My Dearest Darling

Chapter 4

"Good morning, Doctor Clarkson," Cora greeted as they entered the library a short while after, knowing that Robert was still too troubled to properly have a conversation.

The doctor turned around to face them, straightening his back. His black briefcase full of documents and other necessary medical equipment for house visits was neatly put to the side next to one of the red settees underneath one of their side tables.

"Ah, good morning, Lord Grantham, Lady Grantham. May I ask how you are feeling this morning?". A small smile graced his usually somewhat pinched-looking face.

"I have felt worse before," she replied shortly. "But that still does not mean that I am well."

Cora offered him a small smile of her own, but he saw the dark circles under her eyes and the paleness of her complexion. He knew that the nights were not easy on her, much like the days. With an illness like hers, nothing was easy on the person suffering. And the same went for the people's families. The earl also looked as if he hadn't slept properly in days or even weeks, and the doctor couldn't blame him with everything going on.

"No, that is right." He cleared his throat in obvious discomfort after her reply. "Please excuse my early arrival on such short notice, but I have to leave for London at noon at the latest and wanted to come here before that."

"Please, take a seat," Robert managed to get out while pointing vaguely to the red settees in front of the still-lit fireplace.

Once they were all seated on the two plush settees, Cora took his hand again, intertwining their fingers and letting them rest on his leg. She needed to feel him by her side, needed his presence. Only this way, she knew she would be able to face the doctor and whatever he would be telling them in just a few seconds.

"This" the doctor rummaged through his worn leather briefcase, finally retrieving a small stack of papers, "is a rough treatment plan that my colleagues and I have drawn up. Once you have started your treatment and we know how well you respond to it, we will finalize another plan more tailored to your specific needs. I will leave a copy of this with you later, but let's discuss it first, shall we?"

Robert gulped visibly as he looked at the dark spots of ink on the otherwise pristine pages, merely assuming that there were actual words written on there. He couldn't really tell, even though the papers were less than half a metre away from him and he still took pride in his rather good eyesight for his age.

As soon as the doctor started explaining, he felt as if he was stuck walking in an incredibly long and dark tunnel, still far away from reaching the end. Even their voices sounded as if they were coming from miles away. He tried to concentrate, tried to follow what they were saying, but their words were muffled. He saw their mouths move – well, mainly the doctor's as he was explaining the different treatments she would have to undergo – but the sounds didn't register with him. He had always had trouble talking about anything related to medicine and treatments and the human body in general, but this was a whole new level. Where was the table with the drinks when he needed it? He surely couldn't ask Carson to bring him a whiskey at this hour, could he?

Then, suddenly, he heard her speak, her words sounding loud and clear as they lingered in the air of the library and rang in his ears.

"Thank you for all your efforts, Doctor Clarkson, truly. But before I let you go on for too long, I feel that I should tell you now."

She stopped, looking at the doctor, who had a surprised expression on his face after her startling interruption. Judging by this alone, Robert knew that the doctor had still been explaining all kinds of medical procedures and she had stopped him in the middle of his explanations, which was not something she would usually do. It was not considered proper etiquette to interrupt people mid-sentence, and that was certainly true for not only the aristocrats.

"It is just that I do not wish to receive any treatment. I told you in your office when you were running your tests that I know that many people have to face this, sometimes at a much younger age, thinking back on a life barely lived or even wasted. I still feel like that does not pertain to me. Whenever I look back on my life, I can only see a life well-lived, and I feel so very privileged about it all. I get to face this with a clarity that most people never have the chance to experience, and it is with that clarity that I tell you this. I do not wish to undergo treatment or surgery."

Robert's head shot around to finally fully face her, his hand strengthening its hold on hers abruptly. Was this what she had been hiding this morning, what had kept her up almost the entire night? He had noticed that she hadn't been sleeping well, for he was not sleeping well either – if he found sleep at all, which was rare these days or rather nights. And last night it had evaded him completely as he lay in bed, staring at the canopy above them in the dark and he had sensed that she had not found sleep either.

He saw her smile. Cora smiled.

How could she smile saying this? She was giving away the last chance of a future together for them by refusing whatever medical atrocities the doctors in London had come up with – with a smile on her face. He knew treatment would not be pleasant at all, no matter what kind of it, but it surely was worth trying if it gave them more time?

"Lady Grantham, I hear you and I understand you, but this is your only chance. I am not saying that it will be pleasant or a walk in the park and I cannot promise you that it will save you, but it will help you for the time being. It would give you time."

Cora replied to the stunned doctor with her voice not giving any insights as to what she had really been thinking. She was calm, her tone entirely neutral and void of any and all emotions, as if she had been a completely uninvolved third party in all of this.

"How much longer would I have if I chose not to undergo the recommended treatment?"

Even the doctor was slightly taken aback at how she kept her composure, but he tried to cover up his surprise and instead answered her question as truthfully as he could.

"There is no way of knowing for sure with an illness as nasty and treacherous as the one you are suffering from, but the estimate would range from three to nine months, maybe up to a year if you are lucky, and those months would be hell, forgive me for saying that. Your symptoms would worsen with each passing day, your strength would wane and you would be bound to your bed for the majority of time you have left. You would not stay like this for much longer, milady. Please, reconsider your decision, I urge you."

"Can you promise me that the treatment would not do that? Can you promise me that with the treatment, I would not get sicker and weaker? Can you promise me that I would not be bound to the bed with the treatment taking away whatever comfort I still have left, that I would not just be withering away in a hospital in London instead of being at home with my family here at Downton, where I belong?"

The doctor was at a loss for words. He couldn't promise, he couldn't lie, not with their history. But the look on the Earl's face alone made him want to forget everything he had ever learned about proper etiquette, it made him want to scream at the Lady of the house to reconsider her decision. To Richard Clarkson, it was plainly obvious that she had not told her husband about her decision before then, which only made it so much worse to witness. But alas, he was a gentleman and it was not his place to say anything.

He cleared his throat, before finally replying to her earlier question: "There are no promises to be made, as I have learnt, not where illness and the human body are involved."

Cora did not reply, having redirected her gaze to the small fire crackling away in the fireplace, trying to escape from Robert's heartbroken face and the doctor's expression of disbelief. It was obvious to her that the doctor was referring to Sybil and the messy situation they had all found themselves in less than a decade ago, and that was something she did not need to be reminded of that day.

"Thank you for seeing me this early in the morning and for the tea, but I am afraid I have to go and catch my train. I shall leave these plans here for you to reconsider and discuss. You do not have to decide anything right now, but please at least consider it until I return in a week. There truly is no time to be lost. Goodbye, Lady Grantham, Lord Grantham," Clarkson said with a sigh, standing up and nodding at both as he said his goodbyes. Taking his leather briefcase, he quickly left the room without expecting a reply.