Cora sat on the bench, twisting her ring around her finger, staring into the space around her. She knew she needed to say something to Robert that afternoon. The uncertainty was eating at her, making it difficult to go about her days. She needed to know, one way or the other. The sound of footsteps upon the grass behind her interrupted her thoughts and she felt a surge of adrenaline, thinking it might be Robert. Cora let out the breath she was holding when she turned and saw Mr Bricker approaching her. He stopped before her and bowed slightly, tipping his hat and she smiled in return.
"Lady Grantham, I wanted to bid you goodbye and to thank you for a lovely evening last night." Simon Bricker said, his appreciation a little too exaggerated in tone.
"Mr Bricker, you must thank my husband. He put the party together quite by himself." Cora responded.
"Well, if you will be so kind as to extend my gratitude to Lord Grantham I would be in your debt." Mr Bricker bowed again before turning to leave but then stopped, looking back at her. "If you are ever in London, please make sure to call on me at the gallery. It would be an honor to give you a tour."
Cora looked at him hard for a moment, taking in his confident smirk and the gleam of mischief in his eye. Her intuition was telling her that Simon Bricker was a shameless flirt and not entirely harmless. "That is very kind of you Mr. Bricker. I shall consider it."
Mr Bricker laughed lightly. "Oh Lady Grantham, I'm not kind. I like to surround myself with beautiful things….and beautiful people. It would be for my own selfish satisfaction to spend an afternoon with you."
Cora felt her back stiffen and she looked down with fluttering eyelashes, shocked at his boldness, the heat rising on her cheeks. When she looked back up, she had the feeling Mr Bricker was appraising her, as one would a piece of art, and feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she rose and bid him safe travels, before hurrying back to the protective confines of Downton.
"Baxter, might you tell his Lordship to come up once he's arrived back home?" Cora asked her maid as Baxter helped her into her robe and arranged her hair.
"Certainly milday." Baxter replied, picking up the wet towels Cora had just discarded. The woman gave her a slight smile before wordlessly leaving the room.
Cora reclined on her settee and closed her eyes, attempting to calm the nerves that fluttered around her chest in anticipation of her talk with Robert. She meant to chose her words carefully, wanting to neatly arrange what she would say to him. But her eyelids grew heavy in the fading afternoon and she couldn't fight the pull of sleep. Cora startled awake at the sensation of soft circles being traced on the back of her hand. She opened her eyes to see Robert looking down on her.
"I didn't mean to disturb you darling. You looked so peaceful." Robert said. "Baxter said you wanted to see me but I can let you rest."
Cora's ears rang with the quickening of her pulse, knowing she could delay no longer now that Robert was there. She cleared her throat, her mouth suddenly dry and concentrated on taking even breaths as she gathered her scattered thoughts.
"Who is Jane Moorson?" Cora blurted out, unable to come up with some more eloquent way of starting the conversation and going right for the heart of the trouble.
Robert's eyes widened and he withdrew his hand quickly from her. Cora watched in sickened fascination as his face paled and his lips became bloodless. She nodded and blew out a shaky breath before pushing herself off the settee, needing to stand, hoping the change in position would alleviate the pain beginning in her stomach. Robert loosened his collar and cleared his throat several times, a nervous habit he had that put Cora more on edge than his words. His continued silence took her anguish and turned it into blazing anger and she whirled on him suddenly.
"I take the question back. I know WHO she is. She worked here. I suppose what I am really asking is WHAT is she to you."
Robert opened and closed his mouth several times. "How do….?"
"There were receipts on your desk in the library. In plain sight, for a Freddie Moorson's schooling. I'm assuming her son?" Cora's face twisted into a grimace. "Is he yours?"
Robert stood at once. "NO!" He said forcefully and Cora closed her eyes, pressing her fists into her stomach.
Robert began to pace, putting a hand hastily through his hair, the perfectly placed locks suddenly made wild, a caged animal let loose. "I know how this may look, Cora, but it was nothing….really…."
"What does that mean Robert?" Cora implored, the conversation not going at all how she secretly had hoped. Something clearly had happened between Robert and the maid.
Robert slumped on the bed and looked at his clenched hands for a moment before raising his eyes to meet hers. They were filled with apology and the urge to be ill was almost too much for her to overcome.
"We kissed. A few times. And although it was still incredibly dishonorable of me, that is all that happened. I beg you to believe me." Robert said quietly.
Cora sat down heavily on the settee. "Did you love her?"
Robert stared at her intently. "In thirty-five years, I've loved no one else but you. That I can promise you."
"Then why, Robert?" Cora's anger and hurt were subsiding, a tide of negative emotions going out to sea. She believed what he said to her. He was Robert, afterall.
Robert sighed. "I have no good reason. It was a strange time. I felt useless, castrated almost." Robert let out a mirthless laugh. "And she was so attentive….I used her to make myself feel better but I only felt worse and worse."
"And Freddie?" Cora asked.
"Her son. Her husband had died in the war. He was trying to get into Ripon Grammar and I sent a good word for him. I felt guilty about the way I abused her affections so I paid his way. I have continued to pay his way."
"And has it helped?" Cora inquired. "Has paying his tuition assuaged your guilt?"
Robert shrugged. "Perhaps it has."
He rose and walked carefully towards her, sitting close on the settee and picking up her hand. "It's been nothing compared to the guilt I've had over going behind your back. Then and now. It's there everyday."
"Robert," Cora whispered, shaking her head, the movement letting a few tears escape from behind her lashes. "There are worst sins then a few kisses."
"You don't despise me?" Robert's voice was thick and tinged with awe.
Looking into his eyes, Cora cupped the side of his face with her free hand and shook her head. Robert let out a strangled sound, the sudden gasp of a dying man brought back to life and wrapped his arms around her fiercely, holding on tightly. He cried into the softness of her neck, the unburdening of his secret the popping of a cork setting him free. He wondered how many times she could forgive him in this lifetime before she grew weary of being the benevolent one.