AN: A little warning now, the time gaps between chapters of this story are different, the first 8 or so span about 4 days while the remaining tend to have quite big jumps, it all came down to the narrative I wanted to create, and trying to reduce repetitiveness. But, I'm fairly certain everything makes sense and is explained within the text. Hope you enjoy this, and welcome to my version of Cobert's journey.
Robert watched the flames lick at the shattered glass. And he watches with amusement as the colours flash in the hearth. Yellows to gold, oranges to red but it doesn't tease the fire burning in his heart. The anger flaring in his throat. It had all been going so well. Two days before the wedding. His wedding, and he'd spent the day with Cora. A whole day. They laughed, kissed, shared childhood stories. He felt he'd made progress with the worries his father had planted in his mind the morning before. That Cora was nervous, chaste and he needed to make sure she trusted him alone with her were things Robert had already known but when his father had reprimanded him for not being more adventurous with her, tempting her to understand her desires he'd stared at him, not convinced he should be imposing himself on Cora like that before the wedding. His fathers' curt reply 'it's not as if she's unattractive' still rang in his mind, or at least it did now, it hadn't all day, he'd escaped it but then...then. Then she'd said it.
They had been stood in her bedroom, in their night clothes. He entered to wish her a good night, as they had been doing for the last few nights. But before he knew what he was doing he wrapped his arms around her tiny waist. His hands had massaged at her hips, her hands rested on his shirt. The kiss had been different, her mouth seemed hungry and her tongue moved viciously against his. The gasps that had existed between their lips during the day had turned to moans and all too soon he'd found himself short of breath. She'd looked at him then, from below her lashes and her eyes had shone with trust and something else that at the moment he'd ignored. When he'd lowered his lips to her neck he heard her sharp intake of breath and he remembers his mumble against her neck that he'd look after her and wouldn't do anything she didn't want to do. She'd nodded against him her lips resting against his cheek and that was when she'd said it. He'd frozen then. His hands had gone rigid. His blood seemingly thick in his veins. He'd taken a rigid step back not hearing her words, asking him to return, to wait. The air choked him and suddenly he felt claustrophobic, the sweet sensation of her skin, her lips against his replaced by the stale air. He'd left the room offering no explanation only stopping when he'd arrived in the library, the drinks cabinet beckoning to him.
The liquid had stared back at him for some time as it swirled in the glass, matching the chant in his brain. 'You knew.' He had, he did, he'd known for some time, ever since she'd agreed to marry him. The sweet smile, her ringing laugh, the way she peered at him. He knew. He knew when she'd entered the room at Grantham house her hair piled on her head in perfection, her creamy skin glowing in the candlelight and he'd got down on one knee. He'd known when she'd purchased him his favourite book for his birthday. He knew when she laughed at his dreadful jokes. When he managed to make her blush at dinner. When he'd fed her a strawberry from the picnic basket that very afternoon. He knew. He'd always known. And yet he'd avoided it. Forgotten it. Pushed it aside as a problem for another day. Another month. Another year. And then she'd said it. Her breath a little short from their kiss. Against his skin. Three words. That was all, three. And what had he done? He'd run.
It was as these thoughts had occurred to him that he had swallowed the burning liquid and thrown the glass to the flames. There he had been trying to worry about her innocence, gently taking one step at a time, not wanting to impose himself on her. And what had she done? She'd imposed herself, she'd told him her feelings, shared them. Shared the burden of her heart and made his life so much harder. It wasn't that he wasn't honoured, of course he was, particularly as he wasn't a very vain man, not many women had ever found him overly attractive, aside from the attractions of his title every woman he'd ever known had found him boring, to prefer a book to a dinner out with friends confused even the most sensible. So, for a woman as intelligent, fiery and beautiful as Cora to fall in love with him, to find him interesting struck a cord. It was great, wonderful in fact, particularly when she was wonderful. But this wasn't the emotion that coursed in his blood, it was something stronger, violent, destructive.
Guilt.
Why should he have the love of a woman he didn't deserve? A woman who had the pick of every man at the season. The woman who had every man fawning all over her. Why had it been him? The only one of them who'd never be able to fulfil that love. She deserved the devoted husband, the one who had proposed because he loved her, not because his father had pressed him to. His cousin James had described Cora as a woman any man would wish to have at his permanent disposal and although Robert found the statement crude and utterly disgusting he knew the man had a point. She was hardly a woman he didn't wish to take to bed. The problem was he was sure he would disappoint her. Cora had fallen for a man that didn't exist, her prince, her hero, but he wasn't that man. He was a deceiver destined to marry for money. He'd flirted and danced to earn his price and Cora deserved better. She didn't deserve a man who was willing to take her money and her heart while offering nothing in return. The honourable thing seemed to be to let her go. To save her from the horrors of unrequited love.
Watching the last shards of glass melt within the flames and vanish Robert makes his final resolve. As he retreats thought the hall and to the stairs his fathers words from months ago come to mind: "You have a duty Robert, to save us. Marry a woman with some money and live calmly for a few years, produce an heir. After that time has passed society will easily turn a blind eye to a mistress. You can enjoy life, secure in your future." It was true that's what his father had done. But his father didn't see the woman, the wife he left behind for three nights a week while he did heaven knows what in London. His mother was a good actress, good at pretending to be happy when she wasn't. What his father had failed to take into account when he'd made that declaration was his son's character and the as yet unknown women. The thought of Cora's face in a similar fake smile echoes in his mind and he pauses on the stairs short of breath. He can't do that to her not any women really, not one who's running your house and bringing up your children how heartless are men? He'd never thought of what the implications of a mistress were, he saw the results daily of course but it was never real until now. The painful image of Cora's dead expression haunts him again. He can't take a mistress. Never. And certainly not when she's given her heart.
She sits in the dressing room. Waiting. What she's waiting for she's not entirely sure. He will return, eventually. He has to, he needs to sleep. But what she's waiting for in her heart she knows will never come. She'd seen the distant look in his eyes as she'd mumbled the words against his cheek. She's felt the way his hands had gone seemingly cold on her waist. Frozen. Frozen at the mere thought of love. She could have scalded herself, she had in fact. Mention love she screamed, to an Englishman. She must have been mad, she had been. She'd ruined everything. The stormy look that flashed in his eyes as he'd turned his back on her his hand flaying for the door. Yes, their day had been marvellous and she'd finally felt as if she was ready to tie herself to this man for the rest of her life. But she'd made a mistake. A big one. A massive one. And she needed to rectify that. The only solution seemed to be to sit in wait of him.
As she sat watching the fire lick at the chimney in Robert's bedroom, or dressing room as she supposed it would be called when they married, she tried to decipher what the reasons were behind her choice earlier. What had possessed her, at that moment, to spell her heart out to him? What were the feelings that had been coursing in her blood? She gazed at the hues of orange and pink, the red merging to yellows and she tried to transport herself back to the moment the other side of the door.
The kiss she remembered all to well, it had been different. Desperate you might say but Robert was still being careful. She remembers tilting her head back in an attempt to coax his tongue deeper inside her mouth, her own lapping more passionately than it had before. His hands had been on her hips and she felt the pressure of his fingers as they rubbed. The movement of the fabric of her nightdress as it had gathered slightly beneath his fingers. Just like that she begins to unwind the turmoil she felt at that moment. Things were moving in a not unpleasant direction, just a little faster than she wished. And one emotions had dominated her thoughts more than most.
Fear.
Fear for the unknown. Her mother's words had rung in her head. It was a demon, a blanket of gloom, a duty that threatened to turn her into a mere slave to her husband's desire. It hurt. It wasn't for her to enjoy, she had a duty to him and it was easier if she was just submissive. She realised thinking about it now that as these thoughts had stormed to a meeting place her conscious mind had got lost in the gloom and her subconscious had forced three words from her mouth that she'd regretted ever since. She supposed that at the time she had forgotten Robert's inclination to keep himself away from speaking feelings. In that moment she'd forgotten that, her subconscious mind prompting her to say the words not only to steady her nerves but in the hope of making the situation easier for Robert. Surely he had to know that he could never disappoint her? It turned out that wasn't the best way to go about it.
Not that it meant she understood Robert's reaction, who had ever heard of a man that ran away from the woman whose heart he had managed to claim? What she did know was that if she was judging Robert correctly his view on a lot of things was to hide from them rather than to face them. She needed to change that and she had a feeling tonight might be the start. She didn't doubt his solution to their present situation was to call off the wedding. And that was never going to happen. Never. She'd seen a girl in America turn away from the man she had in her heart just because the gentleman in question had not been able to return the sentiment. She wasn't about the let that happen to her. A one sided love was better than no love. And she had a friend in Robert, or at least she had until the fateful moment earlier. More importantly than that though, she trusted him. Totally.
The creaking of the floorboard just passed her bedroom door rouses her from her musings and she moves from the chair to stand before the window the moonlight behind her. She sees the doorknob turn before the door pushes open. He doesn't notice her in the dark room until he lights the various candles in the room with the one he's carried up the stairs. She knows when he has noticed her because he starts, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. He stands frozen by his bed. She studies the light blue of his eyes in the dark as he stares back at her until finally, finally he opens his mouth. She tilts her head in anticipation of his words only for his mouth to drop shut again his eyes delving into the depths hers. His body seemingly gives way and he falls back against the door his head tipped back and the air whistling through his mouth.