Title: Robert Crawley – Earl, Father, Man.
Rating: K
Spoilers: Maybe a few hints
Summary: Life for Robert is changing, and he doesn't like it.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters!
Earl
He walked along the corridor of his ancestral home, a home that he had known and loved since the day he was born. He knew no other home, knew no other place but here and had no intentions of leaving it, unless he was dead.
He had been born in the bedroom where all three…four of his children had been born. He had grown up knowing the grounds and every inch of the house like the back of his hand. He loved every acre, loved the very air of the place. It was him. He was Downton and Downton was he.
Yet, today, walking along the once familiar corridors, surrounded by nurses, injured soldiers and medical equipment, his home didn't feel like his home anymore.
xXx
Robert had never felt lost before. How could a man feel lost in his own home? How was it possible that a home he had known for nigh on fifty years could suddenly seem so alien and strange? Was it not ridiculous that a man, an Earl, could feel like a stranger amongst his own belongings? How was that the correct order of things?
But he was lost. The house was not his anymore. People wandered through his domain, people he didn't know, they came and went as they pleased, touched things at will and moved objects – belongings that had been there for generations without asking first. There was an odd smell in the air, a smell that made the nose curl slightly and left a taste in one's mouth. It wasn't the smell of home. None of it was home.
And he didn't like it one bit.
xXx
He knew he shouldn't mind really, it wasn't what he'd had planned for his war effort, but it was all he was offered. He was not wanted as a soldier; they didn't require him for that, much to his annoyance. He may be pushing fifty, but he still considered himself in his prime. The fact that others did not, well, that was something that hurt.
Robert wanted to do more, he wanted to be more than an open cheque book for a failing war effort, he wanted to be known for greater things than a made up title and he wanted people to know that he was better than an Earl with a grand house that he'd graciously turned into a hospital.
He wanted the mud. He wanted the guns. He wanted the exhilaration of war. He wanted the camaraderie of his fellow man. He wanted the adrenaline, the sweat, the blood, the tears.
He wanted to be himself again.
Father
There had been a time, a long time ago, when his girls would come running to him. It had always been a bone of contention between him and his mother – his relationship with his daughters.
"You spoil them, Robert!" she'd sniff whenever she saw him playing or talking with the young girls. "A father should be feared and only seen for a visit in the evening. All this….playing and God-knows-what is just ridiculous! I blame Cora for this! Only an American would think a father should play with his children!"
It never mattered how much his mother complained. He didn't take any notice of the Nanny's frustrated sighs, when, for the third time that week, he had visited the girls in the nursery and disturbed them from their pre-bedtime routine. He loved his daughters, loved it when they came running to him full of their childish problems, chattering about their day or wanting him to make some bump or bruise better.
It didn't matter to him that it wasn't English, it didn't matter to him what other people thought, he loved his girls and they loved him in return. That was what mattered.
xXx
They were growing up, growing up away from him. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. Once upon a time the three girls had been close to each other and close to him. They had shared a relationship that involved them all and now, that was quickly changing.
Instead of them coming to see him together, they had started to come individually. Mary would visit him in the library and talk about the latest book she was reading, she wouldn't stay long, would always kiss him lightly on his cheek before leaving, but she was grown now and the fun had stopped.
Sybil, still only young, had quickly developed her own mind. She was individual, more interested in exploring the world, not minding that she was exploring it on her own. She breezed through life, only stopping to say hello to him when the thought occurred. Without the dynamic of her older sisters, Sybil had moved away from him and it made him rather sad.
Of the three, Edith was the one who still wanted his attention, still craved his affection. She would visit him as often as she could (though she timed her visits so that she never shared him with Mary) and would always stay as long as she could. But the problem was that Edith was just one of his daughters, alone she couldn't recreate the happiness of those early years and without it, it just wasn't the same.
xXx
How had it happened? One minute they were babies, the next grown women talking of marriage and their own establishments.
Robert couldn't remember the exact moment it had happened; it had been so gradual, yet in so many ways, so quick. It seemed only yesterday that he was the only man in their lives. They had become beautiful women overnight, in the mere blink of an eye.
They didn't need him anymore. He could see it as they worked a room, all holding conversations with confidence. He felt an almighty sense of pride in them, that his daughters had become such fine young women with their own ambitions and plans.
But there were times when he wished they were children once more. At least then he'd still have some purpose in their lives.
Man
Even though everything else was falling down around him, there was one thing Robert was confident would always remain the same - his relationship with his wife.
Twenty-six years of marriage, three children and one lost child later and they were still strong. He loved her and he knew she still loved him. Yet, things were changing.
Lying in bed, Cora with her back to him, it seemed to Robert that even his marriage was changing. His relationship with his home had changed, his relationship with his daughters had changed and now his relationship with his wife was also changing.
She was distant from him, worrying about the war, worrying about cousin Isobel and her slowly growing domination of their home, worrying about everything else except him. It had started after her miscarriage two years ago, the gap slowly widening with every passing month.
He couldn't work it out, couldn't understand how he could change things, make things better. The truth was, he wasn't sure it could be made better. It was just another thing to add to his list of changes.
They were living different lives, two people passing each other in the world, only coming together at night for a display of the way things had once been.
If he was honest, he was wondering what the point of it all was.
xXx
She was in his dream, smiling and laughing. Smiling and laughing with him. Blue eyes dancing, her hair flowing freely about her shoulders and she was happy. He had made her happy, happier than she'd ever been before.
"What would you like?" he asked her, reaching for her hand. "You can have anything you want, name it."
"I don't want anything. I just want this moment to never end!" she laughed, lacing her fingers in his.
"Then it never will," he promised with a smile.
"But, what abo-" she began, but his finger lightly stopped her fears. She smiled and understood.
"It never will," he said again and softly leaned in to kiss her.
xXx
He couldn't remember when he started to notice her. He supposed it was at some point after most of the young men had left. She had started serving at table, been more visible upstairs and somehow she came to his attention.
Of course he'd known of her before, she worked in his home after all. But he'd never really noticed her, not in the way he noticed her now. He would watch her move about the room, her head down, trying to remain inconspicuous, but he saw her.
When Bates had left, disappointing him, disappointing her, he'd felt something stir inside him, something he realised he hadn't truly felt for a long time. He began to see her so differently, she wasn't just a maid anymore, and he wasn't just an Earl. She was a woman and he was a man.
And strangely, that made sense.
She had pretty eyes, he decided, pretty eyes and beautiful hair. She wasn't afraid of the world, she'd displayed that to him when she'd supported Mrs Patmore and fought for Bates' reputation.
The fact that Bates had almost destroyed her made Robert very angry indeed. Angry and disappointed.
She must have lost her faith in men, must be thinking that all men were worthless liars who think little of breaking a woman's heart. Suddenly, Robert felt the need to make sure she didn't think that anymore.
It was this need that brought him to a halt outside her bedroom door. It was the reason that he knocked.