Charlotte hurried up the stairs, clutching the telegram that had arrived at breakfast. Eleanor and Evelyn had docked at Southampton yesterday afternoon and would be arriving for dinner at Downton that evening. She was excited to see her sister again, she was anxious to hear about the honeymoon (although she doubted she'd get Eleanor alone tonight, and perhaps a private tea was in order soon), and she was morbidly curious whether having tales of two months' holiday in France and Italy would make Evelyn any less dull.
But she was most of all eager to share the news with her mother and had thus snatched the telegram from her father before he could deliver it himself. Charlotte knew how happy news of Eleanor's return would make Cora, and at the moment she delighted in things that made her mother happy.
Nearly a month had passed since their conversation about Cora's "real" children, and Charlotte was still reveling in the restoration of their relationship. She was also—much like her father, she suspected—channeling all her worry about the upcoming delivery into doing everything she could think of to keep her mother comfortable and happy. She was forever fetching and fluffing pillows and picking her mother flowers in the gardens and bringing her her favorite sweets from the village shop. Cora had laughed gently, telling her she was a grown-up version of her toddler self, ferrying toys and plush animals to her mother's chair.
"Mama?" she called out excitedly, tapping lightly on the bedroom door.
"Come in!'
Charlotte stepped inside to find her mother accepting a breakfast tray from a dark-haired woman roughly Cora's own age. Ah, of course—she'd been told that the new lady's maid was to arrive yesterday afternoon.
It had taken several weeks longer than her mother had anticipated to find a new maid—something which Cora had resolutely blamed on Robert with a mix of irritation and amusement. He'd been quite picky about who was hired, wanting to speak with all the candidates himself and pronouncing himself "not quite sure" about most of them. "I suppose it's because of the baby," Cora had told Charlotte. "You know how protective he is at the best of times, and now…I'm sure you understand that he's out of his mind with worry," she'd said softly.
Charlotte could certainly understand that, as well as understand how much easier it was for her father to focus his worry on the choice of a maid than to consider what was really worrying him.
Eventually, though, Robert had been satisfied with an applicant whom Cora liked as well, and the new maid had moved into her quarters yesterday.
"Charlotte," Cora said now, "this is Miss Baxter,* my new lady's maid. Baxter, this is my eldest, Miss Charlotte Crawley. You'll find we're quite close." She smiled at her daughter, and Charlotte smiled in return.
But then Charlotte turned her gaze to Baxter, who was looking at her very…intently, as though she weren't quite sure of her presence, or as though her existence were somehow a surprise. Had this maid not known her new mistress had children? Or was she not aware that Charlotte was adopted, and she was thus shocked to think that Cora had given birth some twenty years earlier? Charlotte found such speculation impertinent, and she looked rather severely at Baxter, who dropped her eyes demurely.
"Miss Crawley," she murmured in greeting with a soft nod, before turning her attention back to Cora. "Have I got everything, milady?"
"Yes, it looks quite correct," Cora said warmly. "And thank you, Baxter, for the surprise of the orange juice."
Orange juice? Charlotte's eyes fell on a glass of cloudy orange liquid on the tray. How exotic.
"Is your ladyship comfortable?" Baxter asked, surveying the pillows Cora was leaning against. There was a slight furrow in the maid's brow as she considered, and Charlotte knew instantly why her father had liked her and found herself liking her too. "Do you need another pillow? Is that enough to support your spine?"
Cora smiled. "Yes, Baxter, I'm quite all right. Thank you—that will be all for now."
"Do you like her so far?" Charlotte asked after Baxter had gone.
"Yes, I think so—she's a world away from O'Brien in how quiet she can be, and how calm…but that's rather peaceful, and she's very gentle, or at least she was when she undressed me last night."
"She seems to worry about you. That's probably why Papa likes her."
Cora laughed. "Yes, but I imagine she'll be used to me soon."
"Oh, I'm not so sure," Charlotte said, coming to take a seat on her father's side of the bed. Something in Baxter's manner had suggested that her concern was born not of unfamiliarity with a new and crippled employer but of genuine consideration and sympathy. "I think she's going to make a terrible fuss over you for as long as she's here, and Papa and I will love her for it." She leaned over to kiss Cora's cheek. "How are you feeling this morning?"
"Well enough, darling." Cora returned the kiss. "It's lovely to see you first thing."
"I've brought you a telegram," Charlotte said, passing her the opened envelope. "Guess who are coming to dinner tonight?"
"Oh, Eleanor!" her mother exclaimed happily a second later. "How lovely! I'll speak with Mrs. Patmore as soon as I'm dressed…does your father know?"
"Yes, we read it together at breakfast."
"I suppose I'll have to tell her tonight," Cora said thoughtfully, laying her hand on her abdomen. Clarkson had guessed her to be about five months along, and while she was not big yet, she had a distinct belly that was not likely to be mistaken for anything but pregnancy.
Charlotte had nearly forgotten that Eleanor still did not know about the baby. Her parents' decision not to tell her sister by letter had seemed sensible, but she herself had known for so long that it was very strange to remember that her sister did not.
"She won't react as I did," Charlotte said, wanting to reassure her mother after the behavior that still made her blush. "She isn't…like me." And she wasn't, truly. Eleanor never worried, never considered the negative in anything, and Charlotte doubted she would blink at the news. It would not occur to her to worry about her own position in the family, and she would ignore any suggestions that the birth could be difficult, or worse. "She'll just be excited about the baby."
Cora laughed. "I hope so, but I'm sure it will come as a shock."
"But a much less frightening one than it was for the rest of us, now that you can give her a better picture of the medical implications." Charlotte did envy her sister not having to go through the agony of believing their mother to be living under a death sentence.
"Darling, I hate that I put you through all that worry. That you and your father are still worried."
Charlotte shook her head. "It's not your fault." Cora shifted, arching her back with a slight grimace. "Can I get you anything, Mama?" Charlotte asked. "Will it help if I adjust your pillows?"
"No, sweetheart, I'm all right." Cora gave her a soft smile. "Just a passing pain." She rubbed her hand over her belly and sighed in a way that implied she was more uncomfortable than she admitted. Suddenly, her hand froze on her belly as her brow furrowed.
"Mama?"
But Cora did not respond, closing her eyes with another soft sigh.
"Mama, what's wrong?"
"I'm sure that's happened before," Cora whispered, more to herself than to her daughter. "I just didn't…" She turned to Charlotte and said softly, "The baby's moving."
"What?" The baby itself was so far from Charlotte's mind that she could not comprehend the words at first.
"The baby's moving," her mother repeated, rubbing her fingers over a small spot low on her belly, her eyes shining with tears. "I only knew it because I felt the movement against my hand…and then when I thought about it, I realized I could feel a fluttering there, and I'm sure it's happened before; I just didn't have quite enough sensation internally to recognize it without my hand there as well."
Moving? Inside? Why, of course it was—of course babies would move inside their mothers. Charlotte had never considered it before, but of course they would. "I…" Her new brother or sister was suddenly real to her, real in a way the mere concept of him or her hadn't been. And before she could think, could consider that it might be selfish to replace her mother's hand with her own, she was doing just that, brushing Cora's hand away so that she could lay hers in its place and feel the light pressure of a foot or a hand thumping against the outside world.
"Oh, Mama," she breathed, suddenly enchanted. She looked up to see Cora looking not at her belly but at her, her eyes filling with tears as she gazed at Charlotte.
"I'm sorry," Cora whispered, brushing them away. "It's only…it's so lovely to watch my first baby feel the kicks of the baby I'm carrying."
Charlotte suddenly wanted to kiss them both—her sibling for announcing its presence, and her mother for so clearly declaring that she saw no differences in her two kinds of children—and she marveled that, for a few months at least, she could kiss them both at once. She bent her head to press a light kiss to Cora's belly.
"Shall I go and get Papa?" she asked then. "He'll want to feel—"
"Oh, yes!" her mother exclaimed, laughing now. "Go and get Papa!"
Cora hid a smile at the sound she heard in the hallway—Robert's footsteps, running like a small boy's.
"Darling!" he exclaimed as he flung open her door. "Charlotte says—is it true—can you really…?"
She nodded, laughing at their shared excitement, laughing at his breathless enthusiasm, laughing at the joy on his face and in her heart.
He climbed into bed with her and stretched his hand toward her stomach, seeking permission with his eyes as she nodded again. Slowly—as though he thought he could startle the baby—he settled his hand onto her belly.
"Here," she murmured softly, for the air suddenly seemed too heavy for speech. She gently took his hand and scooted it slightly to the right, where she could feel a fluttering. "It's here." She watched as her husband felt an unborn child for the first time in his life, watched as his face flitted from concentration to disbelief to hope to exhilaration, watched as he closed his eyes.
"I never thought…" Robert whispered. "I–I just never…never thought…"
She hadn't either. Somehow, in all the worry, in all the stress, in all the shock, she had not thought about the fact that babies kicked, that she would at some point feel her child's movements. That her husband would be able to lay his hand against her belly and feel it with her. She felt silent tears snake out of her eyes as she watched him.
"How wonderful," he whispered, bending down to reverently kiss her stomach. "How wonderful."
Then he raised his gaze to her and saw her tears and her trembling lip. "Oh, darling," he murmured, wrapping her in his arms.
"I'm all right," she said against his neck, her tears falling faster now that he was holding her. "I'm all right. It's just…"
"I know," he said, his hand stroking her hair. "I know. I'm happy, too." Cora let herself rest there, stemming her tears, before she pulled back and kissed his cheek.
"Is it still moving?" he asked eagerly, and she nodded, taking his hand again. "Here," he went on, "lean back against me and let me hold you both." He helped her settle against him, her back to his chest, as he wrapped his arms around her, his hands caressing her belly, and she sighed, hoping they would sit like this all morning.
She felt Robert kiss her hair. "Darling, have I told you how beautiful your belly is?"
"Well, you've told me I'm very pretty pregnant." Yet he had not been near this fascinated with her stomach before.
"No." He kissed her again. "You're beautiful, Cora. Absolutely beautiful."
"Eleanor, darling!" Cora watched happily as her youngest—no, middle, she corrected—child swept into her bedroom, an air of happiness and summer and romance clinging to her.
She had decided to meet with Eleanor alone and had told Robert to send her upstairs when she arrived, telling her her mother wanted to welcome her privately. Seated in her wheelchair, she'd then asked Baxter to bring her her embroidery, which she intended to use to screen her belly at the beginning of the conversation, suspecting it would be far too much of a shock to let Eleanor see it straight off, with no explanation.
"Mama!" Eleanor hurried to her and bent to embrace her warmly, and they kissed each other. "Oh, I am glad to be home and to see you!" She took a seat on the chaise across from Cora.
"And I'm glad to see you. Is that new?" Eleanor was shimmering in a silky blue evening dress with cascading rows of silver beads.
She smiled prettily. "Yes, we bought it in Paris."
"Your letters sounded as though you were having a very happy honeymoon."
"Oh yes, Mama! Oh, we saw such wonderful places, and it was so wonderfully warm and sunny."
"And your husband? Was he wonderful, too?" Cora smiled, hoping fervently that her new son-in-law was far more interesting in bed than he was at the dinner table.
If the bright pink tinge in Eleanor's face was any indication, he was. "Yes, Mama," she murmured. "I'm very happily married."
"Good." She took her daughter's hand and squeezed it gently. "I asked your father to send you up here alone because I wanted to tell you something that I'm afraid will come as a bit of a shock. Darling, I…I'm expecting a baby."
"You're adopting again? How lovely—"
"No, darling." Cora shook her head. "I'm pregnant." She reached over and set the embroidery hoop on the chaise next to Eleanor, exposing her round belly…and then sat and watched as Eleanor stared at it, shock and disbelief flitting across her face to be replaced by joy.
"But you thought you couldn't have children!" she exclaimed, more pleasure than incredulity in her voice. "And Charlotte and I…" Another blush rose into Eleanor's face, and Cora hid a smile, remembering the conversation the girls had supposedly had. "But you can, you clearly can, and…what a wonderful surprise! Oh, I am happy for you!"
"Thank you, darling." Cora gave her the same explanation she had given Charlotte earlier in the summer, but stressed instead that she could likely give birth naturally, and, while her age and her frailty would certainly be complicating factors, there was no reason to assume she and the baby would not come through.
"You will, Mama, you will," Eleanor said with certainty. "You are stronger than you or Papa think, and you've come through so much already." Cora squeezed her hand again, not sure she entirely agreed but comforted at the words. It was, of course, typical Eleanor, and she should have expected no different: it was simply not in her character to focus on anything unpleasant or to worry about anything that had not come to pass.
"When are you going to have the baby?" she asked. "You look like you're several months gone."
"Around Christmastime, Clarkson thinks."
"What a lovely Christmas present for us all!" Cora leaned over to kiss her cheek at the sentiment. She was suddenly struck that she loved everything about the ways both her girls had reacted—she loved Charlotte for her sweet worry and for the fears that showed how desperately she loved being Cora's, and she loved Eleanor for openly sharing her joy.
"I really am very excited, Mama," Eleanor went on, reaching over to lay her hand on Cora's belly. "And I think this is going to be…marvelously fun."
Then she did something Cora did not at all expect.
"Because, Mama…" She lifted her hand from her mother's stomach, reaching instead to take Cora's hand and settle it onto her own abdomen. "I think I'm pregnant, too."
*Yes, it's our dear Baxter. I toyed with creating another OC, but we've got such a strong focus on an OC through Charlotte already. I also adore Baxter, and I felt like all the torture I've put Cora through in this AU warranted a lovely maid. However, the Baxter in this AU has no connection to Thomas, and no prison history—after having gotten the last maid fired, I didn't think he was in a position to suggest the new one, and I thought that Robert, who has been extremely careful with this maid, would have found and rejected any criminal background.