How would you feel
If I told you I loved you
It's just something that I want to do
I'm taking my time, spending my life
Falling deeper in love with you
So tell me that you love me too

His fists are clenched and his palms are sweating; he is so nervous he can hear every single beat of his heart clearly. He clears his throat.
He is quite sure his father has never been that tense in his life: a Lord, a real Earl, can never indulge in such strong feelings and emotions, not while he has a house, a family and a village to guide and inspire with his wisdom and his steadiness.
But Robert is not like his father.
He has always thought he is weaker than him, and has always tried to fix his vulnerability the only way he knows: pretending to be sure and strong, showing everyone how much he is like his father. But no, the truth is just one: he isn't. And he is not the only one who is paying for the lies he is telling himself and the world.
She is paying more than anyone. And God, has he been a fool! Only now, after one year, he can see how much she has suffered silently, never complaining, always smiling at him and encouraging his projects, while in the meantime he has kept on hurting her.
Now, now he can see. And he feels so overwhelmingly guilty.

Cora, his wife, is a wonderful and clever young woman: her dark hair always seems in order, her smile is polite, her big blue eyes can easily pierce the heart of any gentleman. Robert has always thought highly of her, ignoring the looks she receives by many snobs of the British aristocracy for the simple reason she is American. In fact, he has always found that side of her quite interesting: she is different from all the others and can constantly surprise him with facts about her culture he had no idea about.
Yes, he has always found her marvelous… but he hasn't always loved her.

Robert clears his throat again at that thought, clearly nervous. The remorse is painting his cheeks of a pale shade of red. He is actually quite relieved nobody can see him in that state: it is late at night –one or two a.m., he is not sure, it seems to him like he has been there for ages-, and he is standing straight in the silent corridor of the sleepy and deserted Abbey. The candles shine faintly and trembling on the walls, the carpets, and on the door.
The door of Cora's room.
On that door he wants so badly to open, and yet he cannot.

He went to bed early this evening, feeling kind of ill: his head seemed ready to explode at any moment. He kissed his Mama on the forehead and Cora on the cheek, and then he left the library headed to bed, but before he could even begin to climb the stairs, a calm and soft voice stopped him.
"Robert…", Cora called him, looking at him with her blue eyes, two beautiful lakes shining silvery in the dim light of the evening.
"Cora…", he mumbled, clumsy as always.
She cleared her throat gently. "Any chance you are going to join me in my room tonight?".
Instantly, he lowered his eyes and gritted his teeth. He took a very deep breath before finding the courage to reply. "I'm sorry I cannot, my dear. I am not feeling very well". It wasn't a lie, but he felt guilty anyway.
She sighed and smiled sweetly, but through the shadows of the setting sun Robert was sure her eyes were filled with tears. "I will wait for you, in case you feel any better", she said, and before he had a chance to reply, she turned her back, heading to the library once again.
That scene, that short and trivial conversation has filled his eyes and his ears the whole night, making him tossing and turn in bed. But why? The reason is really simple, but it is difficult to admit, even to himself: he has fallen in love with Cora… but it may be too late now.

Robert had met Cora Levinson the night of her first ball in London; he had talked to her, smiled at her and danced with her. Apparently, on that evening one fact was clear to anyone –except for him, obviously: Cora had instantly fallen for him. How strange, he had thought, when his Mama had told him. Had miss Levinson really trembled when he had taken her hand gently? Had she really blushed? He hadn't noticed.
His mother had laughed at him, but her smile was covering something else: they both knew he could court her for her money. She had never clearly said that, of course: it would have been so rude... and, strangely enough, she didn't seem to particularly like the idea. But miss Levinson was a very rich American heiress, everybody knew that, and with his father, lord Grantham, facing great financial problems, a marriage including an awful amount of money could be the perfect solution to their problems…
He had tried to resist, he had tried to tell himself he was not going to fool a poor kind girl to get her money, but in the end he had given up. He was so weak!
And they were right, all of them: Cora was really in love with him. He had no idea how or why, but she enjoyed his company. She really did. It was easy for her to say yes, when the time came. It was more difficult for him to get down on one knee and ask the decisive question. He did not want to: she was so sweet, so gentle… her eyes knew no evil, her smile was so pure.

Did she know what he was doing? Probably, yes, she had noticed. She was clever enough to see he did not love her. But she never stopped him.

So, all of a sudden, they were married. During the party that followed the ceremony he drank an awful lot, in the absurd intent of gaining some courage: all he achieved was a terrible headache and an even worst first night with his bride. He hadn't been rough… but surely he hadn't been gentle nor passionate.

Standing silent in the corridor, Robert wants to cry. Once again, he thinks about his strong and serious father… he is so much like him, and yet so very different. He doesn't believe his father has really ever loved someone… not even his mother. He is quite sure about it.
But Robert can love. He knows now. And he does: he loves Cora with all of his heart.
He has no idea when it happened or how. Well, recently, probably: somehow, one morning he woke up in his room craving to be by her side. He wanted to brush the hair from her cheek slowly and place a sweet kiss on it. He desired to see her open her tired blue eyes and smile at him, whispering softly "Good morning". Then, when he was sitting in the library, he found himself hoping for her to appear and ask him how his work was going. So every time he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, he stopped, and waited to see if it was her. And at night he fantasized about falling asleep beside her. To hear her rhythmic breath, a living proof of the beauty of this world.
How strange it felt, to suddenly have his own heart open. He didn't choose it. It happened.

And now he wants to show it to Cora. He really wants to… but can he?
Once again, his fists are clenched and his palms are sweating; he is so nervous he can hear every single beat of his heart clearly. He clears his throat.
He wants to give his love to Cora, but he feels guilty for the way he has treated her. For months, he has showed her around, as if she was some prestigious prize he had won. As if she was nothing more than a thing, a pretty trinket he owned. How could he be so superficial and cruel, while she was trying so hard to give him her heart and soul?
Once again, he is deciding to act like his father: he is deciding to hide his feelings to save himself from the shameful truth of his despicable behavior.
But… no.
No. He is not his father. He is Robert Crawley. And yes, he is weak, stubborn and introverted, but that is the way he is. And this is the man Cora loves. He wants to knock on her door. He wants to, he wants to, he has to.

Before he can even realize it, he is tapping on the wooden door of that room he longs to know better. All of a sudden, he feels breathless and speechless, almost paralyzed. The seconds pass, and they feel like hours, days, months, years. Robert is almost certain he is one hundred years old when finally the door is open, but he immediately feels like a ten-years-old boy again when he sees her.
Oh, her.
She is standing a few inches away from him, upright and proud in her pearly white nightgown, her small hands sustaining a small pink shawl on her shoulders, her pretty mouth opened and her eyes red –probably from crying, poor darling. Her dark hair are messy, cascading on her back.
She looks surprised, but still, she is the first one to talk. "Robert?", she mutters, confused, "I thought… I thought you weren't feeling too well".
For a while he cannot utter a single word. He is lost in her. How could he be so blind? How?
"I am..:", she continues, "I am sorry. I didn't want you to feel obliged to come". She takes his hands in hers, lowering her eyes and caressing his knuckles gently.
That sweet touch wakes him up immediately. "Obliged?", he exclaims, and cannot help but smiling, feeling her so close, "Oh, my darling. Don't be sorry. I came here because I wanted to".
The grasp of her hands suddenly becomes more intense. "What…", she tries to ask, but her voice breaks. She breaths deeply. "What did you just say?".
Robert knows that the moment has come. He has to tell her right now. Everything. No more doubts, no more pain, no more secrets. He has to tell her. "How would you feel…", he begins, watering his lips and raising her chin to lose himself in her beautiful eyes, "How would you feel, if I told you I loved you?". The words came out of his mouth so naturally he is not even sure he has actually ever told them.
Before he can add anything to the speech he has mentally repeated over and over again, Cora places her warm palms on his cheeks and kisses him. It is not like all of the other kisses: this is… true. For the first time, they are sharing something: a sweet kiss, an embrace… their life, maybe.
When their lips finally part, Robert refuses to open his eyes: he is afraid that it has all been a dream and that he is going to lose everything the moment he wakes up. He finally looks at Cora again, to see her smiling through tears.
"My dearest love", he whispers, brushing her hair, "Are you alright?".
She nods, but keeps on crying. "Oh, my dear, I am behaving like a fool. I must look so incredibly childish to you".
"You only look like the woman I love", he says, winking, trying to cheer her up.
"Oh, will you stop flirting so shamelessly with me?", she jokes, but still cannot stop crying.
"Cora", he calls her softly, tasting her name as it leaves his lips, "There is something I want to…".
She shakes her head. "You haven't said it yet", she just mutters, while her tears are finally drying.
What hasn't he said? Robert has no idea. "What are you talking about?", he chuckles. He has never chuckled with her, he has never felt at ease knowing the way he treated her… but now, now it feels different.
"You asked me a question", she explained, "You asked me how would I feel if you told me that you love me". She pauses. "Well, tell me".
Robert smiles. Cora is so clever, so sharp. His Cora.
"I love you, my dear", he whispers, and places his lips on hers, in another sweet kiss.
"Then it is my time to answer, I guess", she says, caressing his hair, "I feel the same. Every day, every hour, every moment. I love you too". Those words take Robert to another place. "But now", she continues, with an allusive smirk, "I want no explanations. No apologies. No revelations. There will be time for that. Now, I want my husband in my bedroom. I think I might teach him a lesson or two". He cannot help but laugh, trying not to be too noisy: he surely does not want to wake the whole house up.
"Yes, I have the feeling that your husband could use a good lesson", he replies, while Cora takes his hand and guides him into the darkness of her room. He doesn't know why, but Robert is pretty sure he is not going to sleep in his bedroom very soon.