Cora is left alone with Sir Richard. Again. When he arrived this afternoon, Mary was nowhere to be seen and Robert discovered an urgent need to talk to Carson. Unlike her husband and daughter, Cora cannot not find it in her to be anything other than friendly and civil.
But no more than friendly and civil.
They sit uncomfortably in the drawing room. After the usual pleasantries, there seems little else to say.
"Life must be very different now, after all the activity of the war years. You must have more free time now the soldiers have left."
"It's no different from before the war, Richard," she lies. Before the war, she had a easy routine - chats with Robert about the news and correspondence, regular walks and needlework, even preparing for dinner. Now she barely sees her husband and everything else seems frivolous. She blames herself - she had neglected him during the war and they had drifted apart. They seem to argue about (or rather, he takes offence at) everything now - the latest disagreement concerned Robert's inexplicable loyalty to his valet. She wishes she could turn the clock back and return to their old familiarity. Perhaps it will just take time, or perhaps too much has happened between them-
He is watching her, fingers drumming thoughtfully on the arm of the chair. This man notices everything and misses nothing - not a good quality for a potential husband. "It must be good to have the rooms back to normal." Even his sweeping glance round the room makes Cora uncomfortable - she can imagine every detail being recorded and filed away for a potential news story. "I'll have to start sourcing furnishings for Haxby soon, once the modernisations are complete. I'm hoping to take Mary to a few auctions."
"That will be nice for you both." At last, she can sound vaguely enthusiastic. "It must be very inspiring to start completely from scratch."
"Actually, it's quite daunting. Decor and furnishings are not really my area of expertise." He smiles awkwardly; she briefly sees the other side to Richard Carlisle - the one which is uncertain and eager to please - the one which is almost endearing. "I expect you were in the same position here - when Robert became Earl."
"We made some changes, yes." She vividly remembers that battle. Her attempts to remove the clutter and dark, heavy furnishings were met with hostility by the new Dowager Countess. Robert had been no help - varying between bored indifference to outright rejection of her more fashionable ideas.
"But I suppose you didn't have a completely free hand-" he replies with a knowing glimmer in his eyes.
"It was something of a compromise," she concedes, repeating her husband's familiar speech: "Robert's task is to pass on the estate intact to the next generation - he sees himself as a custodian, not an owner."
"But there have been some improvements? The telephone? Electricity?"
"I think modern bathrooms - with showers - may be a little too much."
"Hmm," he smirks. "Perhaps they will be acceptable when they are little less modern."
She smiles at the thought. She is glad when Robert joins them at last - her husband's melancholy mood is just the right antidote to the growing conviviality in the room.
Richard grins at her while speaking to her husband. "We were just talking about modernising Downton."
"I am not free to make wholesale changes to Downton, Richard," he proclaims. "I am a custodian, not an owner. My task is to pass it on to the next generation."
Cora has heard the speech before, but not with Richard's knowing stare and gleam in his eye. He has goaded him deliberately. She turns away, biting her lip to prevent the smile. It would not do to make fun of her husband, especially not in front of this man.
Richard sits in his room the next morning, alone with his thoughts.
Matthew Crawley will walk again.
The family's wild histrionics and the doctor's incompetence last night would normally be a source of amusement to him. But when Matthew declared his plan to marry Lavinia, at least three pairs of eyes - including his own - looked towards Mary. Her insincere congratulations and the shock on her face told him all he needed to know:
She is still in love with Matthew Crawley.
What does that damn heir have that he doesn't? What more does he have to do to earn his fiancée's love?
Cora sits at her vanity table, barely noticing O'Brien behind her.
Matthew can walk. Matthew is going to marry Lavinia. She remembers Mary's shock at their announcement last night, and is consumed by guilt. What if she hadn't brought Lavinia back? Mary would still have had to marry Richard - the consequences of the scandal becoming public were too awful to contemplate...
She sighs, picking up the bottle of cologne and dabbing it to her neck.
"Is everything alright, milady?"
"Perfectly alright," she smiles, in a tone which begs O'Brien not to enquire further.
"I could always stay on a bit longer-"
"No, no, I won't hear of it." As well as everything else, her maid is leaving her for a week to attend a family funeral.
She stands, letting O'Brien guide the corset around her waist. The real problem, she knows, is Robert. She longs for the relationship they had shared before the war. Life seemed so much easier then. Before the war, Robert would surely have consulted her before agreeing to a wedding, or at least he would have apologised for being so impulsive. And he would never have been so hurtful-
Can you hear the words coming out of your mouth? Can you hear how stupid and selfish they are? Because I can.
She closes her eyes as O'Brien tightens the corset, willing the tears away. He had left for his dressing room again last night, barely waiting until he thought she was asleep. It was becoming a habit. Something stopped her from following him. Was she unsure how he would react? Was she unsure what she would find?
O'Brien wordlessly reaches for the dress behind her, pretending not to notice her mistress' distress. Cora lifts her arms, taking comfort from the familiar rituals.
She makes a decision. She will ask Isobel about helping with the charity work. It will keep her busy, give her a purpose...and take her mind off everything else.
"Tell me once and for all," he demands. "Are you still in love with Matthew Crawley?"
"Of course not." Mary looks horrified. "Would I ever admit to loving a man who preferred someone else over me?"
It is far from the comprehensive denial he needs. And then Mary leaves him, crossing the drawing room to sit with her sister. He looks round in dismay - the Earl and Matthew are chatting amicably by the fireplace. Cora stands apart from them, watching the scene thoughtfully. He walks over to her. "It appears we've both been abandoned."
She looks from him to Mary on the other side of the room. He sees the resigned sigh. "Mary just needs time to-"
"She's had more than two years," he cuts her off in irritation. " How much more time does she need?"
No reply. Her eyes flick back to her husband, who is still deep in conversation with Matthew. He tries a more conciliatory tone:
"How do I make Mary love me?"
"I don't think you can make someone love you, Richard," she replies quietly.
He thinks of the money and effort he has expended on Mary's behalf - the scandal, Haxby, visits to Downton. She should at least be grateful to him.
"I bought Haxby for her," he pronounces.
"I don't think Mary's interested in property. And Haxby isn't a home, it's a statement..." she trails off wistfully. He recalls something she said last year:
"Who do I remind you of?"
She hesitates briefly before replying: "My father."
She meets her husband's eye and nods. The small group in the drawing room begins to disperse. She moves away from him, cutting off their conversation.
"Tell me. Please." He just stops himself from grabbing her arm to stop her leaving. Instead he waits. Finally-
"Have you heard of Idle Hour?"
He shakes his head.
"My father built it for my mother..." she speaks softly, looking beyond him as if reaching back to a long-suppressed memory "...a birthday present..." He listens patiently to her description of the Newport house - Beaux-Arts, walnut-panelled walls, Corinthian columns, modern plumbing and electricity... he makes a mental note to do more research later.
"That's quite a gift."
She nods."A real labour of love."
"What happened?"
She tries to shrug nonchalantly. "My mother preferred New York, so the house was mainly kept on to impress visitors..." Her next words are barely whispered. "...it burned down in 1899. My father died a few months later..."
He watches her compose himself, resisting the urge to reach out and comfort her. Eventually she looks up. "Make Haxby a home, Richard - stop trying to impress. And spend time with Mary. Show her that you care about her."
He nods with genuine understanding and sympathy. "Thank you."
A/N: Thank you to Lady Grantham for boosting my confidence. I've vowed not to declare my worries at the end of each chapter, but I'd value any (positive or negative!) feedback.
Idle Hour was a real Newport house which did indeed burn down in 1899.
Next chapter (The Shock - and it should be - I just hope I haven't given too much away!) will be quite short and fun to write so should be up at the weekend.
Oh - and thank you so much for the Highclere Nomination!