11 April 1900
Dearest Papa,
The flowers are blooming here. Mama has let me take Jupiter out for rides in the afternoon now that it is warmer. She will not let me practice jumps. Could you please write and tell her how very good I am at it? We went to Ripon last Saturday for a new habit as I am too big for my old one. Mama says I look very smart. Edith was given my other one. She already splashed it with mud.
I have been working very hard on my arithmetic and social studies. I am halfway through my primer and governess says I am much improved in Latin. Edith is doing very poor in her spelling, Papa. She doodles during lessons.
I almost forgot! Happy birthday, Papa! I am going to draw a special picture at the end just for you. Mama took us to buy you a present, but she says we cannot send it. We had a cake for you tonight and sang and Sybil, Edith and I blew out the candles. I made a wish for you. Mama says even though you are far, far away you would be able to hear our singing in your heart. I think she is wrong, hearts are not for hearing, ears are. I did not tell her this though, because she already looked sad. Because Edith is not a lady, she had your piece for you. I think she ended up with a belly ache, which is what Mama told her would happen. Nanny says I must finish and get ready for bed.
Goodnight Papa!
Love,
Mary
Robert shook his head and chuckled. His thoughts traveled to home, as they often did at this hour when the day's fighting was done and his body was weary. Mary's words gave him a focal point as he imagined her trotting proudly on Jupiter, looking smart and grown up in her new clothes. He could hear the strain in Cora's voice as she called out to their daughter, asking her to take care on her pony. A heavy breath pushed through his lips, the mournful sound of it causing the other man in the room to stop his work and speak.
"Is anything wrong, milord?" John Bates asked, still holding the parts of Robert's rifle that he had disassembled.
"No, nothing at all Bates. A letter from my daughter. She's eight. Soon to be nine." Robert explained.
Bates nodded, "That's very good, milord," he said before going back to his cleaning.
Robert studied the man he had just met days before. His new batman. Bates seemed fine enough; rather quiet and serious, not much for small talk. Robert knew barely anything about him.
"Do you have a family waiting for you back in England Bates?" Robert asked congenially.
A moment's pause, a slight downturn of expression before the man's face became neutral once more. "No milord, just my mother."
"Ahh well, I know a thing or two about mothers as well." Robert joked.
Bates smiled briefly before returning to his task of cleaning the rifle. Robert kept watch a beat longer before focusing on his desk once again. He took Mary's letter and added it to the intricately wooden box he had been given by one of their guides. It housed every note he had been sent since arriving in Africa. He would paw through the saved letters during times of extreme loneliness and feel some of the longing dissolve at the familiar script of his loved ones. Cora's letters especially had the power to soothe his homesickness, and he was surprised how easily he could picture her speaking the words she had written.
It was funny the things he missed about her. He had expected to yearn for the touch of her skin or the feel of her kiss or the warmth of her embrace. He hadn't anticipated, however, to wish he could hear her voice, it's angular tones so distinct, so Cora. He hadn't thought he'd pine for the way she raised her eyebrows in amusement or the way she would run her tongue over her upper lip when in concentration. Robert, immersed in his revelries, failed to hear Bates' question. Only when the man cleared his throat twice in quick succession did Robert shake himself out if his daydream.
"I'm sorry Bates, what did you say?" Robert asked, coughing to cover up his embarrassment.
"I only asked if you had any more children, milord." Bates repeated.
"Oh! Yes, I do. Two more girls. Seven and three." Robert couldn't help but smile widely. He turned suddenly in his chair, took hold of the gilded frame on his desk and looked down at it before stretching toward Bates, handing him the picture. It had been taken the previous year, all five of their faces looking straight into the lens.
"A very handsome family, milord," Bates stated after looking at the photograph.
"Thank you," Robert replied, a touch wistful. "What you hold in your hand there Bates are my four reasons for wanting this war to end as soon as possible."
The creaking of the back staircase was as loud as lightning in the stillness of the house and Cora winced with each groan of wood that her steps elicited. Her candle's light flickered teasingly against the walls of the narrow passage and with her free hand she gripped the railing tightly, her feet unaccustomed to the steep steps. Creeping through the door and into the servants domain, she suddenly felt a thief in the night instead of a woman wandering her own house and she almost turned back.
"Mi'lady?" The word, said softly and slowly still jolted the tomb-like silence and Cora jumped, sucking in a gasp and clutching her chest as she turned.
"I'm so sorry, milady, I tried not to startle you," Mrs Hughes apologized, taking the shaking candle out of Cora's hand.
Catching her breath, Cora pulled her robe tighter and composed herself. "It's quite alright. I was just…"
Cora's words drifted away as she struggled for an explanation for her midnight appearance near the kitchen. She couldn't explain to the woman that she had already ghosted the nursery, standing in the doorway, listening to the sleepy snores of her children and risking their waking just to lessen the solitary feeling that clung to her. She couldn't explain that down in the bowels of the house, where hard work was done day in and out, that those rooms felt more alive than the ornate, cavernous rooms upstairs and thus less likely to cause her to reflect on what was missing. Cora didn't think she could admit to the woman that she craved something she didn't think she'd find anywhere but it didn't prevent her from trying. As Mrs Hughes contemplated her silence and then tilted her head just slightly, a blush of sympathy relaxing her features, Cora thought perhaps she understood without having to say a word.
"Would you like a cup of tea, milady?" Mrs Hughes asked gently.
"I would love one, Mrs Hughes." Cora replied, her gratitude making the words waver in the air between them.
Cora followed the housekeeper into the kitchen and sat at the small table set to the side as Mrs Hughes put a kettle to boil. The two women remained silent, the awkwardness giving way, as the minutes moved on, to a more enjoyable interlude while Mrs Hughes went about the task of preparing their tea. Finally Cora's thoughts, which had been turbulent and filled with Robert, quieted due to the lateness of the hour and the calming effect of a companion, and she attempted to stifle a long yawn behind her raised hand. Mrs Hughes handed Cora a steaming.
"Thank you," Cora sighed, warming her hands on the china. "If you don't mind my asking Mrs Hughes, what were you doing up at this hour? You couldn't have heard me down here from the servants quarters."
"I was in my sitting room, milady." Mrs Hughes answered. "Doing a bit of sewing. The time had gotten away from me, I'm afraid and I didn't realize how late it had become until I heard you walking about."
"Gracious, what project has you burning the oil?" Cora wondered.
"A friend of mine is the lady's maid to a Mrs Coolidge. They've just bought Rothby House. Her son is fighting in Africa and she's collecting sewn handkerchiefs for his regimine. It seems to keep their spirits high, getting the colorful little swatches and keeps the sweat off their brows!"
"What a marvelous thing!" Cora exclaimed.
Mrs Hughes nodded, "There are a few of us making them. We've been scouring dress shops whenever we have the chance and taking their scraps."
Cora clapped her hands together, eyes widening in excitement. "I've just had a wonderful idea, Mrs Hughes! What if I held a sort of tea for some of the ladies in the county and had them bring all of their old frocks? We could donate them to you and your friends and you can cut them up and use what you need."
"Milady, that's very kind," Mrs Hughes smiled sincerely. "But you've enough to do without adding my cause to the lot."
"Nonsense! It's only a tea. Your cause is a worthy one," Cora replied. Looking down at her hand, she fingered the glimmering diamond. "And it happens to be dear to my heart. We can't do much for our men so I cannot pass up the chance to do something when it's presented."
Mrs Hughes suppressed the urge to cover the Countess's hand with her own. "If your ladyship is sure, then it would be greatly appreciated."
Cora glanced up, her eyes suddenly swimming. She nodded, her lips upturning slightly. "Yes," she whispered. Placing her cup down, Cora rose from her seat. "Goodnight, Mrs Hughes."
"Goodnight, milady, sleep well" Mrs Hughes called, "and milady?"
Cora stopped and turned, waiting for Mrs Hughes to continue. "I wouldn't call running a house like Downton 'doing nothing' for his lordship. It must be a great comfort to him to know it's in your capable hands."