Three weeks had already passed since Cora and Robert had taken the uncomfortable and long journey down to London by train, accompanied by Rosamund who insisted she needed to go with them and welcome Robert into her house in Belgrave Square. She declared it was much less trouble staying with her as opposed to opening Grantham House, and that her staff would enjoy seeing a friendly face around that does not pay their wages for a change. It was all the same to Robert, he would be with Cora most of the time if he had any say in the matter, and so he relented and let his sister have things her way.
Cora had settled in quite well in the room the nurse on duty at Doctor Wallsom's practice had assigned her. It was a quaint room, but still rather nice. Certainly nicer than either of them would have expected. High ceilings, light green wallpapers and a big window that had a lovely view out into a small garden down below that was currently buried under a thick blanket of snow, not that that mattered much. The furniture was entirely wooden — thank goodness. She could have lived well enough without the comparatively spacious wardrobe and the simple dressing table near the window, but she truly was grateful she had a real bed to lie in and not one of those uncomfortable hospital beds made out of metal that creaked at every toss or turn. She had seen and heard enough of those when Downton had been a convalescent home during the war.
Robert spent most of his time in London with her in her room, just as he had planned. Or rather he stayed for as long as the nurses allowed it. He came to visit every morning precisely at eight when they opened the doors and then left again at five in the afternoon when they practically had to come and drag him out by his ears. He even stayed seated in her room while she was at her radiation appointments. Sometimes, Rosamund joined him there for a while and kept him company while Cora was taken away or her sister-in-law came to visit Cora in the afternoons, had tea with them and then took Robert home with her to Belgrave Square.
Edith had visited a couple of times whenever her busy schedule allowed her to, and Mary had taken the train from Downton five times herself. On one of her visits, her eldest daughter brought a few photographs of their family along with her to make the room feel a bit more homely. The joy visible on Cora's face when her daughter produced the treasured items out of a small bag and put them on the table and nightstand was radiant and quite contagious, as Robert and Mary found. They enjoyed seeing Cora that happy, it was a rare sight these days.
The radiation treatments, however, left Cora feeling so fatigued and nauseous, day in and day out, even on the days she was not scheduled for treatment. Every time the nurses brought her back to her room, she would look a little worse for wear. But every time she returned, her husband was waiting there for her, greeting her with a concerned but welcoming smile, and her face would light up despite all the pain and discomfort she was in.
Robert would ask her how the treatment had gone and he would tell her what was happening outside of her small world that was limited to this room nowadays. Then, soon after she found herself back in bed, she would try to find a somewhat comfortable position and fall asleep while holding his hand until a nurse brought them some tea. And he was still there every time she opened her tired eyes again. Robert was always there, sitting at her bedside, reaching out his other hand that was not held in hers to stroke her cheek or play with her hair. He never left her side, not once.
It had also been three weeks since Cora's hair had last been properly braided when her lady's maid readied her for the night the last evening they were at Downton. The Countess had insisted that Baxter should stay home. There was no need for her lady's maid to come to London as well, she did not have to change clothes often after all, and the nurses as well as Robert helped with everything else.
Despite what outsiders might have thought and expected, the Earl tried his hardest to fill in for Baxter and help Cora in any way he possibly could — and that included trying to braid his wife's hair in the evenings. He really tried his utmost, but his best efforts were not exactly leading to what one would consider a neat braid. He had never learned how to braid hair, and why should he?
After his first miserably failed attempt at a braid, he had asked Rosamund's lady's maid for help, and her instructions improved his technique and the result at least somewhat. At least afterwards, the hair stayed in its braided form, which was more than could be said about his first try.
He did not want to imagine his mother's reaction had she ever found out about this, about him braiding his wife's hair while she barely had enough strength to sit up on her own. In fact, he didn't want to imagine what she thought of this entire situation they all found themselves in.
Still, Cora deeply appreciated the affectionate gesture and she loved the quiet moments they shared when he tried to tame her long dark tresses before he had to leave her for the night. He would come to stand behind her as she sat up in bed and try to manoeuvre the strands of hair in between his hands, looking adorably confused when they had to cross each other — sometimes, she could swear, she heard him mutter a few strong words in frustration, but she never mentioned it. She watched him in the mirror, saw how he struggled to keep the strands tidy and tie them together with a ribbon in the end — the look of sheer concentration on his face almost made her laugh out loud every single time. And she loved the gentle kisses he'd breathe on her neck once he was finished. When his work was done and she finally got to lean back into him, he'd hold her at her shoulders, pressing soft kisses to the crown of her head. Those were the moments she felt truly cherished by her husband of almost forty years, and so very loved. She felt less alone in all of this, and it gave her the courage to face it all again the next day.
After another fortnight of enduring the exhausting treatment three times a week, Doctor Wallsom entered the quaint bedroom while Cora and Robert were having their afternoon tea. Cora was sitting up in bed, propped up by countless plush pillows and tucked in beneath not one but two thick duvets — and she still felt cold.
"Good afternoon, Lord Grantham, Lady Grantham. I hope I am not interrupting," the younger man greeted pleasantly, and directed at the woman trying to sit up even straighter in bed, he said: "How are you feeling today?"
Cora, handing Robert her teacup without looking away from the young doctor, replied with a twinkle in her eye: "I do not think I have to lie and say that I am well when it is quite obvious that I am not, especially to an expert like you."
Robert eyed her, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He had been worried sick about her before; in fact, that had been the case consistently for the last three months, if not more. But within the last few weeks they had spent here in London, his wife's health had taken a serious turn for the worst. She never left the bed apart from her appointments, slept almost the entire day and night and still had dark circles under her eyes, and her nausea only seemed to be getting worse with each passing day. It hurt him to see her like that, seeing her reduced form and how she seemed to lose her spark more and more. It hurt him more than he could ever put into words.
However, hearing her try to joke about it caused him more than the anguish he was already feeling, it almost caused him physical pain. It was as if someone were punching him in the gut over and over again and he had no way of protecting himself, no matter how much he wanted to — his hands were tied. He just had to let it happen. He felt utterly helpless, and that was a feeling he had never enjoyed, least of all now.
"No, lying truly wouldn't help anyone, least of all you. But I think you will be pleased to know that today was your last radiation treatment."
"I'm sorry?"
Her eyes were wide as she looked at the man standing next to her bed. Surely, she had misheard him.
"Yes. My father, our fellow surgeons and I have reviewed your newest tests and bloodwork and we collectively decided to move up your operation that was scheduled to be in a fortnight. Everything is now being prepared for tomorrow morning at half 8," Doctor Wallsom replied, pushing his glasses back up his nose while the other hand holding his clipboard sunk to his side.
"That is indeed good news. Isn't it, Robert?" Cora asked excitedly, almost beaming up at her husband sitting to her right. Suddenly, a spark seemed to have been lit inside her, one that had almost died out a while ago.
Robert, however, seemed to be a lot less joyous at the news than his wife.
The next day would be the day he had been praying for the last few months, but he had also been dreading it more than anything in his life at the same time. The next day would be the day on which fate and the doctors' skills would decide whether he would either lose his darling Cora forever or gain more years with her than he ever thought possible just two short months ago. Of course, he was glad that the radiation treatment would stop, that she would not have to deal with much more of the swelling and the constant nausea and pain. But chances were high that tomorrow could be the day he became a widower and he was not at all prepared for that.
If she knew what he was thinking, she would tell him that he should not be such a pessimist, that things surely would work out alright. She would say that they were good people, and that good things happened to good people. And that she had lived a good life, that she had no regrets. Robert knew that she meant well, that she wanted to ease his mind as well as hers, but in the end, it was just wishful thinking and only little consolation to what was at stake. Because bad things do happen to good people all the time, they had to find that out the hard and painful way time and time again. They had seen wars threatening their family, had almost succumbed to illnesses and lost not only one but two of their four children.
Instead of voicing the dark thoughts that were on the verge of becoming overwhelmingly gloomy, tearing him down back into those darkest corners of his mind he had become so well acquainted with in recent weeks, he decided to be there for her when she needed him, just like she always was for him.
"Yes, darling. Those are fantastic news, indeed," he quickly said, trying his best to sound encouraging while managing to form a slight smile. But maybe, he was too late. He saw that she was puzzled by his reply, but chose not to say anything in front of the doctor.
"Good, I will see you tomorrow morning then. Lord Grantham, Lady Grantham," he nodded his head goodbye and left the room as swiftly as he had entered.
Robert reciprocated the courteous nod and handed Cora her teacup back. They both enjoyed the tea a nurse had prepared for them, even though it tasted nothing like their tea back home for some reason, and the sandwiches could not compare either. Still, both tucked in, to Robert's surprise. Cora rarely ate much of anything these days, least of all with her tea. Only shortly after the nurse had come to collect the tray, Cora was tired again and so he decided to leave her be for the day, five minutes before the nurse would come and send him away again.
"Robert, there you are!"
He heard his sister's familiar voice ring out in the foyer when he handed Mead his hat. He was freezing cold, rubbing his hands together to generate some warmth as he stepped further into the house at Belgrave Square. The fool he was, he had left his warm leather gloves in Cora's room in Harley Street.
"I was beginning to worry you'd got lost out in London by night."
"Rosamund, don't be absurd. I've been around this part of London countless times, I couldn't get lost on my way here even if I wanted to," Robert smiled, though with a slightly annoyed eye roll aimed at his younger sister. "I will join you in a jiffy, I'll just go and change out of this wet coat and into a different suit."
"I'll be in the drawing room when you come down again."
Robert did not ring for Bates, even though his loyal friend had accompanied him to London, going against the Earl's initial plans — his valet and close friend had insisted on it. Ever since their journey home from America, Bates made the, what Robert assumed to be, deliberate decision to be even more attentive than usual. Bates would know something was troubling him, and he could not talk about it with him, not just yet, not without a drink first. And Rosamund would want to know, too. No, this conversation with his old comrade-in-arms would have to wait until later.
So, without the help of his valet, Robert shrugged off his clothes and put them on the suit hanger in the corner of the dressing room. His fingers felt numb, frozen in place by the cold winter weather he braved on his way home. Even though he had been in the house for a few minutes by now, he was having trouble grasping small things like his cufflinks, and his nervously trembling hand was no great help, either. After a while he managed to get his hands to cooperate and changed into one of his better day suits; it was a patterned sandy brown one — one of Cora's favourites on him, as she loved to tell him whenever she saw him wearing it.
Without much haste, he joined his sister waiting for him in the drawing room, just like he had said he would, but only after he had placed an urgent phone call.
"You, my dear brother, look pretty preoccupied and in dire need of a stiff drink," the younger redhead noted when he sat down next to her rather unceremoniously in front of the fireplace.
"Is it that obvious?"
"What? The preoccupation or the need for strong alcohol? Because the answer to both is yes."
Robert nodded slowly, reclining on the settee to relax while his hand came up to touch his face. Somehow, he managed to look even deeper in thought than when he entered, and Rosamund wouldn't have thought that to be possible before.
Quickly, the lady of the house poured two generous tumblers of whisky — without watering the strong liquid down — and handed her brother his glass wordlessly. She didn't need to say anything, he would eventually start speaking on his own, she knew him well enough.
"I just telephoned the girls, and I suspect they will want to stay here with you when they arrive."
"You mean Mary and Edith? Why would they come?" Rosamund, formerly sitting quite relaxed, suddenly started to get frantic, quickly sitting up again and almost jumping out of her seat. "Is it Cora?"
"Yes, it is Cora," Robert said with a sigh.
Her stomach dropped. This could not be, not when her sister-in-law had finally decided to get help and try walking the long and strenuous road of cancer treatment. All colour drained from her face as she watched her brother stare into the flames dancing in the hearth. She was truly imagining the worst scenes.
"But it's not what you think," Robert eventually said. "I called to tell them that today was her last radiation treatment. The doctors want to operate on her tumour tomorrow morning, they told us this afternoon."
The tension that had been visible in her entire being fell off in great parts, but her brow was still furrowed when she asked: "Is that why you were so late?"
"Yes and no. They told us while we were having our tea this afternoon and then I left a few minutes earlier than usual, but I wandered around London. I had hoped the walk would help sweep some of the cobwebs off my mind, and help make some sense of everything. But it didn't, so I eventually came back here."
The Earl briefly glanced at his sister before staring back into the flames, raising the tumbler of whiskey to his lips.
"Anyway, it will all be over tomorrow. I'm sorry for wasting such perfectly good whiskey like this."
Even before Rosamund could ask what he meant, he drank the hefty amount of amber liquid down in one go.
One quick motion, a grimacing face, and then the full tumbler was empty.