A/N Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, I really appreciate the feedback!
Robert closed the door behind him with a dull thud and let his hand fall from the handle to his side. He simply stood there, staring into the darkness. Darkness which he had not planned on facing alone this night. A darkness which he had only himself to blame for. But then, who was he kidding? He was constantly facing this darkness alone. It didn't matter if he was with Cora or anyone else or by himself. Darkness was his personal demons' playground and they took great pleasure in taunting him at all hours of the day. His heart was weighed down by his feelings of uselessness. He did not want to be a mascot or some living relic on display for the public like an animal in a zoo cage. The house, the estate, they were his cage. A persistent reminder that he was stuck at home whilst young men were in the trenches fighting for their king and country.
Until the war had begun, he had not thought of himself as old. Granted, he was not in his prime anymore though Cora always begged to differ if the subject ever arose, but he still considered himself to be quite fit and healthy. He refused to believe that he was not needed. Given his position and experience in the Boar War it made sense that he should be there leading the men, setting the example. But it was not he who made that decision. That power resided with General Roberts and it was a concept that Robert fought with on a daily basis.
Slowly, he dragged himself over to his cold, single bed and pulled off his black dressing gown, discarding it on the nearby chair. Then he kicked off his slippers and nudged the blankets back, climbing into bed. He shivered slightly as he wriggled his way down onto his side, facing the wall that now separated him from his wife. He closed his eyes tightly and sighed inwardly as he thought of her, the way her heart seemed to break right in front of him. But unlike the early days of their marriage, she was now stronger and she had held it together. Yet another thing that he was failing miserably at. He was a floundering fish out of water that had become the talk of the family behind his back as much as to his face because he just couldn't conceal his struggles in the way that his wife could. Muffled sobs intruded on his line of thinking.
Robert's eyes were open again as he mentally shook himself. Was he hallucinating now? Then came a few hiccups and some more sobs followed by a strangled cry and a couple of rattled breaths. Cora was crying. Robert felt physically sick as the noises continued to permeate through the wall. Strong she may be but she still had her moments and this was yet another one that he was the cause of. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, which he could now make out with his newly refocused sight. Perhaps he should go back in right now and apologize for his heartless statement, not to mention all of his other short-comings of late. But Robert knew she wouldn't be so likely to receive him much less actually listen to him in her current frame of mind. She had always made it plain to him that she disagreed with his motives for going to war anyway though she had become more tactful over time. Now he concluded, it was best to let the dust settle at least until morning by which time, he was resolved to have thought of a way to approach her without inflaming the situation any further.
The light slowly filtered into the Mercia bedroom as Cora began to stir. She had not moved position all night and had eventually fallen asleep curled up on her side, exhausted from her weeping. Carefully, she stretched herself out, immediately feeling a bit stiff as the fog lifted on her drowsy brain. Images and words came flooding back to her from the previous night and she felt a stab in her heart as she heard her husband's voice inside her head.
"No. Maybe it should be but it isn't."
She immediately felt another lump rising in her throat and fought to suppress it, realizing that her mouth was very dry, possibly from her exertions the previous night. Blinking her eyes open, she determined to sit up and poor herself a cup of water from the jug that was situated in the bathroom. It was then that she saw the vase of flowers placed on her bedside table. She immediately recognized the variety of blooms to be from the Monk's Garden on the south-east side of the lawn. Reaching out she grasped the vase firmly in one hand, bringing the flowers to her nose and inhaling their luscious combination of scents, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. As she went to place the vase back down on the table surface she then spotted a note. Up until that point she had been so focused on the flowers that it hadn't even occurred to her that they were surely from Robert as a peace-offering after last night. For a moment she hesitated, wondering if she felt up to reading the contents when her emotions were still in such turmoil, and becoming more and more poignant as she shook off the last effects of slumber. Robert had made an effort though and she knew she couldn't just leave it unacknowledged. Cora dreaded to think of the hour that he must have been up, dressed and knocking on the gardeners' cottage door. Picking up the note, she sank back down onto the edge of the bed and began to read.
My dearest Cora,
I did not sleep a wink last night as I replayed everything that transpired over and over in my head. I know I dealt you a grave injury with my choice of words and I deeply regret them. I am so sorry Cora. Please know that you are, have been, and will always be enough for me. I understand if you would like some space today. But if you are agreeable, I would like to take you somewhere secluded so I may apologize to you properly and hope to start making up for my brooding behaviour. I will be out on the estate this morning but will be back for luncheon if you wish to come.
Robert
Cora reread the note through a second time and heaved a sigh. She had always hated it when they were in conflict with one another as it so rarely happened and she always felt it so keenly. Since the early days of their marriage they had always been very tight-knit most of the time and had built a loving, lasting relationship. But they were still human, prone to marital spats like every other couple. She glanced up to the clock on the mantelpiece. 8.30am. Absentmindedly, she pulled the cord by her bed for O'Brien to bring her breakfast, her decision about her husband's offer made.