, with minimal fuss. She took her time on the stairs, gripping the railing for support and pausing often to catch her breath. All of her strength had begun to seep away, and by the time she reached her bedroom she was drenched in sweat and her thoughts were becoming foggy. She made her way to the bed, and collapsed.
"M'Lady!"
O'Brien was standing at her bedside, practically shouting. "Lady Grantham!"
Cora stirred as O'Brien reached into her subconscious and pulled her from her dream. Grimacing she turned her head away from the volume of her maid's unease.
"Whatever's the matter, M'Lady?" O'Brien asked, genuine concern filled her voice.
Cora had been feeling unwell for much of the day. She attributed her headache and malaise to Sybil's recent declaration for the Chauffeur. She slept terribly the night before, a combination of her own unrelenting thoughts and Robert's fitful agitation beside her. She noticed the fever sometime before the gong.
She groaned as she sat up, reaching out to O'Brien for support. "I'm wretched, O'Brien."
"Should we," O'Brien started, however was cut off by her mistress.
"Dr. Clarkson is coming." Cora attempted to inhale deeply but air caught in her throat. A gasping pain filled her chest with the movement of her lungs. She winced. "I need to change, O'Brien. I'm terribly uncomfortable."
"Yes M'Lady," O'Brien moved around Cora, who had shifted to the edge of the bed. As she leaned in to her Ladyship, O'Brien's hands recoiled from the heat coming off Cora's body. She reached for the top button of Cora's dress, which was soaked through with perspiration.
As the cool air touched Cora's fevered skin goose bumps raced over her body. She shivered. O'Brien helped her Ladyship into a clean, dry nightgown, and then quickly back in to bed. Cora continued to shiver as her body fought to regulate itself. She closed her eyes with a heavy sigh.