Cora almost trips down the stairs as she runs downs to breakfast the next morning, dressed in her favourite royal blue gown, the only thing dampening her spirits is the ghastly hat perched on her head, goodness how she hates hats, she'd much rather feel the wind in her hair and the sun on her cheeks. Her joyful mood soon evaporates as she opens a note the footman presents to her, it simply reads: 'Miss Levinson, I very much regret that I will be unable to meet you today in Kensington Park as planned. I will however be able to fulfil the arrangement tomorrow at the same time, unless you are otherwise engaged. My apologies and best wishes for a pleasant day, Mr Crawley.'
She slumps into her chair and rips he hat from her head. She was bargaining on walking with Mr Crawley, if only to avoid tedious morning visits with various future Dukes who simpler and smile all around her in a vain attempt to make a blush rise to her cheeks. Only three gentleman had managed that so far, Mr Crawley, Prince Christian Victor and the Duke of Bertram. The latter confused Cora, she had no idea what the man wanted from her, as it was not her money. The Prince was easier to understand, he desperately wanted to rebel against his family.
The other reason for her distress at Mr Crawley postponing their outing was what he was doing instead. The beautiful red-head he'd danced with still remained an unknown to Cora. Mr Crawley had been on the verge of telling her the identity of the stunning woman 'She's my,' when her brother had interrupted. And then there's the question of what he'd really wanted to ask her when he'd instead asked her to join him in Kensington gardens. Her mother sashays into the breakfast room.
"Cora, come on, morning calls will start any minute and the Duke of Bertram is sure to call."
"Yes Mama."
"And, run and change into your orange blouse and navy skirt it sets off your complexion better. Also, your maid could tighten your corset."
"Yes Mama."
When she enters the Drawing room a short time later, her corset no tighter than it was before, two expectant male faces and her mother's turn sharply in her direction. The two future Dukes spend the next hour flattering her in every way they know how, but in truth they only succeed in flattering her mother and increasing Cora's vexation.
Mr Bowley, the future Duke of Devonshire, who is in fact twice Cora's age and keeps reminding her that his father is currently in a state of very ill-health and that he is likely to succeed to the title any day. Cora replies pleasantly, not daring to explain to the smirking idiot that she couldn't careless about being a Duchess. She doesn't dare tell him that's only what her mother wants for her.
She drifts off into her own thoughts of Mr Crawley and that gorgeous red-head friend of his that she's yet to know the name of. Is that who he's with now, she wonders, is that the woman he compares all others too? If only her annoying brother hadn't interrupted. 'She's my,' were two words that Cora never thought would haunt her so. She only wished to know how the sentence ended. In her dreams he'd say 'sister' or 'friend' but in her nightmares he said 'fiancée.' It was naturally the latter she believed to be true, the woman was stunning after all. But what confused her was why this made her insides feel hollow and tears prick in her eyes, what did it matter if he was engaged to another woman?
"Cora dear, did you hear what Mr Northam said?" Her mother's sharp tongue brings her back to the two gentleman with their shark like eyes fixed on their prize.
"No, I'm sorry sir, what was it you were saying?"
"Only that you look very splendid this morning and I wondered if you'd take a turn outside with me."
"I'd rather not if you don't mind. I think I've got a headache coming on." She tunes out of Mr Northam's hopes of her feeling better soon, and ignores her mother's pointed look, no doubt she thinks Northam wanted to propose. Cora knows her mother is probably correct but Mr Northam bores her. He's not old like Mr Bowley but he's boring, he never says anything funny or shares his opinions with her, he just agrees in an attempt, no doubt, to make her accept him and agree to be the future Duchess of Gloucester.
The two gentleman take their leave shortly after. At which point she knows her mother is about to round on her. But the arrival of the footman with the announcement of "The Duke of Bertram" stops her mother in her tracks.
"Oh, Lord Bertram, how good of you to spare the time." Cora blushes, need her mother be anymore obvious?
"I wondered if I might have a moment alone with your daughter Mrs Levinson."
"Of course." Cora looks up startled just as her mother leaves the room with a knowing look. Before she can speak the Duke has sat beside her.
"Miss Levinson, you can be at no loss as to what I'm about to ask. Would you, consent to be my wife?" Cora gulps, the Duke makes her curious. He has perfectly green eyes and splendid looks and unlike the other Dukes he doesn't just flatter her in the common ways, he always seems too personal. He's not after her money either, as he's plenty rich. Somehow she thinks she's not seeing the man he really is. He's not being honest with her, and that scares her, if he's not being honest now, he'll never be honest, and she wants honesty. "Miss Levinson, are you listening?"
"Yes, I'm sorry. I was just thinking."
"I understand, and you don't have to give me your answer straight away. But remember I do admire you very, very much." He leans towards her but Cora turns away not wanting to be any nearer him. He takes the hint and just reaches up and strokes her face. She gets on well with Lord Bertram, as well as she does with Mr Crawley. But Lord Bertram's not...not...something.
Her thoughts continue on much the same wavelength for the rest of the day, only really interrupted by her mother's repetitive 'he's a Duke, you'd be a Duchess. Really I don't know why your thinking twice about it.'
The next morning she awakes and smiles, today she shall see Mr Crawley again. She dresses in the blue gown that's her favourite and heads to breakfast. At eleven o'clock, on the dot there is a knock on the door. Cora steps hurriedly into the hall and her eyes meet not Mr Crawley's but the beautiful red head's, her arm linked through Mr Crawley's. She gulps, tears pricking in her eyes.
"Morning Miss Levinson. You look very fine this morning. I hope you don't mind me bringing my sister, Rosamund, for our walk this morning. I just thought it would save your mother chaperoning us." Cora reaches for the wall, as her mind reels, his sister, Mr Crawley's sister. Not his fiancée, his sister. "Miss Levinson, are you quite alright?"
"Yes, yes, perfectly fine."
The walk is enjoyable and Cora finds herself greatly enjoying Lady Rosamund's company. She's a lot less shy than her brother, and openly laughs at the dresses of passes by, makes jokes and gossips about the ton. Cora laughs with her but is always aware of Mr Crawley's eyes on her and she can't help her thoughts wandering to what he might be thinking of her.
"Plans for your ball are progressing very well Miss Levinson." Mr Crawley's voice brings her back to the present.
"I am sorry I'm inconveniencing you so."
"It's really nothing, my mother loves the preparations. Anything to boss people around." Cora laughs and Lady Rosamund breaks her arm from Cora's as the path narrows, and walks behind the couple, at a distance at which she can't hear them.
"Our mother's have plenty in common, as I think I've said before. Your sister is very pretty, most women would die for such stunning red hair."
"I wouldn't know."
"No, but surely she must be so admired."
"She is I suppose. But as nobody has captured her attention yet I pay little notice."
"You know I didn't realise she was your sister. I presumed she was some Lady of fortune whom you wished to capture with your fortune hunter's net."
"No, Miss Levinson, that's you." Cora feels a blush warm her cheeks.
"Well, you best be careful. I'm quite a fidget and may manage to wriggle free of your net."
"You wouldn't dare."
"No, you're right. I might decide I want to stay once I've been caught."
That night at dinner her father informs her that the Prince Christian Victor called while she was out and that "he asked my permission for your hand in marriage, I said I'd tell you and you'd send him an answer."
"I will think about it." In truth the Prince is lovely, very charming but she doesn't want to marry him. Mr Crawley and the Duke of Bertram are far more like her, they interest her more.
"Cora, dear, I don't understand what there is to think about, he's a Prince, you'd be a Princess."
"Mama, you said that this afternoon when the Duke proposed."
"Cora, what about Mr Crawley? Has he proposed yet?" Harold stares intently at her.
"No, he hasn't." A blush lingers in her cheeks which her father sees.
"Do you like this gentleman?" Before her father has a chance to question her further, her mother's shrill voice interrupts.
"But, my dear, there's the Duke of Bertram, he's very likeable as is the Prince. The other Dukes all have good prospects too. You'd make a wonderful Duchess."
"Perhaps. But I want a happy marriage with a man who makes me laugh and who I can talk to like a grown up. I want an honest, kind man who respects me."
"The Duke of Bertram respects you. It's not like he needs your money. I know Mr Crawley is very nice, but it's your money he respects. Not you."
"But at least he's honest. Lord Bertram scares me. And I'm sure he's hiding something."
Her father looks up sharply at Cora statement. "Cora, why does he scare you?"
"He's so familiar all the time. It's weird."
"Oh Cora, I didn't bring you all the way to England to be a Countess in waiting. I want you to be grand. Don't you want that?"
"No!" She screams at her mother, her napkin thrown on the table. "I want to be happy. You've already dragged me all the way to England, away from everything I know to find a husband. How I'm here I think I should at least be able to choose where and with whom I'm going t spend the rest of my life. Without your or anyone else's interference." She storms from the room, leaving her irritated mother and her two closest male relations excessively satisfied, Martha had that one coming.
AN: This chapter contains little Cobert for which I'm sorry but it was necessary to get across a little more of Cora's thoughts on her other suitors. Cobert return in full force in the next chapter.