As Robert entered the drawing room, he found his mother seated there by herself.
"Where's Cora," he asked almost immediately, his initial disappointment quickly replaced with worry. "Is she well?"
Violet raised her eyebrows at Robert. "A headache," she replied coolly, "or so she says."
Robert threw a dark glance at his mother, for once not in a mood to be trifled with. "What did you say to her this time?" he asked calmly but with a tone of authority he was not accustomed to using with his parents.
"Me?" his mother asked with an air of indifference that seemed to defy Robert's growing annoyance. "Nothing that you should concern yourself with. She cannot…"
"Please excuse me, Mama," Robert cut in coolly. He could not stand to hear his mother put down Cora right now. "I must go and see to my wife."
Turning on his heels, he left a stunned Lady Grantham in his wake in the drawing room, and resolutely started his way upstairs. As he ascended the stairs, his emotions were an odd mixture of elation for having stood up against his mother, for once, and genuine worry on Cora's behalf. Robert knew that evenings with his mother were rarely enjoyable to her especially, like tonight, when there was only the family party present, but she would invariably sit through them all with a strained smile on her face, bearing the snide remarks thrown at her like a trooper. If she had now excused herself to retire early, she had to be either truly ill, or even more unhappy than he had suspected.
Behind Cora's door, Robert paused. Impulse had carried him there with speed, but he was not sure what instinct would guide him from here on. With a blush he realized he had only ever entered Cora's room at night for one reason, and that act never involved much conversation. Robert hoped she would not assume that to be the cause of his visit now – he hoped that she would not think him as unfeeling and selfish as to demand her to fulfill her marital duties when she was not well.
With his face scarlet from such thoughts, Robert knocked on the door softly, reminding himself that he had to see Cora, regardless of what she might think of him. As he pushed the door open, he nearly ran into Cora's maid who appeared to be on her way out. The young girl muttered something unintelligible by way of an apology and then scurried out of the room. Robert closed the door behind her. With the appearance of the maid, he had missed Cora's initial reaction to his unexpected arrival, but as he cautiously stepped further inside the room, approaching the vanity where she sat, he realized she was staring at him with what could only be described as a stunned expression.
"Robert," she said at last in a breathy half-whisper, which clearly marked her surprise but left Robert uncertain of whether she was more pleased or displeased to see him.
"Mama said you had a headache," he hastened to explain his presence so as to not give her any alarming ideas. "I- I just wanted to come and see that you are alright," he spoke haltingly. "I don't mean to…to disturb you in any way." As he spoke, Robert took cautiously a few more steps forward, narrowing the gap between himself and Cora. He thought he heard her breath catch at his words, but then she looked down, allowing him no direct view of her face as she played with the trimmings of her dressing gown.
"Cora?" he prompted her softly when she remained silent.
She took a deep breath and then finally looked up at him, but the heat of surprise that had briefly colored her cheeks had disappeared from her face now and she looked terribly pale. "You can tell Lady Grantham I am well," she replied levelly, dropping her hands to her sides. "The headache has passed but I would like to rest. Thank you for asking."
Robert felt deflated by her strained words, and for a moment he wondered if perhaps he had been right in his assessment and his father wrong. Perhaps Cora did hate him now. But he was not ready to accept defeat so soon when he had come this far. He did know that she had not always hated him, and perhaps it was not too late to change the course again.
"I'm not here for Mama," he said, taking a step closer. "I was worried about you," he added in a softer tone.
As soon as he had spoken, Robert saw Cora's lip quiver, and as he watched her blink rapidly several times, he felt an almost unconquerable desire to sweep her into his arms and tell her that he would make everything alright, no matter what was ailing her right now. Only uncertainty of where they actually stood kept him rooted on the spot, unmoving, uncertain of how to reach out to his wife.
"You were worried about me?" she spoke at least, in a small voice that would have been hard to hear had Robert been standing any further.
Did she truly doubt it? Robert felt a stab of pain at her words even though there had been no accusation in her tone.
"Of course I was," he replied earnestly, no longer caring what was right and proper as he closed the remaining gap between them and knelt down in front of Cora so that their faces were almost level. "Don't you know how much I care about you?"
Cora did not respond. Instead, she closed her eyes, and again Robert had the distinct impression that she was fighting back tears. The worry he had felt for her well-being rose up again in his chest.
"Are you in pain?" he asked in a more urgent tone, "Please, my darling, you must tell me if you are ill."
This time, his words managed to draw out an actual sob from Cora, but no intelligible response. Robert brought his hand up to her forehead and was relieved to find it cool. At least she did not have fever.
"Please tell me what's wrong," he pleaded her helplessly. At the touch of his hand, Cora finally opened her eyes, revealing the unshed tears that lingered in them.
"I'm not in pain," she whispered, almost inaudibly, and to Robert's surprise she was smiling now through her tears. Without pausing to think, he let his hand fall from Cora's forehead to the side of her face, caressing her cheek with a tenderness of touch that was new to them both.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes never leaving hers as his thumb gently moved to trace her lips. Suddenly the question seemed to take on layers of meaning he had not even intended.
Cora nodded wordlessly, her eyes answering the unspoken questions in his, and at last Robert felt that he understood, not only her but himself as well. A lot more could have been said, but Robert found himself at a loss for words. Rather than to speak, he wanted nothing more than to hold Cora in his arms, almost as if to assure himself that this new sensation he felt was as tangible as it was intoxicating – but he did not yet dare.
"My dearest," Robert whispered instead, still gazing at her intently, afraid to break the moment.
Cora blushed but then smiled again, shyly but genuinely.
"Could you say that again?" she asked, her own voice barely above a whisper.
"My dearest," Robert repeated, smiling rather foolishly at how much he enjoyed saying the word. He had taken Cora's hands into his as he spoke and now pulled her up with him as he rose to his feet, his position on the floor having grown too uncomfortable.
They stood facing each other, studying one another, for a long moment until his father's question from earlier floated into Robert's mind and he smiled as he realized he did know the answer.
"What is it?" Cora asked a little uncertainly, noticing the sudden change in his expression.
"It's just something I talked about with my father tonight," Robert replied, caressing Cora's cheek reassuringly. He paused for a moment and then continued soberly: "He asked me if I loved you."
"Oh," Cora breathed. Suddenly Robert could feel her grow tense under his touch. "What did you reply?" she asked after a heavy pause.
"I said I didn't know," Robert replied honestly, but when Cora cast her eyes down, he placed a finger gently under her chin and tilted her head up again. "I said I didn't know," he repeated, "but I think I do know. I do know," he added with certainty.
"Cora," Robert coaxed her softly when she would try to avoid his eyes again, "please look at me."
"It's okay," she said in a broken voice. "I've always known you don't love me. That you have grown to care about me as much as you have is more than I could ever…"
"But I do, Cora," Robert cut in urgently, unable to let her carry on under her misconception. "I do love you," he exclaimed louder than he had intended. "I'm in love with you, for God's sake."
As Robert watched his words sink in, he felt a strange lightness himself, as if something he had unknowingly been carrying inside for some time had suddenly been released and given wings to fly.
"I know this is sudden," he hastened to explain himself when Cora remained speechless, "and I don't expect you to say anything back, not so soon, when you probably…"
"I love you." It was Cora's turn to interrupt him, and she did it breathlessly, with a finger pressed boldly over his lips. "Oh, Robert," she sighed then, suddenly smiling with the unguarded joy he had missed more than he had ever realized. "I didn't think I'd ever hear you say those words."
"But I thought you were unhappy…that I was the reason you were unhappy," Robert said, looking at Cora with wonder.
Her smile dimmed a little, but she kept looking at him tenderly. "I was," she admitted, "and in a way you were." Robert's face fell and she hastened to add: "Not because I didn't love you," she explained, smiling at him. "I did, and I do, but I thought you would never love me back."
"I have been a simpleton," Robert muttered, brushing his lips against Cora's forehead as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Can you forgive me?"
"What am I supposed to forgive?" Cora asked, peering up at Robert. "I married you knowing it was for the money. It's not your fault I was silly enough to fall in love against my own better judgment."
"I could have spent more time with you once we were married, made the transition easier for you," Robert insisted, unable to let go of his guilt even though Cora's words pleased him. "And if I had not been a blind fool I might have known my own heart sooner."
Cora smiled. She shook her head slightly as if to disagree but did not voice any arguments. Robert was sure she could not deny the truth of what he had said, but he was grateful she chose not to blame him in the way he was certain he deserved. She was truly too good for him.
"You have made me so happy, Cora," he said simply, wondering how all these words that had seemed so difficult for him before were suddenly so easy.
"And tonight you have made me happier than I ever thought I would be," Cora replied, and her eyes told Robert she meant every word. He smiled and then pulled her a little closer until their bodies were pressed together in a warm embrace.
"Do you have to go back downstairs?" He heard Cora whisper against the crook of his neck before he could break the hug, her breath tingling deliciously against his skin.
Robert thought of his mother whom he had left gaping in the drawing room, and then of his father who would probably join her there soon enough. He had no wish to make a third in that party.
"No," he replied simply, distancing himself enough from Cora to be able to see her face again. "I'd rather stay here if you'll let me."
Cora smiled mischievously and then leaned in to place a lingering kiss on Robert's lips.
"I might not let you leave at all," she replied archly after pulling back.
"Good," Robert replied, surprising both Cora and himself as he swept her off her feet, swirled her around, and then carried her over to the bed. "Because I don't intend to leave."
Later that night, for the first time in their marriage, Robert fell asleep with his arm wrapped protectively around his already sleeping wife, and nothing in the world could have felt more natural to him.