dream-of-ragtime
Cora Crawley is my religion
Violently obssessed with Downton for the past 10 years or so
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Chapter 48
My original plan was to stall today's update (ao3 here) until tomorrow because I did not feel like it was right, given that it would have been my mum's 53rd birthday today and I am not really feeling it. But reading this chapter 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!
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.
#goddammit#this one got me#the hair part?!#the memor part?!#so rude#downton abbey fanfiction#cobert#cora crawley#robert crawley#my dearest darling
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Cora Crawley/Robert Crawley
Characters: Cora Crawley, Robert Crawley
Additional Tags: Missing Scene, during S05E06, because we deserved a scene with Cora and Robert talking about the mr. Bricker thing, and about how Robert is an idiot that takes Cora for granted, the train runs off its track, but they manage to get back, Canon Compliant
Summary:
“Very well, if you can honestly say you have never let a flirtation get out of hand since we married, if you have never given a woman the wrong impression, then, by all means, stay away. Otherwise, I expect you back in my room tonight.”
Missing scene of what may have happened after Robert went back to Cora’s room.
#I read this during a lecture#you guys#i was not prepared#read this IMMEDIATELY#SO IN CHARACTER#this is canon now
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THE MOTHER-DAUGHTER-ISM IS SO SERIOUS I AM UNDONE
#this show is just a gift that keeps on giving#bet your ass i've been watching this for ten years and never noticed this#downton abbey#previous tags—>
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it's giving: "I'm counting down 3..2..1.."
If she was my mom I don’t know if I’d cry or laugh whenever she made this face…
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My darling Sarah just said, “Cora & Robert must get it on A LOT.” And it took everything in me not to have a heart attack.
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Quiver
(Here is my belated contribution to the Cobert Winter Fanfic Exchange. Thank you to @bella-caecilia for organizing it. My prompts were Quiver and "I didn't mean it." I used the dialogue as inspiration. It works as a bit of a companion piece to Ch 4 of Le Langage des Fleurs. This is also posted on FF dot net.)
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She rubbed the lotion in, making small circles against the heel of her palm. Robert was talking behind her, by the bed, and she glanced up to him in the mirror and suppressed a small laugh. Oh, sometimes he wound himself up so tightly over the simplest things—cinema starlets not excluded.
“And did you see the layers of paint she was wearing?” he was saying, pulling back the bedsheets and agitatedly sliding in. “Like a piece in a gallery.”
Cora’s laugh came out in a huff. “Oh, Robert, don’t be unkind. I think she’s beautiful.” She stood from her chair, and was pleased she felt no lightheadedness. She smiled. “Besides, it must be quite invigorating to know of one’s own sex appeal.”
“Nonsense. No one can be that sure.”
She rolled her eyes as she also climbed into bed beside him, noting that she did so with ease. She wasn’t sure if it had been the small glass of wine, or the powder Baxter had given her before dinner, or perhaps if it was simply a trick of her mind, but the aching and fatigue that constantly plagued her was absent in this moment, and she would cherish it. She’d use it.
Robert was still going on and on—about what now, she didn’t follow—as he rolled to switch off his lamp. And then, just as he had rolled to his left, he rolled just as swiftly to his right to press a kiss to her cheek. A kiss good night. A quick kiss. Right at the corner of her mouth.
And she melted at it.
Oh, she missed him. She yearned for him. And it wasn’t because they hadn’t lain together in weeks, six or even seven—far longer than a month. No. It wasn’t merely that. It was because who knew? Who knew how much longer she’d be able to love him in that way? How much longer would their lives be free of the shadow she knew was lurking just behind her? How much longer would she even exist?
Cora drew in a breath, and she let herself roll towards him.
Her lamplight allowed her to study him, all his curves and lines she’d studied so many nights before: his closed eyes, his lips he moved slightly as he yawned and pressed his mouth, his jaw and chin and his silver stubble. She began to work to commit it all to memory again—images she could have forever, moments she could keep. But then…but then, would that be so? She felt her throat tighten at the abrupt thought she’d spent so much time trying to keep at bay: Did the dead have memories?
Stillness, then. Gravity. Was this—Was this all she had left of him? Just these few precious moments?
This was it.
She lifted her chin to loosen the knot choking her. She tried to convince herself she wasn’t sure what her condition was, for she wasn’t. She knew well-enough her symptoms—the constant fatigue, the chest pains, the breathlessness and dizziness and dyspepsia…the sudden, drastic weight loss—could be true of any number of illnesses. Couldn’t they? No. Even her earnest persuasion to believe otherwise failed her. She was no fool. She knew she was ill. Very ill. And her husband did not.
She looked at him still. She watched the way his breath came in and out evenly beside her, unaware of her thoughts. He was unaware of so much, which was just as Cora wanted it. She wanted to treasure it all. She wanted to savor the beauty of what her life had been–her life with Robert. There were only a handful of hours of their life here before they left for France, and then their life would be different–irrevocably changed.
She’d tell him after Marseille. She’d have to.
She heard his small exhale of breath beside her, and she watched the way his chest rose and fell. It made her heart ache. So, much like a pilgrim paying homage, she touched at his shoulder. She touched at the collar of his pajama shirt. And when he didn’t move, she traced a soft fingertip along his throat.
No. She did not feel lust for him. She did not feel need as she sometimes did, warmth growing deep in her core. No, only yearning.
He hummed, and he opened his eyes.
She smiled back at him when he smiled coyly at her, for she was sure he knew what she meant. He understood the secret language they’d created between them in these three decades together. He understood what she meant by her small touches, and by the way she pushed herself ever closer to him. He watched her as she did so, and behind her ribs, her aching heart beat wildly.
Cora lifted her chin, and she kissed him. Her lips felt the stubble she’d adored, and she let her lips linger at his jaw. His hand, as it always did, went to her arm, and he tugged slightly. Just as he had understood her, she, too, understood him. Her own body flush with his, she slowly rose to rest her weight upon her elbow and she hovered very near his face; and she looked at him.
His tired expression was half-hidden in the shadow made by her head and hair, the lamplight glowing behind her. But tired as he was, he also looked happy. His mouth was relaxed, his lips were parted, and the knot that she’d loosened in her throat quickly tightened again.
He was beautiful. Every curve, every line…everything. And she loved him.
She loved him.
Her chest ached more acutely, and drawing in a deep breath, she pushed herself to him again, and she kissed his lips, feeling his fingers tighten further on her arm. Then, as he lifted his head more to meet hers, she felt him rush to deepen their kiss.
It surprised her, how eager he was, and she sighed in her throat before he broke away.
“You aren’t too tired?” he whispered, his voice low, and she shook her head.
“No.”
“Lie back.” He shifted himself, and Cora did as he asked of her, nestling herself down into the bedding as he moved to cover her.
“Are you certain–” Robert nodded at her voice, silencing her; he kissed her mouth and then cheek and then neck. “You needn’t take over completely,” she tried again, but this time Robert shook his head against her.
“It helps to begin this way.” His voice was in her ear as he kissed her jaw.
She nodded, knowing what he meant.
“Yes,” she amended. She nodded again. “I—“
But she stopped, her thoughts beginning to whir too quickly as he kissed her body. As he palmed her breasts. As his fingers touched and pressed in places that made her breath catch. Still, they whirred, but they weren’t of pleasure. They weren’t of him. They were of herself: Did he feel how much thinner she’d gotten? Did he feel, too, how swollen her tummy? Did he feel how unattractive she felt herself to be?
No. She reminded herself; no. She loved him. She felt well just now. She couldn’t squander it. She loved him.
She trembled as she fought against her compulsions–the part she played when they laid together. The other her, the woman six months ago, would reach between them and feel for him. She’d maneuver her fingers inside of his waistband and then around him, to where his aging body still hardened for her. And she would hear him exhale against her.
But she couldn’t seem to, and she hated herself for it.
Her hands went instead to his cheeks, the backs of her index and middle fingers stroking the stubble there. And then his hair, where she wove them into the soft, gently graying waves.
“Touch me,” he said against her ear, and her stomach flipped. “Darling.”
She closed her eyes, and she pushed a hand between them, but slowly. Slowly feeling the fabric of his nightshirt. Slowly feeling the drawstring of his waistband. Slowly feeling the soft, smooth skin of his body–and her lip quivered. Love. So much, so much, love.
“I did worry.” His voice was huskier, breathier, and Cora swam in the headiness of the moment.
She whispered, “Worry?” and kissed his jaw. His cheek.
He nodded, and she felt his small smile against her lips. “That I wouldn’t be up to snuff.” He kissed her, softly. Soundly. “That my age would be against us.”
“Oh, darling,” she sighed, and kissed him again, and again. “Our age,” she corrected him. And then, she pulled away, slightly, so that she could see him better. So she could see his eyes. And her voice wavered when she spoke. “We’ve grown old together.”
“Yes,” he laughed, appreciatively, and pressed his lips to hers. “And together we’ll grow older, still.”
It was a lie, her nod. “Yes.” Her eyes prickling with tears, her throat tightening, and her heart aching, she pushed the lie from her chest as her husband kissed her breasts through her gown. “And together we’ll grow older, still.”
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[inspired]
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Elizabeth McGovern as Cora Crawley in Downton Abbey: The London Season (s4 e9)
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Chapter 25
We have reached one of the (if not THE) most important chapters in this fic - but this is not the end, not quite yet ;)
Robert looked up from where their hands were joined to meet her gaze. “How did you know that I ever would?”
“Robert, you have known that man for over three decades. The two of you have served in a war together and you fought so hard to keep him here with us not just once but twice. You kept him on as your valet even when he was an, albeit wrongly, convicted felon. Mister Bates is much more than just your valet, he is one of your closest friends. I know you, Robert. It truly was only a matter of time until you finally confided in him.”
Sybil had died more than nine years ago; had been taken from them on what should have been one of the happiest days of her life. She had still had most of her life ahead of her when it was cut short so suddenly and cruelly.
Cora wanted to reach out so desperately, but she knew she couldn't. Her daughter was so far beyond her reach, and knowing that felt like someone stabbed her heart a hundred times over.
Soon, she would be reunited with her Sybil. Soon, she would get to hold her again. Soon, her suffering would find an end. Soon.
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Chapter 23
New chapter out now :)
A while later, he pensively continued speaking: "You know, I can barely remember a time when I didn't love you. No matter how hard I try, there is simply no concrete recollection of my life without you or your love in it. I suspect that I should probably try to get used to that, the idea of a reality without you, however much it pains me. I will bear it out of love for you and our girls, though it will feel like torture. But I will bear it all, for you and everyone else."
Cora then stood up and unsteadily walked to where he was still standing in the middle of the room, swaying with the ship's relentless movement at sea. She reached him and came to a halt in front of him. Reaching for the lapels of his black suit, she smoothed her hands over the front of his jacket, all the while staring straight ahead at the tie he had loosened a few minutes earlier. She was afraid that if she looked up at his face, she would lose her fragile composure.
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elizabeth mcgovern as cora crawley, countess of grantham, in season 1, episode 6 of “downton abbey” (october 2010) | 🎥: dir. brian percival
#i refuse to believe the second pic is real#how tf#how can a person be so beautiful#how can you not adore her
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idk just feeling emotional about this mother-daughter duo today 🥹
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yes yes yes!!! but I always wanted to know why? Was it intentional? Why would they do it?
I NEED ANSWERS
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Cobert Winter Fanfic Exchange 2023
My folks, is it believable? (hardly) I have written something!! I am alive (barely)
So first off, big shoutout and huge thanks to @bella-caecilia and @ohtobealady for arranging this, it's deeply appreciated and I love, love, LOVE these exchanges! Absolutely cannot wait to read all your contributions!
As for my part... well... I've had quite a lot on my plate and I must say that I had to somewhat rush this. (and one can tell, lol) The story leaves quite a lot of room for interpretation ORRRRRR I might add another chapter... We'll see. But I do understand it isn't Shakespeare.
My prompts were "imbroglio" and "I was such a fool" (hence, the title) and I've set it in S5E5. I've always wondered what could have been and, well, this is very much that. I played with the dialogue of the one and only JFells and tried my best to stick to the character's nature (hopefully). But please be aware that there is mention of SA, so if this story might not be for you, feel free to skip this one <3 I just couldn't stop wondering what might have been if Robert hadn't entered their bedroom so early.
Please let me know what you think of it and if you have any improvements/ recommendations hit me up, I'd love to hear them!
#cobert winter fanfic exchange#downton abbey#cora crawley#robert crawley#cobert#Simon Bricker#the one and only dickhead
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elizabeth mcgovern via instagram: “the incredible photography of marco sanges” (2023) | 📸: sanges studio
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evening dress
c. 1912
Girolamo Giuseffi, Newfields
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