Anger

Her body trembles, constantly, with a boiling rage she cannot contain. She remains awake well into the night, pacing her room, the frightful energy needing a release and short of throwing every object within her grasp, this is the next best option. Robert is sacrificed and becomes the face she can put on her blame. Because someone did this, not Fate or God or the laws of science. It has to be him, something tangible that she can slice with her words and bruise with her cold silences.

Weeks pass and the shroud of fury she wears keeps everyone at a distance and she is just fine with that. She does not want their comfort or their condolences, afraid for her icy wrath to warm and melt under their care. If she doesn't have her anger, what would she be left with?

Cora goes for many solitary walks around the grounds, head down, stomping a forceful path from point A to point B. She rides again, something she hasn't done in years, and she pushes the animal fast and far, the wind blowing her around in a frenzy. She feels some of the tension that has seized her shoulders lessen slightly and when she is out there galloping like a fiend she can almost breathe around the hatred building a dam in her chest.

Robert watches her trot back to the stables one day, her horse panting hard from her exertions. 'You'll break your neck going at those speeds.' He says it with concern but she wants none of that from him. 'We should be so lucky' is her reply as she leaves him open mouthed and grieving.

Violet's invitation only fuels the flame of her ire. She wonders what Robert has said to her and she is insulted that they would chose to gang up on her now. An ingrained sense of duty prevents her from flat out refusing and the ride to the Dowager house is passed in uncomfortable silence. Robert does not speak to her again after being rebuffed in the library and she is thankful, bitter words waiting on the tip of her tongue if he should breach the quiet gulf between them.

Dr Clarkson's words seep into the cracks already forming in her stony facade. She cannot comprehend what he is saying and then she understands too much. There was no hope, there was never any hope. Sybil's destiny was to die in that bed that night and it is too much for her to hold in. Her anger washes away on the flood of her tears as she realizes she could never have saved her baby. Robert's strong arms are the only anchors keeping her from sinking to the floor.