"Will that be all, milord?"
"Yes, Bates; thank you." Robert watched as his valet left the room and walked towards the window. It was a beautiful summer day, and he thought to have a walk in the gardens before luncheon. In fact, it had taken Bates less time than he expected to pack his things.
"There are not many clothes choices when you have to attend a funeral, after all" he thought and opened the door of his dressing room before he headed down the stairs.
He didn't knock on their bedroom's door because he didn't want Cora to join him, he preferred to be alone because he had so many thoughts in his mind. It's not that he didn't like walking with her; on the contrary, usually it was one of his favourite activities. But this time it was different. He needed time on his own to clear his mind.
He didn't think one his friends' death could be so painful and his thoughts immediately wandered to Rachel, Philip's wife.
Their marriage was not based on love, as Cora's and his was, but on mutual friendship and deep respect; which, for people of their peerage, was quite a goal. And for Rachel, losing her husband, her friend, so suddenly would have been very painful, too. Was she all right? Did they have the chance to say goodbye? To tell each other that even if they were not in love, at least their marriage had been a happy one? Because he knew they were happy. Philip always told Robert, every time they met or wrote each other. "We are not deeply in love like Cora and you, but we are happy for what we have" he used to say, causing Robert to blush to the tips of his ears and he often liked to add "I think you owe me a great deal, Robert, because it was your old chap Philip who opened your eyes and told you that you were in love with your wife". And he was right. It had been after a long speech with him that Robert had realised that what he felt for Cora was not friendship, but more than that….it was love.
Looking at his pocket watch he noticed it was time to go back home and turning around in the distance he saw the unmistakable shape of his wife who was playing in the garden with Sybbie. He didn't dare to move. The scene in front of him was so sweet. Their granddaughter was running towards her grandmother and Cora was waiting for her with her arms outstretched, laughing happily and lifting her to the sky.
He couldn't help but think of what could have happened if he didn't make it when his ulcer burst during the dinner with the Minister of Health. That nightmare still plagued him at night or when his eyes absentmindedly fell on the scar on his stomach, but he couldn't tell Cora. She had already suffered enough. The only thing he could remember was the pain in his side, the blood and the fear. Yes, he was scared of death; who isn't? But there was one thing he feared more than his death and it was the possibility that he hadn't shown Cora how much he had loved her. And so he had told her, in front of everyone, both of them soaked in his blood. In that moment, nothing else mattered; nothing else except the two of them and the look in their eyes which spoke for them all the words that couldn't be said and that hadn't been said during the years.
But now that he had recovered, was he doing enough to show her she was the one? Did she know now that he couldn't live without her? How much time was left for them? And what if….what if….he suddenly stopped thinking as he felt a very familiar pair of arms holding him tight.
"Robert, there you are. Come inside; we are late."
She let her arms fall down and he grasped her hand; they walked back together holding hands in total silence. She knew something was amiss. Her husband was drowning slowly in remorse.