First Come, First Serve
Chapter 11
…
The remaining months of mourning passed in a rather pleasant fashion. Cora had to stay in deep mourning at least until the one-year anniversary of John's death. Victorian customs suggested varying periods of mourning. But most agreed that a widow should mourn her husband for two years. Some interpreted this as two years of deep mourning, still followed by periods of second mourning and third mourning (also called half-mourning). Slightly more modern voices said two years in total were proper for a young widow. And Cora felt encouraged to adhere to the second. No one seemed too eager to keep her cloaked in black for too long. That meant for her, she would probably be ending the period of half-mourning after the end of the second year. But that was still a really long time when one was only waiting to marry again. There also came some other major issues with Cora's mourning and the length of it. Robert's family and she managed to take care of the most critical aspects, though.
After Cora's arrival where she had been welcomed as a guest at Downton Abbey, they had decided that Cora would live at Crawley House, down in the village, until she and Robert were to be married. After many evenings of humming and hawing on the Crawleys part, they finally voiced their biggest concerns about Cora still having to be in mourning for many months. The estate needed a big influx of money and Robert's wedding – to whoever as long as rich enough – should have been soon or they would lose the estate altogether. The full sum Cora could bring into a marriage with Robert, however, made his parents eager to keep the engagement between Cora and Robert, even though they couldn't be married right away. Cora saw how unpleasant this conversation was especially for Robert. She knew that he was afraid she would think this was the reason why he wanted to marry her. But they were past that point. (He had been through too much trouble breaking off his bond with very well rich-enough Nellie Walton that Cora could possibly think he only saw the dollars.) She saw the difficulties and agreed that something had to be done. The solution they agreed on and that brought great relief was that Cora would transfer parts of her money right away before they were even married. They signed a contract in which Cora gave them the basic sum they needed to keep Downton Abbey for at least two years and in return Robert was bound to marry her as soon as her mourning period would allow. She also 'bought' Crawley House with that money (the official reason for the contract). As soon as they were married, the properties would be joined again. This solution kept everyone at least somewhat happy.
The only variable left that was nowhere explicitly mentioned was the date of their wedding. 'After Mrs Cora Lowell has properly mourned her deceased husband Mr John Lowell, Lord Downton, civil name Robert Crawley, undertakes to take said Mrs Cora Lowell as his wife.' That was what the contract said, and Cora found it said nothing. Proper mourning was interpreted individually in every social class but even in every upper-class family. The two-year period for a widow mourning her husband was what officially was being said most of the time. But many widows had no problems keeping their period of mourning even longer. And the ones that didn't strictly adhere to the two-year period and cut it short avoided talking about it publicly too much, so these cases weren't very well known. No one wanted to put a date on Cora's new wedding because no one dared to be the one making an improper suggestion. Either way, the date wouldn't be right. Too early was improper. Too late would not only make the betrothed unhappy but would also delay the real influx of money for the estate. It was a balancing act that demanded everyone's subtle support.
Cora was passing the time in Crawley House spending every day entirely with the twins. There was no one to tell her it wasn't right, and the wet nurse had grown used to Cora's constant company. She seemed to have developed a sympathy for Cora's need for the children. It allowed her some flexibility even because Cora gladly spent an hour or two with the twins alone. The wet nurse didn't complain about the free time she won.
Cora was amazed by how fast the little ones were growing and how soon she noticed distinct differences between them. Though, Robert when he was visiting, still had no luck telling them apart. Sometimes he tried but Cora saw in his unsure eyes that he was making a wild guess even if he said the right name. But she didn't always let it show that she knew it was pure coincidence. He was so eager to take part in her interest in the children. When he complimented Helen on the curious and attentive look in her eyes, Cora ignored the questioning tone with which Robert said Helen's name and played along with the guise that he knew her children. He would learn soon enough how to tell them apart confidently.
Robert visited Cora nearly daily as long as his duties at the estate allowed. He often came to Crawley House around tea time and a butler Robert's father had hired for Cora served them tea. They were never really alone. Some servant was always in the room with them but Cora was so happy she was so close to Robert that not even this could diminish her happiness. They didn't really repeat the fiery kiss from the platform but the conversations they had brought them that much closer and an even deeper friendship developed over the months. Soon Cora felt she knew him better than anyone else she had ever met in her life. All her childhood friends were dim memories in comparison to her friendship with Robert. At night, when she lay in bed and could find no sleep, she sometimes tried to figure out what was so special about Robert and their relationship. What made him different from anyone else? She believed to find out that Robert – not only with his look deep into her eyes and soul but just with the way he listened to her – showed her that he was genuinely interested in her. Not just her looks, not just her body, not just her money. He wanted to get to know her deep down. And in a way, he already did. Because he sensed when she was feeling deeper about something she didn't say. He sensed she was going to say something before she even knew it herself. He sensed when she just wanted to hold his hand and relish in the mutual silence. His genuine interest in her person and his ability to grasp it was what soon made him her best friend.
The months passed by. Cora spent a chilly but safe winter in Crawley House. For most hours of these winter days, she huddled up around the fireplace with the twins. The wet nurse took up preparing bottles with milk for the babies so that Cora could help nurse them as they sat by the fire. They sat in a chair opposite each other and fed a baby each. These were Cora's favourite moments. The snow was falling silently behind the window. The bright flames in the fireplace illuminated the faces. Holding her girl or her boy and looking at their serenely drooping eyes as their lips and cheeks suckled with the greatest conviction and instinct at the latch made her chest widen with unknown multitudes of adoration.
She was invited to the Crawley family's Christmas dinner and their New Year celebration and was highly focused on soaking up the family traditions so that she would do nothing wrong as a daughter-in-law in the future. She remembered how intent John had been that everything was done the Lowell way, even though Cora had no idea how the Lowell way was. She didn't want to be in the same dilemma again. So, she was fully concentrated as she tried to follow the family conversations (while not wanting to be too impertinent to listen in on everything they said) and as she tried to take in all the games they played during the holidays. She wasn't confident enough to wish to partake in the games but Robert said it was very important for him that she played too. It was the most embarrassing thing she had to do since arriving in England. Her face burned when she stood in front of the anticipating family, surrounding her in a semicircle, and had to wave her arms around as she had to mime 'Pride and Prejudice'. The family stayed quiet for a few seconds and it felt like hours that Cora stood in awkward silence, acting out the word 'Pride'. They mustered her and Cora thought they might have forgotten about the game altogether and just judged her silently. They kept holding back with their guesses because Cora wasn't one of them. But finally, Rosamund came to her rescue.
"Proud? Pride! The first word is pride!"
And from that point, the title was soon guessed. Cora fell back into her chair with an exhausted exhale. Her bombazine dress was dull in the light of the fireplace and a reminder of her mourning. She sat in black between the cheerful others who seemed to her so much more elegant and refined. The bombazine fabric was heavy and pulled at her shoulders. Cora was glad she had brought a fan with her. As she was fanning herself with the simple black fan, she thought that these sweaty activities (to which charades definitely belonged for her) were not very fitting for deep mourning. She whispered so to Robert when he was encouraging her to keep playing, and he immediately agreed with a sombre expression when he remembered her state.
After the New Year's celebrations, Cora retreated back into more quiet mourning in the peace of Crawley House. She tried her best to stay patient and not lose her courage and forbearance during the long and dark winter nights. Most of the time, she only sat by the fireplace, did some needlework until her fingers grew stiff, then took up a book and read until she had read every book in the house, and ended up playing with her children until the wet nurse put them to bed. Robert sometimes brought her a book from the library at Downton Abbey which was a welcome diversion. But there were weeks when he couldn't visit her at all because so much snow had fallen that he couldn't leave the Abbey. But it didn't stay winter forever.
The Yorkshire spring Cora enjoyed the most. The wintery days slowly found an end and the countryside around her was getting greener and greener. It didn't stop. It was like a colour explosion and it gave Cora new life. She was taking as many walks as possible; some with the twins and the wet nurse but most of them alone. She wanted to get to know her new home and she discovered new stretches of land constantly. She would come home with red cheeks and a red nose (looking much too alive for a widow in deep mourning) and she would often bring a cornflower or a poppy with her to show the twins and put on her nightstand afterwards.
Her favourite days were the ones where she was on her solitary walks and she unexpectedly met Robert behind the curve of a dirt road, hidden from view by the trees. These were rare occasions but Cora lived on them for a long time. She just had to close her eyes and she saw these encounters so vividly before her eyes that she could forget herself for hours, basking in reminiscence. She remembered the last time exactly.
Her breathing was deep after she had already walked for nearly an hour. Her lungs pulled in the spring air with hunger and Cora tried to imagine the brightness of the colours around her as she looked through the dark veil that she had to wear outside. She knew she would press her unveiled face to the window as soon as she came back from her walk. And then there was Robert suddenly. He came walking in her direction on the lonely dirt road, and Cora felt her heart expand when she saw the joyous light of recognition brighten up his features and quicken his step. They met halfway with heaving chests. His fingers brushed against her black gloves.
"You're out alone again."
"Well, you are too," she joked.
"You could have taken Lucy with you if the twins had to rest with the wet nurse." Robert's concerned look evoked conflicting feelings in Cora. He cared. He cared for her and Cora liked seeing that. But she hated the feeling that he thought she had done something wrong. She didn't want him to chide her.
"I had to get out, Robert." She grabbed fully onto his hand. "And I'm only walking up and down the fields and the dirt tracks in the grove behind the house where no one can judge my solitary walks. It's not that any villagers see the indocile widow tenant regularly scamper through the bushes unchaperoned."
"I would hope not! But I can judge your solitary walks. I have met you back here twice already."
Cora lowered her voice, even though they were alone. "And don't you like meeting me?"
Robert relaxed visibly, his cheeks darkening. "Well… I… I do. I like meeting you. I like meeting you here alone." He lifted his hand and reached carefully behind her veil to run his fingertips along her jaw.
"But what would you do if you met someone other than me?" His eyes followed the track of his fingers as he whispered the question.
"I would greet them very friendly and would soon make my way home."
Robert sighed.
"I don't like you worrying so much about me," Cora said.
"Do you think I can help it?"
"Well, would you care to guide me back home?" she proposed. "But only under one condition," she added.
Robert looked at her questioningly.
"A kiss," she whispered.
"Here?"
"We're alone here. Where else but here?"
He seemed to agree with her logic and gently lifted her veil for a soft but treasured kiss. Cora grinned the entire way back, hanging on to his arm. Her besotted satisfaction was hidden behind her dark veil.
When the days got warmer, Cora soon got very hot in her black clothes for her deep mourning. The summer had just begun but Cora could not wait for the deep mourning to be relieved by the second mourning and the second mourning to be relieved by half-mourning until eventually she was allowed to live again.
She had done her best to stay patient. At least one year she should be able to mourn John, she thought. They had been married nearly a year. So, she could be expected to mourn his loss for the same amount of time, she thought. But she found that she couldn't. She didn't miss him and she did not even really grieve his death. More and more often she dropped the topic of their wedding again when Robert was there. They had refrained from talking about it because they knew it would not happen for quite some time. But when June was over and the first days of July tortured Cora with the relentless burning of the sun on her long walks across the fields, her patience wore down and she began talking about the wedding again.
"I feel like John's been dead for over a year already. I know I'm still in deep mourning but I just can't stop thinking about us being married soon."
Robert grunted as he brushed some biscuit crumbs from his jacket.
"I always thought it's most beautiful to get married when it's warm. When the trees are green and the flowers are blooming; when the sun warms the skin… But I recently thought about how romantic a fall wedding actually is. The beautiful colours of the leaves that fly through the air would make for a picturesque scenery. And if one doesn't have the sun to warm the skin, cuddling up with one's spouse makes up for that perfectly."
"Why do you think about a fall wedding? You're not even past the first stage of mourning." His dry tone felt like a stab of a knife to her stomach. Marriage seemed not to be on his mind at all. Apparently, she was alone on that.
She sighed, and in an exasperated tone, she replied, "Because I can't help myself, Robert! I try to mourn and I give my best to stay patient, but I can't. I think about a fall wedding because the last sliver of hope is that somehow – with the tiniest possibility – I will be redeemed in autumn. Just before I threaten to go insane you will marry me on the last day of October. That is the only thought that helps me wake up every morning, even though it is nothing but a wild fantasy. Don't you fantasise sometimes?"
Robert looked at her with a furrowed brow. He nodded slowly. "Of course, I do. Every night, I imagine we are already married. Otherwise, I can't find no sleep at all." His voice was low so that Lucy who mended some garments at the other end of the room didn't hear.
"I just wish there was a way," Cora lamented.
They talked about their wedding more often now. Not every time they met but it established as a topic between the two of them, and at some point, Robert must have mentioned it with his parents. When John's death anniversary had passed and Cora was beginning to wear black silk and ornamentation again – a sign of her second mourning – Cora heard through the talk of the servants that the wedding was discussed again at the big house. Lucy had heard it from the butler who had heard it from the paper boy who caught it at the big house from a footman. Lord and Lady Grantham seemed to express interest in an earlier wedding date as well. Cora was invited to tea at the Abbey and in a very subtle manner, it was discussed if there was a decent way to bring forward the wedding. They argued that the end of Cora's second mourning might be an appropriate date which would be after six months. But no one was really happy about it. So, the tea ended fruitlessly. They were none the wiser. When Cora came over for tea a second time, she was growing desperate. Being there with the family but not really being a part was driving her insane. She couldn't think about anything but marrying Robert. So, when the question of the wedding date came up again, after some back and forth of vague ideas, Cora blurted out what she couldn't get out of her mind.
"I want to get married on the last day of October," she said in a confident and clear voice. Everyone looked at her with wide eyes.
To her surprise, no one dared to object to her. It took her a while to realise that she was the only one to make a decision to break her mourning. So, it was up to her.
Lord Grantham was the first one to say something about it. "Well, I don't know; it's quite soon. We would have to ask the vicar if he is even free to officiate the wedding on that day. And I don't know if we would want to host such an important wedding when the date so controversially interferes with your mourning."
"Second mourning, that is," Cora added. She sensed a chance to be successful with her proposed wedding date so she wasn't backing down.
Lord Grantham nodded. "Yes, yes." He looked at his wife and asked silently for her help.
"It's an imperfect wedding anyway," Lady Grantham mumbled. She took a sip of her tea. "It won't get better in six months or a year. There won't be many guests in October, though."
Cora couldn't believe her luck when they were starting to seriously plan the wedding for October. She unorthodoxly ended her second mourning after a month already and entered her third mourning in October so that by the end of the month she could get married.
The days of autumn passed in a flurry. There was so much to do that Cora could barely find the time to be impatient anymore. Though their wedding would not be a huge event, everyone at the Abbey and at Crawley House was hectically busy until late October. Every morning when she woke up, Cora had to convince herself time and time again that this wasn't just all a dream. She was actually getting married.
Then, on the 31st, she walked through the crisp carpet of orange leaves and the tail of her lavender gown collected them as if they brought luck. She tried her best not to grin too widely and beam too brightly but it was immensely hard. On Lord Grantham's arm, she was guided down the aisle of the village church and she saw her grin mirrored on Robert's face. In the second row, Lucy and the wet nurse stood with Gene and Helen. First one, then two loud cries for attention disrupted the vicar's psalms. But they harkened curiously when Cora's soft but strong voice declared, "I do." And they cooingly agreed when Robert reiterated, "I do."
