I got an anonymous prompt to write something about Cora’s pregnancy with Theodore, set in my AU Cobert headcanon.  I hope you enjoy!

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“Cora, why are you so nervous?”

Robert held the hand of his fidgety wife as they sat waiting for her appointment.

She turned to him. “This pregnancy is already different from my previous two.”

“Do you think there’s something wrong?” he asked, eyes widening.

Smiling in reassurance, Cora shook her head.  “No, nothing like that.  I’m just scared that it’ll be….”  She lowered her eyes as her words trailed off.

“That it’ll be … what?”

Cora nearly laughed when she met Robert’s eye again, his face all bewilderment.  “I’m afraid we’ll have another set of twins.”

At this, Robert did laugh.  “And if we do?”

But Cora sighed, and answered, “Don’t laugh.  Mary and Edith seem to have a pact to destroy us.”

Continuing to chuckle, he squeezed her hand.  “How on earth could they work together in a pact?  They disagree and quarrel about nearly everything.”

“That’s their pact!  To wear us down with their shenanigans!”  When her husband kept laughing, she pulled her hand away.  “Stop that, Robert Crawley.”

He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes as he settled back into the chair once more. His face more serious now, he inquired, “Sweetheart, you said this pregnancy felt different from the other two.” Pausing while she nodded, he then took her hand in his.  “Then isn’t that telling?”

Cora shrugged. “Maybe.”  Tilting her head to one side, she peered at him.  “How is it that you’re the more logical of the two of us right now?”

“I could take that as in insult, you know,” Robert said.  “But I won’t.  Besides, you’re carrying our child, it’s bound to addle your brain a little – as you’ve told me innumerable times.”

“Yes, I know, I –“

“Lady Downton?” a nurse asked from the waiting room door.

Standing, Cora let Robert grab her handbag for her.  They followed the nurse down the hall and into an exam room where she settled them in, taking Cora’s vitals before leaving them.

“I’m so glad there’s a new doctor so close to home now.  It was a trial to travel so far for modern medicine.”  Cora chuckled.

Robert looked around.  “Yes, Dr. Clarkson has definitely improved Downton Hospital.”  He sighed.  “Pity Mama doesn’t seem to agree.”

Eyes rolling, Cora said, “She’ll come around eventually.”

“Have you met my mother?”

“Touché.” She got in one eyebrow waggle before the doctor knocked and entered the room.

After a few questions, Dr. Clarkson got Cora ready for the sonogram.  Robert held one of her hands, then saw that her eyes were tightly shut.

“Everything looks normal here,” the doctor said.

With a squeeze to her hand, Robert whispered, “Cora, you can open your eyes now.  Can’t you hear that?”

Cora let out her breath in a long exhale.  “One heartbeat.”  Smiling, she opened her eyes and looked at the screen.

Dr. Clarkson turned to the pair of them.  “It’s sixteen weeks, so I could tell you with close to certainty the sex of the baby. If you wanted to know.”

The two shared a look, then Robert answered, “Yes, we’d like to know.”

“From these sonogram images, it looks like you’re having a boy.”  The doctor beamed at them.

Cora and Robert clasped their other hands together now as well, grinning at each other.

“A boy,” Robert breathed.  “Cora, a son!”

Blinking hard against tears of joy, Cora replied, “Yes, darling.  A son – one son!”

@and-you-will-like-it requested I write something with baby Theodore, either modern or otherwise, so I picked modern AU, where Mary and Edith are twins.  I hope this pleases (also, it kinda got away from me). ;)

It took everything in her for Nanny James to keep the three wriggling girls calm that morning –“calm” being a relative term.

“But Nanny,” Edith said, tugging on the edge of her uniform shirt impatiently, “We want to see our baby brother!”

“Lady Edith – all of you – you’ll see him when everyone else does, at tea time this afternoon. Your mama needs some rest after being in hospital.”  Nanny James nodded matter-of-factly at this.

But the girls did not want to be logical.

Sybil fell asleep around an hour before luncheon, for which the nanny gave thanks.  The youngest Crawley daughter, being only just shy of three years old, seemed to feed on the energy of her sisters.  Her shrieks of delight and anticipation accompanied every question and statement made by her older sisters, and the three of them could not stop hopping around, no toy or game keeping their attention for long.

“Will we be able to hold him?” Mary inquired, finally still on the floor, hugging the sleeping toddler to her chest.

“Will we be able to feed him?”  Edith’s question trailed Mary’s by only a few seconds.

Mary continued, “Can we take him out in his pram?”

“Will Granny like him?” Edith asked, wide-eyed as her twin sister snorted and rolled her eyes.

“I don’t think Granny likes babies,” Mary retorted.

Nanny James’ eyes bounced from one sister to the other, as if she were watching Wimbledon. Neither of them let her get a word in edgewise, so she let them continue.

At least they were relatively quiet.

After luncheon, the nanny attempted to get the trio to nap.  Sybil fell asleep again quite easily, the excitement of the morning seeming to have tired her out.  Mary and Edith kept whispering questions and wonderings to one another, and Nanny James suspected neither slept a wink.  To be fair, sometimes they didn’t nap anyway.  At almost six years old, both had nearly outgrown nap time.

Nanny James counted it a victory when she convinced the three of them to play a game until the bell rang for tea.  When it did, all three began jumping and screaming again.

“It’s time!” Edith shouted.  She grabbed her nanny’s hand.  “Come on, Nanny, we want to see the baby!”

With a laugh, Nanny James took Sybil’s hand in her other while Mary opened the door and led the way.  “Remember, little Ladies.  Our quiet voices when we get in the library.  The baby might be asleep.”

“We remember,” they all said in stage whispers.

Mary and Edith fairly dragged Sybil and the nanny into the library.

“Mama!” Sybil squealed, running on stubby legs for her mother.

Catching her up and bundling her into her lap, Cora turned to her other daughters.  She laughed.  “Seems I’m not the main attraction today,” she said to Robert, who sat across from her, next to his mother.

Robert laughed as well.  “They’ve been waiting almost as long as we have.  I’m sure they’ll greet you in a moment.”

“Not so close,” Violet admonished the twins.  “He doesn’t need you breathing on him so hard.”  She turned a bit so the girls could see him more clearly.

“Mary, Edith,” Robert said, “This is your baby brother, Theodore.”

Reaching out a careful finger, Edith made to touch his cheek.

“Very gently,” her granny said, an edge to her voice.

“You like Teddy, Granny?” Mary asked as she put her hand close to his, grinning when his fingers grasped one of hers.

Violet huffed and shrugged.  “I like him as much as any other baby I suppose.”  But she smiled down at the bundle in her arms before looking over at her son. “What is this ‘Teddy’ nonsense?”

Controlling the urge to roll his eyes, Robert answered, “We thought it might be easier for the girls, especially Sybil.”

Huffing again, Violet turned her attention back to her grandson.

Cora and Robert shared a look of relief, knowing that bit of news might have been received much worse.

“Mama, can we hold him?” Edith asked.

Robert touched his daughter’s bright curls.  “I think that will have to wait for another day.”

“But –“

Tilting his head at her, eyebrows raised, Robert stopped any more words coming from the twins’ mouths on the subject.

Mary sighed a little.  “He’s very tiny, Edith.  It’s probably better to wait.”

“But won’t he get heavier?”

Cora replied from across the room.  “Yes, but it’ll be easier to hold him when he can hold his own head up.”

“He can’t hold his head up?”  Mary appeared shocked by this information.

Robert bit back a chuckle.  “His neck isn’t strong enough yet.”

Edith shook her head.  “Babies are strange.”

“They simply need a little extra care so they can grow strong.”  Violet ran the pad of her forefinger down Theodore’s cheek.

“When he grows strong, can he play with us?” Mary asked.  “Like Sybil does?”  She crossed to her mother and reached out for her sister’s hand to hold.

“Yes,” said Cora. “When he gets strong enough.”

Kissing the back of the baby’s hand, Edith gave a small nod.  “Then I like him.  We can wait until he’s strong.  And we will help make him strong too.”  She looked over at Mary.  “Right?”

“Right,” Mary said.

Cora and Robert exchanged another glance, this one filled with gratitude for each of their children.

Sorry I didn’t write anything yesterday.  My parents arrived and, well, it was Thanksgiving!  Working on what might become a one-shot, so here’s the start of it.  Hope you enjoy!

“I still don’t understand the point of it.”  Robert shook his head and picked up a can of yams.

Cora chuckled. “If you don’t understand by now, you aren’t going to.  Just join in.”

He turned to her and took her left hand in his.  Kissing the back of it and admiring her rings, he said, “I’ll do anything for my bride.”

At that moment, Martha burst into the kitchen of their New York apartment.  “Alright, you two, break it up.”  She laughed.  “I know it’s only been a month since you married, but keep it to the bedroom.”

“Mother…” Cora groaned, but grinned at her husband.  “What else can we do to get ready for tomorrow?”

As Martha started bustling around the kitchen, she rattled off a list.  “Well, we’ve already confirmed with the caterer for the turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes.  We’ve got the – “ here she began ticking things off on her fingers while surveying the groceries on the counter and island – “yams, marshmallows, green beans….” She kept going until suddenly her eyes widened.  “Rolls, Cora, we don’t have rolls!”

Cora waved a hand at her.  “Robert and I will get the rolls.  That’s why I asked.”

“I think that’s all for the food.”  Martha tilted her head to the side, thinking.  “Oh, your father said that he needed another string of lights.  One of them was out at the end of the season last year.”

“Lights. Got it.  If you think of anything else while we’re out, text me.”  Cora grabbed Robert’s hand and made for the living room.

“Thank you!” her mother called after them.

Robert and Cora spent a pleasant afternoon rambling around the neighborhood, picking up the items Martha had specified (and a few others she did think of after they’d left).

I apologize, guys.  It’s been hard to get back into daily writing, especially with the parents here and then getting back into normalcy.  Here is a little offering, which might not mean much if you don’t know any of my original characters, but if you do....  Still working on the one-shot.

Summer, 1920

Hazel Perkins Haverty looked up from her sewing as Andrew entered their shared sitting room. After greeting her warmly, the tall young man held up the post, smiling.

“You’ll be happy, Ma” – although not her son, in many ways she treated him as a mother would, so he had taken to calling her that – “you’ve a letter from Downton.  Mrs. Hughes this time.”

Taking the letter he held out to her, Hazel put her sewing aside.  She poured a cup of tea for Andrew.  He traded it for the letter opener and sat near her as she slit open the envelope.

At a gasp from Hazel, Andrew turned from his tea.  She appeared quite pale, and her hand covered her mouth while her eyes widened.

“Ma?” Eyebrows drawing together in concern, he put down his teacup.  “Is something wrong?”

Hazel blinked several times before looking up at him, tears gathering in her lashes.  “It’s Lady Sybil.  Andrew – she’s died.  Bore a healthy little girl, then passed on later that night.”

Drawing a deep breath, Andrew reached over to touch her hand.  “I’m so sorry, Ma.  I know how close you were to all the Crawley girls.  And even more so with Lady Sybil.”

She shook her head, her eyes staring straight ahead vacantly now.  The letter dropped into her lap, and Hazel wrung her hands together.  “Yes. She was always such a sweet child, kind-hearted, and with a smile that couldn’t fail to brighten a room.  And she had a mind of her own, Lady Sybil, not afraid to think for herself.”  Wiping a tear away from her cheek, Hazel turned to Andrew again with a sad smile.  Then she sighed.  “I should write to Lady Grantham with condolences.”

Andrew nodded. “That’s a good idea.  Would you like some brandy first?  You still look rather peaky, Ma.”

“Yes.  Yes, I will.  Just a little though, Andrew.”

He brought her the drink, then watched as she drank with slow sips, evidently collecting herself. After she finished, she picked up the letter and stood.

“I’ll go write the letter at my desk in my room.”

As she passed him, Andrew grasped her hand gently and pressed it warmly before letting it go.

Hazel sat down at her desk.  She drew a sheet of her best writing paper to her and opened her pen.  Then she gazed at it, the pen hovering.  Words came to her – many, many words – but none seemed right. None seemed enough.  How could any words ever be enough to comfort a mother who lost a grown-up child?  Hazel attempted to choke back tears, but she couldn’t any longer; they dropped onto the blank page.  Oh that she could put those tears into words, she could send that to Lady Grantham. But she didn’t know how.

Inhaling a long breath, Hazel began writing.  “Dear Elsie,” she wrote.  She poured her heart into this letter to her housekeeper friend, since she couldn’t find a way to do so with Lady Grantham.  Perhaps, one day, she’d be able to send her condolences properly.  For today, her own grief, and the thought of the profound heartache that she knew her ladyship suffered and would for a long while, kept her from knowing how to write what was needed.

Alright, guys, I wanna start up the mini-writes again.  However, tonight I’m feeling super uninspired to write even the minimum word count.  So - any drabble or ficlet or scene you think you might like for one of my ships or faves, please send a message with some sort of prompt.  I don’t guarantee I’ll write it, but I’ll try.