First Come, First Serve
Chapter 1
Summary: Cora and Robert didn't get married because Isidore Levinson found a suitable match for Cora in New York and called her back home before the end of the London season and after Robert had stalled on his proposal anyway. We meet Cora and Robert a year later, both having to live with the choices that were made.
A/N: Starting as an entry for my 'Year of Cobert' event, this is now becoming a new Cobert fic I'm embarking on. A pre-canon Cobert AU was not something I had on my list but somehow this idea stuck with me and I just had to run with the plot bunnies. This story will have 10 chapters and I will update it every 4 to 5 days. I would love to hear your thoughts as I've never really dedicated myself to pre-canon Cobert before (only small, innocuous snippets). So, please review! I hope you enjoy it and thank you for reading and sharing this Cobert experience with me!
…
The atmosphere in the drawing room was intense. The air was so thick with Lord Grantham's frustration that it could be cut with a knife. Robert tried to shield himself from his father's irritation as best as possible but he had evaded the obvious problems long enough. Too long to find refuge from his father's frustration.
"It, evidently, is a catastrophe you didn't marry last season. I have to blame myself as well for giving a hearing to your ridiculous excuses and pleas why this one wouldn't do or why that one was no option because you had to wait, for whatever made you feel too insecure to make the next step."
Patrick Crawley stood by the floor-to-ceiling window and looked into the garden. Violet had left the room a minute before, probably on a silent cue Robert had missed. Now Robert was on his own subjected to his father's critical lecture.
"But it is not about you, Robert. Over the last few months, you watched this estate crumble at every other end because we don't have the means anymore to allow for the proper upkeep. You know all that and still, you self-centredly keep yourself off the marriage market as if this would ensure you wouldn't make your hands dirty with the massacre that is happening on our Downton right now. Doing nothing can be just as bad as doing the wrong thing, Robert. I have learnt that the hard way. The only thing you have to understand right now to do your part is that you have to find a wife with the biggest inheritance possible. That is the only trait of importance about your future wife. Don't listen to your Mama's sentimental notes about what all she wishes Lady Downton to be. To be blunt, we need the money. The rest is all flyspeck."
Robert gulped. He had hoped he would have time until the next London season in July. He had been so sure his father wouldn't bother him with any marriage business until then. He was wrong.
"You should have tied down that American when you had the chance," Patrick grumbled.
"It wouldn't have changed anything. Her father would have broken off the engagement as soon as he found her that better match in New York," Robert said in defence of himself.
"We can't know that, Robert. A smart man thinks twice before he breaks off a perfectly fine engagement."
"But was it a perfectly fine engagement for Miss Levinson, Papa? Hm? I mean, would it have been, if Downton had swallowed her inheritance whole instantly?"
Patrick Crawley still looked stoically into the greens. His answer came resolutely and grew more bitter with every sentence.
"All of them, all the American heiresses, only want to make a deal themselves. They want to buy a title for their family at home to be accepted in the higher circles of society. Your American beauty wouldn't have had to care about what had happened with her money after the wedding. She would have had her desired title and a decent lifestyle that her money enabled. In fact, I am sure her father would not have broken off the engagement."
That was easy for him to say. It was easy to point out the mistakes of others and make them so much bigger and more impactful afterwards. Robert was angry. Angry with his father. Angry with himself. And angry with Mr Levinson who didn't give Robert the chance to do things in his own time. Maybe he would have asked Miss Levinson to marry him. Now, no one could know. An opportunity lost.
For a moment, Robert thought about his lost fiancée. Miss Levinson – who wasn't Miss Levinson anymore but Mrs Lowell – was now happily in New York and shared her days with a rich young man, as American as she but more renowned than her father. This man got to enjoy the gracious smiles that his wife now only bestowed upon him. He got to parade her incomparable beauty around New York and receive all the praise. He got to hold her hand and dance with her as much as he liked because she was his wife. He got to bed her and have her as the mother of his offspring. Something in Robert began to boil and he felt his face heat up because now he was also angry with Mr Lowell who knew too well how to take care of his gorgeous wife. Because how could he not? Such a great man that Mr Levinson could only drool over such a great match had to know how to be the perfect husband.
"I take it you track down all the eligible heiresses yourself and present me with an offer till the end of this month," Patrick Crawley interrupted Robert's thoughts.
"But in case I don't find anyone in that time? I can't promise any success even if I were eager to be engaged and wedded quickly."
"You see, son. This is your problem. You always think that way. What if it doesn't work out? What if it goes wrong? You're dooming yourself for failure."
That was all there was said on that topic.
Now, Robert had to find a solution. At best in the form of a stinking rich girl willing to marry him on a whim.
The Lowell family actually resided in Boston. It was John's own conviction to keep a strong standing in New York. If it wasn't for him, the family would manage the business solely from their Boston residence. But John Lowell liked New York. He liked the fast movements in the city. He liked the openness to the world that he hadn't felt so prominently in Boston. He liked the establishments, and he liked the women. Particularly one woman now. John had thought marriage would get boring soon after the honeymoon. It would do the job; an orderly home, an upgrade in society, and the security of the family line. But the exclusive singularity would bore him soon. Surprisingly though, John wasn't bored yet. Nearly a year they were married, and John still hadn't entertained anyone else since Cora wore his wedding band. She was a splendid wife to not only keep him happy but excited for so long as well. He adored her.
He adored her how an in-demand businessman could adore a woman. During the few hours a week, he had time to see her.
She had the big townhouse to herself and was free to do how she liked as long as, when he came home, she was the attentive and loving and pleasing wife she showed herself to be. And at these moments, he adored her. Other than that, he didn't think much about her but only abstractly about 'his wife' who kept his house.
Today it was Friday and after he had a hearty lunch at his club, John Lowell decided he could come home early and message the office on Saturday morning to inquire what he had missed. He had been very busy the entire week and had only exchanged some words with Cora over his errand boy who visited his townhouse in his stead and brought him short letters from Cora. He answered her letters with notes of his own in his urgent penmanship she still didn't decipher flawlessly completely. It was mere pleasantries they exchanged. There wasn't anything of importance they had to exchange. Only that he wouldn't come home this day; and the next; and the one after that. Or that she informed him of a question the cook had about the equipping of the pantries. And then she would always add a romantically inclined line that made him weakly smile about her femininity.
Whenever I pass the coffee table in our sitting room and see your pipe sitting there on the pipe rack, I smile to myself because I fondly think of your presence in the house that I feel here even when I know you to be at your office.
That was what she wrote in her last letter. It was his less-liked pipe she was writing about. His favourite one sat on his desk in front of him. But it was good to know that she was thinking of him. That was what he had been most warned about by his father when he had seen how little supervision John held over his wife. If he barely showed up at home, others would soon find her and use his absence to save her from loneliness and keep her company.
"She is a young woman with good looks, John. She might seem chaste to you despite her voluptuous body, but, believe me, others are more than eager to teach her the other way." John's father always knew best. And John wouldn't let him be right on this issue. So, he decided to go home early today and look in on his wife after his on-stretching absence.
The air was mild and light when he stepped onto the pavement. The whole city seemed to be in the streets and it was no wonder with such pleasant weather. John didn't have to look for the carriage. It was right where he'd always ordered it. The coachman had to ask twice to fully believe Mr Lowell was already going home at this time of the day. But John was in a good mood and so he patiently repeated the address as often as it took the coachman to understand. When the carriage finally started to move and ran down the cobblestone street, John leaned back with a satisfied sigh. He thought about whether it was possible tonight to visit his wife's quarters. He hadn't seen her in a while. He had to assess her state before he could make a decision on that.
The carriage soon pulled into the entranceway of his townhouse. John jumped out of the vehicle and looked up at the house with a smirk. It stood tall and lifted between the other houses, outshining them all in its pristine white and letting the reds and ochres and terracottas around look low and plebeian. He was glad he had decided on the more expensive white stone.
With confident steps, John approached his house and walked through the entrance that was opened for him.
"Where is Mrs Lowell?" he asked the butler.
"In her sitting room, I believe, Sir."
"Thank you, Jenkins."
Her sitting room was on the first floor, not a long way from the main staircase so that her lady guests didn't have to walk through half the house to attend her tea invitations. John didn't like it when other people snooped into his private spaces. The view down the hallways was enough for guests to see the grandeur of the property. John handed his briefcase to Jenkins and then went straightway up the stairs to Cora's sitting room. He knocked briskly and entered before he heard the first noise.
Cora sat on the sofa facing the unlit fireplace. Or more so, she lounged. Her feet were put up on a stool, and she looked up at him with big surprised eyes.
"John!"
Her handiwork slipped from her lap as her feet dashed to the floor and she sat up straight.
"You're home already!" she exclaimed.
"You don't have to tell me. I know that already," he said. Making a few steps into the room, he stood beside an armchair and leaned his elbow onto the backrest. He observed his wife. He looked at her like he was an outsider, a man meeting her for the first or second time. His absence gave him the ability to see her all anew.
She had that glowing and round youthful face. Her cheeks were red and full, her eyes wide and her skin soft and taut. Her raven curls were piled up on her head, and John thought he liked the softer, blown-out waves better, that everyone else was wearing and that she had been wearing before as well. Cora was dressed in a new gown he hadn't noticed before. It was orange with black lace covering it. John recalled Cora mentioning that the other women in New York's high society had advised to only wear orange because it was the latest thing apparently. Cora seemed to follow that suggestion. John's look fell onto her hand. It was cradling her belly, and now he saw that she indeed began to show. The dress couldn't hide it anymore. A sense of accomplishment ran through John as he saw her like this. Another success to enter in the books.
"I haven't anything planned yet," Cora said. She pressed her hands into the sofa and pushed herself up a bit. "Cook's going to make a simple dinner because I told her I wasn't hungry. I'll run down immediately and tell her to make, uhm lobster maybe. Or what would you like?" Her cheeks were flushed when she walked up to him.
"Being with child changes a woman completely. Only then, she grows into her real form." John remembered his mother's line in their short talk about marriage when he had been down to Boston after the honeymoon. Cora indeed seemed to change. It probably had to be a good thing. John wouldn't know himself.
"Don't make yourself crazy over me. I could have announced my arrival sooner," he said and took her upper arms to push her onto the sofa again. She was with child after all. "A had a big lunch at the club anyway. I can make do with a simple dinner."
Cora looked up at him warily. She didn't seem convinced. Kneading her hands, she took a moment to phrase a response.
"So, what do you want to eat?" she asked in a careful tone.
"I'll just have what you have."
"I don't know that you would like that."
"Why?"
"Because a good dinner is very important to you, dear. I know that. I would just have soup and maybe some fried eggs if I'm hungry."
John sat down next to her. He looked at her with a frown. "But that is not a dinner."
"That's why I asked what you'd like to eat," Cora said calmly.
John huffed. Now he had to come up with his own meal? It was her task to plan the meals with the cook. Didn't he have enough on his mind?
He got up from the sofa and sighed, "Fine. Then I'll have the lobster I guess."
"Good. I tell the– "
John heard Cora get up hurriedly behind him when he remembered something else.
"Oh and, Cora!" he cut her off mid-sentence. Turning around, they suddenly stood unusually close to each other. He lowered his voice as he continued. "Do you think I could come to you tonight, even though you're…?" His eyes dropped to her belly.
She followed his gaze and blushed.
He added, "Did the doctor say anything?"
Her blush intensified, and she stammered as she replied. "I… I did- I didn't… ask. But he said everything is alright. Well, with the baby and me. I don't think it truly does any harm to… well, if one does it gently, there is no harm done in carrying on marital duties, even when it shows already, I think."
"Good."
He stepped back from her and decided to have a whiskey downstairs.
