Chapter 1- Saying Goodbye to Childhood Things

July 1888

It was while out on the estate, examining a dilapidated group of cottages, that Richard, the Earl of Grantham, told his son Robert that they would lose all of Downton. Robert felt the blow swiftly, never dreaming of being anything else but the next Earl. He barely made sense of his father's explanation. He prattled on about American wheat prices and the decline in agriculture but the how of it did not matter to Robert. What mattered was when. When would they be forced into disgrace and out of their home? His anger was a mean fire in his belly, eager to lash out at the man he held responsible, the man who drilled into him the importance of maintaining their stewardship over the estate. While his parents schooled him on his duty and the seriousness of his responsibility the current earl had been bungling the whole thing.

He looked at his father and where he once saw a great and powerful man he saw only an old and defeated one. His anger dissipated, replaced by determination. Robert would find a solution. They would have to pull him from Downton by force. He suddenly felt older than his twenty-two years when he laid a hand on his father's shoulder and told him he would find a way. Turning behind him he saw the vast expanse of green grass and the stone Abbey sitting at the top of the hill, off in the distance but proudly towering over everything below her.

The older man studied his son. He and Violet had spent many late nights discussing what could be done. There was only one solution that they could see and of course, it involved Robert. They hated putting the weight of Downton on his shoulders so soon, but unless they wanted to lose everything, it couldn't be helped. Richard had pushed off this conversation with Robert, fearing the boy would rebel or protest, but he had underestimated him. Looking at the resolve in his son's eyes, he was struck by the almost immediate understanding that they could not give up without a fight. It made his next instruction much easier to deliver.

"You will need to marry soon, Robert. And well."

Robert traced lazy circles on the naked back of Lady Pembroke. Her head lay upon the pillow beneath her and she stared at him with sleepy eyes. Extra marital affairs were as common as tea in their set, once an heir was produced. And while Julia had done that for Lord Pembroke, Robert was yet to be married, and that complicated things. Affairs were the consolation prizes for the unhappily wed not the blissful bachelor. Though it would be a scandal for him if they were found out, Robert couldn't quit her. They had met the previous year at the Hadley hunt. Julia was handsome in a sturdy sort of way.

What she lacked in classical beauty, she made up for in boldness and she had flirted with Robert with the calculation of a cat. He capitulated to her attentions and found himself in her bed.

She had become his master and teacher, showing him the joys of the body, and he wound up at her door many a night while in London. His time with her was both essential and a source of guilt. He knew Lord Pembroke had diversions of his own, but it did little to quell the burden he felt at bedding another man's wife.

More than just seeking the pleasure of her intimacy, Robert also sought her counsel. Her mind worked more shrewdly than his, and if he were honest, more viciously at times. She offered a hard and precise summation of most situations. He told her about Downton and saw the sly wheels of her scheming mind churn in the dark of her eyes.

"Marry an American." She tossed the words out with nonchalance, as though the solution was plain as day and Robert got over his initial shock at the thought and laid back pulling her on top of him, mulling over the possibilities.

Her birthday and the end of the New York season fell on the same day and it was truly a time of celebration. After countless parties and forced pleasantries she would go back to Newport and William. Her mother had forbidden her from seeing him, but there were ways around it. Cora thought her mother a horrible hypocrite. William had been a perfectly acceptable childhood companion all these years until all of that togetherness produced what it naturally would. Now that she had settled her heart on him, he was not good enough for Mrs Levinson's only daughter. Even though their mothers had been best friends for thirty years, this did not matter when faced with Martha's ambition.

Cora had gone through the motions of the season like a dutiful daughter and the attention and invitations that she received showed she played her part well. But she was going back home without telling her mother of the proposal she received from Dudley Morgan, which she of course declined. Staring out of the train as it barreled through the countryside, Cora determined that she was ready to elope with William if need be. And the decision freed her from the binds she'd felt since turning eighteen.

Isadore Levinson's solemn face at the train station quickened her pulse. He gathered them and their things in a hurry and ushered them into their carriage. He remained silent for a beat, perspiration building on his brow.

"Harold?" Her mother asked in a shaking voice. Her father shook his head and looked at Cora for a moment before flicking his pained eyes to his wife.

"William."

Somehow, Cora knew what he would say before the name even formed on his lips. She bit her fingernail for distraction and kept her eyes toward the landscape, ignoring her mother's nervous patting of her hand. She told herself everything will be fine. How could it not be? They were young and in love and whatever waited for her, that would see them through. It had to.

They left her alone with him, her reputation under no assault from the broken boy in the bed. The fall from the horse snapped his neck, but he was still breathing, just barely. Cora held his hand tenderly and kissed the soft skin of his wrist. She memorized his face, the gentle beauty of it, imagining the hazel of his eyes as they would look at her, like she was the only thing to see. They had known one another their entire lives, had spent summers drinking lemonade and playing hide and seek along rocky shores. There weren't many childhood memories of Cora's that did not include William. Their fathers were partners, their mothers like sisters. William had helped her catch her first fish and placed her first kiss on her lips. He was always the boy in her dreams and she had never thought of a life without him.

Cora remembered the last time they spoke, months ago before she left for New York, and his earnest pledge of love. He was so afraid she would fall under the influence of her mother while away from him, and decide that a Vanderbilt or an Astor would be better than a Hastings. She kissed his bruised cheek and the promise she made to him that day was said aloud again.

"I will always be yours."

William was lowered into the ground on a wet and cold day and Cora stood at his grave, looking straight ahead and clenching her jaw. She saved her sobbing for the secrecy of her bedroom. She refused the shoulder her mother offered her and in her darker moments told the woman it was her fault, that she wished this on them. Her heart was a constant pain in her chest and she rubbed at the spot often, trying to alleviate the discomfort. Her maid, always a kindly old confidant, held her when the shaking became too bad and listened to her lament the end of her life.

However, months went by and the loss of William was no longer an acute pain but more of an ache, something Cora could maneuver around in a modified manner. Her mother made arrangements to take her to England for the next season and because there was no one to fight for anymore, she offered no resistance. The love she had for William would never be felt again, she was sure of it, and so it didn't matter to her who the next man was. Remaining a spinster was not an option her parents would ever accept so she resigned herself to Martha's plans. The idea of being as far away from the woman as possible actually began to take on a certain allure.