Happy Easter!
Mistakes and Good Friends
"That's it," Tom said, squeezing the wrench as he laid under the latest motor at Branson and Talbot. "Just one more…" he twisted his wrist with extra force, reveling in the chance to tinker with motors. "Yes!" With that he crawled out to see Henry's face, staring eagerly. "Start her right up."
Henry's eyes lit up, and he jumped into the driver's seat. The engine roared to life and both Tom and Henry cheered at the beautiful sound. When was the last time Tom had fixed a motor from start to finish like this?
Shortly after Lord and Lady Grantham's anniversary, both Mary and Tom had been consumed with the planting season for the estate, both to help the tenants and the Crawleys. But now that was finished, he was able to spend more time with his motor shop and with one of his best friends.
"As soon as we shine her up, she'll be ready to be sold," Tom said, as he studied her smooth curves between the wheels and her bonnet. The deep blue color didn't hurt, either.
Henry patted the front of the motor in satisfaction. "She's a good one." They both stood there, unable to move next to such beauty for a few moments, before Tom sighed and picked up a bucket for some water.
When he returned, Henry had the soap ready, and they both began making her shine, while enjoying the chance to put their hands on such a fine motor. "By the way, I'm going to Germany at the end of the month," Henry said as he scrubbed just above her back wheel.
Tom stopped scrubbing the bonnet for a moment. "What?"
"They've got some fine motors to see over there, and the prices are supposed to be excellent," Henry said, as if that was the only thing that mattered.
And perhaps it should be the only thing that mattered; it was their business, after all. And the more motors they had the opportunity to buy, the better Branson and Talbot would do. But…Germany? It made Tom uneasy. "Are you certain it's a good idea?" he couldn't help but say.
Laughing, Henry shook his head. "Now you sound like Mary; you should have heard the things she said to me when I told her I was going. Of course, Mary never likes it when I leave, but we have such fun making up when I return, it's always worth it."
Tom had to chuckle himself, as he returned to shining the bonnet. Henry and Mary certainly craved excitement; that was one of the reasons why they suited each other. "I don't think it's just about you leaving this time, Henry. One of Edith's former beau's got into trouble in Germany, and he ended up dying there. That's how Edith came to own The Sketch." Tom scrubbed the motor with extra vigor. He knew Edith was happy with Bertie, but he couldn't help but think of how unfair poor Mr. Gregson's death was.
Henry was silent for several moments, an unusual occurrence for him. Tom walked to the other side of the motor and began washing, wondering if Henry might have second thoughts about Germany.
"I think Mary said something about that, in between all of her other insults. I remember that now." He shook his head. "It's unfortunate that your family has such a bad experience with Germany, but there is no reason for anything to happen to me. As Papa has said several times in Parliament, the war is over. And I've been on countless trips to different countries, from America to Istanbul, and I've never had any trouble."
"I know that Henry," Tom said, wishing Henry wouldn't bring up his father's experience with British politics. He paused to admire the way the motor gleamed from different angles, wishing it was all that mattered again. "But Edith's friend, Mr. Gregson… from what I understand…the man responsible for his death is now in power in Germany." Tom couldn't help but feel that Germany wasn't safe for anyone now.
"Herr Hitler?" Henry shrugged as he disappeared behind the back of the motor. "I didn't know your family were such Churchill supporters."
"I don't support any British politicians, and you should know that," Tom said, practically spitting out the words. The motor shop was meant to be a place where he didn't have to worry about how different his politics and values were from the Crawley's. He scrubbed near the front wheel with extra force, feeling a scowl form on his face.
"I do, Tom," Henry's voice said, sounding frustrated now as well. "I just don't see the problem with spending a few days in Germany to look at some motors. And do you know some of my parents' friends have sent their daughters to finishing school in Germany, and they think it's a wonderful place? Crickey, it's not like I'm going to meet Herr Hitler!"
Tom shook his head, equally frustrated and concerned about Henry. "Just be careful." His Irish brogue came out a bit thick, as it always did when he was angry; hopefully he wouldn't dismiss what Tom was saying. "I mean it." Henry was still one of his best friends, and he hoped nothing happened to him in Germany.
OOOOOOOOOOO
Tom picked up Erin from the Abbey later that day, trying to put Henry and Germany out of his mind as he arrived home. "Hi, Mum," Erin said to Lucy as she came in. while Patrick ran to Tom and hugged his legs.
"Da!" he said as his bronze head reached Tom's waist. Tom hugged his son in return, washing the unpleasantness of the day out of his mind.
"Lucy?" Tom said softly as he and Patrick released each other, and the boy returned to his wooden blocks. For some reason his wife hadn't acknowledged him or Erin when they arrived. Instead, her face was buried in some sort of book. It was a common sight for Sybbie, but not so common for Lucy.
"Darlin'," he said more firmly into her ear. "What is wrong?"
Lucy's blue eyes looked at him, showing sadness and worry. "The Carpenters and the Wendells are late with the rent again. I'm afraid I'm going to have to evict them." Tom finally realized the book she had been so absorbed in was the Brompton estate account book.
But he didn't care about that right now. The word "evict" unleashed terrible memories of Granddad worst nightmare, that he would be thrown out of his home and farm by the nasty estate agent, just because he couldn't pay the rent a couple of times. "You cannot do that, Lucy!" Tom said loudly with his heart pounding. "You cannot take away their home."
Lucy looked back at him; her eyes full of hurt. "I don't know if I have a choice. Brompton has a lot of bills for us, and if the tenants don't pay the rent, we cannot pay them. I'm not going to lose my mother's legacy, Tom; you know that."
Tom shock his head, knowing a scowl was planted firmly on his face. "There has to be another way." For years, he'd justified living at Downton and working as an estate agent because Tom knew he was helping the tenants as much as the Crawley's, no matter what his friends and family in Ireland believed. And although Brompton was much less glamorous than Downton, he justified living here the same way.
But now Lucy was telling him that was no longer true. They were becoming cold, unfeeling landlords, just like his family in Ireland constantly warned him he would become. "Lord Grantham even allowed some of the tenants to borrow from him personally in order to pay the rent in the past. That would be better than forcing someone to leave their home."
Tom never thought he'd see the day when he admired an English lord more than his own wife.
Lucy shook her head just as sharply as Tom had, her short hair flopping in her face. "Lord Grantham has a much bigger estate, and therefore more money to make that feasible, Tom. Brompton has been struggling a bit since my mother passed, especially with the prices for harvests so low, and we've already sold the Brompton family silver to pay her death taxes. We'll have to evict tenants who won't pay, or we'll lose our home."
"Home?" Patrick said, looking up from his blocks as he recognized the word.
"Yes, Patrick," Lucy said firmly, picking up their son. "This is our home." She glared at Tom as she said that. Even Erin looked up from playing with her rag doll and shook her head at him.
Tom suddenly felt more like an outsider with his own family than he did with this afternoon with Henry, discussing Germany and Herr Hitler. "Well, this isn't my home," he said, justifying his loud voice with his growing rage. He barely paused to grab his coat before he slammed the front door behind him, his rage still growing.
Still scowling, he walked away from Brompton, looking at the sun low in the sky. Once again, he longed to return to Ireland. With the new constitution, his country would be everything he'd dreamed, and perhaps he'd finally have a place to belong.
"Dad!" Sybbie said from behind him, her voice interrupting his yearns. "You don't really mean that Brompton isn't your home, do you? You know how important that place is to Mum."
Tom sighed wondering why he was surprised that Sybbie was making her opinion known. She was stubborn, like Sybil was and he had been in his younger days. But Sybbie had been so quiet during the heated conversation in the drawing room, almost unnoticeable with her nose in another book, that he'd hoped she hadn't detected the conversation or the tense atmosphere.
He turned and faced her, wondering where her coat was, as her thin green flower printed dress danced in the breeze. "Sybbie, you need to wear an overcoat, especially with the wind at this time of year," he said, the rage still in his voice as he worried about his oldest daughter.
Tom pulled his own coat off and handed it to her. She huffed and put the coat on, still glaring at him a little. "I still need to know why you said Brompton wasn't your home, especially when it's so important to Mum." The glare disappeared but she still looked at him pointedly, clearly expecting an answer.
How could he explain this to his innocent daughter? "Yes, I know that, my girl, things are more complicated for me than I'd like them to because of certain events. Don't worry about it; your mum and I will make up soon enough, just as we always do." Tom patted her shoulder to comfort her. Sybbie didn't need to worry about him and Lucy, especially when she was still preoccupied with considering furthering her studies.
But she shook his hand off with a huff. "Because of the new Irish constitution?" Tom stared, wondering how she knew of such things. "Don't look so shocked, Dad; you know I read even more than you do. Stop trying to shelter me; I'm almost eighteen." At her last sentence, Sybbie's hands flew through the air in her frustration, just like Sybil had once done when she was angry.
Her comments also sounded rather similar to some of the things Tom knew Sybil had said when she argued with Lord Grantham, and again he found another reason to understand and admire his father-in-law. "Be patient with me, Sybbie." He shook his head, still a bit overwhelmed with everything that had happened that day from Henry's plans for going to Germany, to Lucy threatening to evict tenants, and finally Sybbie telling him she was almost an adult. "It's not easy for a father to see his daughter mature."
Sighing, she shook her head. "Fine, but if I must be patient with you, you should be patient with Mum."
Tom stared at her, in awe at her maturity and insight. "You truly are growing up."
She finally grinned. "Did Donk really let some of his tenants borrow his money to pay for the rent?"
Tom grinned, remembering how Mary had described her father as a "very decent man" after one such occasion, and how Tom had been truly been able to support the farmer and Lord Grantham at the same time. "Yes, he did, darlin'."
Sybbie's grin widened. "I'll have to give him an extra hug for that next time I see him."
With that, Tom hugged her himself. "You remind me more of your mother every day," he said into her ear, reflecting on her mix of stubbornness and intense caring of everybody.
Tom and Sybbie walked around the estate for a while, but returned to the house just in time for the smell of delicious lamp chops to fill the air. He kissed both Erin and Patrick's heads before they entered the dining room. "This is home," he said firmly to everyone, but looking particularly at Sybbie and Lucy as he spoke.
OOOOOOOO
Things were much less tense between Tom and Lucy, as well as the children, during dinner and afterwards. He was fortunate to have a family that forgave him so easily after a hurtful remark. But how to assist the tenants at Brompton still weighed on Tom.
He refused to become one of those cold, unfeeling landlords that had plagued Ireland for years.
As he and Lucy prepared for bed, Tom took a deep breath and said, "There still has to be a way for us to pay our bills without evicting those tenants."
Lucy sighed as she climbed into bed. "Tom, I don't wish to discuss this again tonight." Her head turned away from him, showing she was still quite hurt, after all.
Tom sighed, remembering Sybbie's suggestion that he be patient with Lucy. So, he spoke to the back of her head. "I understand how important this house is to you and your mother's legacy. I don't wish to do anything to jeopardize that, especially since the children are so attached to this place, too."
"It's more than just that, Tom," she said as her head still turned away from him. But the soft lamp light caused an almost halo over her dark brown hair. "You know that ever since I've discovered my status as illegitimate, I've felt ashamed, with no place to belong."
"Of course, I know that," Tom said, almost offended that she felt the need to remind him of that. Their struggle to find a place to belong was one of the main reasons why they'd fallen in love.
"And that's why Brompton is so important to me," said Lucy, as Tom still gazed at her beautiful brown hair, and the shining light behind her. "It's not just my mother finally acknowledging me openly in some way…Being in charge of Brompton has given me the identity I've never had." Her voice sounded tearful now, and Tom felt compelled to bring her into his arms.
He cried more than Lucy did, so anytime he saw her crying, it overwhelmed him to see so much emotion from her. At least she didn't push him away, and even rested her head on his shoulder.
"There is nothing I won't do to keep Brompton, Tom," she said, still sounding weepy. He'd heard that same comment from Mary Crawley many times, but as she'd never struggled with her identity, Tom almost thought Brompton meant more to Lucy than Downton did to Mary.
"I see that now, Luce," Tom said slowly, into her hair, his arms still wrapped around her. "But you know I struggle with my identity just as much, being Irish but living with English gentry, and we have a history with the threat of landlords evicting us for unpaid rents. Many people in Ireland already believe I've "sold out' because of how I live, and you mentioning eviction made that a bit much. It's important for me to help the tenants as much as you and the Crawley's.
Lucy's eyes finally met his, shining in the same soft light that caused Tom to admire her beautiful hair. "I see. But what do we do about our bills without rents?" She wasn't crying, but her eyes were still wet, and Tom pulled his arms tighter against him.
"Have you thought of selling something else to pay our bills, such as one of the paintings? Lord Grantham once sold a painting that had been in Downton's possession for almost two hundred years to pay for some new cottages," Tom said, almost pleading for her to accept the idea.
Lucy sighed. "I loathe to take away yet another thing that's an important part of Brompton's history, but I suppose it would be better than losing it, or as you say, forcing another family to lose their home." Her warm hands pulled his face closer to her. "Thank you for helping me see another way around this, Tom."
Tom's heart swelled at another example of how easy Lucy was able to compromise, and he had to kiss her. "I love you," he said as they went in for another, deeper kiss, feeling the love pour out of both of them.
The next morning would come quickly, so they should make use of their time tonight.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
OOOOOOO
"Good morning, Henry," Robert said as the other man entered the breakfast room the next morning. "I was…rather happy to see you and Mary getting on again last night." The night before last, Henry and Mary had another nasty argument, and it worried Robert a bit. Neither Henry nor Mary compromised easily.
Henry shrugged his shoulders and placed a scone on his plate. "I've told you before not to be so concerned, Robert. I know you see Mary as your little girl, but she can certainly hold her own in an argument, and her biting comments don't bother me as they do some. We rather enjoy them, actually, it keeps are relationship fresh."
Robert focused on placing the bacon on his plate so not to stare at his son-in-law. He would never understand how anyone could find an argument enjoyable, and he loathed how easily he could become involved in one because of his temper. In fact, one of the things he loved most about his Cora was how easily she could soothe him before an argument began.
But hadn't Mary and Mathew argued rather a lot, almost for the fun of it, as well? "I see," Robert said, as he placed a scone on his own plate.
"Mind you, I suppose that argument involved more important matters than I originally thought," Henry said as he scooped some scrambled eggs onto his plate. "Tom explained to me that your family has an unfortunate history with Germany and the country's current leader. But unlike my father; I've never been interested in politics, and I'm only staying a few days to look at some motors. I promise; I won't get into any trouble."
Robert was silent for several moments as he realized the implications of Henry's upcoming business trip and the source of he and Mary's latest argument. He could still remember the day that Edith's old editor had arrived at Downton to announce that Gregson was dead and that darn Herr Hitler was responsible.
And it was nice to know Mary remembered that event so well; she had barely seemed to care that Edith had lost Gregson at the time. It warmed Robert's heart to see his two oldest daughters care so much about each other now.
Out loud, Robert finally looked at Henry as they both sat down to breakfast. The smell of juicy bacon and sweet scones with jam made his mouth water, but still, Robert said "Just be…ah…careful, my boy," before he took a bite. He struggled to discuss such personal details with anyone but Cora, but this was important. *
"Of course; I've already promised that to Mary, and Tom as well," Henry said, in an uncharacteristically serious voice. At least the boy knew how important the situation was, despite how awkward it felt. "And when I see my Caroline after I finish breakfast, I will promise her the same thing." His voice turned from serious to that of a doting father with that last line.
And with that, the two men enjoyed their breakfast, the awkwardness disappearing.
OOOOOOOOOO
After finishing his breakfast, Robert enjoyed a leisurely meeting with his Cora while she ate her breakfast. She spoke of the gown she was having made for the coronation, and Robert looked forward to seeing her in it, as he knew she would make it gorgeous. Meanwhile, he discussed his plans to speak to Bates about coming with them for the coronation.
He still needed a valet for an occasion as important as a coronation, even if it was for George VI instead of Edward VIII.
OOOOOOOOOO
A couple of hours later, Robert climbed out of the motor, and headed for Bates's small hotel, which he'd begun working at full-time for a few years. It was in Ripton, which gave both Bates, Anna, and Johnny enough customers, although coming of the depression meant they had to let their cook/maid go.
Still, Robert always appreciated the warm, clean atmosphere of the establishment and it was always a pleasure to visit one of his best friends. "Hello, Bates," he said as he walked inside, seeing his old valet behind the front desk. Three wooden tables situated off to the side, in case anyone wished a meal, and Robert knew there were a few modest guest rooms upstairs for any traveler.
Bates's head was turned, as he appeared to be counting the liquor bottles which were also behind the desk. He had a bit greyer hair than when Bates was a Downton, but who was Robert to judge, as all his hair was grey? "Hello, milord. It is always nice to see you here." The way Bates turned so quickly still showed he was about ten years younger than Robert. Still, was nice to see Bates so pleased to see him.
Robert removed his hat as he approached the desk. "I hope things are going well for you."
Bates shrugged his shoulders slightly. "We are getting by. People stop by for luncheon regularly, although there hasn't been any yet today." He glanced at the empty chairs. "It's been a while since anyone has asked to stay for the night, but Anna and Johnny keep the rooms sparkling, just in case."
Robert nodded. "While, it's almost time for luncheon, so I'll have a bit of port and I know your Anna can fix me a sandwich as well." He said it as causally as possible; Bates was almost as proud as Robert was, and he would loathe to take someone's charity, under the best of circumstances.
The room was silent for a moment. Finally, Bates nodded. "Of course, milord." He rung a small bell, and then pulled a bottle of port off the shelf. As Bates poured the drink, Anna came downstairs.
Almost the same age as Mary, Anna looked just as young and bright as she did at Downton. Although she dressed simply, as an innkeeper, she no longer wore only black, and Bates clearly loved the way her blue blouse suited her blonde hair. She broke into a grin as soon as she entered the room and saw Robert.
"Hello, milord. We are always pleased to see you here," she said although her eyes were on Bates.
"Darling, Lord Grantham would like a sandwich for luncheon," he said softly.
Anna nodded. "Of course, milord." With that, she disappeared into the small kitchen.
Grinning, Bates watched her for a moment. Then he handed Robert the glass of port. No doubt Cora would be upset if she knew he were drinking hard liquor again; it could aggravate his ulcer and she loathed to remember that horrid night where he'd vomited blood all over her.
Still, Robert swallowed the thick liquid. Speaking with Bates again reminded Robert too much of their younger days around the campfire in South Africa, where liquor flowed freely between battles. And what Cora didn't know couldn't hurt her.
"I am certain you've heard of the upcoming coronation, Bates," he said, placing the drink back on the desk, which also served as a bar. Bates nodded with a sigh, making it clear he was as disappointed as Robert in Edward VIII's choice. His friend had always been just as loyal to the crown as Robert. "Her ladyship and I will be attending, of course, even if it is for George VI."
Bates nodded.
Robert paused and took another drink. "And I know you have a responsibility to this establishment, and to your own family." He paused and looked around the hotel, which he knew both Bates and Anna were proud of, even if it seemed to be struggling at the moment. It was exactly why Robert no longer had a fulltime valet and Mary no longer had a lady's maid after they couldn't afford the cook/maid they'd hired previously to run the hotel.
"But I thought perhaps you'd come with us to London next month. I need a proper valet for such an important occasion."
Bates glanced at the kitchen door, just as Anna walked through, carrying a good-sized ham sandwich on a plate. "His lordship would like me to come with him to London for the coronation next month, as my old valet position. Could you and Johnny handle things here for a few days?"
"I'd pay him for his services, of course, even if it would only be for three days," Robert said in the same causal manner he'd used when he'd ordered luncheon.
Anna placed the plate in front of Robert and turned to Bates. "How many people do we have booked for that time?" Robert couldn't assume a lot, as most people would be in London for the coronation, but he said nothing as Bates reached under the desk for his record book.
"It looks as if you and Johnny should be able to handle it, darling," Bates said, pointing to the records. "But it's still up to you."
Robert stared hard at Anna, hoping she would say yes. Who else could he have for a valet other than Bates, especially such an important tradition?
"I think Johnny and I can handle it," Anna said with a grin, and both Robert and Bates smiled in return.
"Wonderful," Robert said, pausing to take a bite of the sandwich. It was much simpler than what he would eat at Downton, and in ordinary circumstances, he would think it was beneath him to eat such a thing. But eating and paying for the sandwich helped Bates. Besides, the piece of ham and the slice of cheese were large, and the bread was nice enough. In fact, it almost reminded him of the simple food they'd had in the battle camps as much as the port.
After swallowing, he said, "Grantham House is unfortunately gone, but you can stay in our suite at the Ritz, although I am sorry, you'll have to share space with Denker."
Robert took another drink, a bit larger than the previous ones, at that thought. The woman was a good lady's maid, and he and Cora didn't wish her to be out of a job after Mama died, but Denker's disposition reminded more of O'Brien than Baxter.
At least Denker didn't cause trouble with the other servants, the way Carson had always said O'Brien did.
Bates sighed and poured himself a drink. But then he shrugged and said, "I believe I can handle it, milord."
OOOOOOOOOOO
Robert poured himself a cup of tea later that afternoon in the library, grateful that he had returned in time for afternoon tea, both so he could see Cora and to enjoy proper food. Mary and Henry were busy this afternoon, but it was just as well, as Robert could enjoy time with just his wife.
"So, your visit with Bates went well?" Cora said with her soft smile that still melted his heart.
"Quite," Robert said, meeting her blue eyes as he handed her the tea kettle. "He's agreed to come with us to London next month, so I can have a proper valet." The best valet he'd ever had, Robert added to himself.
Cora nodded as she poured her tea and added two spoonful's of sugar. "That wonderful, darling."
After taking two teacakes, Robert returned to the red settee. As he sat, he felt a familiar sharp pain at his side, reminiscent of the pains from his ulcer before his surgery over ten years ago. Perhaps drinking the port at lunch had been a mistake.
Plastering a smile on his face, Robert took a sip of tea, letting the familiar liquid soothe him inside and outside. Cora took a seat next to him sipping her own tea. "I'm looking forward to seeing Edith and Bertie there for the coronation this time," she said as she placed her tea in its saucer.
Robert nodded in agreement as he bite into a tea cake, cooked to perfection by Mrs. Parker in the Downton ovens. Even though it still sported him that they were crowning George VI, he loved the prospect of sharing such an important occasion with one of his children.
"The four of us should have dinner at the Ritz while were in London," Cora said, her eyes lighting up and smiling widely as she always did when she thought of an idea she was particularly eager.
Heart swelling, Robert stroked her laugh-lined covered cheek; Cora's transparency with her emotions was one of the things he'd always admired most. And this wide smile made her look particualarly lovely. "That sounds like a nice idea," he said as she leaned into his touch.
But when Robert reached for his teacup, another sharp pain hit him in the side. He plastered another smile on his face, hoping Cora hadn't seen it; she didn't need to worry about such things. Certainly, she was more interested in Mrs. Parker's teacakes.
But the way she stared at him as she swallowed her teacake, her beautiful smile disappearing from her face made it clear Robert hadn't gotten what he'd hoped. "What is wrong with you?"
The tea no longer tasted soothing as he swallowed it. Not with his heart pounding and Cora staring at him like that. "Nothing to bother you with," he said firmly, hoping to end this conversation.
The hope was futile.
Cora shook her head, the disappointing look he loathed still on her face. "Robert, we've been through this already many times. It bothers me when something is wrong, and you won't speak to me. What is it? Is the coronation too stressful for you?"
The library, normally so comforting with it's familiarity, suddenly felt uncomfortably cramped. "No, Cora; I drank some port when I went to see Bates, and it is apparently bothering my ulcer. Are you happy?" he said, almost shouting.
"No, Robert, I'm not happy," Cora said in the clipped voice she used in the rare times when she became cross. "You know better than to drink hard liquor; both Dr. Clarkson and I have warned you about it many times."
Robert's heartbeat even faster. "I see no reason why I cannot have a glass of port with Bates; it reminds me of South Africa, when we knew first knew each other." His side ached again, but he ignored it, so focused on the situation with Cora.
"Because this is exactly what happens when you do," Cora said in the same clipped voice, her hand gesturing to the side with the pains.
OOOOOOOOOO
The pains continued for the rest of teatime, and Cora persisted speaking in that tone with the horrid look on her face. Robert tried to focus his attention on Caroline and Tom's daughter younger daughter, Erin, when they came downstairs, but it was difficult. The pains were uncomfortable, but the real problem was Cora.
Robert loathed arguing, especially with his wife. And as usual, his discomfort only made him more cross.
But when the dinner gone rang, his mind flashed to another dinner that occurred thirteen years ago. Robert would never forget the pain and the fear when his ulcer burst. And his Cora had been a tower of strength, holding him and calmly assuring him he would be fine, even though he knew she'd been terrified.
Robert never wished to give her that terror again.
Especially as he knew exactly what it felt like. Seven years ago, Cora confided in him she might have cancer, and Robert's own heart had stopped in terror of losing his wife. Even when Dr. Clarkson had revealed Cora had a treatable condition, Robert still loathed to see her tired, short of breathe, or in dealing with any pains as she struggled with her illness.
Didn't Dr. Clarkson say Cora's illness might be worse if she were stressed?
Robert dressed as quickly as possible without making mistakes before opening the connecting door, needing to speak to Cora as soon as possible.
"Hello, darling," he said slowly, as he realized Denker was still finishing her hair. He certainly couldn't speak to Cora about such personal topics with her maid still in the room. Robert wished to tell her to leave, but Cora wouldn't like her maid treated like that, and he already had so much to apologize.
"Hello," Cora said with a sigh, giving him a small smile through the mirror as she sat at her vanity. His heart warmed, although he knew he didn't deserve it.
Finally Denker left, curtseying "milord, milady," and Robert gazed at Cora for a moment, marveling her beauty, even if she wore only as simple blue dress instead of an evening gown as she had in the old days.
"Cora," he sighed and shook his head at himself, wondering why he made such foolish decisions. "I'm sorry I drank the port at luncheon today. I loathe that I frightened you so, and I promise, from now on, I'll stay away from hard liquor."
Cora's beautiful smile spread across her face, and she stood up to wrap her arms around him. "Thank you darling; I kept remembering…" Her voice faded, but the tearful sound made it clear what she was remembering, and Robert felt his heart sink to his toes. "But I'm sorry too; my shouting at you wasn't good for your stress level, either." She began stroking the side where his ulcer had once been.
"And what about your health, darling?" Robert said with a sigh, brining his hand to rest on her heart. "Are you having pains or short of breath? Clarkson said stress could make your illness, worse, too. I'm so sorry." He blinked away tears.
"No, I promise you, I'm fine," Cora said, laughing softly as she kissed him, her hands still stroking his side.
He gave her another kiss, pressing his lips to hers a little longer than she had. He loved how open and forgiving she was. Then he said, "We best go to the drawing room. Mary and Henry will be waiting for us."
Cora gave him another, longer kiss that made his chest swell. "I suppose you're correct."
Mary and Henry were already talking animatedly with each other in the drawing room, and Robert sighed with relief, that all discomfort among spouses at Downton was gone tonight.
*Try not to judge Henry for planning a business trip to Nazi Germany. Originally, I was going to send him to France, but I found out that country had a lot of strikes with the automobile manufacturers in 1935 – 6 (as did the US). So, the market there wouldn't be stable for what Henry is doing, and from a business perspective, Germany is his best option.