AN:This fic continues to take me forever to write…I'm motivated but have ongoing writers block. That being said…this chapter was never intended to be a part of this story, but as I binge watch the show in anticipation of the movie, I couldn't resist. I've wanted to write about it for a while. It does fit, for the most part.
This story focuses on Cora and Roberts relationship as it pertains to season 2, episode 8. I've attempted to fill is the blank within that episode (Cora out with the Spanish flu and Robert…well….anyways), using dreams and memories, and I've also 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.
Many thanks to those who have given feedback, I'm touched. Thank you!
Rated T (some medical-ish jargon). Enjoy.
O'Brien insisted on being the one to stay with Lady Grantham through the night, an act of contrition to make up for a sin that she knew would never truly be absolved. The windows were open and the dewy breeze felt cool, which was the overall intention, to help keep Her Ladyship comfortable by combating her intense fever through external measures. O'Brien shivered against the chill in the room as she sat at attention next to Her Ladyships bed, responding to every sound and every movement that Cora made. Close to dawn, after hours of fitful restlessness, Lady Grantham settled and sleep overpowered her. O'Brien, steadfast in her guilt, found her eyelids getting heavier with each blink, burning with relief each time they closed. She pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders, tucking in the warmth from her body. She sighed as she stretched her neck forward, releasing tension from her protesting muscles. As she lifted her chin she looked over at Her Ladyship breathing evenly, and still. O'Brien yawned as her eyes willfully closed.
She could never remember which came first, the scream or the bang, but what she could recall was that moments before Cora fell she had a realization that she had gone too far. By the time she reached the door Her Ladyship was on the floor, lying on her side trying to catch her breath. Transfixed, O'Brien's eyes widened as they were instantly drawn to the bruise forming across Cora's abdomen. The angry red contusion delineated perfectly where Her Ladyship's body crashed down onto the side of the bathtub. Pigment was fading from her already pale skin only to be absorbed with raging intensity by the injury that spanned from Cora's ribs to her navel.
They gasped in unison.
"Your Ladyship!" O'Brien stepped in to the room and hurried to her mistresses side, gently slipping on the sudsy floor before she crouched down next to Cora. "M'Lady," she hesitated before reaching forward, placing her hand on Cora's back. "It'll be alright." She lowered herself to get a better look. "Did you hit you're head?"
Cora was choking on air that was trapped in her lungs, as she squeezed her eyes shut she subtly shook her head. The impact had sent Cora's diaphragm in to spasm, rendering her breathless. O'Brien frantically scanned the room and lunged across Lady Grantham. She retrieved a towel and haphazardly draped it over Cora's body. "I'll fetch some help M'Lady," she collected her skirt in her hands and stood. "Don't you worry." She swallowed, "I'll be right back." O'Brien's heart was racing as she backed out of the room, her own breathing becoming hysterical. She turned and ran for the bedroom door. "Help!" she had hollered as she moved. "Help! We need help!" She reached the bedroom door and pulled it open. "HELP!"
"O'Brien!" Cora called out weakly. "O'Brien help me, please!"
O'Brien hesitated at the bedroom door. Torn between returning to Her Ladyship, and leaving to find suitable help.
"Please!" The fear and panic rising in Cora's voice pulled O'Brien back.
O'Brien yelled for help one last time and then spun around, dashing back to Her Ladyship. Entering the bathroom the second time she was aghast by the scene before her. She blinked, unsure how she missed it the first time; blood. It had begun pooling beneath Cora, seeping on to the floor and soaking in to the towel she had fanned out only moments before.
Cora's breathing was short and shallow. "Something's." She panted. "Wrong."
"My God in Heaven," O'Brien whispered under her breath. "I need to get some help M'Lady. I'll just be…" She trailed off as she ran to the bell and pulled the rope. She pulled once. Twice. A third time. Then ran back to her Ladyship. O'Brien moved quickly and dropped herself on the floor next to Lady Grantham, who appeared to be going in to shock. Her skin looked ashen, her lips were turning purple, and her breath hiccupped in to her lungs. "M'Lady!" O'Brien raised her voice, attempting to reach into Cora's consciousness. "Stay with me, M'Lady! Please." O'Brien's voice quavered, "I'm sorry."
"Ms. O'Brien?" Anna's voice could be heard in the bedroom, moving towards them and then a loud gasp. "Oh my God!" Anna entered the room and began scanning for ways to help. She pulled a towel off a chair as she moved, and then dropped down next to Her Ladyship. "We need to keep her warm, Ms. O'Brien."
There was another gasp, and then another as Gwen and Mrs. Hughes entered the room.
"My God! What happened?" Mrs. Hughes appeared stunned as she took in the chaos before her. O'Brien opened her mouth to speak but her words failed. "Right, never mind that now." Mrs. Hughes stepped in to the room and began speaking with the authority needed to calm the frenzy. "Gwen, go and fetch more linens. Towels. Blankets; whatever you can find. And some warm water." Gwen hurried out the door. "We need the Doctor," Mrs. Hughes mused more to herself than the women in the room. "I'll fetch Mr. Carson and have him see to the doctor." She took a hurried step towards the door and stopped, "Should we" she paused, "Can we move her?"
"I'm not sure Mrs. Hughes, but we need help quickly." Anna looked down at the floor, "there's a lot of blood." She looked over to Ms. O'Brien who now sat shivering on the cold floor, holding Cora's icy, blood soaked hand.
Cora's breathing eased, yet remained shallow as the initial shock subsided. O'Brien did her best to stay present and support Her Ladyship, swallowing all her guilt, and encouraging Cora to stay conscious and calm. After what seemed like an eternity Lord Grantham appeared at the door, "Good God!" He rushed in. "Cora! My darling!" Tormented, he looked over to O'Brien, "what happened?"
"I was out there." She stammered. "Getting her clothes ready." O'Brien stared out the door, to the fireplace.
"Oh, my darling," Robert dropped to his knees beside her. "Hold on, Dr. Clarkson is on his way."
It was determined that Lady Grantham was having a miscarriage. The trauma to her abdomen had caused her placenta to rupture, instantly extinguishing any chance for the baby. Hope was almost lost for Her Ladyship, as she too nearly died from the significant amount of blood loss. Dr. Clarkson's assessment also revealed that she most likely had broken, or at least definitely bruised the lower ribs on her right side. By virtue of merciful necessity, Cora was heavily sedated to help ease her suffering, both physical and emotional. And in the days following she relied heavily on her Maid, who was consumed by self-loathing, to see her through the worst.
An act of karmic retribution, O'Brien knew the sound of Her Ladyship's guttural scream as Lord Grantham lifted her off the floor would haunt her until the day she died.
Her eyes snapped open.
Lady Grantham had become restless, her cheeks glowing and pink, and at some point while O'Brien dozed Cora's breathing had worsened and she had begun to wheeze. O'Brien stood and moved to the head of the bed. The last time she rang for help Her Ladyship was also in distress, the difference being that this time Lady Grantham's suffering was caused by an act of nature; the time before by an act of nurtured, gross malfeasance.