Cora's mind swims with images of Viscount Downton as she steps into the ballroom at Lady Margaret's house. He'd been so charming three days earlier at Lady Amelia's ball, despite his original lack of honesty over his family's financial situation. All other men that had lied to her had immediately been tossed into the reject pile, she didn't want a lying husband, but not Mr Crawley. Was it his smouldering blue eyes? His obvious nervousness about flirting with her? She doesn't know. What she does know, as she is swung from one side to the other, in the arms of the rather old Mr Bowley, whom her mother had taken the pain to remind her was the future Duke of Devonshire, is that he's not here. She thought he would most definitely be here as a supposed friend of Lady Margaret's.
She thanks Mr Bowley graciously for the dance, but as his blue eyes meet hers her heart doesn't race as it did with Mr Crawley, she doesn't feel self-conscious, nor when he's left her does she worry about what he think of her. She glances towards the door again, as has been her habit for the past hour or so, surely he's coming? She feels a tug at her arm at the same moment his intoxicating blue eyes meet hers, he's come, at last. Another sharp tug causes her to drag her eyes away in favour of Lady Margaret's watery blue ones.
"Aren't my parents so wonderful to organise a ball for me. And look who's just arrived. Mr Robert Crawley. Oh, isn't he handsome? And his house! I'd be Margaret, Countess of Grantham." Cora inwardly rolls her eyes, all Margaret ever talks about is being the Countess of Grantham and how wonderful Downton Abbey is, anyone would think Mr Crawley had proposed to her! The sensation of being watched washes over Cora and she turns to see Mr Crawley approaching.
"Lady Margaret." Cora almost laughs as Margaret jumps at the sound of Mr Crawley's voice and a blush brightens her cheeks, she's so obvious.
"Lord Downton."
"I only came over to say-"
"Yes, of course I'll dance with you." Cora watches as Mr Crawley's eyebrows knit together, and a frown, mixed with a very endearing blush covers his features. His eyes suddenly appear so much brighter in contrast to his pinker face.
"You're quite mistaken, I was only going to say that it's a wonderful ball and I am very honoured to have been invited." Margaret's face falls and Cora looks away. Why has a feeling of total relieve just washed over her?
"Let me present my friend, Miss Cora Levinson."
"Miss Levinson and I met earlier this week." An awkward silence remains and Cora looks at her shoes. The silence ends with Margaret's accepting the offer of a dance from a dashing young Mr Northam, the future Duke of Gloucester. Cora gazes after the dancing couple for a few minutes, unsure how to begin a conversation with a man she can't get out of her head. With any other man she would talk about the weather of the ballroom, but she wants to know more about Mr Crawley, who is he really? What does he enjoy? But these are questions that her heart and society forbid her from asking. Deep down, she also knows that whatever the answers are, the fluttering in her heart won't ever seize. Why it's there though, she's not sure. "So you've found a friend in Lady Margaret?" His voice breaks her from he reverie.
"Not really, she found me soon after I left you at Lady Amelia's ball the other evening. She started pushing me at her brother but I don't think he likes me much and I've heard the family has plenty of money so it can't be my dowry they want."
"Maybe the gentleman likes you."
"I don't think so. I think Lady Margaret befriended me more because she saw me with you than because she thought her brother might be interested. "
"Why would she do that?" She smiles at his sarcasm but manages with difficulty not to laugh.
"You know full well why she'd do that. And she thinks she has a chance; she has a large dowry after all."
"Not large enough I'm afraid. I need to marry an heiress."
"You don't need to, you've been told to."
"No, I need to."
"Why, to save your home? I thought all you Brits cared about was titles and you'd still have that." Cora scolds herself, money and now insulting him, really Cora get a grip.
"We are a vain lot." She looks up at him, eyes wide, did he just call Brits vain? Is that a laughing smile spreading over his face, did he actually agree with what she was saying, her insult? "We really are. It must all looks so ridiculous to an outsider."
"Some of the things that go on in America are ridiculous, and not even to an outsider." He laughs and the sound makes her smile, it makes her feel happier than she has the whole time she's been in England. She throws dignity and reputation to the wind and laughs with him. She pretends not to notice Margaret looking daggers from the arms of Mr Northam, or the anger plastered on The Countess of Grantham's face. When they've contained themselves, he speaks again.
"When is your coming out ball?"
"Are you asking for an invitation Mr Crawley?"
"Well I-" she smiles at his flustered expression. For a man who has half the ton in love with him he's not used to flirting, or women flirting with him, how strange. But then he does strike Cora as the kind of man who wants a proper marriage, not one based on false reasoning. She thinks perhaps he would rather marry to be happy than to save his estate, even if he doesn't realise it because his father had bullied him into accepting his fate without fuss.
"I was joking Mr Crawley, you must know I enjoy teasing people. As to my coming out ball, you would most definitely be invited if I was having one. The house we are living in is a little too small and my mother's unsure about how to host an English ball so she is attending as many as possible before she definitely says yes to me having one. If I'm honest though, I don't like all these balls, I'd rather not have one. All I think about when I'm dancing is 'one, two, three, watch you feet Cora, don't step on his.'" She hears the sound of his laugh again, but it abruptly stops.
"But every debutante should have her own ball, particularly one as elegant as you." Cora looks down as the warmest blush she's ever felt spreads over her cheeks. Men have complimented her before and she blushed but never has it felt so perfect, so warm. She lifts her eyes to his and smiles, a true genuine smile. He reaches out his hand to her and when she places hers in his the funniest sensation shimmers over her skin. Like electricity it moves from that spot, flowing from him to her, and then travels right through her body. She manages to contain her gasp and he moves her hand to sit it in the crook of his arm. They start walking towards his parents. "You are going to have a coming out ball, at my family's London residence next week, my mother will organise it, which will save your mother lots of time and effort."
"I'm not sure how proper it is for you to host a ball for a debutante you barely know."
"I thought Americans weren't ones for getting hung up on the rules."
"We aren't, but I thought you Brits were, particularly ones who are heirs to Earldoms." He laughs again and Cora decides that's a sound she could get used to hearing, a sound she could learn to love. Love, did she just think love?
"Perhaps I'm not one for following the rules." She looks up at him, the strangest lightness consuming her, her heart hammers again with hope. Hope for a future. A future with a friend. Suddenly her pleasant thoughts are dashed as she looks up into the stony fade of Mr Crawley's mother. "Mama, Papa, I'd like you to meet Miss Cora Levinson."
"Pleased to meet you Miss Levinson. I'm Patrick, the sixth Earl of Grantham and this is my wife Violet."
"Very pleased to meet you, Lord and Lady Grantham." It amazes Cora that she manages to utter anything sensible when she's so nervous. Never has she wanted to make a good impression as much as she does now, why she doesn't know.
"Well, she has some manners, that's a start." Lady Grantham's harsh statement makes Cora look with more purpose at the older woman. She's never been intimated by English aristocrats disdain for Americans, why change that now? She feels Mr Crawley's gaze on her, trying to ascertain her reaction.
"I'm so sorry Miss Levinson, Lady Grantham didn't mean-"
"It's quite alright Lord Grantham, being an American in England I'm quite used to it." She directs her words at the formidable woman in front of her who only stares back. MR Crawley gently squeezes her hand before he speaks.
"Mama, Papa. I actually came over to ask a favour. Miss Levinson's mother is struggling to organise a ball for her and -"
"Well, I dare say the house Miss Levinson is staying in is not as suitable for balls as the grand houses of aristocratic English families." Cora doesn miss how Lady Grantham sneers over her name, nor does she miss Mr Crawley looking daggers at her before turning to his father, totally ignoring his mother's presence.
"And I was wondering if you'd host a ball for her, at our house."
"Yes, of course. We would be delighted." Lord Grantham bestows his warmest smile on the Cora and she weakly smiles back. So self-absorbed she decides, does he think I'm stupid and naive enough to not to realise that he's only agreed to host my ball in an attempt to get me to marry Mr Crawley, so he can have my money. At least she thinks Lord Grantham is nicer than his wife. Marry Mr Crawley though, would that really be so bad? Her heart beats so fast she barely registers Lady Grantham's horror struck face at the thought of hosting a ball for an American, nor does she realise Mr Crawley is gently walking her towards the refreshments. She gulps down the champagne he hands her which thankfully forces her heart to slow and her lightheadedness to disappear. She looks up into Mr Crawley's smouldering eyes.
"Your mother didn't seem best pleased with the idea."
"I would lie to you, but I know you like honesty. My mother hates the thought of having an American in the house. She finds it hard to grasp that very few, if any, English girls are heiresses and thus my wife-"
"Will be American. Although after her reaction I doubt you'll choose me to be your American wife. It's always best to please one's mother."
"Well, if pleasing one's mother is what you believe in. I believe a Duchess' coronet may end up being yours."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because your mother wants you to enter society as high up the ladder as you can." Cora panics, how on earth did he know that? Surely Mama has not spoken to him, that would be a disaster, she's been so inhospitable to anyone that's not a future Duke or that Prince Christian, grandson of Her Majesty the Queen that keeps appearing at Cora's side.
"Your mother spoke to me the other day."
"Well, in that case I'm rather flattered you're still talking to me. I usually try and avoid introducing people to my mother. You must really like me, or really want my money." Cora doesn't have a chance to apologize for her insinuated rudeness, it seems Mr Crawley is coming around to her frankness.
"You know one of those to be true, as for the other, I like you but I'm not sure...never mind"
"Honesty, remember?"
"I'm not sure I could ruin your life by making you marry me." Cora's heart soars, why she doesn't know, but he's so kind and he seems to be thinking about marriage and what her feelings about such a union between them might be. Marry Mr Crawley? Marry him? Could she marry him? Would she be happy? Maybe, just maybe there's a chance she might be.
"Who says you'd have to make me? I might want to come all on my own." Let's hope nobody heard me being so forward she thinks to herself, if it gets back to her mother that she's been pursuing a meer Earl's son when there are Dukes and a Prince on offer Cora knows she'd be dead meat.
"No one pretty or intelligent would want to live with me, I'm awfully dull."
"Dull would not be the word I'd use."
"No, you'd probably say dull and boring."
"Or how about, awfully fun?" He laughs, it seems just as she is not going to fall for a man that flatters her, he is not going to fall for a woman that does the same to him. He's only going to propose if he thinks she's ready to accept him. "You make me laugh, and I enjoy teasing you. But joking aside, you're friendly, easy to talk to and excessively kind. You're hosting a ball for me, and for that if nothing else I'll be in debt to you forever." She stops suddenly aware that his gaze has drifted from her to the beautiful red head across the ballroom. The girl mouths something and Mr Crawley's face lights up. Cora feels tears prick in her eyes and a nauseous tingle in her stomach. She walks away.
AN: Thank you for all your lovely reviews.
On another note, Prince Christain Victor who is mentioned in this chapter, and who will make some further mentions, was a real grandson of Queen Victoria. I took a long time trying to find a young grandson who would have been about the right age in 1888 and he was. He was Princess Helena's eldest son and I wished to bring him to life in this story as he sadly died in South Africa during the Boer War in 1900. Which I thought was rather fitting for two reasons, firstly Robert obviously fights there. Secondly, in the year 2014 and more importantly the month of November, we remember those who lost their life's in war, and although we are noticeablely focused on WW1 this year, all men and women deserve to be remembered. As does Prince Christian Victor.