Denial

She's a pale blue blur in the distance, the spring time wind whipping her dress around her. It clings to her legs and Robert's mind immediately drifts to other things, more secret, more intimate things, but stops himself short. He realizes with a lurch that it isn't her body that he's fantasizing about, but the gentle, soft way she whimpers in pleasure when he touches her. He's fantasizing of the way she sighs next to his side afterward, deliciously exhausted. He's thinking of the way her eyes light up when he comes in her room while she breakfasts, to tell her about his plans for the day. And there she is now, walking alone on the lawn, Mama having corrected, or more reprimanded, the way she addressed an invitation.

A spoon clanks against porcelain behind him and he turns from the window and looks at his mother. She picks up the cup of tea and sips from it, replacing it on the saucer with pursed lips.

"Was that necessary?"

She doesn't look at him, only raises her brow with her cup. "Necessary?"

"The way you spoke to her. Mama, she is trying. And she's learning…"

She looks at him then, wide-eyed and annoyed. "She's learning, Robert, because I'm teaching her. I'm redirecting her and correcting her…"

"You're badgering her!"

Violet turns angry. "I am NOT badgering her. If she would do things the way I tell her, then she wouldn't have her feelings hurt, though I must say she's terribly sensitive about it all. After all, she accepted this when she married you a year ago. She has got to see that what I do and what I say is only for her benefit."

With a huff, Robert turns back to the window to seek her out again. And there she is: a soft flower in her dark hair which is piled upon her head. He speaks quieter. "I don't like to see her hurting. She's sacrificed a great deal for us and I want her to be happy here."

He stands at the window minutes longer without a response from his mother. Feeling the awkwardness, he turns slowly back to her to see her eyeing him knowingly, suspiciously. He falters under her stare. "What?"

"Oh dear."

"What?" He steps toward his mother irritably.

"You've fallen in love with her."

Robert laughs contemptuously, but averts his gaze. He can see his mother shaking her head.

"You have. Don't deny it."

He walks quickly to the table and pours himself a cup of tea while he speaks, busying himself so she won't notice his anxiousness. "Mama, you're imagining things. I don't lo-" When he finds he can't finish the statement, he changes his words, "That is, I don't want you to treat her harshly. She deserves some respect."

"I see."

"Mama-"

She continues without even acknowledging he's tried to stop her. "Though I suppose falling in love with your wife is rather convenient…"

Robert bristles, rather uneasy in the way she's speaking of Cora. After all, Cora is sweet and strong, and so very smart, she doesn't deserve to be spoken about in such a way. She deserves to be praised and…he…. He feels his movements still, his eyes fixed on some uncertain spot in front of him. His heart quickens in his chest and after an indiscernible amount of time he feels his mother's hand press his arm. He looks at it as she speaks.

"Have you told her?"

He shakes his head dumbly. His mother sighs. "If you want her to be happy, you'll tell her."

Robert opens his mouth to speak when both he and his mother turn at her entrance.

"Tell me what?"

He stares at her, a vision in blue, his beautiful wife, and feels his knees threatening to buckle. "It's nothing," he manages, and his mother sighs exasperatedly.