9 February 1900
Dearest Robert,
You'll be as sad as I to hear that Mrs Wilson has handed in her notice. Her mother is gravely ill and her father too infirm to handle the nursing by himself. She has kindly agreed to stay on a bit to help find a replacement but I imagine she will not be able to give me much more than a few weeks.
How does one hire and train a housekeeper for a household such as Downton in so short a time? I am loathe to ask your mother for help, but I confess that hiring a housekeeper is daunting. I wish you were here to guide me in your caring way. I wish you were here for so many reasons. Perhaps I will ask Carson his advice. He would not hold it against me.
Do not fear, darling, the house will still be standing, eagerly awaiting your return, as am I, and we will get through this latest setback. I love you and please stay safe. The girls send their love.
Yours always,
Cora
Fanning out the stack of applications in front of her, Cora chewed her cuticle in concentration until she found the one she was looking for. Grabbing hold of the paper and pulling it closer, she read the name. Elsie Hughes. The woman had been to Downton twice now, once to meet with herself and again to meet with Carson. She smiled, thinking of the flushed cheeks of her butler after his meeting with Miss Hughes. Cora had never seen the dignified man so animated. She wondered if his enthusiasm had more to do with the woman's pleasant face than with her experience, but Cora had to admit that she liked her most out of all the candidates. Miss Hughes had a straightforward and kind manner and her references had been stellar. Taking out her stationary and feeling rather proud of herself, Cora began to draft Miss Hughes' offer of employment
The woman sitting next to her was decidedly different than the one who had come on just five short weeks prior. Cora had found Mrs Hughes eager in her learning and sharp in what she already had mastered. What she lacked in experience had been overshadowed by the confidence she carried, convincing Cora that she would be equal to any task given to her. However, since Mrs Wilson's departure, Mrs Hughes seemed a little deflated. The woman before her frowned deeply, no doubt meditating on the fiasco of the previous evening's dinner party.
"Milady, I have no explanation for last night." Mrs Hughes apologized.
Taking her time to consider the housekeeper, Cora waited a few moments before speaking. "Mrs Hughes, I thought I had been explicit with my instructions when we met earlier this week. I had trusted that everything would be in order under your direction."
"You were as clear as crystal, milady." Mrs Hughes rushed to point out in her lilting brogue.
"Then why was everything such a disaster? The sleeping arrangements I laid out were completely disregarded, the menu was atrocious. I told you about the Marchioness of Flintshire's shellfish allergy and what was the first course? A shellfish stew!" Cora struggled to keep her tone level, but remembering the previous night reignited the humiliation she had felt. Susan's dislike for her was a flimsily kept secret. Since being served a hot bowl of certain death at Cora's dinner table, she was sure Robert's abominable cousin would become more vocal in her opinions. Half of London was probably already privy to the episode. She just hoped the woman had enough sense to not write Robert, but Susan's self-centeredness made it an almost guarantee that she would.
"I do not know what to say," Mrs Hughes hung her head.
Exasperated, Cora stood up, wanting to throw up her hands at the housekeeper's lack of explanation. "It is imperative that this house run flawlessly while his Lordship is away. I thought you an intelligent woman, Mrs Hughes, so I doubt I have to explain to why. You can either help me with that or you cannot. If you find it beyond the scope of your abilities I must find someone else."
"I understand milady." Mrs Hughes said, head once again high, rising slowly. "If that is all, I will see to the staff."
"Yes, it is." Cora responded, her voice tight.
Cora was alone only moments before Carson silently stood in the doorway of her sitting room. Clasping her hands in front of her, Cora raised her eyebrows in acknowledgment, tiredly wondering what else had gone wrong.
"Milady, I wonder if I may have a word," Carson inquired.
"Of course, Carson. Come in." Cora answered.
Carson came further into the room, his stature stiff and serious, obviously discomforted by whatever it was he wanted to talk about. "I wonder if I may speak to you about a matter downstairs."
"Oh dear," Cora responded, sighing.
Carson cleared his throat. "It has come to my attention that certain staff members are unwilling to work with Mrs Hughes."
"Oh?" Cora asked, confused. "Why?"
"I'm afraid they do not think kindly on taking orders from someone of Mrs Hughes….origin." Carson explained.
"What? But that's absurd, aren't you all British?" Cora pointed out.
"If I may, that is like saying are not all Americans 'American' when that is historically not the case," Carson responded carefully.
"I see," Cora sighed. "It's best you enlighten me to what's happened."
"Well, the head housemaid directed the younger girls to disregard Mrs Hughes's bed chamber layout and made one up of her own. And Mrs Jones swears she cooked the menu that Mrs Hughes delivered to her, but her scullery maid is saying it isn't true. Some of the footmen have been cheeky but that only lasted but a moment before they came under my reprimand." Carson stood silent and solemn after his report to Cora.
"Why didn't you warn me this would happen, Carson?" Cora wondered.
"I swear, milady," Carson began in earnest, "I had no idea some of the staff would react this way to Mrs Hughes when I endorsed her. I wouldn't purposely steer you wrong."
Cora shook her head, "No, Carson, I don't believe you would. I'm sorry if that sounded like an accusation."
Cora paced the floor, mulling over what the best course would be. She stopped and nodded her head decisively before turning to Carson. "I'm sorry, but I see no other way around it, Bridget and Mrs Jones will just have to be let go, effective immediately and without reference."
Carson's bushy eyebrows arched into his hairline, "Milady, are you quite sure? What will the house do without a cook?"
"We have nothing important in the calendar so the assistants will do fine until another is hired. I want it clear that Mrs Hughes is in charge. She takes her instruction from me, so going against her is ultimately a defiance of me. And I won't stand for that or any underhandedness."
Carson's brows lowered and a small smile spread over his lips, "Brava milady! His Lordship would be impressed."
Cora's single huff of laughter was a little dejected. "Yes, well, I think I'll hear an earful from the Dowager over this one. Probably something along the lines of amateur mistakes and such."
Carson allowed only the hint of a grin before exiting the room. Once she was alone, Cora sank into her seat, propping an elbow on her desk and resting her forehead in her open hand. She had sounded much surer of her plan than she felt. There was no telling how long it would take to find a replacement for Mrs Jones and what the dismissal of two staff members would do to the morale downstairs. Yet, she couldn't help but feel that putting her faith behind Mrs Hughes would prove to be the right decision. The housekeeper had won her respect. She could have easily blamed the other women but she had taken Cora's scolding graciously and had given her word to do better.
It struck Cora that for the first time in her almost thirty-two years, she was the one in charge. There was no father or husband to lean back on or defer to, she was it. She thought she should feel some sort of liberating excitement at the power but really, it was only loneliness and uncertainty that enveloped her. She had never experienced longing as she did now, but there was no time to dwell on what she wished, two more servants needed to be hired. Wearily, Cora sat back in her chair, took her pen and paper, and began to write an advertisement.
"Will that be all milady?" Jenkins inquired
"Yes," Cora breathed, her aching body's response to the hot bath water already making her feel looser in muscle and mind. She had toured some of the farms with the estate manager and spending the day on horseback was something she was not accustomed to. Cringing, she knew walking would be a difficult task in the morning.
"Would you like me to bring your dinner tray when I return to dress you?" Jenkins asked as she gathered Cora's soiled riding clothes. Dining alone had become too depressing in Downton's giant dining room, Robert's empty chair a constant reminder of his absence. Most evenings Cora opted to take a tray in her room or joined the girls in the nursery if she was done with her day's tasks early enough. The dining room lay quiet and dark, except for the times Violet joined her or the occasional dinner party.
"Just some dry toast, Jenkins." Cora responded drowsily.
"Are you sure milady?" The maid's voice was edged with passive concern.
Cora nodded, "I'm too sore to chew I think."
After a moments pause, the woman left Cora to her bath. Closing her eyes, Cora reclined her head, resting it on the cool marble of the tub and placing a steaming wash cloth over her eyes. As usual, Robert's face was what she saw whenever her lids shuttered down and she was left to the darkness. She thought of him during morning's first awareness when the sun filtered through her sleep, breaking up the night's dreams. She thought of him throughout the day, in odd circumstances, the idea of him popping into her consciousness like a balloon broken free from a child's hand. He came to her as she quieted down, waiting for sleep to claim her. Sometimes these conjurings of her husband brought the familiar sting of tears, other times the pain of missing him was beyond saltwater emotions, unwilling to let her go, burrowing down in her gut and festering.
It hardly seemed possible that it had been two months since his leave. For four wonderful, heartbreakingly short days they had been inseparable. Robert followed her on her routines, witnessing her at the business of running Downton, whispering encouragements when she looked to him for approval. At night they made love for each other, and something else, more desperate. Robert's need to leave her with a piece of himself, a legacy for Downton should he not make it back.
Her thoughts naturally turned to Mary. No one had spoken of Violet's suggestion after it was made but it hung there in the air, a tilt of the head, a knowing squint of the eye, every time Violet came to the house. It was the unwritten question in each of Robert's letters when he inquired if his cousins had been to Downton. The idea made Cora sick to her stomach, promising her beautiful girl away while she was still a child, before Mary could even dream up prince charmings of her own.
Cora had known the girls matches would be as much about practicalities and ambition as they would be about deeper feelings. That was the way for families like the Crawleys. Even for her own. But she had hoped to put off the strategizing for a handful of years yet. And secretly, she wished for love to sweep her children in the right direction. To promise Mary to Patrick now seemed like a waving of the white flag, accepting defeat in fulfilling her duty as Robert's wife in producing an heir, accepting defeat as Mary's mother of protecting her heart as much as her future.
Exhaustion and worry clung heavy to Cora as she stood, grasped the metal chain of the stopper with her toes and released the tepid water from the tub. Wrapping a plush towel around herself, Cora padded into her bedroom. Looking at the bell pull, she decided against ringing for Jenkins, the call of her bed too tempting to wait for the maid. Instead, Cora hastily wiggled into her nightdress, plaited her hair and sank into the warm comfort of her covers, asleep moments after resting her head upon the pillow.