Drabbles

With all that I am and all that I have

pre-series/ September 1890

It was a bleak day in late September, as could be expected for the season. She had been sitting outside on the bench under the tree for quite a while before luncheon was served. Afterwards, she returned to the same spot, taking a book with her while being wrapped in a warm coat to keep out the wind. Being a viscountess was certainly very different from what she had been expecting. Even though she was not even sure what she had been expecting at all when she had agreed to this life.

The weather had been rather dull and rainy and cold all summer long, and then summer had washed directly into autumn without anyone seeming to take notice. This was not at all what she was used to from her summers and early autumns back home. She always thought people were exaggerating when talking of the English weather, it just could not be that bad, but oh how wrong she had been. Back home, the summers were warm and sunny and she had always felt so carefree. Back home-

No. There was no back home. Not for her, not anymore. Her home was here now, in England. Her home was Downton Abbey. It had been her home for over half a year now, it had become her new home when she married Robert. And yet it had not even begun to feel like a home to her.

She had known he was not in love with her. At the start of their relationship, it was painfully obvious that he had been pursuing her for her money alone, but strangely, that had not bothered her as much as it probably should have. Robert had always been kind and respectful to her, making sure that she was feeling okay, all things considered. He tried to make sure that she felt welcome in a house she did not know, in a country that was not her own, and being so far away from her family. Given that, there was only so much more he could do.

He had realised soon how hard it must have been for her, to leave her home behind and make a new life here, with him. She had felt that realisation in the way his demeanour towards her changed a couple of weeks after they had returned from their honeymoon. Robert had started visiting her every night before they went down to dinner and he seemed genuinely interested when she told him about her day. Even when her day had been dull and boring and straightforward with nothing much to do, he listened. He just sat there, listening to her every word, while her lady's maid was most often still fixing her hair or putting the finishing touches on her jewellery. And only very recently he had started staying in bed with her for a while after their quite regular marital relations in hopes of producing an heir to the earldom. Waiting until after she had fallen asleep in his strong arms, only leaving when she was fast asleep. He would be slipping away into his dressing room that was adjacent to her bedroom when he was sure she would not wake up, tiptoeing through the room.

Sometimes, Cora thought that maybe he was beginning to care more deeply for her, that perhaps she was finally starting to be more to him than the woman whose money saved his family estate. This particular thought had crossed her mind a few times already, but every time it did, she rejected it and willed herself to think of something else. She just did not want to get her hopes up, only to be left empty-handed later on when his parents weighed in on their relationship again. Nothing had changed. And nothing would.

His father, Patrick, was a very nice man. He was just as tall as Robert, but apart from their height, their watery blue eyes and the jug ears they both had, Robert bore little to no resemblance physically to his father. In terms of their character, however, father and son were very much alike. Both were very serious men, always busy talking about the running of the estate and such matters that Cora never got to ask about when around them. Patrick had also been very kind and welcoming to her when she arrived, trying to make up for his wife's not-so-silent disdain. Sometimes, Cora felt as if Patrick was the only truly friendly soul she had encountered in the vast house. He was not a man of many words, but he spoke up when he felt it necessary to do so. Most of the time, to keep his wife from saying things she might regret saying, or to keep her from saying things she does not mean the way she says them. The things he much rather left unsaid were always said tenfold by his wife, who never held anything back, her tongue sharper than a knife.