Robert studied his sleeping wife's face in the faint morning light. Just yesterday morning she had looked much better. Her gentle admonitions that it was "just a minor ailment" beginning to sooth his worry but she had gone to bed in the afternoon and stayed there, missing dinner. She asked him to sleep in his dressing room last night, "for his own welfare". The pallor of her skin and the slump of her shoulders when he kissed her goodnight had kept him staring in the dark for a good while.
Cora came to awareness slowly, her aching body protesting at the small movements accompanied with waking. She had tossed all night, a heaviness settling in her chest and preventing her from getting comfortable. Finally, somewhere around dawn, she had fallen to her exhaustion, strange dreams preventing her mind from finding release. She had dreamt she was in her bed, ill, but it had been years ago. O'Brien wiped at her brow and she sought Robert in a fever haze but could not find him.
The air in the room shifted and she opened her eyes quickly, the brightness of the sun making them water as she adjusted. Blinking a few times, the blur that sat before her slowly came into focus, until Robert's concerned frown became clearer. Cora felt vulnerable, just out of a sleep that had been anything but restful. Robert reached for and clasped her hand in his own and she had a nauseating sense of deja vu. She had felt so guilty then, apologizing for her neglect of him, never understanding how far that neglect may have pushed him. Did it still push him? The idea hadn't taken shape in her mind until that moment, that whatever happened with this Jane wasn't just confined to the past, but had leaked into their present. What if he went to her regularly? The damage of the war exacerbated by the loss of her money and then her hurtful behavior after Sybil, not to mention the devastating loss of Matthew. Had he gone to that woman for solace? Cora cleared her throat, needing to dispel the burning tightness engulfing it.
"Cora?" Robert questioned. He said her name so gently that it split her insides apart and before she knew what was happening or could put an iron cage around her emotions, she was crying, attempting to cover her eyes with her hands, as though it would hide her from him.
Of course he launched out of the seat he occupied and rushed to her, trying to pry her hands away from her face. When she refused to budge, he settled on running his hands up and down her arms, repeating platitudes meant to soothe her. Cora was so wrapped up in her misery, she missed him ringing the bell, only aware that he had moved when she heard him order Baxter to send for Dr Clarkson at once. Swallowing down the rest of her tears in great gulps, Cora shook her head and slouched away from Robert's desperate attempts to calm her.
"I'm fine, Robert." Cora insisted dismissively, her tears all but dried up.
Her words seemed to anger Robert inexplicably. He threw up his hands in disbelief and blew an agitated breath out of his mouth. "This is not 'fine'."
"I don't need the doctor." Cora whispered, feeling suddenly deflated and drained. She sunk deeper down into the covers of her bed, hoping to escape his probing eyes. She really just wanted to be left alone, not wanting to discuss the issue further. When she closed her eyes and feigned sleep, Robert's exasperated sigh and the sound of his footsteps leaving told her she had gotten her wish. For the moment.
Cora spent the next few days using her illness as an excuse to stay cloistered in her room. In truth, the fever had broken and only a slight cough lingered, but that was a secret she and Baxter shared. Robert kept his distance at her suggestion but not without letting the hurt bleed through his blue eyes as he blinked a few times when she continued to send him to his dressing room. The tension between them was clearly baffling him and she did nothing to ease the awkwardness that was building during their limited interactions. Robert had not pressed her about what was troubling her since the episode in her room and though it was what she wanted, a part of her resented that he didn't push further.
It took a half hour of her pushing breakfast around her plate and trying to read The Sketch before she remembered the date. Putting the paper down, she bit her lower lip. This was the first anniversary she could remember, with the exception of those while Robert was in Africa, that she had woken up alone. Cora's chin began to quiver as she looked at his vacant spot on the bed. She had heard the door to his dressing room open and close much earlier as he started his day and so even their usual morning chat before breakfast was not to occur. Today of all days, it seemed his aloofness was finally going to match her own and a large part of Cora blamed herself for remaining silent and letting the little knowledge she had fester.
Once downstairs, Cora was at a loss as to how to spend her day. As was the case all too often lately, the house was deserted save her and the servants. The silence darkened her already stormy mood. She and Robert weren't ones to make a big fuss on the date of their anniversary but they usually made a point to spend the day together, either walking the grounds or taking in a show in London. But then she always made those arrangements, not he, and she had been too wrapped up in her suspicions to plan. Cora wondered if he even remembered the date.
Finding herself in the drawing room, Cora picked up her needlework, but stared at it blankly, her mind refusing to stop ruminating. If Robert had sought the comfort of another woman years ago, when she was still relatively young, what kept him from running now that she was so much older. Cora had never thought herself a very vain person but even she had felt the twinges of sorrow lately that inspecting ones own wrinkling face brought on. She was far from the fresh faced girl that had walked through Downton's doors thirty-five years prior, older now than even Violet had been at the time. If she had been told she would feel even less secure in her position now than she did that day so long ago she would not have believed it and it cut her to think it was true. At least then, she had the foolish confidence of youth, of knowing if nothing else, the future lay before her and could only get better with time.
"Mama?" Mary's voice broke through her thoughts and so absorbed in them was she, that she jumped when her daughter spoke, pricking herself with the needle laying lax in her hand.
"I didn't mean to startle you!" Mary laughed, a sound which petered out once Cora looked up at her. It was when Mary's smirk faltered and her eyebrow peaked upward that Cora became aware of the wetness of her cheeks. Swiping at them quickly she shook her head and forced herself to smile.
"I was daydreaming darling. Did you need something?" Cora concentrated on saying her words evenly and lightly but Mary still looked at her with mild concern before sitting next to her on the sofa.
"Well, I was wondering if you'd like to come into Ripon with me. George needs new shoes and when I mentioned it to Nanny she also said that Sybbie is growing out of her nightgowns. Would you be interested in some light shopping?"
The relief of being given an excuse to leave Downton for a few hours brought fresh tears of gratitude to her eyes. She wanted to throw her arms around Mary in thanks, but settled instead for a generous squeezing of her daughter's hand while she nodded her assent.
Mary cocked her head and pursed her lips, surveying her mother critically. "Are you sure you're well?"
"Yes, yes!" Cora replied, standing and waving her hand. "It must be the idea of them growing so fast that has me sentimental." She lied.
"If you're sureā¦" Mary replied, sounding unconvinced.
