Chapter 7
Barely one week after his wedding day, Robert Crawley found himself in another church – this time to attend a funeral.
Lord Geoffrey Fitzsimmons was laid to rest in the parish plot that housed the graves of generations of his family on a cloudy and cool summer morning. His casket was lowered into the ground under the watchful eyes of his young widow, his sons, Henry and George, and an assembly of friends and neighbors, all of whom gathered at the Fitzsimmons' estate after to mourn and to mingle.
Standing in the receiving line awaiting the opportunity to express his condolences to the Fitzsimmons family, Robert felt ready to jump out of his own skin. His eyes locked on the figures of his parents and sister who proceeded him, he fought a battle to remain composed and before he was fully prepared, he found himself standing before Kate. His gaze roved over her familiar features and in her eyes he saw his own feelings of sorrow, guilt and heartache reflected back at him.
Swallowing hard, he took her hand into his own, squeezing it tightly once as he tried to convey to her all that was in his heart. Drawing in a deep breath, he freed his hand from hers and laid it on Cora's back, urging her forward.
"Please allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Cora Crawley. Cora, please meet Lady Katherine Fitzsimmons."
Cora impulsively reached out and caught Kate's hands in her own.
"Lady Fitzsimmons, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, though I am sorry that it had to be on such an unhappy occasion. I did not have the pleasure of meeting your husband, of course, but I've heard so much from Robert's family of what a gracious and wonderful friend and neighbor he was.
"Thank you." Kate freed her hands, ostensibly to dab a handkerchief under her eyes. "My husband was a very kind man and shall be missed by many," she said truthfully.
Wanting nothing so much as to end the torture of standing between the two women, Robert cast his gaze toward the carpet and offered a silent prayer that the awkward moment would come to an end. He dragged his gaze back up when he felt his wife lay a hand on his arm.
"Please do let us know if there is anything we can do for you, my lady." He heard Cora, innocently unaware of the undercurrents between the three of them, offer her friendship and assistance. "I know I can speak for both of us when I say that Robert and I would be glad to help you in any manner."
Kate smiled weakly and thanked her before turning her attention to the next person waiting to offer their condolences and Robert let out a long, shuddering breath as he ushered his wife away.
0o0o0o0
After more than an hour of making small talk with the other mourners, Robert separated himself and wandered to the other side of the room, stopping to study a portrait hanging on the wall between two large windows.
"Lord William Fitzsimmons."
He startled at the sound of Kate's voice as she came to stand near his elbow. "Geoffrey's great-grandfather."
"I can see the resemblance."
"Yes. The Fitzsimmons men all bear a startling likeness to one another," she replied.
Unable to sustain the farce of the conversation, Robert turned from the painting to face her.
"I'm told you never left his side."
"He was my husband," she said with a matter-of-fact shrug. "At first we thought it just a very bad cold and, I admit, I was glad of the excuse not to attend your wedding." She gazed directly into his eyes. "I could not have borne watching your pledge yourself to another woman," she admitted in an aching whisper.
"Kate..."
She shook her head and pressed the tips of her fingers against her mouth as she sought control of her emotions.
"I did love him." She looked up, an earnest expression on her face. "Not as a wife should love a husband for he was old enough to be my father." She nervously played with the slim gold band encircling her finger. "But he was always very kind and generous to me and I repaid his kindness with infidelity."
He flinched at the undercurrent of self-loathing that coated her straightforward declaration.
"But do you want to know what the worst thing is, Robert?" She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a damp handkerchief. "The worst thing is that even now – after everything – I cannot fully regret my behavior. I cannot regret us. I cannot regret the love I have for you," she murmured helplessly.
He folded his hands behind his back to prevent himself from reaching for her as tears welled over her lashes.
"Kate," he whispered. "What can I do?"
"I suppose it is my punishment that now that I find myself free, as we had always hoped – you are not."
Robert opened his mouth as if to say something but the words would not come.
She glanced over her shoulder toward the other guests and saw Cora chatting quietly with Rosamund. "Your wife is very lovely," she said, studying the other woman. "I want to wish you happy, Robert. I truly do." Looking back at him, her lips curved into a wobbling parody of a smile. "But at this moment, I cannot. I hope that someday I can actually say the words and mean them."
"Oh, Kate." Again, he took a step toward her, his arms aching to hold her.
"I suppose our love was always doomed." She raised tear-drenched eyes to him and he nodded in silent agreement. Sadness etched across his features, he flinched when he heard someone call her name from across the room.
"I see that Lord and Lady Smythe are preparing to leave," she murmured. "I must go and attend them." She took two steps away and then turned back.
"Goodbye, Robert."
0o0o0
Cora's first dinner at Downton as an official member of the Crawley family began as a somewhat subdued affair. She smiled shyly at each new member of her family when her father-in-law raised his glass and offered a toast in her honor. Her gaze came to rest upon her husband, seated at her side, and though he too smiled, she thought his expression rather melancholy. Of all the Crawleys, he seemed the most affected by the passing of their neighbor and she laid a comforting hand briefly on his before turning her attention to her new in-laws.
"Do you think that Lady Katherine will have to move immediately to the dower house?" Rosamund wondered as she sampled the salmon on her plate.
"I spoke with her aunt – her mother's sister, if memory serves," Violet said, setting down her wine glass. "She has made arrangements for Lady Katherine to come and stay with her in London for several months."
"Oh." Cora glanced at the other two women. "I am sure that is for the best, but I confess that I am a little disappointed."
"Indeed? And why should that be when you've only just met the woman today?" Violet asked.
"Only that Rosamund has explained that there are no other married women my age in the area. I know that she is in mourning, but I had hoped that I could call upon her in a few weeks' time to pay my respects and perhaps to offer my friendship."
Robert began to cough violently and she turned in her seat to find him red-faced and sputtering.
"Are you alright, my darling?" Thinking he was choking, she patted her hand against his back until he waved her off and took a hasty sip of wine to clear his throat.
"I am quite fine, my dear," he wheezed. "I merely swallowed something wrong." He coughed again and took another sip of wine.
She glanced at her father-in-law and wondered briefly at the odd looks exchanged between him and her husband before shrugging and returning her attention to the women at the table.
"Well, I think it a good thing that she go to London with her aunt," Rosamund decreed, picking up on the conversation.
"And why is that, my dear?" Patrick raised his eyes from his plate to cast a fond look at his daughter.
"Only that she is too young to be locked away in some drafty old dower house for the rest of her life."
"She will be in mourning," Violet said with a pointed look at her daughter. "And the dower house on the Fitzsimmons property is quite lovely. The Lady Katherine will be far from a damsel locked up in some fairytale tower. I am sure she will find herself situated there most comfortably."
"Yes, but she will not be in mourning forever," Rosamund said with a blithe shrug of her shoulders. "No doubt she will want to marry again and, well, let's be honest. As a widowed woman with property of her own, she will be able to choose her own husband next time, and London will afford her any number of men to choose from. Perhaps next time she marries it will be for love and not for necessity."
Cora jumped in her seat when Robert's fist came crashing down onto the table, rattling the dinnerware. Until that moment, he had been quiet and withdrawn, using fork and knife to mechanically move the food from plate to mouth and offering nothing to the conversation.
"Am I the only one who finds this topic to be crass and inappropriate today of all days?" he gritted between clenched teeth.
Again, Cora saw her father-in-law direct an indecipherable look toward his son causing the younger man to settle back into his chair though every muscle in his body seemed taut with some tension that she did not understand.
"Quite right," Patrick Crawley said. "Perhaps we should change the subject."
Rosamund wrinkled her nose at her brother's odd behavior but hearing the quiet warning in her father's voice, she acquiesced.
"Your wedding trip was interrupted, but you still have the better part of the week left," she observed. "Will you return to the lodge tomorrow?"
Cora twisted in her seat to look hopefully toward her husband.
"Robert?"
She felt her heart sink when he refused to meet her eyes.
"I am sorry, my dear," he said, carefully folding his napkin and setting it on the table. "I think it would be inappropriate given the circumstances."
She stared up at him when he pushed to his feet, studying his face and trying to decipher the changing expressions on his face.
"Forgive me," he whispered, stroking his knuckles over her cheek. "I am poor company this evening," he declared as he stepped away from the table. "Please excuse me."
The clicking of the door as it closed behind him was overly loud in the quiet hush that had fallen over the room.
"I did not realize that Robert was so close to Lord Fitzsimmons..." Cora looked helplessly at her in-laws.
"They were never close." Rosamund glanced toward the door before meeting her sister-in-law's eyes. "Robert's behavior is very odd." She looked toward her mother who appeared as confused by her son's behavior as the rest of the family.
"I should go after him." Cora began to rise from the table.
"No." Patrick stood and waved his new daughter back into her seat. "I shall see to him, my dear."
Reluctant to cause a scene, Cora complied. The other two women picked up the conversation, sharing bits of light-hearted gossip they had heard earlier that day in an attempt to lighten the mood. Cora smiled and nodded in all the right places, but her heart and her mind were with her husband – wherever he might be.
0o0o0
Later that evening, Robert stood in the hallway outside his wife's bedroom. Scraping one hand over his face, he drew in a bracing breath before rapping the knuckles of his other hand against the door. Upon hearing his wife's voice softly calling out in response, he pushed the door open.
Seated cross-legged in the center of the bed, she was dressed in a white cotton sleeveless gown and was running a brush through the thick mane of her hair.
"Are you alright?" she asked with a soft smile.
"Please allow me to apologize." He closed the door and leaned back against it. "My behavior earlier this evening was unacceptable."
"There is no need to apologize, Robert," she reassured him sympathetically. "It is obvious to me that you are grieving."
He felt his face flush hot with shame. Her innocent offer of absolution served only to increase his sense of remorse for it was not grief which tormented him, but guilt. Leaning weakly against the door, he watched in silence as she pulled her hair over one shoulder and began taming the unruly mass into a thick braid. The strap of her nightgown slipped off her shoulder as she worked and he could just make out the fading remains of the bruise his lips had worked into her skin. Could it have been just a few days ago that he had marked her as his, he wondered.
Confused, torn by his warring feelings for Cora and Kate, he rubbed a fretful hand over his forehead where a headache brewed.
"Come to bed."
He shook his head.
"I would be poor company," he told her. "I think it best that I sleep in my own room tonight." He gestured toward the door which connected her room to his but made no move toward leaving.
"Come to bed, Robert." Drawing her knees to her chest, she propped her chin upon them and patted one hand on the rumpled sheets at her side.
"I... I should..."
"You look so tired, my love." Cora slid between the sheets. "You need not stay all night," she said soothingly. "But come, at least rest your eyes and lie with me until I am sleeping."
Helpless against the pleading look on her face, he crossed the room. Stopping next to the bed, he trimmed the wick of the lamp until only the softest glow illuminated the room. Shrugging out of his dinner coat, he stripped off the already loosened tie from around his neck. Toeing off his shoes, he stretched out otherwise fully dressed atop the bed and stared toward the ceiling.
"Do you have a headache?"
"Why do you ask?" He rolled his cheek against the silk pillowcase to find her curled up on her side, studying his face.
"You have a crease right here." She traced a vertical path down his forehead toward his nose. "And..." Stretching toward him, she pressed her lips to the place where a muscle was ticking furiously beneath the skin covering his jaw.
Shifting closer, she drew him into her arms until his head came to rest against her breasts.
"It's going to be alright," she whispered softly, winnowing her fingers through his hair. "Everything will be well," she promised.
He did not deserve her, he thought as he listened to her quietly hum a gentle tune in her throaty voice. For here, in her arms was a peace he had not earned. His last thought, as he slipped toward sleep, was that perhaps it would be best for all concerned that Kate remove herself to London – though it broke his heart to think it.
