This chapter is brought to you by: lack of sleep and an assignment for university due in less than 18 hours.
Hope you enjoy reading it though :)
The motor rattled along the broad streets of Newport at an agonisingly slow pace, occasionally slipping on the icy ground beneath. The poor chauffeur was trying his best to navigate the difficult conditions of the underground given the hefty amount of snow that had fallen the day before and that continued to fall. Usually, Robert would have groaned at every pothole or bump in the road that shook them through on their journey to the harbour, but he took no notice of them. His vigilant eyes stayed on her small form on the seat opposite him the entire time, never once wavering to look somewhere else.
Robert was freezing cold on the seat he was occupying alone and sat there with shaking hands, it surprised him that his teeth had not yet begun chattering. He was wearing his thickest coat and warmest scarf, but he could not shake the chill that seemed to bite through his flesh and to his bones. If he didn't know any better, he would even question if he still had feet or whether they had indeed already turned into blocks of solid ice, as he was inclined to believe at that point.
His wife was sitting nestled between her brother and mother. It was anything but comfortable just by the look of it, but she had insisted on sitting there when the three of them had squeezed onto the seat. And maybe them sitting so close to one another gave them all some warmth and comfort apart from the thick blanket that was spread across their legs. Robert would have liked to hold her close, maybe put his arm around her and hold her hands in his. He would have preferred to keep her close, as close as possible. He knew, however, that he would get enough chances to do that once they were on the ship taking them home, and this was going to be the last time she would get to be close to her family for all he and they all knew.
The seemingly endless drive along the cobbled streets was silent. None of them knew quite what to say, and how could they in a situation like the one they all found themselves in?
Seeing Cora say goodbye to her mother and brother for one final time as they stood near the gangway was one of the hardest things he ever had to witness. He felt similarly as helpless as he had done when his mother had said her goodbyes to them all only a little more than a month ago, or when all they could do was just stand there and watch their dear Sybil die just hours after childbirth.
Emotions had never been his strong suit and he had always had trouble dealing with them in any other way than drowning them in a glass of whiskey by the fireplace in his library when everyone else had gone up to bed. Talking never seemed to help much and it had never been encouraged by neither his mother nor father. Only his grandmother had taken an interest in how he felt about certain things, but she died far too soon and so he never got into any habit of talking about his feelings. He knew that Cora liked to know what he thought and felt and she tried to encourage him to share those parts of himself with her much more often than he did. Sometimes, he did not even try to tell her what was bothering him — he was convinced that she would not understand him in most cases. Even his empathetic Cora could not always help him, no matter how much he wanted her to.
Drowning his troubles in whiskey, on the other hand, was always possible, or almost always. Just not then at that moment as they were gathered near the gangway. Their suite would not bring him any comfort, either, for several reasons: it was not as private as he would like; there was no alcohol to drown his sorrows in; and he had not only his own emotions to deal with but also his wife's feelings and her health.
Something about seeing Cora cry in her mother's arms as they hugged each other tightly made his eyes well up with tears and he was somewhat relieved when the situation was cut short by an employee calling all passengers left on the gangway to please board the ship before he got the chance to let the tears roll down his face. There was so much desperation in that single hug between the two women, he had rarely seen such a thing.
After yet another tearful hug shared with her family, Robert guided her up the long wooden gangway onto the large deck, his hand gently resting on her lower back.
They stayed near the railing until the wide ocean was all that they could see. They braved the harsh winter winds, bundled up in their thick winter coats, as they waved goodbye to Martha and Harold — and by extension also to Cora's homeland — as the enormous ship took them back across the ocean to England.
The two of them stood there in silence, watching the harbour get smaller in the distance and eventually disappear out of their sight completely. The land was slowly being swallowed by the distance, the waves beneath and the rolling patches of fog all around them.
They stayed at the railing for a while. They stayed there even long after they had lost sight of the mainland, not bothered by the increasing snowfall and the cold winds billowing around them.
His head was not there in the present. It was still replaying the short conversation he had managed to have with Martha and Harold alone down at the harbour while Cora was otherwise preoccupied talking to Bates and Baxter.
"You take good care of her, Robert, like I know you have done in the past. I always knew I had been right in sending her to England to find a husband worthy of her. You bringing her here now only proves that yet again. This next chapter will be very hard on all of you, and nothing can ever truly prepare you for what is to come. But no matter what happens, we are there for you, you are as much a part of our family as she is of yours, you can be sure of that."
Martha had pulled him in for a hug, patting his arm the whole time in what he assumed was supposed to be a reassuring gesture. She had had an expression on her face that had been hard for him to understand. It hadn't been just plain sadness, and not even only grief. There was something else there and he couldn't quite place his finger on what it was.
"And if there is anything you need, anything at all — just call or send a telegram and we will do our very best to help you. Maybe, Madeleine and I can secure a passage in the New Year or visit you later in spring," Harold had added. To everyone's surprise, he had also embraced his brother-in-law, just like his mother had before.
He had never done that, Harold had never been that kind of person. He had always been more than weary of anything to do with his sister's different way of life, and that extended to her family and the country they came from. The most affectionate gesture Robert had ever received from him was a firm handshake after their wedding ceremony, paired with a hearty slap on his shoulder — something his mother had turned her nose up at, muttering something about those Americans under her breath. So at first, when he felt the younger and shorter man's strong arms around him, Robert had no idea what was happening. But eventually, he hugged Harold back, patting him on his back awkwardly.
When they parted again, Harold handed him an envelope he took out of his coat's inner pocket.
"Open it when you are alone on the boat or even back in England. There is no rush. This is only for you to see and not for her, not in her state."
Standing with his face turned away from the breeze, Robert patted his left pocket, making sure that the envelope was still there, safe and secure where he had placed it upon receiving it.
It took Robert a while to take notice of his wife's silent distress. Tears were still rolling down her face when he turned to her and he suspected they had been there since their arrival on deck.
His wife's shaking beside him was what caught his attention and took him out of his own spiralling thoughts. He stepped even closer to where she was standing, sharply clutching at the railing while staring out ahead into the vastness of the deep ocean as the ship rolled over another wave. Robert put his arm around her shoulder, looking at her with a concerned expression on his face.
"Cora, it is too cold for us to stay outside any longer. Let's go to our suite and have a break, I'll call for some tea to warm us up again. And after that, maybe you can try to get some more sleep?"
She did not protest when he steered her in the direction of their cabin and took off her coat and hat. Not even when he helped her out of her warm clothes and brought her to the bed in their suite she said a word. Instead, she almost instantly curled up inside the bed and wrapped the thick blankets closer around her.
With a heavy heart, Robert let her be for a few minutes. He knew he could not help her at all at that moment. He called for some tea to be brought to them and got rid of his own warm winter clothes before settling down at the small wooden desk that was put to the far wall of their suite, taking out the envelope Harold had handed him earlier.
Robert,
You will be on your way back across the pond when you read this, or maybe even back in the comfort of your own home, but I still wanted to say thank you.
Thank you for allowing Madeleine and me to share the happiest day of our lives with my darling sister and you. Having you two here meant more to us than words could ever express. Thank you for helping us with the rushed organisation of our wedding day and for keeping it a secret from Cora until the end.
Thank you for bringing her to America to see us again in such trying times for you and your family. It can't have been easy to leave them all behind so soon after the immense loss you all suffered. It truly meant an awful lot to Mother and me that you both took this extensive journey upon yourselves, I cannot even begin to tell you how much — even if the news you brought with you were so horrible, for lack of a better word.
I know that Cora said she does not want to follow any treatment, but I so sincerely hope that she reconsiders and changes her mind. If anyone can convince her to at least try, I know it is you.
Enclosed with this letter you will find a cheque. It is not part of any dowry or inheritance, just a small sum of money I have made with some investments over the years and I want you to use this money to make my sister happy. Anything she wants, she should get, because God knows she deserves the world. I know that you do not necessarily need my money for that, but maybe it can be of help — maybe the estate needs it.
Whatever you use it for, I know that you will use it wisely and in everyone's best interest, especially Cora's.
Until we meet again,
Harold
Robert put the letter to the side and reached into the envelope again, fishing out the mentioned cheque. Just a single glance was enough for Robert's heart to beat a hole into his ribcage.
He almost pinched himself, there was simply no way that Harold gave him this amount of money and titled it a small sum, especially without specifically telling him what exactly to use it for. Surely, his brother-in-law had written down a zero or two too many.
Robert's eyes scanned the slip of paper again, reading every line and every dot, every drop of ink. He read it almost too carefully.
£5000.
Five thousand pounds.
He had read it correctly. That was the amount Harold had put down on the cheque — the amount his brother-in-law had titled just a small sum and gifted to them, just like that.
They did not need the money to survive and keep the estate running, not any more. After years of hardship with the Great War and its aftermath, the estate was finally thriving under his care — or rather Mary's and Tom's. And the film that had been made at Downton over the summer had made them enough money to finally fix the leaking roof of the Abbey. The years of hardship for the estate he called his home were over—but his personal months and years of hardship were only just beginning, he thought.
The only thing he could think of he could possibly need this kind of money for involved his wife's failing health and he did not want his mind to go there, not just yet.
Robert put the cheque and the letter back in the envelope and stood up.
Taking off his suit jacket, waistcoat, and shoes, he decided to join his wife in bed for an afternoon nap. Maybe he could offer her some warmth and comfort, if nothing else, at that moment.
