AN: Sorry for the delay. Just when you think you'll get on a breakaway with writing….life!
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. Enjoy.
The winter had dragged on well in to the spring, leaving a chilled dampness throughout the house. Cora sat in a chair that she had pulled next to the fire, waiting. Listening. Her book was open in her lap giving off an impression that she was reading. In the hallway, outside her room her father was engaged in a flirtatious discourse that, she felt fairly certain, was tested and true. Cora's cheeks burned with embarrassment.
She had just celebrated her 14th birthday and with that milestone came liberation. No longer under the care of the Governess she once shared with her brother; her parents had hired a Maid, a woman who performed the duties of both Lady's Maid and to a lesser degree Governess. Despite being told that her new maid was hired to support her as she transitioned to the next phase of her life, Cora suspected this shift was due in part to her mother's need to stay current and fashionable, and also her father's boredom with the current household staff.
The fire cracked loudly, pulling her attention to the flames. The heat being emitted was making her uncomfortable, and she was considering moving away from the hearth when she heard his voice at the door. "Well, I'm glad to see you're settling in." Cora glanced over at her maid, Mrs. Hudson, and then shifted her focus to him. She could see how women were drawn to her father. He was tall and lean, with a strong build. He had kind, handsome features, a gentle approach and a way with words that even she found captivating. He was charming.
Mrs. Hudson entered the room and proffered a casual, disinterested smile to her employer before turning to make her way across the room towards Cora. He watched her. Cora watched him.
Cora knew about sex on a superficial level, enough to recognize it was her father's motive, however limitations in her understanding of intimacy often left her feeling terribly uncomfortable and filled with a sense of shame that she could not explain. In the end, after he had seduced them, they always left. Cora quickly dropped her head. She felt tears pricking at her eyes as her frustration reached the tips of her ears. Sweat pricked at her collar. Mrs. Hudson was a lovely woman, both inside and out, and Cora had taken to her instantly. She desperately wanted this one to stay. Across the room the door softly clicked shut.
"What do you think of it so far?" Her maid asked as she approached, pointing at the book.
Cora cleared her throat and shifted slightly.
"Are you alright?" Mrs. Hudson asked with an edge of concern, responding to the change in Cora's complexion. "Do you feel unwell?"
"I'm just hot." Cora answered flatly, looking up slightly to see her maid wrapping her shall tighter around her shoulders.
"Cora! It's freezing in here!" She crouched down in front of her, "what's wrong?"
Cora shrugged. At 14 she knew how to articulate herself better than she was.
Mrs. Hudson sighed heavily. "You saw that?" She gestured her head over her shoulder, towards the door. "Didn't you?"
Cora didn't answer. Heat pricked at her skin making her vibrate with discomfort. She fidgeted in her chair.
"Listen," her maid ducked her head, trying to catch Cora's eyes. "I have no intention of interfering in your parents marriage." Cora shifted and quickly glanced up, redness burned in her cheeks.
Mrs. Hudson continued. "Let's not pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about." There was a pause and Cora felt a gentle squeeze on her wrist. "His behaviour is his burden to carry. Not mine," her expression changed matter-of-factly, "And certainly not yours, My Lady."
Cora looked up at her maid quizzically. She had never been called "My Lady" before.
"My Lady." Dr. Clarkson's cold hand was wrapped around her wrist as he checked her pulse. "Lady Grantham." He spoke low, as not to startle her.
Cora groaned weakly before opening her eyes. "Dr. Clarkson." She attempted to smile.
"Good evening, Lady Grantham." He gently smiled back, and gestured that she stay flat on the bed. "You're quite fevered," he paused. "You need to rest."
Cora collapsed back on her pillow, closing her eyes heavily. "I feel so weak," she murmured.
"Anything else?" Dr. Clarkson asked, his eyes scanned Cora's body, performing a basic physical assessment.
She attempted a deep breath and squinted her eyes open. "My chest feels tight. My head is pounding." She placed her hand over her stomach. "It's all come on so suddenly. I feel as though I've been hit by a train." She punctuated her symptoms with a grimace.
Dr. Clarkson chuckled. "Well it isn't quite that bad My Lady, I suspect you have the flu." He paused, "most likely Spanish Flu." He continued to speak as Cora closed her eyes. "It will take some time for your symptoms to play out, before I can confirm a diagnosis." He paused, wondering if she was still listening. "It could get worse, before you feel better."
Without opening her eyes, Cora lifted her cheek into a half smile and stated flatly, "Wonderful."
Clarkson chuckled again, "you've got a solid team of nurses here to see you through it." And with that he turned to O'Brien who was awaiting an order. "Will you have Mrs. Patmore prepare some cinnamon in milk for her Ladyship."
"Yes, Doctor." O'Brien nodded obediently.
"And do what you can to keep her cool and comfortable. Cold cloths. Dry linens." He paused to consider, "and offer her some Beecham's powders if she tolerates the milk."
"Yes, Doctor." O'Brien nodded again, grateful for the tasks.
He looked from Lady Grantham to Mrs. Hughes and gave a quick, perfunctory nod.