AN: I've become the boy who cried wolf about final chapters, but I've written the rest of the story, and it was an absolute behemoth, and I realized it was WAY too long for one chapter. (Also, a large chunk of it was the birth, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that should be its own chapter anyway.) So here's the almost-final chapter, with the other coming later this week.

"Darling!" Cora exclaimed as Eleanor stepped into her room. "You're positively glowing!" In the weeks since she had last seen her younger daughter, Eleanor's flat stomach had blossomed into a distinctive bump.

"Am I?" Eleanor laughed. "I'm not sure I feel like I'm glowing, but Evelyn says the same thing."

Charlotte and Matthew were due to return from their honeymoon and dine at Downton, and the Napiers had come as well to see them. The latter couple had arrived several hours early, closer to teatime than dinner, and Cora presumed that Robert had directed Eleanor to come and see her in her bedroom, where she was spending an increasing amount of time. She expected to give birth within the next couple weeks, and at this point in her pregnancy it was easier to move as little as possible. Thus she was often still in bed at this point in the afternoon, reclining against a pile of pillows as she was today.

"How are you feeling, darling?" Cora asked.

"A bit tired and achy, but I'm all right—the doctor says I'm more than halfway there. And Evelyn and I couldn't be any more excited."

Cora swallowed a smile at the thought of Evelyn ever being excited by anything.

"But what about you?" Eleanor leaned down to kiss her mother's cheek. "Papa says you have not been at all well."

No, she wasn't. She wasn't well at all, but she'd rather the girls not hear about it. "Papa exaggerates…"

"Does he?" Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you're in bed in the middle of the afternoon, because Papa exaggerates? He says you're in a great deal of pain, and I can tell he's right by looking at your eyes."

Cora sighed. Of course she was in pain, with the nerves near her injury on fire and the rest of her back seizing at every movement. "I'll be all right, sweetheart," she said. "I wish he hadn't said anything—I didn't want you to be frightened for your own pregnancy, because it isn't the same."

Eleanor laughed softly. "I'm not frightened—I'm not the one with the smashed-up spine." She kissed Cora again, lightly caressing the belly that held her sibling, and sighed. "Poor love. I promise Charlotte and I will both fuss over you the whole time we're here."

Cora smiled. "It's wonderful enough just to have you back at Downton, and your sister soon, too." She'd been eagerly looking forward to today, knowing her daughters were the best medicine in the world. "And I'd rather fuss over you," she said, reaching out to lay her hand on Eleanor's much-smaller belly. How much more pleasant it was to have her first grandchild to think about than to focus on the spasms in her own muscles! "Is he kicking today? You said in your last letter that you'd started to feel movement."

"No, not today, unfortunately. I'm quite desperate for him to move a bit before we leave Downton, because I do so want you to be able to feel him."

"Oh, I hope he will…you will move for your granny, won't you?" Cora said softly to her daughter's belly, prompting a laugh from her. Then Eleanor pressed her hand against her side, stretching discreetly.

"Darling, are you all right?" Cora suspected that the desire to take care of her babies would never fade, even if they had babies of their own.

"Just a slight pain—"

"You're still wearing your corset, aren't you?"

"Mama…"

"Aren't you?" Cora had shed hers immediately after Clarkson had told her she was pregnant, but she suspected that Eleanor, like most women who had not reached the final months of their pregnancies, was still wearing the uncomfortable garment.

Eleanor sighed. "It just feels so very awkward to go without it."

"And it feels even more awkward to keep it on. Did you bring any tea gowns?" Cora asked, suggesting the afternoon dresses that were not traditionally worn with corsets.

"Yes, but we've only just arrived, so I'm sure my maid is only just getting into the trunks—"

"Then ring for Baxter, and she can bring you one of mine from a few months ago. Why don't you have her help you change and then lie down here while we talk?" She was not sure Eleanor had been aware she was doing it, but Cora had seen her glance more than once at Robert's side of the bed, and thus she was not surprised when Eleanor agreed immediately and reached for the bell pull.

The younger woman was soon dressed by Baxter in one of Cora's tea gowns from the middle of her own pregnancy, and she climbed in next to her mother, stretching like a cat as she lay down. "Oh, this does feel lovely after jolting around on the train ride here," she said, "and your bed is heavenly." She sighed contentedly, curling up on her side.

"Good, I'm glad you're comfortable, sweetheart." Cora had had Baxter help her lie down as well so that she could face Eleanor easily, and she leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "Is that gown all right? Does it fit your belly well?"

Eleanor was carefully examining the lace on the sleeve. "Yes, perfectly. It's nice."

"Take it, if you like it. I don't expect to ever be five months pregnant again, but I hope you will be, many times."

"Yes, I hope so," Eleanor said with a laugh. "Perhaps I'll change my mind after I've birthed this one, but I think I want a nursery that's just bursting with little Napiers. Thank you, Mama."

Before Cora could respond, there was a sharp and sudden jab in her own side, and she gasped.

"Mama?"

She shook her head, wincing at the continued pressure and the tightening she could feel in her back muscles in response. "I'm all right, darling—your brother or sister has just shoved an elbow into my ribs. I'm afraid you won't find your baby's movements nearly as nice once he gets bigger and has less room."

Eleanor laid her hand gently against Cora's ribs, her face lighting up when she found the spot. "Oh, I do feel that! Yes, I can tell your baby's quite strong. Ready to come out soon, I expect."

"She'll get no argument from me," Cora muttered.

"Shh, little one," Eleanor murmured, slowly rubbing her hand over her mother's belly. "Settle down and give Mama some peace. She hasn't been well, and we must be very gentle with her."

Cora closed her eyes as Eleanor soothed both her and the baby, the jabbing sensation growing lighter as the child relaxed in response to its sister's touch.

"Is this helping?" she heard Eleanor ask, her voice sweet and soft.

"Yes, darling, thank you."

"Does your baby have a name yet?"

"If it's a boy, we're thinking of William, for the doctor who operated on me after my accident. And if it's a girl…" She opened her eyes to see Eleanor's reaction to the name she still could not fully endorse. "…your father insists upon naming her Cora."

"Oh, how lovely!" Eleanor exclaimed, delight on her face. "Of course he does, and I think he's entirely right. I almost want you to name it Cora if it's a boy, too."

Cora laughed. "I definitely draw the line there. Have you and Evelyn talked about names?"

"Yes, and after much arguing, we've reached a decision." Her eyes sparkled. "For a boy, I wanted to name it Evelyn after my husband, and he didn't want that, but he finally let me have my way. We fought more over the girl's name, because he wanted to call it Caroline after his mother, and I wanted to call it Cora after mine." Eleanor grinned at her.

"I hope you didn't win that argument, in the case that we both have girls—three Cora's is far too many for one family."

"No, we compromised," Eleanor went on. "If it's a girl, it will be Cara."

"That's a beautiful name, sweetheart." Cora took Eleanor's hand from her stomach—the baby had now stilled completely—and raised it to her lips for a kiss. "I'm honored to be part of it, and I'm honored to have my name merged with Caroline's. Evelyn's mother was a very kind woman."

Eleanor sighed. "I do miss Lady B. I think she would have been a lovely mother-in-law."

"Yes, I imagine she would have been," Cora said, thinking of the friend who had been the only aristocrat to acknowledge her when she'd first been injured and who had died a few years earlier.

"I'm rather hoping for a boy, though," Eleanor continued. "A girl would be a bit more fun, I think, but it would be nice to know that, whatever happens from here, I've already provided the heir." She paused. "Do you know what you want?"

"I'm praying fervently for a girl—it's so much less complicated that way, and I feel so guilty about your sister."

"Although the issue of Charlotte's fortune seems to have resolved itself, from what you said in your letter," Eleanor said.

"Yes, her natural mother has apparently left her a sizable inheritance that I imagine would fund a very nice home, should she and Matthew want to use it that way. So I suppose in one sense that that's all the same."

Eleanor grinned. "I wouldn't underestimate Charlotte's desire for two fortunes."

Cora wanted to laugh, but the mention of two fortunes, coming from her younger daughter, unsettled her. She understood that the English did not usually divide their money between their children, but coming from a culture where she and Harold had both been given equal portions, it had always seemed strange to her that Charlotte should inherit all of Downton while Eleanor was granted a small dowry and then expected to make her own way in the world.

"Darling," she asked now, "does it trouble you for Charlotte to be an heiress?" And now she was an heiress twice over, if the baby was another girl. "Did it trouble you growing up?" She was not sure what they would do about it if Eleanor said yes—they could hardly promise that her own natural mother was also a gentlewoman who had left behind a substantial inheritance, nor could they tell Charlotte they would be giving her sister the Levinson fortune since she herself had found a substitute.

But if the blank look on Eleanor's face were any indication, she no more questioned the British way than Cora questioned the American one. "I'm not the eldest," she said simply. "Of course she's the heiress."

"You don't mind that she—"

"I have my own fortune now, you know," Eleanor interrupted, smiling. "I'm going to be a viscountess."

Of course she was, and the Napiers were far from impoverished. Eleanor had done as all English aristocratic daughters were meant to do, marrying into another wealthy family—and, Cora noted thankfully, she had married happily.

"Are you going to tell Charlotte tonight?" Eleanor asked.

"Yes…I suppose I will. I'll sit her down separately, the way I did when I told you about the baby."

"We both ought to go on honeymoons more often," Eleanor said with a laugh. "One always comes home to such exciting news."

"What do you think…she'll think?" Cora asked hesitantly. She was in truth quite nervous at the thought of telling Charlotte about her natural mother and not at all sure what sort of reaction to expect.

"I don't know," Eleanor said thoughtfully. "She's rather hard to predict, isn't she?"

"Do you think she wants to know who her natural mother is?" Cora went on, suspecting that, as a fellow adoptee, Eleanor could more closely imagine Charlotte's feelings than anyone else. "Do you want to know?"

"I don't think I care either way…I'm not longing to know, but it wouldn't upset me to be told. It just…it doesn't matter to me. I'd think Charlotte cares more than I do, though—she always cares more than I do. She seems to care so very much about everything."

Cora laughed gently, aware that Charlotte's intensity, compared to Eleanor's casual gaiety, had always meant that her daughters often found each other exasperating.

"You shouldn't worry about it, though," Eleanor went on. "Neither of us is the least bit confused about who our real mother is, Mama. I don't think Charlotte will be any more than curious about her origins. She certainly isn't going to love anyone else the way she loves you."

"Thank you, darling," Cora murmured, kissing her forehead.

"We both love you very much," Eleanor said warmly. "I'm awfully glad I'm yours."

Cora could say nothing to that, instead stroking her hand over the light brown curls that Baxter had unpinned before Eleanor had lain down. It had always troubled her to remember that, had she not thought to adopt—had she not had the accident she otherwise so regretted—or had Robert not agreed to the plan, Charlotte and Eleanor would not have been hers. Nor would these have been her daughters had she contacted the Foundling Hospital a month earlier or later and been given different babies. She often tried to imagine what might have happened to her girls had they not grown up at Downton, and the thought always hurt her heart.

By now, they would both have been out of the Hospital for some years, likely having been apprenticed to learn a trade, placed in service, or given a job in a factory. Eleanor might very easily have still been married, perhaps even expecting a baby, as she was now—and Cora did not like to imagine her pregnant and slaving over machinery, on her feet for fourteen hours a day, but she knew that there were far worse things than poverty and work. Things both her daughters would have endured at the Foundling Hospital, where she knew that children were fed and educated, but certainly not loved or much tended to. Cora did not believe that that was a scar that would easily heal, and it troubled her greatly to wonder how it might have affected her girls. Would Eleanor have her warmth, if she had never seen warmth from anyone else? Would she be so tender and gentle, if no one had ever been tender and gentle with her? Would she know how to snuggle her own baby, if she had not spent so much of her early years snuggled onto Cora's lap?

"Mama?" Eleanor asked quietly, breaking into her thoughts. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking about how very much I love you, darling," she said, brushing another kiss to her daughter's forehead. "How very much I love you."

"What do you want me to do?" Charlotte asked cautiously. Cora had drawn her into the morning room after dinner and had just relayed the story of her origins, which had been met at first with several minutes of silence.

"Darling, I'm not sure there's anything for you to do," Cora said, nonplussed at the response. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, should I accept the fortune? Do you want me to?"

"Why, of course you should! It's rightfully yours. Your natural mother wanted you to have it, and there's no reason you shouldn't claim it. It's been sitting in a bank in London for over a decade, waiting for you."

"But will it…will it hurt you?" Charlotte said quietly. "Will you be upset, if I accept something from my natural mother?"

Oh. So that was Charlotte's hesitancy. It would have troubled her, yes, to watch Charlotte grow close to a natural mother—especially one that lived at Downton!—but it had not occurred to Cora to be bothered by the idea of Charlotte receiving an inheritance and merely knowing the story of her origins.

"Of course not," Cora said, warmed by her sweetness. "You've already accepted a great many things from your natural mother. Baxter says you look just like her."

"Does Baxter have a photograph? That is—if you don't mind; I–I'm curious, but I—"

Cora shook her head. "No, darling. I don't mind at all. Of course you're curious, and I don't know if she has a photo, but we can certainly ask. But if she doesn't, I gather looking in the mirror will show you nearly the same thing."

Charlotte nodded and fell silent again, and after a moment, Cora gently took her hand. "Do you have any more questions? It's perfectly all right to have questions about your history and about your natural mother."

"I…I might like to have Baxter tell me what she remembers about her," Charlotte said hesitantly. "Would that be all right? I don't want to hurt you—especially not right now—and you must tell me if it will."

"Oh, darling." Cora pulled Charlotte close to kiss her cheek. "No, this doesn't hurt me. It doesn't hurt me at all."

"I don't want you to think I love her instead of you," her daughter said softly. "Because you're my mother, and I love you very much, and I don't love her at all."

Cora kissed her again. "I know you love me. But, Charlotte," she said as she released her and Charlotte settled back onto the couch, "it's all right to love your natural mother as well." Her heart had broken when Baxter had shared the story with her, and she had ached for the young woman who had surely loved her daughter as much as she did.

"I…I don't. I don't feel anything for her."

"She sounds as though she loved you very much."

"I know," Charlotte said quietly. "I don't hate her—I'm not angry. It's only…it feels like a story about someone else. I–I can't quite imagine anyone but you as my mother in any way, even though I know of course I've got a natural mother."

"It's all right to feel that way," Cora told her gently, trying to imagine how odd it would be to be an adopted child herself, and to know that her mother had not been the woman who bore her. "There's no wrong way for you to feel."

"I am sorry for her," Charlotte went on. "I'm sorry she lost her baby—lost me, that is." She shook her head as though trying to clear it. "Oh, it's so strange! I'm sure it was painful—I'm sure it was horrid, but I can't regret that it happened, or I wouldn't have grown up here with you and Papa!"

But you wouldn't have known the difference, Cora thought. You would have been just as happy, and just as loved, and you would have loved your natural mother just as much. Yet she knew from all the time she had agonized over who her other babies might have been—and what would have become of Charlotte and Eleanor—had she adopted at a different time that this sort of thinking was not helpful.

"But you did," Cora said firmly. "You did grow up here, and we love you. And your natural mother loved you, too. That's all that matters, darling. You've been very much loved on all sides."

Charlotte fell silent again. "I'm not sure," she said in a small voice, "that I can think any more about this tonight."

"I understand, sweetheart." She could imagine that her daughter's head was absolutely spinning. "You don't have to. Just go home and get a good night's rest, and think about it more when you're ready." She kissed her temple. "I love you."