A/N: Sorry this fic took so long to continue - I've really struggled to write "fluffy" Cora/Robert! Anyway, I've added an (angsty) Chapter 2, revised this chapter and added a fluffy Chapter 9. Enjoy!
Robert stood on the banks of the lake, watching the winter sun reflecting off its surface. He had always come here as a boy when his mother had scolded him or his sister had got the better of him. He used to take a fishing rod then but nowadays he gave up any pretence of fishing and just came to admire the view. He looked round at the silhouettes of the bare trees and the scattered patches of snow. Spotting a solitary moorhen on the lake, he watched it advance across the icy waters.
He appreciated the stillness and calmness of the lake, especially today. It had been his idea to entrust the Christmas decorating to Cora, resulting in endless disagreements between his wife and mother, as well as the seemingly constant arrival of ornamental winter scenes, baubles, toys, candles...His interjections were invariably met with his mother's sharp wit and Cora's discreet roll of the eyes.
In many ways, he was lucky. Cora had settled into life at Downton remarkably well, quickly picking up all their little rules and customs. She made mistakes, yes, but she never made the same mistake twice. He had watched from afar her at dinner parties as she worked the room, drawing people into conversation and eliciting smiles and laughter. She makes the perfect hostess, he thought - he knew their guests now came to Downton for her company, certainly not for his mother's acerbic wit.
She didn't argue with him anymore and let him continue in much the same way as before they were married. He should be happy. Yet he knew he had lost her trust and affection. He wished he could go back to those early weeks and months when she had tried to get to know him and earn his love. He hadn't appreciated it then and had pushed her away. Now she didn't even try talking. His small attempts at kindness were met with a puzzled, even bemused frown.
He shivered and pulled his overcoat tighter. Finally relenting to the winter weather, he trudged slowly back to the house.
"Speak to Robert."
"Excuse me?" Cora hadn't been surprised when the Countess sought her out...again. She was used to the countless instructions and orders, but this one was new and unexpected.
"He's been withdrawn and unhappy lately." She stared meaningfully at Cora.
Cora sighed wearily. How did Lady Grantham (she had no intention of calling her Mama) manage to make everything sound like a personal failing? At least, thought Cora, she could not be blamed for the current situation. She had spent a lot of time trying to capture her husband's attention, until she finally realised that what he sought most was simply to be left alone. She didn't know what to think of him anymore but she was afraid of being rejected again. Cora replied with a calm civility which she didn't feel:
"I think you're crossing the line between public and private."
"I simply wish to see my son happy," Lady Grantham looked directly at Cora now. "I believe you do too?"
"Robert has exactly what he wanted," replied Cora bitterly. She didn't want to talk about her husband and her marriage, and certainly not with the person who had been responsible for most of their disagreements.
"Assuming, of course, that Robert knows what he wants."
"If that's really the case, then how can I-"
Lady Grantham dismissed the objection with a wave of her hand. "My dear, he's never been good with affairs of the heart. He's always floundered in situations where there's no clear etiquette." The next words were sincere and kind. "My objections to your marriage never had anything to do with you personally. He does need you, my dear."
When she left, Cora allowed herself to think about Robert and his mother's counsel. She shouldn't have been surprised Lady Grantham would instruct her on something so personal. What was unexpected was what she had actually said...never been good with affairs of the heart...floundered in situations where there's no clear etiquette. She thought of all the times he had been unsure or nervous around her, and all the times he had been astonishingly thoughtful and considerate.
She recalled a recent conversation, late at night in her room. The lovemaking was slow and gentle. Afterwards, he had had held her close, whispering into the dark:
"I want us to get on."
"Of course," she replied immediately.
"No...I mean more than just being civil."
She had hesitated. She couldn't bring herself to utter another empty platitude. She knew for every time he was like kind and romantic like this, there were also times when he was morose and bad-tempered and times when she just didn't trust him to do the right thing. Before she could formulate a reply, he had abruptly got up, grabbed his dressing gown and left.
The voices in the Hall brought her back to the present. She took a deep breath and went out to meet him.
He greeted her with a tight smile, which she quickly reciprocated.
"You look frozen." His cheeks were pink from the cold and his jacket was still damp from the snow and ice. She resisted the instinctive desire to warm him up with a hug.
"It's certainly bracing," he nodded, handing the valet his winter clothes.
"Where did you go?"
"Just a walk around the fishing lake." He was defensive, waiting for the inevitable question - why he would even contemplate going for a walk in this weather.
This was clearly not a good time. It was obvious she was keeping him from a hot bath and fresh clothes, and she hadn't even thought about what to say.
"I'm surprised the lake's not frozen over," she managed.
"Not quite." He tried to ignore the uncomfortable dampness soaking through his clothes. "We might get an ice rink in time for Christmas."
"The Lake in Central Park is partially drained each year. Apparently, it helps the remaining water to freeze."
He looked at her in wide-eyed horror. He was about to protest sharply when he noticed the raised eyebrows and playful smirk. He smiled ruefully and they both relaxed slightly.
"How are the Christmas decorations coming along?" When he had left this morning, Cora and his mother were in the middle of a disagreement about holly.
"That rather depends who you ask," she replied diplomatically.
He chuckled and looked round, noticing a new candle arch but thankfully no new plants. "Mama can't be allowed everything her own way. And I'm glad you've got rid of the holly. I'm fed up of cutting my fingers on the leaves."
She laughed and their eyes met. Maybe, thought Cora, his mother was right. He needs you. She took his cold hand and cradled it between her own to warm him up.
"Let's make this a memorable Christmas, darling."
Cora sat at the vanity table in her night clothes. She mulled over her idea, wondering whether to follow it through. If she thought about it too much, she would lose her nerve. She walked with purpose and determination to the interconnecting door between their rooms, knocking softly.
Robert looked up from his book. The knock on the door could only be Cora. Yet the last thing he expected to see was his wife stood in the doorway between their two rooms. She looked almost ethereal in a light, thin gown.
"I thought you might need warming up." She stood nervously in the doorway.
His surprise turned to astonishment as he tried to process the words. Had she said what he thought? Had she meant what he thought? He looked again. She hadn't moved. Was she waiting for his blessing - his permission - before coming further?
Cora saw his frown and felt the familiar pangs of rejection. Her good idea from only minutes before now seemed an awful misjudgement. She turned round, waiting until the door was fully closed before giving in to tears.
"No, wait!"
They had had far too many misunderstandings and false starts for him to let her go now. He rushed out of bed, flung the door open and snatched up her hand.
"I'm sorry."
Her eyes were wet with tears and he instantly felt remorse. He was sorry for far more than just tonight, for far more than he could possibly articulate. He rested her hand on his shoulder and pulled her slowly into his embrace.
"I'm sorry, my darling."
