Lessons to Learn
Chapter 14
A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who showed their support on this story! Every review, every message, every sign that you're with me on this journey lightens my days and motivates my writing. I know you guys are waiting for some resolutions regarding certain storylines, and I hope I won't disappoint with the turns the story will take here and there. I try giving you chapters with significant plot on at least one of the storylines. But some things take their time. Hope you enjoy! Please review :)
When Robert got a call from his sister on Sunday evening inquiring to know how her 'foster child' was, he at first didn't know what was going on. He didn't even know that Rose was in the house at all, and it showed him clearly what a game of hide and seek the weekend had been.
He leaned back in his expansive office chair and tried to focus on Rosamund's words, jabbered through the phone. His study had been his refuge, more than it had ever been the case. He couldn't stand to be in any other room of the house for long. Even the spacious sitting room upstairs he adored wasn't a safe spot. Cora's extensive cleaning on Sunday made every peace in all rooms of the house null and void. Robert had considered fleeing to his office's safety and comfort at work. But it wouldn't do to open the bank on Sunday just to find a space where he could be on his own.
"Yes, Robert. She is home with you. I allowed her to go over to yours about four hours ago. Would you please just look if she is with Sybil? I'd like to know if maybe sneaking off is something she is indeed capable of."
Robert grumbled an incomprehensible affirmative response and rose from his chair to search his youngest daughter and his sister's temporary foster child.
"Is everything alright, Robert?" Rosamund asked after a while. "Why are you so moody today?"
"I am not moody," he answered tight-lipped.
"We both know you are. I just want to know if there is a serious reason for that."
"Hmph." He didn't want to answer his sister's nosy inquiries.
As he approached Sybil's room at the end of the hallway, he heard multiple girls' voices through the closed wooden door. Robert hoped that there wasn't some kind of girls' party going on without his knowledge. He couldn't deal with this as well today.
"I like it," he heard Edith's voice.
He knocked on the door.
"Yes?" Sybil's clear voice chimed loudly. Robert pressed the door handle and entered the chaos that was usually Sybil's room. Four girls inhabited the space, and even though this wasn't the most absurd group of people he hadn't anticipated all of his three daughters and his cousin's youngest girl spending time together on a Sunday evening.
"Hello, Papa," Sybil greeted neutrally. She stood behind Rose, who turned back and forth in front of the mirror next to Sybil's closet and had her hands buried in Rose's hair. The hair was an attraction in itself, but Robert was also overwhelmed by other factors greeting him from his daughter's room. First, there was the chaos of an even greater extent than normal. Clothes were strewn over the entire bed, spilling down onto the floor. Brushes, combs, and a bunch of ribbons cluttering the area in front of the desk. A messed-up stack of paper covering the fluffy rug in front of Sybil's closet instead of laying neatly on her otherwise free desk. Second, both, Mary and Edith, were in the room, relaxed and seemingly unbothered by the other's presence. Mary had occupied Sybil's desk chair and skimmed through a colourful magazine that rested on her knees. She only looked up shortly to take in her father's presence. Edith lounged on the small part of the bed that wasn't covered in clothes and watched Sybil do her work with Rose's hair.
Well, and then there was the hair. Rose's angelic blonde curls were partly beaming in a vibrant purple. Sybil had gathered the right part of the hair up on Rose's head and was fastening it with pins and ribbons to a bun. Rose observed the scene in the mirror and guided Sybil's actions with small instructions.
"Robert?" Rosamund's voice sounded through the phone that was still pressed to his ear.
"Hmm," he acknowledged. "She is here," he stated simply. Sybil exchanged a confused look with Edith. "I think it's better if you come and get her."
"What happened?" Rosamund asked perturbed.
"That's the question," he gave back.
"Alright, I'm on my way," she answered briskly and ended the call.
"Papa?" Sybil inquired. "What's going on?"
"Rose has to go home now. Rosamund will be there any minute."
"Already?" Rose questioned, not hiding her disappointment.
"I'm afraid so," Robert answered a little sarcastically. He wouldn't accept anything but silence and peace on this Sunday evening in his house. What he could see from Rose's hair was probably only the tip of the iceberg of the shenanigans the girls were producing without the adults' knowing. It was good that Rosamund was coming to reduce the chaos that swamped Robert in his own four walls. She wouldn't be able to solve the knotted struggles his marriage was caught in at the moment. But Rosamund could at least reset exterior stress factors to a minimum. Robert really didn't need to deal with Susan's young girl's problems today.
About fifteen minutes later, Rosamund rang the doorbell and as Robert let her in, a cloud of her fruity perfume enveloped him. His sister made her brisk strides down the hallway she always adopted when she had her mind set on something (which was actually nearly all the time). She didn't bother with taking off her bright-red patent leather coat, and her heels clicked aggressively on the tiled floor of the corridor.
"What did she do?" Rosamund inquired. Robert waved her up the stairs, and she followed him with expertise in her heels up the wide staircase.
"Apparently, the girls thought it a great idea to have fun on her hair's costs," he explained. "She seems happy about it but I don't want to be responsible for more bullocks."
"But it's not what they did with Edith back then?" Rosamund questioned concerned.
"God, no!" Robert dreaded the memory of the bawling seven-year-old Edith as she had gotten a look of herself in the mirror after Mary was done with playing hairstylist with Edith soft tresses and Sybil's assistance. Sybil had been three years old and had kindly passed all the demanded utensils to her oldest sister. She had even collected all the strawberry blond curls and had hidden them in a shoebox that had actually been the bed of her dearest teddy bear, dressed in lavender dress Marmaduke had bought on her explicit demand. Teddy had to move into Sybil's bed so that the cut-off curls were properly stored in the nicely decorated shoebox. Cora had confiscated the box when the three girls had finally confessed the whole truth. She probably still had the soft hair of little Edith somewhere in her belongings.
"No, it's only… well, purple," Robert clarified.
"Purple?" Rosamund was surprised.
"Yes, quite purple."
"I want to see that!" Of course, she would want that. It was an attraction, possible scandal and gossip, and it was a fashion statement she needed to judge.
"I think I leave you to it then," Robert decided. "They are in there." He pointed to the door of Sybil's room. "I'm in my study if you still need me."
"Alright, sir," Rosamund replied slightly bothered by his tone. He turned around and descended the stairs again to resume his peaceful refuge. He didn't really count on Rosamund to visit him there today.
But he wasn't properly back absorbed in his documents as his sister's head appeared in the doorway without as much as a warning knock on his door.
"Hey there, darling brother," she greeted teasingly and took a seat in front of him without waiting for his invitation.
"What is up? Is something wrong?" he asked. He still held the forms and contracts in his hands because he didn't want to accept the complete interruption of his work once again.
"Well, the problem is that I am sensing disharmony everywhere around me. It's not only that Rose is making it extremely hard to take proper care of her. No, it's also that my brother doesn't have it under control to manage that his family is a bit short on domestic bliss." She brushed the tip of her index finger across the tabletop as if looking for dust. Or maybe it was just to get attention on her nails that seemed to be cut out of her patent leather coat. Her sharp words never missed their target.
"Hey, hey! You sensing disharmony everywhere might be more a problem you have with yourself than real exterior problems. No need to get insulting!"
"There was no insult in my words, Robert," she answered with infuriating calmness.
Robert emitted a huffed snort. "You don't have to worry about my family, Rosamund."
She was silent. Her gaze went down to her hands, and the sudden change in her demeanour shocked Robert. Nothing had managed to rip him from his sully ruminating like the crack in Rosamund's facade. His fiery and snappy sister sat there melancholic and thoughtful. Nearly defeated and timid.
"Ros?"
"The way you're always talking about your family," she began quietly. Her expression was blank. The nails of her index fingers scraped at the cuticles of her other fingers repeatedly. She didn't elaborate her thoughts.
"What about it?" Robert inquired.
"No matter what you say it always sounds like a happy dream. A happy dream that was out of the question to come true for you and Cora so perfectly like this." Now her look bore surprisingly intense and clear into his eyes. Robert took a brief breath, preparing himself to respond but she wasn't done yet.
"I come to realise slowly that it probably was right all the time that it was different for me," she said and raised her chin to tilt her head toward his window, deliberately breaking the eye contact. Robert wasn't sure if her eyes looked a little glassy in the daylight that also reached her fiery curls at her temple and depicted them like lambent flames.
"You all like Rose, right?" Rosamund asked insistently, turning her head back to him swiftly.
"Well, I think so. She is a sweet girl. And much more likeable than her mother you have to admit," he replied and tried to lighten the mood as best as he could.
"Robert, everyone is more likeable than Susan." She rolled her eyes strictly. "What I mean is I struggle to get along with her. I am assigned to take care of a pretty kind girl and I fail at the easiest of tasks. What does that say about me and my… well, motherly abilities?" Robert could see how much it cost Rosamund to voice her concerns. He never knew thoughts like that were bothering her. He actually thought Rosamund didn't care. He thought she liked being a little unapproachable and never being mistaken for a 'mother hen' when she had taken the three girls to the park. But he should have known better. He of all people should know that his younger sister wasn't as cold and emotionless as she appeared on the outside.
"I think you're alright, Ros."
Crawley House really felt like theirs now. It had been around one year that they had lived in the grand London house. A lot had happened in this time. Not only had Cora gotten a job at her dream school and had developed a superb standing there, but she had also grown more completely into the role of Robert's wife. They had been married sometime before they had moved into the family's London property. Cora had no problem at all to be officially the woman at his side, not in the slightest. But she had some difficulties figuring out what it meant to be a Crawley. Being a Levinson had been what she was used to. She had liked her name. Cora Levinson. She had liked the identity that came with it. She had liked the background of her American heritage, of her parents' and grandparents' history. Being Cora Levinson, the sweetheart of Robert Crawley, was what she was good at. Being Cora Crawley, wife of Robert Crawley, was an identity she still had to form somehow. Their year in Crawley House helped her more than she had thought. She was in an environment that had been inhabited by many generations of Crawleys before her. She was able to learn more about Robert's, their, family slowly without being scrutinised and controlled by her mother-in-law constantly. It hadn't been easy to form even a hint of an amicable relationship with the upper-class lady. Cora was glad that she had already gotten to know Violet before she had married Robert. Otherwise, the changes in her life might have been one too many. She still felt that Violet, now Mama (it was an alteration Cora had first been confused by but it was much more natural now than she had anticipated), had higher expectations now that Cora bore the name Crawley.
It was a little surprise which they hadn't expected so early. It wasn't particularly early. They were a couple for four years. They knew that this was what both of them wanted eventually. But it wasn't that they had already been trying for that. However now it was confirmed, and Cora was a bundle of nerves the moment before she was about to tell Robert.
A baby.
She was pacing the tiles of the kitchen floor. Robert would be coming home any minute. Cora had already prepared a mug of tea for both of them but in her nervous distraction, she had downed it on her own. She put fresh water into the kettle and started the procedure anew. As she poured the boiling water over the tea leaves comforting clouds of steam rose, calming Cora at least a little. Her free hand came to rest on her unsuspicious abdomen. Her palm pressed gently against the flatness, and a blissful smile softened her face.
"What a day!" Robert sighed. He appeared in the doorway of the kitchen still in his suit jacket and with his heavy-looking briefcase hanging from his right hand.
Cora's hand dropped to her side, and she greeted her husband with a warm smile.
"Was it a hustle and bustle at the bank?" she inquired as she sat down the water kettle and left the tea to its devices to welcome Robert properly.
"Yes, I'd say so." He slightly bent his knees to put down his briefcase. "But now I'm home, so everything's fine." He held his arms open a little and waited for Cora's hug. A small smile emphasised his statement.
"Yes, you're home. And I'm glad," Cora spoke softly. She stepped into his arms and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. She scolded herself silently for momentarily thinking if he could feel the baby between them in their embrace. What nonsense!
"Come, sit down! I made tea for us." She actually didn't want to leave his arms and so she stayed there a few seconds more, squeezing him tightly, before even giving him the chance to have a seat at the kitchen table. Cora took a deep breath, inhaling his warm scent with her nose shortly buried in the crook of his neck. Then, she finally released him, and he acknowledged her with a warm yet inquiring look.
He said, "I can tell that you're glad, my dear," as he pulled back the chair and sat down. Cora sat next to him around the corner of the table. Robert reached out his hand and caressed her cheek with his knuckles. "I hope you're alright," he said slightly concerned. "I like it a lot when you're so snuggly and cuddly but I wouldn't like you being upset to be the cause for that."
"I'm not upset. I am alright," Cora assured. She covered his hand with her own. She realised she had no clue how to tell him. She dreaded to gauge his possible reactions. She just wanted him to be as happy as she was about the news.
Cora decided to buy time pouring them both their tea as slowly and relaxed as possible.
"So, your day wasn't as hectic as mine?" Robert asked.
"Not hectic, no," she answered without tearing her gaze from the honey-coloured liquid. For a moment, only the pouring of the tea filled the rooms with the slightest of sounds.
"You know that you can read my mind, right?" Robert stated and leaned back in his chair.
"Oh?"
"When I left work, I thought it would be perfect to have a cup of tea from your hands."
"But never tell Mama that you like the tea your American wife makes more than any other. She wouldn't be pleased at all," Cora teased. She was happy about the chance to shake off fractions of her tension.
Robert chuckled. "She would just have to try your tea. You master English tea to perfection. Even she would notice."
"Only if we make it a blind tasting. I don't think she would agree if she knew I made it."
Robert shrugged his shoulders. Cora pressed her fingers to the hot cup in front of her. She wasn't sure if the shiver that ran through her body was really due to feeling cold but she tried to warm herself nevertheless.
"I…" she began. Briefly, she looked up and saw Robert's raised eyebrows as she didn't continue.
"Is something the matter, Cora?"
"There is something I have to tell you," she replied.
"Oh, this sounds grave," he gave back. "And I here had been bragging about my perfect marriage," he joked. "Please don't break it off with me," Robert pleaded mockingly.
"Robert," Cora groaned.
"I'm sorry, dear."
"I…" she started anew. "I just hope what I have to tell takes you as positively by surprise as was the case with me." Robert now looked at her quizzically and tiny clouds of concern returned to his expression.
"I don't quite understand," he said lowly. Of course, he didn't.
"Well, it's just that I had been by the doctor, and–"
"You had been by the doctor?!" he interjected alarmed.
"Please, Robert. Let me finish my sentence! Everything's alright. Really," Cora made clear. She covered his hands, which pressed to the tabletop forcefully, with hers and locked his eyes with her own ones imploringly. "It seems my exhaustion and lack of appetite lately have a simple reason. Apparently, I'm expecting."
Robert's expression didn't falter. His hands still rested unmoving beneath hers, and his eyes wandered between hers.
"What? You're expecting what?" he asked dumbfoundedly.
Cora furrowed her brow. She decided to give him another few seconds to let the coin drop.
"You're– Oh! You're expecting!" His eyes widened. "Oh my God, Cora!" he exclaimed. "Wait, you mean you're… like," he lowered his voice. "… pregnant?" His neck had adopted a slightly darker colour as if he was embarrassed by what he said. As if he was afraid, he was entirely wrong and voiced something inappropriate by mistake.
Cora nodded and couldn't suppress a smirk. Now Robert pulled one of his hands from her hold and combed through his hair overwhelmed. He exhaled audibly and his gaze went out the wide kitchen window.
"Really?" he asked after a moment.
"Yes, Robert! I have been to the doctor! He said I'm about five weeks along," she insisted. "I know we said we would try a few more months down the road but does it really make such a huge difference?"
She looked at him unsure. She didn't dare to squeeze his hand under hers the way she actually wanted to.
"No, it probably does not. I just realise that I haven't really contemplated what it would mean when you were really… pregnant." The word still seemed to be rather foreign to him. "I can't comprehend that we're about to become parents," he said.
"But… you're pleased?" she breathed hopefully. Goodness, she felt so desperate, seeking his approval so badly. He exhaled again forcefully, shaking off all worries, and smiled at her more broadly than he had the whole day.
"Of course, I'm pleased." Now it was Robert who squeezed her hand tightly. "I just can't take it all in, but I'm pleased. So utterly pleased!" He pulled her close, cupping the back of her head, and pressing a giddy kiss to her lips across the table.
The excited fuss inside Cora's belly was set aflame more intensely than in the moment as she had left the gynaecologist's office. Her little dream of the wonder of a small blissful family with her sweet, adorable Robert was coming true. She couldn't believe how perfect it all was. She didn't care that a lot was about to change again. Even if there would be compromises at work and at home and God-knows elsewhere, it would all be absolutely worth it for their little miracle dozing underneath her abdominal wall.
She had to solve the chaos around her and inside of her little by little. Cora realised that it was a lot of work to get to the point she longed for so much. The point she thought herself at only a few weeks ago. Unbeknownst to her, the meticulously sorted threads of her life had slipped through her fingers one by one.
After the great blow on Saturday, there hadn't been much interaction with Robert whatsoever. He avoided her at any cost. Evading her nearness as if she was poisonous. It hurt. It hurt a lot to catch the distorted expression on his face when their paths intersected. The extent of Robert's resentment puzzled Cora, and she wanted to do everything right now so badly. This resulted in next to no attempts at building bridges between them. She was too afraid to take the wrong step. All Sunday took her to contemplate the right move. She tried to solve her tasks, prepare school, keep the household on track, and figure out how to win Robert back, how to get into his good graces again.
She didn't find the sacred resolution.
The next week started, and Cora had nothing she could hold onto to guide her through her obscure dramas.
Monday in her office, she remembered that once again she had forgotten something she had wanted to have clarified by now already. She urgently needed an appointment at her gynaecologist's office. Cora gulped as she reached for the telephone on her desk and dialled the number, she had annotated with purple pen on the first page of her diary years ago. Heat rose in her head and while the phone rang, she read her own note over and over again. Dr Baxter, landline... Her own handwriting seemed foreign to her with the flourishes she only practised when she had all the time of the world. In her nervous state, this seemed to be like an entirely different person with handwriting so antique it could never be hers.
"Hello? Medical practice Dr Baxter, reception secretary Ivy speaking. How can I help you?"
"I'd like to make an appointment. As soon as possible." Cora fumbled with the cap of her red fine liner. Her heart plummeted but the heavy weight of her nervousness had already decreased considerably.
"Alright. Your name, please?"
"Crawley. Cora Crawley." Her throat was dry as she pronounced her name. She felt it had never sounded as aridly and lifeless.
"Okay, I see. One moment, please. I'll take a look," the secretary cooed sweetly.
Cora nodded into the speaker.
"The next one I can find would be on Tuesday, 11 am," the young assistant explained with her clear voice.
"11 am? I don't know if… You know what? That's fine. Tuesday, 11 am is good," Cora said decidedly. She wouldn't get another wink of sleep until she had seen the doctor. It didn't matter that she had to leave her office at an infelicitous time tomorrow.
That was all she held onto over the next hours. Seeing Dr Baxter would clear her head large-scale as she urgently needed. No matter the outcome (this wasn't entirely true but Cora fought to tell herself that) Dr Baxter would manage to make things appear a lot clearer and easier. Cora just had to hold out until tomorrow at 11 am and then she would receive help.