First Come, First Serve

Chapter 2

…

Robert had never thought himself to be so inventive, ingenious even, to find such an original way to trace and discover himself an heiress. Of course, in London, there was not a single rich debutante who was willing to marry before July when they were all still preparing everything for the season (where the not-so-desperate suitors would wait for them patiently). Robert could have told his father this right away.

Luckily, for both Robert and his father, they had a saviour in the form of Sir Howard. Sir Howard was Patrick's brother-in-law, the husband of Violet's neurotic sister. A lot less titled but at the moment more liquid than the Crawley's he had pontifically offered them a sum to bring the estate over the summer. And maybe even more important for Robert, Sir Howard had offered to take Robert on an overseas trip to America. Sir Howard had also heard of the promising American heiresses and thought to find his son one as well. Only that he hadn't as a great title to offer as these girls wanted. So, clever as he was, he thought to skirt around the issue by travelling to America where no one knew of Sir Howard's real status in society. He could tell them all the stories they wanted to hear without the risk of being busted. And then, he was sure, he and his son Edwin could carry a wealthy girl back with them to England, tied to Edwin by the treacherous gold band on her finger.

Robert found this whole plan to be so nasty he could vomit. But because he had his own problem to fix, he didn't say anything and simply accepted the invitation to accompany them. He, too, had to come back with an heiress. And contrary to Edwin, Robert had a real title to offer.

He stood on the deck of the steamer that was carrying them to the unknown land. Robert would have never in his life thought that he'd ever travel to America. Have an American wife, maybe. But visiting this faraway continent was an altogether different thing. He was strangely excited, even though he had no idea how to go about it once he was there. He didn't know how to win over a rich girl, especially not outside the known customs of the London season. But somehow there was something familiar in this strange country. Maybe because he knew someone there.

Miss Levinson had been the debutante last season he had come closest with. Even if, after her departure, there were other girls with whom the engagement discussions actually went further. But only the touch of Miss Levinson's glove was still engrained in his brain. With her, he had never uttered any intention of engagement but oh, how he had talked with her. She had made something in him sound, that in the end, he felt the fire prickle under his skin when he saw her and when he thought about how he could mention the topic of marriage. He felt burned; she was too hot, her eyes too bright, her promise of a future too great, that he had let go of her for a little while. Had ignored her on a few balls. Had done anything else but not talk with her about marriage and their compatibility. And then someone else had snatched her. Someone who didn't even have to be present to secure the hand of the stunning Miss Levinson. She had sought Robert one last time. Visited one more ball than necessary to the annoyance of her mother, just to walk up to Robert who stupidly still ignored her and to tell him she would go. Robert had been unable to say anything. He was dumbfounded by the tragedy of her sudden departure, and her ice-blue eyes with all their paradoxical warmth had gazed up at him, implored him to open up to her one final time to give her a proper goodbye. Robert had coughed for the strange, strangling sensation in his throat. He had taken her gloved hands in his, and in a foreign voice that rattled metallic, he had said, "What a surprise! Congratulations, Miss Levinson! It's always great news to have an engagement so early in the season."

"Well, it's not really part of the season, is it?" Her hands didn't move from his grip. Her voice was quieter than his. Then, she added, "So, are you happy for me, Lord Downton?" The look in her eyes was so vulnerable that Robert's biggest fear was to make true on the pain she was fearing, so visibly showing in her eyes.

He lowered his voice and tried to sound as genuine as possible. "I am happy for you, Miss Levinson. I am so glad to see you receive the joy and luck you deserve."

Her eyes shot down. "Goodbye then." Her voice came from far away as if she was already on her journey across the ocean. "I wish you to find a match just as I did. And that you find a bride worthy of your covenant and love."

"Well, goodbye then," was all he had been able to say as he let go of her hands. Her words had confused him. Worthy of his covenant and love. She hadn't looked at him one last time as she went, while his eyes followed her as far as they could.

Was Miss Levinson really a familiar person to him? He felt like he was visiting a friend and that was what made this trip exciting and not daunting. But was Miss Levinson a friend? He actually didn't know.

…

It was two days later after he stood on the deck and let memories of Miss Levinson wash over him as his eyes got lost in the foamy waves, that the coastline of New York appeared far on the horizon. New York looked strange and new and big like Robert had thought, but still, he could have never imagined what it really was. He was glad Sir Howard took care of getting them to their hotel. Robert could just stare down the streets and look in awe out of the window of the carriage. His cousin Edwin next to him was stunned at first, too, but that wore off quickly. He was already bored again when they got into the carriage.

"So, Robert, you know someone here, right?" Sir Howard leaned to Robert. "Would you care to introduce us? I assume that would be a great entry into New York's high society." He had a snarling grin on his lips, and Robert didn't feel inclined at all to introduce his shameless relatives to Miss Levinson – Mrs Lowell. And he had to get in contact with her first anyway. He had no idea how easy or how difficult that would be.

He said so to Sir Howard. "Well, I only know she came back to New York to get married here. I have to find out first if she even still lives here."

"But you'll introduce us when you find her, right?"

Robert nodded. "Sure."

"Good, good." Sir Howard rubbed two fingers against his thumb. "Right, son? This sounds good."

Edwin shrugged. "I guess so. But she's married anyway. I don't know why I should be looking forward to seeing her."

Robert ignored the other two men when Sir Howard began explaining to Edwin how important such a meeting could be and how they would still meet enough unmarried women.

…

It was not very hard to find the Lowells. The name was a household word to every other New Yorker, and a Lobby boy at the hotel could tell Robert where to find Mr Lowell's office. Very nervous and with tight knots in his stomach, Robert sought out the office. But despite his nervousness, he was absolutely determined to go. This was his only chance to see Miss Levinson again, a person he had thought lost for the rest of his life.

It wasn't easy to catch Mr Lowell, even at his own office. When Robert realised this, he had let Mr Lowell's secretary write a note, informing Mr Lowell of Robert's visit and his wish to get in contact with the businessman. Robert was already on his way out the door again when the secretary called after him.

"Mr Downton! Uhm, Lord Downton, that is! Mr Lowell, this is Lord Downton who just left a message wanting to speak with you."

Robert turned around and saw the secretary now standing behind her desk talking to a tall man standing in the doorway opposite the exit. Mr Lowell looked briefly at Robert and then read the note the secretary held out for him.

"I see. What do I owe that pleasure to, Lord Downton?" His voice was assertive and deep.

Robert came closer and held out his hand for Mr Lowell.

"Mr Lowell, what a lucky instance I still caught you! I assume you don't know me but I would be delighted if you gave me a minute of your time," Robert said. He was glad his hand wasn't too sweaty when Mr Lowell took and shook it strongly.

"But you don't want to sell me an overpriced paper supply contract, do you?" Mr Lowell asked sternly.

Robert was confused and he frowned. "No, I wouldn't know what would qualify me for this."

Mr Lowell laughed and slapped Robert on the shoulder rather jovially.

"Come with me, Lord Downton!"

Robert followed him into a large room, panelled in dark wood, which had to be Mr Lowell's office.

"Please take a seat!"

Robert got swallowed by the large, squishy armchair. Hopefully, Mr Lowell would still be able to see him down there squashed by the upholstery.

Mr Lowell was a very tall, just slender man with distinctive features. His dark, nearly-black hair travelled onto his face in prominent sideburns. His eyebrows were of the same unruly, thick hair. His dark brown eyes always held that assured, confident look peering out from under the bushy brows. His lips quirked in a superior but not entirely unfriendly smirk.

"So, what can I do for you? Who are you, if I might be allowed to ask so bluntly."

Robert cleared his throat. "I am Lord Downton, a friend of your wife."

"Oh? I didn't know she had been long enough in England to make friends there." Mr Lowell's eyes examined Robert even more closely now. Silently, Robert had to agree with Mr Lowell. But he wouldn't let that show.

"Well, we all grew very fond of her during the time she was in London." Mr Lowell's face got darker, and Robert quickly improvised with a few white lies. "My sister and she got along very well, and now that I am travelling in New York, I wanted to extend my sister's greetings to Miss Lev- to your wife Mrs Lowell."

Robert hoped dearly he wouldn't be chased out of the office but instead receive an invitation to the Lowells' mansion.

Mr Lowell leaned back against his desk and hovered above Robert.

"How long are you staying in New York, Lord Downton?"

"4 weeks, Sir."

"You can visit us for dinner in two days if you want to. I will be there. My wife makes the best seafood banquet," Mr Lowell said. "Do you like lamprey bordelaise, Lord Downton?"

"Uhm, I don't know. I believe I never had it," Robert answered slightly confused.

"Well, then you have to come. My wife will make her best effort."

Cora felt a drop of sweat run down her forehead. Her husband really had the most extravagant wishes for his dinner parties. Now, he had asked her to serve up an elaborate and great banquet, even though he was only expecting one guest. But Cora knew how important the celebration of good food was for her husband. John loved eating. He loved eating well, and he loved eating much. And she knew nothing made him happier than when she not only complied with his dinner wishes but even surpassed them. So, she had planned the complicated dinner menu and had reviewed it again and again with the cook.

Now, she was coming up the stairs from the kitchen, the sweat running from her hairline. The cook had to make a few last-minute alterations because the clams that had been delivered were bad and had to be thrown away altogether. But everything was alright now. They had taken care of an improvised menu which John wouldn't notice.

Cora was relieved when she arrived in her room. She fell back onto the chair at her vanity and took a short breather. Everything would be alright. The dinner would be a success. She had done everything she could.

She had a short moment of relaxation when her maid helped her to get ready for dinner. At least after squeezing her into her clementine gown. The fingers in her hair had a soothing effect on Cora's nerves.

Robert didn't know what to expect from his visit to the Lowells. Suddenly, he wasn't sure anymore if Miss Levinson really looked how he pictured in his memories. And he wasn't sure if she would even still remember him. It would be very awkward if she didn't. Robert assessed her to be polite enough to treat him like an acquaintance still. But, oh how it would crush his spirits if she didn't remember him.

He felt like he entered another world when we walked up the entranceway to the white townhouse sitting enthroned over the rest of the street. He felt a little more familiar when he could hand his coat to the butler greeting him at the door.

"Mr and Mrs Lowell are awaiting you in the parlour. This way."

Robert followed the stern butler. His hands were sweaty and his throat closed painfully.

The warm light from the parlour fell into the hallway when the butler opened the door. Robert could hear low voices. The butler only nodded at Robert without announcing him but Robert didn't know the customs here. He stepped into the bright room.

The couple stood facing each other at the far end of the room. Robert only saw Mrs Lowell's – former Miss Levinson – back. She wore a bright orange gown contrasting her dark hair. A few curls travelled down her neck. Mr Lowell quickly noticed the arriving guest and his eyes pierced Robert. Robert saw how Mr Lowell touched his wife's elbow and quietly said something like, 'Our guest is here.' She turned around, and Robert watched it as in delayed motion happening before his eyes.

She looked even more beautiful than in his memories. She glowed. Her clear eyes shone through the room at him. There was a soft expression on her face. Her lips, slightly parted, held a gentle smile. Then recognition arose. A light shortly widened her entire expression in shocked surprise. And suddenly her face hardened. Her mouth closed, her jaw clenched, her eyes grew dull. Robert's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.

And then his eyes fell onto her stomach. Her gown stretched tightly over the big marble, and both her hands now settled on her belly and cradled her unborn baby, nearly as if she had to protect it from him.

She was pregnant. Why hadn't he considered this possibility? It shouldn't make any difference to him but the sight still shocked him.

And why did she grow so cold once she recognised him? Robert didn't know what happened for her to react like this. He wouldn't have foreseen it at all. He wanted to crawl back into his skin and hide deep at the core of his body.