A Scandalous Affair Dublin (7)
Unexpected Dublin Visit
The distant laughter of children drifted on the breeze to Mary who was sitting in a comfortable wicker chair in her little roof garden. She was enveloped on all sides by red tiled roofs and chimney stacks. The morning sun surrounded Mary in a pool of light as she was reading the latest letter from Tom who was still in London.
Mrs Murphy had brought a cup of tea and some toast for her to enjoy in her private oasis in the city garden, it was delightful. When they had moved in during the winter, there had been nothing growing in the various pots and raised flower beds. It had looked barren. Mary was unable to envision how this space could be transformed.
Tom could see the potential, he was much more used to smaller spaces, where Mary was used to the sprawling estate at Downton with their varied and expansive Gardens. Tom had even called on one of his mother's neighbours, who was very pleased to show Mary her well cared garden. Even though it was a small space, the garden was impressive in its form and planting. Giving the impression of a cottage garden in the heart of a bustling city.
Mary acknowledged that Tom was correct and that their Garden did have potential, even if they had limited scope.
But now the plants and flowers were blooming. A Mr Hennessey, called in once a week to care for their private garden. They even had some raspberry and black current bushes, that were baring fruit. Mr Hennessey suggested planting some evergreen plants, that may add some vibrancy through the winter months.
Up here amongst the roof tops, Mary could almost imagine that she wasn't in a city. More surprising from her vantage point, she could see several other houses that had decided to setup rooftop gardens. One roof even had an aviary. She and Tom would see the other occupants enjoying their own green spaces and would call out to one another in greeting.
This morning, she was rereading her letter from her husband. She hadn't expected to miss him so much. To miss his noise, the clickity-clack of his typewriter at all hours of the day. How he liked to whistle in the bathroom as he prepared in the morning. She missed the quiet moments before she fell asleep, where they shared one more thought or idea. Before drifting off to sleep touching hands, listening to the breathing of the person next to them, comforted by their presence.
"Ah hem," Mrs Murphy coughed politely to gain her mistress's attention.
Mary looked up from her letter to look at Mrs Murphy, her cheeks rosy, but her expression uncertain, "Yes Mrs Murphy?"
"You have a visitor my lady,"
Mary was surprised, it had only just chimed 10am from a nearby church tower. 'Who could be calling at this hour of the morning, on Saturday," Mary thought. 'Was I meant to meet Marjory today?'.
Mary cast a quick look about her, her pretty garden in the warm morning sun, was as good as anywhere to meet. "Show them out here Mrs Murphy," Mary said, standing from her chair, ready to welcome her unexpected guest. Mary hurriedly straightened her skirts and patted her hair, to make sure she was still tidy.
Mrs Murphy moved back to the door, spoke quietly to her guest, and then indicated they should come out on the terrace.
Mary facing the door to her flat was not expecting the person who walked through the open door. "Mama!" Mary gasped in delighted surprise. Mary hurried towards her mother who looked a bit tired and nervous, but otherwise in good health. "What are you doing here?"
"Lavinia told me that Branson was away and that you were all alone here in Dublin and I thought I would come and visit you for a few days," Cora says with a warm smile, while she anxiously scans her daughter's appearance.
Mary looks to be in the picture of health. Her shiny dark hair was elegantly styled, her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink and her dark eyes held pleasure at seeing her mother. Unexpectedly Mary embraced Cora warmly. Mary wasn't the most tactile of her daughters and Cora was momentarily startled by the action.
Leaving her mother's embrace, Mary stepped towards the flat calling, "Mrs Murphy, could you make some more tea for my mother and bring her one of your scones?"
Mary turned excitedly back to her mother again. "Come Mama and have a seat and tell me all your news," Mary said, guiding Cora across the terracotta tiles to sit on one of the wicker chairs. "Isn't this the loveliest spot? Tom and I often like to come out here. Tom will tap away on his typewriter while I draw or paint".
"It's charming my darling," Cora replies as she settles herself in the chair. Truthfully it was an attractive spot if diminutive, full of flowers and plants. There were some little furry bumblebees bopping about the lavender in large pots, that looked like they used to be part of a barrel. With the sun shining and the cloudless blue sky above, Dublin didn't seem as Dickensian as Cora expected.
"Did you come alone, did anyone else come with you?" Mary eagerly asks. She is delighted to see her mother of course, but she can't help but be worried to see her so unexpectedly in Dublin.
"Just me darling. Your Father is busy supervising the estate and he has other business matters of course. Edith is working in London, she travels back and forth between the city and Downton," Cora explained. "I have missed you so, since you moved and I longed to see you and I thought with you by yourself in Dublin, you would like some company".
"It's wonderful to see you so unexpectedly, but you understand I have work on Monday?" Mary questioned, not sure if her mother understood the necessities of a working life. Mary couldn't help but notice with some sadness, that her mother hadn't mentioned Sybil.
"Yes, I got your letter Mary, about your new work as an illustrator," Cora confirmed, lips pursed and a frown. "Your father and I thought you would have enough money not to need to work," Cora said tentatively, her worry, clear to see on her face.
"I work because I want to," Mary stated firmly, a certain steeliness about her features. At that moment she looked very much like her grandmother, the Dowager Countess of Grantham.
Mary supressed a flash of annoyance about her mother questioning their finances. She tried to not let her emotions form on her face. "Of course we have enough money," Mary's eyes narrowed as she examined her mother. "Papa pays for the flat and Mrs Murphy. My allowance covers all my expenditures" Mary explains, coolness entering her voice. "Tom covers the bills and food. We are perfectly comfortable here," Mary assured her mother with a brittle smile, her own posture stiff. Mary could tell from her mother's expression that she didn't believe her.
Just then Mrs Murphy bustled back out on the Terrace, her clean apron covering her sensible navy dress. A light breeze causing some of her hair to escape from her cap. She was carrying a tea tray, with a fresh pot of tea and a plate with scones on top. Mary smiled at her efficient housekeeper, glad she had chosen a tea set that Mary particularly loved, perfect for tea for two. Usually, it was just Mary and Tom who got to use it.
Cora sighed silently in relief. Mrs Murphy had interrupted and derailed the burgeoning argument. Cora could tell from Mary's stiffness and tone of voice that she had annoyed her daughter. For a moment she was distracted by a motor's horn on the distant street.
Mary watched as Mrs Murphy whisked away Mary's used cup, saucer, and plate with the debris of her earlier scone. Quickly wiping the crumbs away from the mosaic tabletop, she set out the makings of morning tea. Taking care with the teacups and saucers, she knew they were her mistress's favourites, she set the table prettily before the two women.
"Would your ladyship like some toast? It would be no bother to make you some," Mrs Murphy asked, her Dublin accent strong.
"No, thank you," Cora replied with a gracious smile.
With a look to her mistress, Mrs Murphy turned on her heel and went back to her domain, the kitchen.
"I hope you don't mind darling, but I bought Baxter with me, I promised your father I wouldn't travel in the city alone," Cora said apologetically, changing the subject from their earlier conversation. "I left her with Mrs Murphy".
"That's fine Mama, if you mean to stay for a while to visit, the park across from the flat is delightful presently. And of course, there are some lovely shops close by," Mary suggested. Her spine softened, as she consciously released the tension from her body and prepared to enjoy her mother's visit. She had missed her family. Mary's smile became warmer and more natural.
As the hostess Mary started to make her mother's tea to her liking, pouring the tea and adding a splash of milk. Mary passed the cup to her mother. "Try one of the scones, Mama. They are very good," Mary said indicating the plate.
Leaning towards her mother she confided in a quiet voice, "Mrs Murphy is an excellent plain cook, her talents don't lie in more exotic fare. But she is the best baker I have ever met. Her bread is absolutely divine".
Mary noticed her mother admiring her tea set. "Isn't it beautiful? I found it at a house sale. Tom thinks I paid too much for it, but I fell in love when I saw it. There was an old biddy who wanted it too, but I was determined to win it," there was a flash of remembrance as Mary replayed the auction in her mind's eye. She still felt a great satisfaction in winning her prize.
"Besides as I told Tom, if I had bought it new in Cleary's I would have had to pay £7 3s, he went pale when I told him the cost of it," Mary said chattily.
"Of course, I now work and that is nearly two weeks wages!" Mary confided. "It changes the value of things now that I know that it would take me seven days' work to buy it. I am starting to understand Tom's more frugal ways," Mary says, a soft smile on her face, a touch of dreaminess to her eyes as she thinks about her husband.
Mary had a strong urge to make sure her mother understood the life she was building here in Dublin, with her husband Tom.
Mary shooed one of the bumblebees away from the raspberry jam it had come to investigate. She watched it zig-zag away before it settled on a bright orange marigold. There was a refreshing breeze making the flowers sway before them.
"Gosh, I never thought of it that way," Cora said, looking at the tea set with new eyes. She never thought of money in anyway, except regarding her charity works. It was a very attractive set if a bit too modern for her tastes. But Mary's perspective on life and work, was startling to Cora. Of all her daughters she thought Mary would be the most oblivious to her privilege and wealth.
Cora took some time buttering her scone and reaching over she took a spoon of jam to add to the baked treat. Cora sipped her hot tea. It was true, Mrs Murphy was an excellent baker. Cora ate the scone, all the while taking in her daughter. Mary looked genuinely happy. There was nothing about her appearance that would indicate that she was pining for home or being mistreated by her husband.
"What shall we do while you are here Mama?" Mary asked her mother, before taking a sip of tea.
"I hadn't really thought about it. I just missed you terribly darling and wanted to see you again. We could go to dinner?" Cora suggested, honestly, she didn't know anything about Dublin.
Mary sat thoughtfully for a moment, the scent of the French lavender drifted all about them, the hustle and bustle of the Dublin streets a far cry from their present location. "Dinner would be lovely. But we could go to a play. There's a new farce by a local play write," Mary suggested with a hint of excitement in her eyes. She was feeling eager to showcase the cultural delights that Dublin had to offer.
"A friend of Tom's in fact, Fergus O'Sullivan. We could go to that. I had promised him that I would attend before the end of the run," Mary explained as she looked to her mother for her response. Plans whirling in her mind.
"Yes darling, whatever you prefer," Cora responded. She was eager to spend time with her daughter. But being here in Dublin, without the structure of her days in Downton, she suddenly realised that she didn't know how to spend all day with her daughter.
Mary smiled at her mother relieved that she agreed to go to a play. "Would you prefer a late supper after the show or an early dinner?" Mary asked, as she started to plan their day together. "We can go out for a walk around the sites and shops. We can even get afternoon tea at Bewley's, a lovely tearoom close by?" Mary suggested with growing enthusiasm.
Cora was happy her daughter was taking charge of her visit, "supper maybe? You must know the city better than I". Cora just soaked in her daughter's presence as she chatted gayly. Talking about the shops she wanted to show her. Cora hadn't known what to expect when she decided to come visit Mary. She had some idea that she would swoop in and rescue her from a life of drudgery and repression.
Cora marvelled at Mary's carefree nature. She had never seen her daughter so, so, Cora shook her head with a frown on her face. She couldn't find the word to describe the change in Mary.
"Are you all right Mama?" Mary asked in concern, leaning towards her mother, and placing a comforting hand over her mother's.
"I just have a headache, it was probably from the journey yesterday," Cora replies with a smile for her daughter, pleased to feel Mary's love for her. She had been afraid that Mary would resent her for making her marry the chauffeur.
"I have some Beecham's powder; I can ask Mrs Murphy to make you a class?"
Cora thought for a moment, she did feel tension across her brow, maybe she should have some medicine. She didn't want to ruin her short time with her daughter. "Yes, that might be best".
"Come Mama, let's go inside out of this bright light, you will be more comfortable. If you are feeling better later, we will go out," Mary suggested.
Standing she offered her hand to her mother and helped Cora to her feet. Mary linked arms with her mother and guided her back in to the flat.
The sudden dimness of the hall was a welcome relief to Cora as Mary guided her through her home. Mary opened the first door on the right and spoke to Mrs Murphy asking for a headache powder for her mother and a glass of water for herself.
"This way Mama," Mary said. "Only the rooms at the front and back of the flat have windows. The internal rooms have skylights instead. This is a window in the roof that lets light in. The spare bedroom, bathroom and the study all have a skylight," Mary explained as she guided her mother into the living room.
Cora startled at the word 'spare bedroom', her heart thudded in her chest, she thought the two rooms would mean Mary and Tom would each have their own rooms. "Does the flat have three bedrooms?" Cora asked with a puzzled look. She was amazed when her daughter flushed a bright red.
"Tom and I share a room Mama," Mary said, her tone of voice holding a touch of sharpness. Mary directed her mother to a comfortable settee. "You and Papa share a room," Mary said, a lift of her chin showing her defiance.
Mary turned her back on her mother, willing her face to cool. She was a married woman. She was allowed to share a bed with her husband. Swiftly walking to the French doors, she flipped the lock and pulled both doors open, hoping there would be a cross breeze to ventilate the flat on this hot August day. The muffled sounds of Dublin city life flowed into the flat. Once Mary felt like she had control of her expression she turned back to her mother, smiling.
At that moment the door opened and Baxter, Cora's Lady's maid entered the room carrying a small tray holding two glasses, one holding a white liquid. "Your headache powder, my lady," Baxter said in a quiet voice holding out the tray to her so she could take the offered medicine.
Mary took the plain glass of water.
Cora took the glass with the milky concoction and quickly swallowed the liquid with a grimace, eyes squeezed tight at the bitter taste. "Thank you Baxter," Cora said with a brief smile for her maid, placing the empty glass on the tray. "Lady Mary was telling me that there is a nice park near the flat if you would like to go for a walk while I visit with my daughter," Cora told her.
Baxter cast a nervous look between her mistress and her daughter, noticing a slight tension. Not knowing what she should do, she just nodded. Looking timid as she usually did.
"Yes, the park is lovely in the summer and there are some lovely paths winding through the park. If you are feeling adventurous their is a corner shop close buy that sells red lemonade for 3d for a glass bottle. It is violently red in colour but tastes very refreshing. Mr Branson and I will often get a bottle if we want to have lunch outside," Mary suggested kindly. "If you bring the bottle back, they will give you a 1d in return".
"Just wait one moment and I will fetch a map," Mary placed her water glass on a nearby table. She stood elegantly from her seat, her pail green skirt swishing about her legs as she left the room.
Baxter returned her gaze back to Lady Grantham and smiled weakly, before looking out of the open French doors over the Dublin scene before her. "It does look like a pleasant day, my lady," commented Baxter, as her gaze dropped back down to the tray she was still holding. 'Should she leave the room or put the tray down', she wondered.
"Here we are," Mary said as she returned to the room holding a leather-bound book. "This is Mr Branson's street map of Dublin," Mary explained as she walked over to her writing desk and set the book down. Mary looked at Baxter and beckoned her over, as she started to flick through the pages of the book.
Baxter reluctantly walked over to Lady Mary. Lady Grantham didn't object. The page Lady Mary was showing her was a colourful map.
"We are here," Mary pointed to a building marked up on the street map. "Directly over the road is Saint Stephen's Green. There are four entrances to the park, one on each corner". Mary pointed to each entrance on the Map. Running her finger down an apparent road," this is Grafton Street the main shopping thoroughfare in this part of the city." Mary looked at Baxter to gage her understanding.
"Over here is the corner shop that sells the red lemonade. They sell sweets and chocolates too," Mary added, pointing again at the map. "Anyone in the city will be able to direct you back to Stephen's Green, if you get lost" Mary said confidently. "From there you should be able to find the flat again".
"Yes, Baxter why don't you go out and see some of the sights," Cora gently encouraged her maid. Mary didn't have an extensive servants' quarters, Baxter might be in the way of her daughter's housekeeper, and she didn't want to upset her daughter's household, small as it was.
"I am sure Mrs Murphy will be able to give you further directions if you have a particular interest you would like to explore," Mary suggested.
Baxter smiled in relief at the apparent dismissal and hurried back to Mrs Murphy domain. She would talk to that sensible woman, she would probably have more of an idea of what a working class woman could do in Dublin with limited funds.
Mary turned back to her mother, their slight misunderstanding from earlier forgotten. She came to sit by her mother and took one of her hands in hers. Turning to look at her mother, to determine how she was feeling.
"Would you like to talk Mama, or would you prefer to sit in silence and see if your headache abates?" Mary questioned.
"It's only a slight headache my darling girl. I would prefer to spend my time in conversation with you," Cora said with a tilt of her head, looking up at Mary. "Why don't you tell me what Branson is doing now, you said he left the newspaper?" Cora asked tentatively, hoping this would not cause an argument with her daughter.
"Mama, you really should call him Tom, he's my husband after all," Mary said, a delicate frown on her face. With a squeeze of her mother's hand she sent Cora a brighter smile.
"Tom is working on his novel with dedication, he's excited about the concept, and this is his first novel," Mary started to explain with a happy lilt to her voice, excitement shining in her own eyes, her mouth soft.
"Tom must do a lot of research for the novel and promote his new book of short stories too, which will be published in November. He really didn't have the time to concentrate on his journalism," Mary said, her expression sincere. "So he went back to his freelance writing while he is working on his larger projects," Mary told her mother.
Cora was relieved that he was still working as a freelance writer, but she had no idea if that paid well or not. She didn't know and writers, well not any who wrote for a living opposed to being upper class and wrote for prestige. But Cora could see her daughter warming up to her topic.
"Tom likes a certain realism in his work, so he likes to ground his stories in real locations. He has several atlases and road maps of Ireland and England. Note books full of descriptions of all the places he has been to," Mary confided. "I sometimes get him to read the notes he made of Downton and the grounds. He has such a vivid way with words, sometimes it feels like I am there," Mary said with a dreamy far away smile.
"Sometimes it is even exciting," Mary said a light in her eyes. "Mr William Holden KC. I have previously told you about him in my letters, he has his own car," Mary started her story, giving her mother's hand another squeeze in excitement. "Well Tom wanted a car chase in his novel, so Tom, William, Marjory and I went out in William's car," Mary said, cheeks flushing at the memory. "Tom planned out the route, while he wrote diligent notes. Every now and then we would stop and I would sketch the scene and Tom would write furiously in his note book," Mary said with a sigh.
"It was a lovely day; we even had a lovely picnic by a river. Tom is so talented and inventive. I am absolutely positive that his new novel will be a success," Mary gushed, her enthusiasm obvious.
It suddenly struck Cora, that her daughter was absolutely besotted with her husband. She wasn't oppressed by a brutish husband, living a dreadful existence in Dublin. Her daughter was lighter and happier than Cora could ever remember her being in Downton. She seemed fulfilled and content.
Cora couldn't help frowning thinking of the cold and formal letters she had received from Mary. She thought she was trying to hide her unhappiness, yet it seemed to be the opposite. She was trying to hide her happiness.
'But why would she do that?' Cora wondered. 'Why wouldn't she wants her parents know she was happy. Didn't she realise that we worried about her night and day?' Cora thought, feeling a sting of anger.
Taking a calming breath, Cora took her daughters hand and turned it over in her own. Stroking Mary's palm and fingers as Cora had done since she was a helpless baby. Cora was struck by the sudden memory of Mary being a baby, small and helpless in her mother's arms, as Cora stroked those same fingers wondering how this tiny piece of heaven could ever turn in to an adult.
Yet here she was, her beautiful grown daughter. The daughter who looked the most like her but was the least like her in temperament. She knew she was all Violet. Dear Sybil, had her own dark hair, but her round face and blue eyes was the most like her husband. Even Sybil's kindness she got from her father.
She sighed gently, Edith was the daughter most like her in temperament and personality she knew. It was ironic that she looked the most like Violet and Rosamund, yet the furthest like them in character.
Cora sighed, It was one of the reasons that Mary's animosity towards her sister, secretly pained Cora. At times it seemed that Mary was rejecting her. 'Lord knew she and Mary had, had there disagreements', Cora thought darkly, thinking back on the dreadful Mr Pamuk.
Mary noticed her mother's change in mood, Cora for a moment had a scowl on her face, a rare occurrence for her mother. "Mama, are you feeling well?" Mary gently asked.
"I am just looking back on your letters, dear. They were so cold and formal. Your father and I thought you were unhappy," Cora said simple. Cora watched as her daughter dropped her gaze contritely.
"I am sorry Mama," Mary said quietly, not quite looking her mother in the eye. "I have had letter's from everyone reprimanding me. Granny was particularly succinct," Mary admitted.
"But why?" Cora asked plaintively, wanting to understand her daughters actions.
Mary caught her mother's other hand stilling it with her own. "I felt embarrassed over the fuss over Matthew," Mary said, blushing brightly. Mary blinked her eyes furiously, hoping to stave off tears. She didn't want to make a fool of herself by crying in front of her mother.
Now Cora felt confused, frowning again. 'What on earth did Matthew have to do with it?" Cora thought, before being struck by the sudden fear that Mary was going to confess her love for her cousin.
"I spent the whole of the war years making a complete fool of myself, over Matthew. Everyone must have realised I was pining for him. I regretted turning down his marriage, that August before the war," Mary said eyes dropped to her lap. Holding Cora's hands tighter as she exposed her emotions. Remembering the pain from that period in her life. She had let her mother and Aunt Rosamund persuade her in to delaying her acceptance of him.
Now she thought back on that time and felt embarrassed by her behaviour. Her mind's eye flashed to an image of her handsome husband smiling and wondered if it was not all for the best. Who knew she would find such joy with the chauffeur.
"I remember you consoling me. Advising me to mix more, to socialise more, that I could find someone else," Mary whispered.
Cora leant closer to her daughter making sure she caught all of Mary's quiet words as they fell from her lips.
"Then you were advising me to tell Matthew of my feelings and I ignored you again," this time a tear did fall from Mary's eye. She angrily wiped it away and continued to speak. "Then in February the dreadful scandal broke, the whole Pamuk affair came out and I was forced to marry the family's chauffeur to save my tattered reputation. Even if I had gone to New York to be with Grandmother, it would have been just another patched up affair," Mary said, displaying the anger she felt for her foolish actions.
"Oh Mary," Cora said, feeling for her daughter, rubbing the back of Mary's hands with her thumbs.
"And then I was living in Dublin with a husband I didn't know. In a city I didn't know, with no friends or family surrounding me. I was desperately lonely," Mary said, finally looking her mother in the eyes.
Mary took a deep shuddering breath. "Over the weeks Tom and I got to know one another, and we started working together as a husband and wife should," Mary said with a quirk of the lips and a shrug of her shoulders. "I got to know this brilliant, kind man who was my husband," Mary said with a soft smile, the tension starting to leave her body as she spoke of her husband.
"And I started to think of all the good advice you had given me, and I had ignored," Mary looked away from her mother, a sense of chagrin about her.
Cora couldn't help but reach out and gently stroke her daughter's cheek in comfort. Mary tilted her head, her cheek momentarily resting in her mother's loving hand. Cora was amazed that Mary was revealing such thoughts to her. Mary wasn't known for her emotionalism and openness.
"I realised if I had let go of the idea of Matthew, I might have been happy with someone else," Mary said looking back at her mother. "Not dreadful Richard. But a kind understanding man I could have loved. I could have been happy. I would have freed Matthew from my devotion and he could have been happy. I just felt if I hadn't been so stubborn. So determined to be melodramatic and punish my self as a fallen woman. Well I wouldn't have caused such a scandal and hurt you and Papa."
Mary's words caused a lump in Cora's throat. Her own eyes stung. "Oh my darling, all I have ever wanted was you to be happy," Cora said. She pulled Mary in to her embrace, and Mary allowed it. Mary rested her head on her mother's shoulder, her arms wrapped about Cora's back. The two women, Mother and daughter, remained that way for several moments. Soaking up the comfort and love shared between them.
"This doesn't exactly explain your letters," Cora probed gently. Still stroking her daughter's back.
"I was embarrassed, and I didn't know how to express my change in feelings. Especially after my pass behaviour," Mary confessed, speaking in to her mother's neck like a young child. Her mother's scent as comforting as when she was younger, and her mother's love could banish all her woes.
"All your father and I have ever wanted, was for you to be happy," Cora said, sitting back, so that Mary could see her sincerity in her face.
"And marry a duke?" Mary said with a quirk of the lips. Calling out the fact that her mother had only encouraged relationships with titled or wealthy gentlemen in the past.
"Only happy, even if that happiness was found with our former chauffeured," Cora reiterated firmly. Yes she had wanted Mary to marry well. But she meant it, she wanted all her daughters to be happy.
Mary let out a happy relieved laugh. Glad that this difficult conversation was over. Mary took a hanky from her pocket and made sure her eyes were dry and that she was still presentable. Taking a deep breath she sat back in her chair. Mary stretched her muscles relieving the last of the tension she was feeling. Looking back at her mother with a touch of worry.
"How are you feeling now? Has your headache improved?" Mary asked her mother with gentle concern.
Taking stock of herself, Cora realised that her headache was much improved. Mary's confession must have distracted her enough for her medicine to work. "Yes my darling," Cora replied with a warm smile.
"Why don't we go out as you suggested earlier? You can show me your new home and you can tell me all about this Job you have," Cora suggested, leaning forward again and giving Mary's hand a final squeeze, before both women stood preparing to leave Mary's home.
Cora looks forward to spending time with her difficult eldest daughter, she is hopeful of developing a deeper relationship with her.
Bewley's
The atmosphere in the room lightened as the weight of unspoken concerns dissipated. Mary and Cora left the flat, ready to explore the city together. The sunlight streamed through the open French doors, casting a warm glow on the room. The distant hum of the city accompanied them as they stepped outside.
Walking down the stairs, Mary guided her mother through the dimly lit corridors of the building. The streets of Dublin awaited them, filled with the promise of a delightful day. As they emerged onto the city footpath, Mary took a moment to appreciate the familiar sights and sounds of the city she now called home. Cora blinked her eyes to become familiar with the startling bright sunshine.
Strolling side by side, Mary and Cora made their way toward St. Stephen's Green. Distant cries of the newspaper sellers, hawking their papers. The lush park unfolded before them, inviting them to meander along its winding paths, the smell of fresh grass sweet. Mary shared stories of her favourite spots in the gardens, pointing out the charming features that had captured her and Tom's hearts.
Cora told her of the preparations for the end of summer garden party that she and Lavinia were holding. It was important to Cora, as the culmination of the summer social season, the first after the war. Cora was starting to feel like everything was finally back to normal after the dreadful war years.
The only fly in the ointment was that all her daughters were not at home. Cora sighed and squeezed Mary's arm in comfort. She realised that if it was not for the war Mary would probably have been married long ago and living her own life, with her own family.
Cora looked at her beautiful daughter, her face shaded from the strong sun by her wide brimmed hat. She looked so alive and happy in this unfamiliar city, as she pointed out the sites that interested her. Mentioning her husband often.
As they wandered, Mary spoke animatedly about her work as an illustrator, describing the joy she found in creating visual narratives. Even if she thought some of the subjects were dreadfully dull. Cora listened with genuine interest, fascinated by her daughter's accomplishments. Her exploration of a professional life, so alien to Cora.
The two women explored the vibrant streets surrounding the park, venturing into shops and enjoying the lively atmosphere of the city.
Eventually, they found themselves at Bewley's tearoom. Mary suggested they take a break and enjoy a leisurely afternoon tea. Seated at a small wooden table, they sipped tea and savoured savoury tarts and delicate pastries. Mary recounted amusing anecdotes from her life in Dublin, making Cora laugh and relish the shared moments between them.
As Mary told her mother how she met Button Doran here the fateful day she was asked to work as an illustrator. She pointed out the very table she was seated at. She confided in her mother how Tom liked to meet his artistic friends here and discuss poetry and politics.
Cora could not help but frown at the mention of politics, worry settling in her bones. She was not insensible to the other conversations around her. There were two young men sitting close by arguing about the necessity of armed resistance against British rule. They looked like average young men, dressed in suits. Just like the ones she saw in London talking politics.
She felt a shiver go down her spin. This talk of violence in the open, made the concern for her daughter's safety more visceral.
Mary never talked of politics in her letters, but she remembered Robert mentioning in the past Branson's socialist leanings. 'Surely he is aware of the political atmosphere in the Dublin. He would be able to keep Mary safe, wouldn't he?' she hoped. 'Hadn't Tom proclaimed to be a republican in the past? Isn't that what Robert told her?'
Cora listened to her daughter's voice and noticed for the first time how English Mary sounded, surrounded by Irish accents as she was. In Yorkshire, with all the varied English accents, hers was just one of many. Cora's heart picked up speed, anxiousness twisted and coiled in her stomach. She realised how stark the contrast was now. Mary's crisp diction highlighting not only her Englishness but her class as well.
It seemed one concern had been laid to rest for Cora and like a hydra another rose to take it's place. Cora took a deep breath, trying to calm her thoughts. She smiled lovingly at her daughter, hoping Mary wouldn't detect her new worries.
Cora determinedly put these thoughts out of her mind. Determined to enjoy her daughters company on this beautiful day.
The day unfolded seamlessly, a blend of heartfelt conversations and shared laughter. Mary took her mother to see the sights she cherished, introducing her to the vibrant energy of Dublin. As the afternoon waned, they decided to head back to Mary's flat. Cora needed to meet her maid and wait for the motor to collect them. Cora needed to prepare for the evening.
Returning to the rooftop terrace to await the hotels Chauffeur, Mary and Cora settled into the wicker chairs, the warm late afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the cityscape. The air was filled with contentment as mother and daughter enjoyed a quiet moment together. Mary, grateful for her mother's visit, reflected on the newfound understanding that had blossomed between them.
Going Home
The ferry glided through the calm waters, spray occasionally reaching the ships deck. It was carrying Cora and Baxter back across the Irish Sea to England. The salted air surrounding the passengers. The gentle rocking of the boat provided a soothing backdrop to Cora's contemplative thoughts. As she sat on the deck, the cool breeze brushed against her face, and she couldn't help but reflect on the past four days spent in Dublin with Mary. Cora pulled her coat tighter against her.
Cora marvelled at how her perception of Mary's life had evolved during their time together. The flat, initially an unknown entity, had transformed into a haven of warmth and happiness. Mary's artistic pursuits and her supportive role in Tom's writing endeavours painted a picture of a fulfilling and contented life.
She replayed the scenes in her mind – the comfortable flat with its skylights, the delightful afternoon tea in the tearoom, the laughter-filled conversations on the rooftop terrace. Each moment was a testament to the life Mary had built for herself in Dublin. Cora realised that her daughter was not just surviving; she was thriving.
The faces of Mary's friends, whom she had met at the theatre, lingered in Cora's thoughts. Fergus O'Sullivan, his thin freckled face, so serious as he discussed his art. The juxtaposition of his hilarious play and the intense young man she had met could barely be reconciled.
Mary's other friends that she met that night were young and full of life. Their genuine camaraderie and shared passion for the arts left a lasting impression. Mary had a circle of companions who appreciated her talents and enriched her life. Cora was pleased to see her daughter surrounded by people who valued her for who she was.
However, a shadow of doubt crept into Cora's mind as she considered the challenge of convincing Robert. She knew her husband's concerns about Mary's well-being were born out of love and concern. Conveying the genuine happiness and fulfilment she had witnessed would be crucial in reassuring him.
Now, Cora found herself burdened with an additional concern—the growing political turbulence in the city. Mary, in her optimistic manner, had dismissed it casually. However, Cora's apprehensions persisted, prompting her to instruct Baxter to purchase a local newspaper for her.
To her dismay, the reading did little to calm her mind; quite the contrary. The pages were rife with reports of political unrest, the prohibition of parties like Sinn Féin, and the confiscation of weapons. Far from putting Cora's mind at rest, it only deepened her unease.
Perhaps not within the opulent confines of the 'Shelbourne,' the grand hotel where she resided during her brief visit in Dublin. But the conversations she overheard in Bewley's painted a vivid picture. Young and old men engaged in heated debates about British rule. As an American, Cora found herself sympathetic to the Irish cause, even if it contrarily conflicted with her current life as an aristocratic woman.
Amid these discussions, she encountered a rugged-looking man who boldly declared that 'all English residents should be driven out of Ireland by force,' his words laden with a menacing tone. Cora couldn't shake off the unease his comment induced, feeling as though he had directed a threatening gaze her way. Uncharacteristically, she even caught herself exaggerating her American accent, a measure she rarely resorted to.
As the ferry sailed closer to the shores of England, Cora found herself composing the words she would use to describe Mary's life. She thought of emphasising the artistic community, the supportive friends, and the flourishing partnership between Mary and Tom.
Recognising that this visit had offered her a valuable glimpse into her daughter's world, Cora felt an urge for Robert to partake in the same understanding. She pondered the idea of discussing the political landscape in Ireland with her husband. After all, he was a man of influence, holding a seat in the House of Lords. It seemed reasonable to believe that he could shed light on the prevailing sentiments toward the English and, more crucially, whether Mary's safety might be at risk.
Cora found herself twisting her hands in her anxiousness. She tried to calm herself. She thought of Branson, 'no Tom'. He must be aware of the political situation. Mama had said that Tom consorted with rebels. 'They would warn him if Mary was in danger, wouldn't they?'
Sighing she leant back in her deck chair and pulled the blanket covering her knees tighter. She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths. She would just concentrate on remembering her daughters happy face. Trying to push all her new anxiety to the back of her mind.
The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink as the ferry approached the harbour. Cora, deep in thought, turned to Baxter, who had been a quiet but observant presence throughout the trip. "Baxter, I do hope you enjoyed the visit and found it enlightening," Cora said, a genuine curiosity in her voice.
Baxter nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yes, my lady. It was a unique experience, and Lady Mary seems to have built a good life in Dublin."
"You didn't have any trouble with the locals did you. Because you were from England?" Cora probed while she observed her maid carefully.
Baxter was so different from O'Brien, much kinder for one. But Baxter did seem to be a very timid woman. Maybe she would be more sensitive to danger.
"I had a very pleasant walk around the city, my lady," Baxter paused, her teeth worried at her bottom lip. "People were curious about why I was in Dublin, they were generally friendly," Baxter said with a slight smile for her employer.
"I hear a 'but' in there?"
Baxter turned her gaze away, looking out to sea, she wanted to express her thoughts clearly. "Some people were a bit... Frosty, when I told them I was with my mistress," Baxter said nervously.
Cora looked worried when she heard this intelligence. She grew tense in her seat, her fingers nervously stroked the blanket in her lap.
Baxter misconstruing the source of her concern, rushed to reassure her. "But that disappeared as soon as I said you were from America. Then they wanted to know where you from. I told them New York, my lady. They were very interested in America".
Now Cora felt dismayed, her worst fears confirmed. They were hostile to Baxter when they thought she worked for an English woman, but thawed to her when they found out her employer was American.
Cora thanked Baxter for the information she shared, trying not to show her distress at Baxter's experience.
As they disembarked from the ferry and made their way to the train station and back to Downton, Cora felt a sense of determination. She was ready to convey the richness of Mary's life in Dublin to her husband, hoping to dispel any lingering doubts and celebrate the newfound contentment of their eldest daughter in her marriage.
But she must talk to Robert about the safety of Mary in Dublin. Maybe he could offer Mary and her husband a home here in Yorkshire. Yes, that would be the best idea. Mary must move back home, even if she brought her husband with her.
Cora felt comforted by her decision, she leant back in her comfortable train seat and watched the English countryside roll by her window. Regular clack of the wheels on the track, soothing. Cora was looking forward to returning to her beloved home and her husband in Downton.