Originally, I did not want to publish this chapter today, given that it would have been my mum's 53rd birthday. But reading it back while editing, I realised that maybe today is just the right day to post it, so there you go. Some alone time for Cora with her grandkids while Robert and Mary are in London. Hope you enjoy :)
"That's it, milady. You've made it all the way to the library on your own," said Baxter excitedly, a giant beaming smile on her face as she looked back at her winded mistress standing on the threshold. The lady's maid's hands were stretched out in her direction, just in case she needed to steady the lady of the house or even help her stay upright after all this exertion. This was after all the first time she ever tried to take the stairs all on her own.
Still feeling quite light-headed and trying to catch her breath, Cora leaned against the door frame, quite unladylike, with her forehead almost fully resting against the white lacquered wood. But she needed the stability the solid structure offered, and the coolness of the wood felt good on her hot skin after this exhausting trip down from her bedroom. Her eyes closed for a bit, her chest heaving with every breath she took. Despite all the strain her body was under, her face broke into a wide and relieved smile at this feat she just mastered.
Turning her head back around to face her maid, Cora said: "I did, and I could not have done it without you, Baxter. Thank you. But don't say a word to anyone. His Lordship would never forgive me if he found out that I tried without him present."
"My lips are sealed, my Lady," the younger woman smiled as she stepped closer to her employer, reaching out her hands some more. "Let me help you to the settee, you have walked far enough on your own for now."
Cora took the offered hands gratefully and allowed herself to be led to the red cushioned sofas in the library before sinking down on the nearest one and leaning back.
"I will ask Parker to bring up the tea shortly and Nanny will surely bring the kids in soon, if that is okay?"
"Thank you. That sounds perfectly alright, Baxter."
Cora sat back some more and closed her eyes. Slowly, her pulse steadied and she finally felt her lungs taking in sufficient amounts of air, they had felt rather undersupplied since she started her journey down.
And the scar hurt, the whole left side of her torso did. There was an uncomfortable tugging feeling, and she could feel it all pulsate quite heavily underneath her loosely cut blouse. This was not a new sensation, she'd had it before, but she never told anyone. It was beginning to worry her, though. Maybe she should talk to Doctor Clarkson about it, just to be safe. She had made it this far, she could not simply ignore something like this. Not after everything she had been through and after everything Robert and everyone else had done for her.
Before she could dwell more on that, the door to the library opened again and Parker walked in, carrying the tray with tea, the cups, and plates and the children's favourite cake to its designated spot on the table near the grand windows overlooking the gardens.
"Is there anything else you need, milady?" Parker asked, turning around swiftly. "Do you want me to pour you your cup of tea now, or would you prefer me to wait a bit?"
Smiling, Cora retorted: "No, thank you, Parker. I will ask Master George to do that for me, he always offers. That is all for now."
The butler nodded and left the room as quickly as he had entered, the door closing behind him with a very soft thud as Cora's head leaned back against the backrest once more, closing her eyes to rest.
"Granny!"
Her head whipped around to look behind her and she saw two children running toward her, a blonde boy who seemed to be growing faster than should be allowed, and he had a little brown-haired girl in tow. Both children bore uncanny resemblances to their parents. Cora had obviously not known Matthew as a child, but Isobel had shown her a picture once upon a time, and George seemed to be the spitting image of his father. They had the same nose, the same mouth, the same blonde hair and those same blue eyes. Caroline was the complete opposite, with her brown hair and brown eyes that resembled Mary so much — only her skin was much more tan than her mother's.
"Hello, my darlings!" Cora greeted enthusiastically as they reached her, each hopping onto the settee on either side of her.
"Where is Donk?" Caroline asked almost immediately, looking around the library as if her grandfather was merely hiding somewhere. He had done that once before, much to Cora's surprise, and the children had all loved it. She could not blame her youngest granddaughter for thinking he would do that again.
"You will have to make do with just me today, I am afraid. Donk has taken your Mama all the way down to London for some important business, and to meet Aunt Rosamund. They left very early this morning."
"Oh, that is alright," said George quickly, sounding not at all as if it was alright, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it. The boy was quite bright for his age, especially when it came to reading people. "Do you want me to pour you a cup of tea, Granny?"
Cora had known he would ask, he always did. Barely suppressing her amused smile, she nodded gratefully. Upon that, her grandson all but bolted up and quickly poured her a cup, adding a tiny splash of milk, just the way she liked it. It had taken her quite a while to get used to this peculiar mixture of ingredients, but she had taken a fancy to it once that initial shock had worn off.
While George was busying himself with placing a slice of cake on the plate, Caroline got up as well and walked over to the shelf containing the several photo albums. At random, the little girl picked one of the hefty tomes and carried it back to the settee. "Can we look at some pictures today, Granny? We haven't done that in a while!"
Taking the cup and saucer from George with a smile, Cora turned to face Caroline and replied: "Of course, my dear. Let me have a sip of tea first and then we can go through that. Come, settle down, the two of you."
The young girl nodded her head excitedly and climbed back up onto the plush settee, settling into her grandmother's side while waiting patiently for her to put the cup down. George, however, was not as patient and snatched the thick, leather-bound book from his younger half-sister's tiny hands and opened it on the very first page.
Chancing a first look at the album Caroline had chosen, Cora's breath hitched momentarily and she was glad she had already swallowed her sip of tea or else she would have likely choked on it.
Whatever it was she had expected was far from this. Unbeknownst to her, Caroline had chosen the oldest album on the shelf. Cora had no idea who had compiled them all and put them in this tome — it contained photographs from their early years as husband and wife. Even some rarities from before then were to be found in there if she was not mistaken.
The three of them were looking at an old photograph, worn and faded as it was. "Granny, is that you?" wondered George as he pointed at the young woman smiling brightly back at them from the page.
She had not seen this photograph in years, maybe decades even. Mindlessly, her finger traced the edge of the photograph as her gaze and mind began to wander.
"Yes, George. That is me; many, many years ago. This photograph was taken on the day I got married to your Grandpapa," Cora said, suddenly feeling very nostalgic as she thought back to that day almost four decades ago. "As you can see, this was very long ago, I was only 21 years old, and your Donk 24."
"Donk had dark hair, too?" Caroline asked surprised, inching even closer to her Granny to get a better look at the image.
Cora couldn't help but huff a laugh at the childish innocence behind that question. Laughing, she said: "Yes, your Donk had dark and sometimes curly hair when he was young. But that was a long time ago now. When people get older, their hair starts to lose its colour, though, and it turns grey or even white. Remember Granny Violet? She had grey hair for longer than even I can remember." Cora winked at her grandchildren as they all laughed.
"You were beautiful, Granny," George said, his eyes still transfixed on the photograph in the book opened in Cora's lap. "You still are. But how did you stay so young when Donk got so old? Your hair is still so dark!"
Again, Cora had to huff a laugh. She could not tell them that she had been colouring her hair for years to appear at least a couple of years younger than she actually was. She was not a vain woman, and she did not mind ageing, at least not that much. But something about her grey hair showing bothered her and so she had it dyed for years. Not any more, though.
One night in the hospital, when Robert had once again tried to tame her hair into a braid, he had run his fingers through it like he always used to do in their youth. At first, he hadn't said anything, he had just kept weaving his fingers delicately through her tresses. After a while, though, he had murmured softly to her. "Your hair — I know you won't want to hear this, my darling, but I am glad you haven't dyed it recently. Seeing these grey hairs peek through reminds me how fortunate I am. I am so lucky to have already had so much time to spend with you and I wish for so many more weeks and months with you. Even years if we're allowed."
She had decided that night that if she made it through the treatment, she would never dye it again. Her husband was right. They had spent so many years together, they grew up and old together, and this would be another physical reminder for them to cherish.
"Oh, that is easy," she laughed. "When you are surrounded by young people all the time, like I was with your Mama and your aunts, it is quite easy to stay younger for longer. And your grandpapa has had quite a few important decisions to make throughout his life, which I did not. He has not been around as many young people in his life as I have. He also has to take care of this house and all the people who work here and on the estate, that is really stressful. Stress does make a person age a lot faster, you know."
Nodding wisely while Caroline only giggled, George turned the page to reveal a picture taken that same day that featured not only her and Robert as newlyweds, but also their parents standing to either side of them.
"And who are these people?" the blond boy asked as he pointed his little finger at the people smiling back at them from the page below.
"That right here," Cora said pointing to the couple standing next to Robert, "is Granny Violet, and the man next to her was her husband, your Great-grandpapa Patrick. He died only a few years after this when your Mama was very young. I believe she even was the same age you are now, George."
Caroline sat up more to point at someone else, but her brown curly hair now obstructed Cora's view of the page. She did not need to see the photograph, though. She knew it all too well. A sad smile darted across her face as she remembered. "The woman next to me is my mother, your Granny Martha, who lives in America. And the man next to her was my father Isidore."
Caroline swiftly turned around, now half sitting in her grandmother's lap, and looked inquiringly up at her with her big brown eyes. "Why have we never met your parents, Granny?"
"Well, they lived in America — that is really far away. And George has met my mother, but he was very young," she explained. Turning to the young boy to her left, she added: "I don't think you remember, do you?"
Her grandson thought for a second and then shook his head no.
"And my father was very sick already on the day this picture was taken, he passed away only a few months after Donk´s and my wedding day."
"Oh no," Caroline replied, her big eyes now sad as she looked at her grandmother.
George, still examining the photograph while sitting to her left, then asked: "Do you miss them?"
It was an innocent question, asked by an innocent young boy. But it was a question that nearly brought her to tears. Trying to swallow the lump in her throat, she cautiously replied: "Yes. Every single day."
"Even though you have not seen them in years?"
"Yes, even though I have not seen them in years. Just because someone is not there with you in person does not mean that they're forgotten. There are memories and photographs and stories shared that can remind you of someone who is somewhere far away. Sometimes remembering is such a nice feeling, it can make you feel close to them again. Sometimes remembering hurts and you may cry a little, but that is completely okay. Whenever I feel down about missing my father, I like to think about how he used to carry me around our home in America when I was very young, and how much I laughed when he was around."
"You still remember things from when you were young?" Caroline interjected surprised.
"Of course, I do! There are things you can never forget, things that brought you such joy. Or sometimes even things that hurt even though a lot of time has passed since. That is how the memory works, it keeps the important things. The good and the bad, but mostly the good."
Suddenly, George settled back into the cushions next to her, his head hanging low. Cora put the weighty book away and turned to look at him with concern in her eyes. "George, what is it?"
The boy next to her sniffled, refusing to look up, and wiped his sleeve over his eyes repeatedly. "I just do not have anything to remember about my Papa. I never got to meet him," he said in the quietest, smallest voice Cora had ever heard.
Carefully, Cora took George into her arms and cradled him to her, rubbing soothing circles on his back while tears were rolling freely down his cheeks. "You know, your Papa loved you so very much. He was the first of us to see you when you were born. You were his pride and joy, even before you were born."
"But I do not even know what he looked like, and Mama rarely talks about him. I miss my Papa. I think it still hurts her. She must be missing him a lot, too," he snivelled into her shoulder.
"Maybe you should ask Granny Isobel about your Papa. I am sure that she has some pictures from when he was younger, and quite a few stories to tell, too. All I can tell you is that you only have to look in the mirror if you want to know what he looked like. You even behave like him, you talk like him, and you are as kind as he was." Cora slowly and gently pushed her grandson away from her and held him by his shoulders. She mustered his face, smiling very fondly as tears shone in her eyes only thinking of some of the people they had to bury already — her father, Robert's parents, Marmaduke, her darling Sybil, and of course Matthew. "Your Papa is there, Georgie, he never left you. Even though you don't have any memories of him, you will always miss him. And that is such a good thing, to know that he is still so loved by you and me and your Mama and everyone else. I think he would like that."