It was only the beginning of December, but the cold and unpleasant weather that had been keeping them company for the entirety of November had persisted. Incessant heavy rain had soon turned into unrelenting snowfall as December approached and now, almost two weeks into the last month of the year, a thick layer of snow was covering everything. Mary could not recall a time she had ever seen the abbey so completely snowed in. That was a fact that made her children very happy, unlike her for the most part.
Going out and playing in the snow had become one of their favourite pastimes. They even got Parker to build snowmen with them, sneaking carrots from Mrs Patmore's kitchen to finish off the faces. Of course, the elderly woman had noticed that the young blonde boy had merely tried to keep her otherwise occupied when he charmingly asked her if she could make him some cookies, while his elder cousin had tried her best to break into the food storage. She did love those children, and they were always polite, it wouldn't hurt to let them believe they had tricked her. After the first of these encounters, Mrs Patmore had moved the wooden crate to the lowest shelf in the larder to make it easier accessible to the children, even though Daisy had complained about the changed order that went against her workflow. The senior cook simply couldn't have the children hurting themselves trying to reach one of the upper shelves, and Daisy understood that after it was explained to her.
Despite the hefty amounts of snow that had fallen in Yorkshire and, in fact, all of England, Mary was much calmer about the current weather situation than she would have been a few months ago. She was glad that they had managed to fully repair the leaking roof of the abbey before the winter had reached England and sent all of them into this sleep-like trance — it made for a much easier time with the constant precipitation now that they needn't have someone empty the countless buckets of water in the attics every few hours.
She was standing in the library, her back turned to the room, as she stared out into the white winter scenery through one of the grand windows. She had been feeling quite cold the entire afternoon and finally managed to catch Anna and ask her to bring her a shawl about half an hour ago. The one her trusted lady's maid had brought was a crocheted beige one Mary instantly recognized to be from the late grandmother, saying that it went well with the skirt in deep bordeaux and the cream-coloured blouse she was wearing that day.
"When do Mama and Papa arrive? I wanted to drive down to the station myself and bring them home when the time came, for old time's sake."
Edith's voice shook Mary out of her musings, and she remembered the other people currently in the room with her. She had got so used to having her tea on her own in the library, with Edith and Bertie living at Brancaster and Tom and Lucy spending most of their time at Brompton, that now she often simply forgot that she was not alone as she waited for George and Caroline to be brought down by the nanny. She was simply not alone any more, and it was certainly an unknown sensation to the woman who managed her father's entire estate — with the help of Tom, of course.
She turned around, her hands clasped behind her back, and replied: "Oh, I haven't heard from them yet. Maybe they will only get in tomorrow, given the weather conditions. It is hard to say with the unpredictable seas."
Just when she had replied to her sister, Parker entered the room, an unreadable expression on his face. Mary had to suppress a smile at the thought that crossed her mind — Carson was surely teaching him all his ways. Young Mister Parker had already nearly mastered the art of feigning indifference that Mary had always admired their old butler for.
"Yes, Parker, what is it?" she asked pleasantly instead, granting him a polite smile as he walked closer, his back straight and head held high. He stood tall when he spoke, undoubtedly another lesson taught to him by Mister Carson.
"I only came to tell you that his Lordship has just telephoned, milady. He and her Ladyship are currently in London after landing safely in Southampton earlier this morning. He asked me to relay the message that they will be staying in London for another day or two at Lady Rosamund's and that his Lordship will telephone again with the time of their arrival in the village."
"We were just talking about that, wondering when they might get back. Thank you, Parker," Mary said, turning swiftly to face her sister. "You heard, didn't you? They made it to London safely and will stay there with Aunt Rosamund for another day or two. I just hope they can manage to get a train by then if the snow keeps on falling this relentlessly."
At this, both Edith and Bertie stopped looking at Mary and fixed their gazes on the world outside. It was true, the snowfall was quite relentless and could soon seriously impact travel routes — and that less than two weeks before Christmas.
"Oh, my dear brother — and Cora! How nice of you to stop here on your way home," Rosamund smiled widely when she saw her brother and sister-in-law enter her drawing room in Belgrave Square. Quickly, she put her book down to the side and got up to greet her guests.
Robert walked closer, greeting her with the customary kiss on the cheek, while his hand came to rest on her shoulder. "Well, thank you for allowing us to stay here on such short notice."
His sister replied, already turning to face Cora: "Nonsense, Robert. You are always welcome to stay here. This house is quite big and can get lonely rather easily, as I have found."
"Please be sure to come and stay with us whenever it does. You do not have to be alone at all times, you know that. You will always be welcome at Downton for as long as you'd like to stay," said Cora, taking the hands her sister-in-law had already stretched out in her direction to pull her in for a hug.
It was a rare occurrence for Rosamund to be so openly affectionate — she was raised by Violet, after all. Cora still remembered Mama's extensive efforts to get her younger self to be as stoically unemotional and English as the rest of them, but Violet never quite succeeded in ironing some parts of the American inside out of her. And to see Violet's own daughter throw that part of her education as a young lady overboard came as quite a surprise to Cora, albeit a mostly pleasant one, especially after this many years.
"I know, but taking the train up is always such a hassle, especially without company. It can get quite dull by oneself, sitting alone with nobody to talk to. But enough about that, I have no true reason to complain," she said quickly. Even before either Robert or Cora could say anything in reply, the redhead went on: "Tell me all about America. You haven't been there in years, what has changed across the great ocean? How is your family faring? And how are you doing, most importantly?"
Robert could only roll his eyes at his sister's chattiness. This was not at all like Rosamund to be such a blubbering bundle of energy. She was missing that sharp-tongued wit she had inherited from their Mama and had seemingly lost some of her upper-class reserved edge. It was a nice change, he had to admit, but still quite unusual.
"Why don't you let us take a seat first and then we can answer all of your questions, Rosamund?" he suggested with a smirk, motioning to the settee and plush chairs in front of the warm fireplace.
"Quite right, quite right. Let me ring for some tea first, though. You could surely do with something to warm you up from the freezing winter weather outside."
Cora and Robert smiled at each other while taking their usual seats on the settee and in the armchair that they always sat in when they visited. Both knew what the other was thinking when Rosamund quickly sashayed to ring for Mead and ask for some tea, as she had announced.
Drs A. Wallsom & C. Wallsom
She gulped, trying to get rid of the lump that had formed in her throat as they had walked along the pavements of busy London that snowy winter morning.
They were stood on Harley Street, right outside the practice Doctor Clarkson had instructed them to call on when he had talked to Robert on the telephone the day before.
Her gloved hand was resting in the crook of her husband's arm as they looked up at the polished brass plaque on the blue-painted door that read the names of what they assumed to be father and son.
People were relentlessly passing by behind them. Nobody seemed to take notice of the couple standing on the snowy pavement, seemingly glued to the spot. Life went on around them like normal and the earth kept turning, while time and everything else stood still for Cora and Robert.
"You do not have to come inside with me, Robert. I mean it, I can manage on my own. I know how you feel about places like these and all the medical talk. Go out and have a drink while you wait, or go and find a nice new book you can read to me tonight," she said quietly, craning her head to the side to look at him.
Robert turned to face her fully, gently taking both her hands into his own. His eyes bore intently into hers as he looked down at her, their hats sheltering them from the snow.
"Darling, I know that you mean that. But so did I when I said that I would stay by your side the entire time. This is not supposed to be easy, it never is. But it is the first step in the right direction. This is the start of a future that has you and me both in it for longer than I was led to believe recently, and I would not miss it for anything in the world. I need to know what they plan to do to help you. I need them to tell me what I can do. You are my responsibility, Cora, the only one I have left. Our girls are grown, Mary and Tom manage the estate — the only thing left for me to do is love you, and cherish you, and take care of you. Please, let me do that."
Cora broke off their eye contact. The lump in her throat that she had managed to swallow as they stood there on the pavement suddenly returned, only this time it was a lot bigger and harder to swallow. She had no idea what she could reply, she was too stunned by her husband's dedication — and also moved by it. This was not the Robert who had been more than slightly embarrassed talking to the doctor when she had got pregnant eighteen years after Sybil was born. This was not the man requiring a glass of whiskey — or rather two or three — just to be able to breach that topic of conversation with their physician. This was not the Robert who had been anxiously squirming in his seat while Doctor Clarkson had merely drawn some blood for tests — behind the white curtain, no less — only a few months ago.
Or maybe, just maybe, this was her Robert, who he was deep down. Maybe she had, somehow, over all these years, overlooked such a quintessential part of her husband. Thinking back on their life as husband and wife then, Cora realised that whenever she had truly needed him, he had been there for her. No matter how uncomfortable the situation was and how much help and encouragement he needed, he had always been there when it mattered — given his mother or social norms permitted it, of course.
His rich voice was warm and gentle, yet sounded concerned, when it reached her ears and shook her out of her reverie: "Are you ready?"
Cora turned her head to look up at the deep blue door with the plaque again.
Drs A. Wallsom & C. Wallsom. Black letters on polished metal.
Heaving a deep, almost shuddering breath, the Countess of Grantham shortly nodded her head and extended her gloved hand for her husband to take.
Only at that moment, she did not feel like the Countess of Grantham. No, she felt so small and insignificant and scared of what the appointment would bring. Standing there on Harley Street in front of the doctor's office, she was not the Right Honourable Countess of Grantham or Lady Grantham; not even Cora Crawley seemed to be a fit description. She was simply Cora.
One hand resting on the small of her back, Robert guided her up the slippery steps and into the brick-stone building that would finally bring him some answers to all the questions he never dared to ask.