AN: This one is set on that walk in series 2, that they 'kind of' with Mary and Sir Richard. They were a long way ahead, and the narrative focuses on Mary and Richard - so I wanted to write about what Cobert might have discussed. It hasn't been checked other than by me, so I am sorry for any mistakes.
As you know, I am meant to be writing and posting in the new year my young Cobert fic but things are not going to plan - my life is incredibly hectic and it is a lucky week if I so much as open the document. Therefore I am going to make no more promises about when it will appear - only that it will (and that I promise bc I love it, and I love Cobert!).
Please in the mean time enjoy this (and the Cobert week that I am very honoured to be taking part in next week!).
Their feet crunch through the dewy grass and the harsher bracken. They don't speak, what was there to say when they know exactly what the other thinks about Sir Richard after a few brief sentences.
The beating of their feet continues as they near the lake, Robert's stick swishing through the foliage at equal pace.
Staring out at the lake her mind drifts to far happier memories here. Memories in which the lake had looked warm and inviting rather than shrouded and unforgiving. There's patches of ice where the cold night had allowed it to freeze over. She pulls her tweed more tightly around her - never had she found the lake so little to her taste. Usually the water calmed her nerves and brought to the surface memories of picnics as a bride and Rosamund's late husband challenging Robert to silly races through the water. Those things always brought a smile to her face. But not today.
Marmaduke's absence only reminded her that Britain was once again at war. Not just Britain this time though, but the world. Maybe it would be Matthew that didn't come home this time?
"Do you think Rosamund will ever find happiness again?" Robert's words startle her from her own thoughts on her sister-in-law's late husband.
"I was just thinking about Marmaduke too, the lake often makes me reflect on him."
"That doesn't answer the question Cora." She glances up at him, to find him watching her steadfastly. She shivers, a breeze skimming across the top of the lake and taking her by surprise. She folds her arms, but she isn't actually sure if that is because of the cold or a reaction to Robert's question, that she would very much like not to have to answer.
"What do you think? She's your sister, you know her far better than I do."
"Cora, I want to know what you think." She feels uncomfortable, as though the question he is posing to her is not really the one he wants answered.
"I think that I can understand why she thinks Marmaduke is irreplaceable. She loved him a great deal, and that is hard to equal. But, I also think that all is not lost, that there is always a chance of coming across someone else whom you love, if not entirely like you loved that first person. For Rosamund I think that is more likely to be lost, she's spent long enough alone that her loneliness no longer scares her and she is a woman of rank, there is a lot to lose if she marries. Above all that though, it took her long enough to find Marmaduke." She looks up at him wearily, but his expression is impossible to read. He seems to be deep in thought. A minute or so passes in complete silence before he says anything.
"What would you have done if it had been me?" She doesn't need to ask what he means. This is most certainly the question he had really been curious about. A conversation that she had refused time and time again to have. She had always told him it wasn't worth discussing—he had survived and was here with her, and that was all that mattered. The truth was she didn't know the answer. She had refused to let herself put time to thinking about it.
"I don't know. My instinct might have been to run back to America but I wouldn't have taken the girls and I certainly would never have been able to leave them. I suppose the true question is what would James have done with us when he inherited?" A stormy silence echoes between them, that was a death that hadn't really brought any of them much grief.
"Mama would have looked after you. I can see her now having you all in the Dower house if it came to it!" Cora laughs, she can't help it. The image of her sat with her vibrant young girls in Mama's drawing room, their toys all over the place was quite an image. If she was that young woman she would have said that Robert's idea was mad - that Violet didn't like her enough. But Cora knows now that she would have done it, not just for her grandchildren but because it is what would have been right.
"I'm sure we would have had a wonderful laugh. But I'd be lying if I said it would have been the same. It wouldn't have been, you know that, don't you?"
"Of course." He reaches between the gap to give her hand a hard squeeze. A noise behind them causes him to break the contact, their peaceful quiet interrupted by the return of Mary and Sir Richard.