AN: A review would be lovely, as always. I hope I'm not boring anyone because numbers have been dropping.
Cora put the discomfort she felt at Robert's quiet, closed in self on the day of her parent's departure behind her, desperate to enjoy the last day she was to spend with them before their return to America, sorting problems with Robert could wait until they were gone.
She wanders into the dining room, her parents are sat next to each other at one end of the table, her husband at the other, looking over his cup of tea at them as they laugh. She takes a second to admire the width of his shoulders and the wave of his hair before she puts her hand to his shoulders and leans down to kiss his cheek.
"Morning Robert." He jumps and she can't help but laugh, her parent's wide smiles turning in their direction.
"Morning Cora. I wasn't expecting you down yet, I thought you were tired." He seems to realise the words he's spoken and a blush warms his cheeks.
"Not tired enough to not wave off my parents."
"Of course, I'm sorry. Shall I get you breakfast?" He stands before she answers, kissing her soundly on the cheek as his hands push her hips towards the chair beside him. He piles a plate high for her before returning to his seat and pouring her tea.
"Robert, I can manage to make my own breakfast." Robert opens his mouth to reply when Martha's laughing voice breaks through their private moment.
"Don't waste the opportunity Cora. It won't be long before Robert won't bother with such basic touches."
"I hope to prove you wrong Mrs Levinson. I believe that it's important that I treat Cora how she deserves to be treated particularly when she's been a fine addition to my life. If making her breakfast allows her to relax I shall do it." Cora blushes at his sentiments, perhaps the Robert she'd seen on honeymoon was making a reappearance. Her father stands then, coming to pat her on the back as Robert touches her hand beneath the table.
"It seems Cora, my princess, your choice was a good one, whatever adventures may have gone on before the wedding." He raises his eyes to Robert's above her head and Cora turns sharply towards her father, sensing the grin she will find there before she sees it.
"Pa, I've told you, that was not Robert's fault." He kisses the top of her forehead as Robert neatly adverts his eyes from her father. Cora can tell he's still convinced that her Pa doesn't like him; that Cora made a mistake, but she knows that's not true, he wouldn't be grinning otherwise.
"No, well either way, I think I am almost convinced that Robert will make a good husband for you my princess." Cora chuckles only seizing to so when she sees Robert's downcast expression; her parents disappearing out the door behind her.
"What is it? Pa isn't upsetting you again is he?"
"What do you think!?" She jumps as his cutlery clatters to the table, standing over her, she sees the annoyance in his eyes and for the first time she's terrified. "Every time I see him he makes underhand remarks about me, and the way you and I were together before the wedding, and yet you tell me he likes me. This marriage is hard enough already, my parents forming an utter dislike and you merrily telling me you love me." Cora doesn't have a chance to reply as he turns from the room, his napkin slammed to the table. The water pricks at her eyes as it had done often since their return from honeymoon. He rarely talked to her now, and certainly not in his parents company, preferring their chatter to hers. He hadn't slept in her bed since their honeymoon, and only came to her once a week, at the most twice to perform their duty. On those nights their couplings were quick and unsettling for her, affording her none of the pleasures she'd felt the previous times. That wasn't to say Robert wasn't obliging to her wishes, always asking her consent but he didn't go beyond anymore and she was too frightened to ask. She swallows back the burning tears and stands from the table; it's her parents last day, she should spend the time with them and put Robert behind her.
His dressing room is cold and quiet, the early morning sun still rising against the hills. He knows it's too early for a drink, far too early but the liquid soothes his mind, not only with it's taste but the unerring swirl of it in the glass.
He'd shouted, why on earth had he shouted? At his wife. At Cora. He'd seen the tears threatening to fall down her rosy cheeks as he'd run from the room. Run away, again. And worse than all of that he'd laid blame at her door, he'd told her she was at fault for loving him, which was most definitely not the case. He throws himself onto the bed, his hands balling in fists and scrunching his pillow together, tossing it across the room where it hits the wall before falling dejectedly to the floor. He'd insulted her, insulted her family and shouted. He wasn't sure why, the uneasiness that Mr Levinson stirred inside of him was part of it, but he suspected a bigger part was the way he was trying to distance himself from Cora. He told himself it was so she could establish her own place at Downton but really he knew it was just to try and conform to what his parents wanted. It was of no joy to him to spend his nights in the cold dressing room, her warm inviting body next door.
He jumps from the bed with a new energy. Determined to find Cora to apologise, he should never have spoken to her like he did. He wanders along the gallery, hearing her laugh echoing from the bedroom her parents had occupied during their stay. He pauses in the open doorway losing himself in the melodic rhythm of her laugh, the way her neck curves as she tips it back, the chuckle becoming a giggle. She collapses backwards onto the bed, the source of her enjoyment clutched between her fingers: a photograph of her childhood perhaps. She recovers a minute late, reaching for her parents who sit either side of her, each laughing at her apparent fascination with the picture.
"You can keep it, show it to Robert. It will make him laugh."
"Yes Pa, I'm sure it will. Me as a little girl, naked and soaking wet, yet Ma still managed to get a tiara on my head." They laugh again and Robert steps into the room.
"I'm sure you looked very beautiful, even as a little girl." The three heads swivel in his direction but he only watches Cora whose eyes lose the joy that radiated in them a moment before. They drop from his and she stands from the bed, pushing the picture back to her father.
"What are you doing here?" Her tone is blunt, sharp and her face shows an expression of annoyance.
"Cora, I'm not sure-" Isidore stands from the bed, reaching for her hand.
"Mr Levinson, I'm afraid to say Cora has every reason to be angry. Which is why I'm here." He turns his gaze back to Cora, his eyes quickly flicking over her delicate face, he takes a tentative step towards her, reaching for her slender fingers that dangle by her sides. "I wanted to apologise for this morning, I shouldn't have said what I said, and I definitely should not have shouted. I certainly shouldn't have been rude about how you felt for me. You will forgive me?" Her pale eyes turn to him, her chin lifting towards him. She pushs their clasped hands to his chest, pressing her knuckles to his shirt. She merely nods her head, a little tear accumulating at one corner of her eye. He kisses her knuckles then, reluctant to reach for her lips before her parents. She seems to have other ideas though, and weaves the hand he's kissed into his hair, tilting her lips to his. It's only quick, her lips merely gracing his but he feels his body react, a desperate need to lift her into his arms a hard one to push away.
"You shouldn't forgive him so easily Cora dear. There will come a day when to hold a grudge will result in the best possible making up activity!" Robert turns blushing towards his parents-in-law, their hands clasped together at Martha's side. Cora's own giggle comes from beside him.
"Robert, actually while you're here, Cora tells me that you are finding it a little difficult to know where you stand with me. I'll have you know, I trust you totally with my daughter, I only hope she doesn't make life too unbearable for you." The gentleman winks at him before reaching for his hand, then kissing his daughter on the cheek, slipping the picture they'd been laughing at before he'd interrupted into her hand.
"Write to your mother and I princess, and at some point you're both very welcome in America. And remind Robert on a regular basis that I will send my dogs after him if he misbehaves." Robert laughs with his wife this time but he can't help but think his father-in-law is hiding the grief of leaving his daughter behind the careful facade of his humour.
She turns the picture between her fingers. Tracing her fingers over the image of her father and her in the front room of their Newport home. They had been for an early morning swim, and then on returning to the house had found a photographer waiting to take pictures. The gentleman had been quite crazy, having a funny turn at the thought of picturing the pair of them with just their soaking wet clothes on. Cora, had ended up naked, only ever having swum in a shirt of her father's and her panties. When her father had produced the picture from his pocket an hour ago she'd laughed, now she wanted to cry.
It would be months before she would see him again, if she ever did, after all there was no guarantee that Robert would take her on a return trip. The thoughts made her head ache, it had only hit home the loss her parents return would bring to her, up to this point she had been able to consult her Ma and Pa on matters of marriage, now they were a whole ocean away, their invaluable assistance a whole letter away, rather than a room or two away. Her dearest Pa's laugh and his humour, the affectionate murmurs about her being his princess all gone to merely be replaced by a draughty house, difficult parents-in-law and a husband that she no longer knew how to please. The tears spill onto the pillow, her father's last hurried words he'd whispered in her ear churning in her brain, the firm pressure of Robert's hand on her back at the same moment, a pointless support when her heart was beating in unrepeatable cycles as reality caught up with her. She wasn't sure her father's words had helped, they'd planted an annoying last memory of him.
He will love you.
It churned like a mantra in her mind. She'd just managed to bury the hope that had burned within her on honeymoon, the treacherous thoughts that had threatened her heart, and now her father had caused them to resurface. He will love you. He could only have meant Robert and the tears fall relentlessly onto the pillow as she realises how upset she will be if her father's words are not true. He'd always told her he was a good judge of character, and indeed he was, but she couldn't help thinking he had Robert all wrong, he was never going to fall for an American, it wasn't his way. Her tears slow, the realisation that perhaps it was her Pa's words that had haunted her rather than his departure. She could write and she knew he would always write back, and Robert was a generous man, he would take her back to America, surely? But it was those words: he will love you that really disturbed her, her father had never got a man wrong and yet she couldn't let herself hope that this one would come true, it would only serve to break her heart, not as her mother had told her, one could actually break one's heart.
"Might I come in?" She hadn't even heard the knock at the door, her head buried too deep in her pillow. She shakes her head from side to side hoping her reaction will send him away. But she feels the mattress dip and his breath upon her neck making her shiver in a way, she hadn't shivered since their honeymoon. His hand runs gently down her back, as he drops a kiss to her neck. "I just wanted to check you were alright. Would you like me to send for some food, or a drink?" She shakes her head against the pillow again.
"Just leave me alone." The words are mumbled into the pillow, but it appears he hears her as the comforting hand stills on her back, the mattress levels again and the soft click of the door sounds a moment later.
Fresh tears fall into the pillow as she realises how rude she was, he was only helping, trying to understand and she had pushed him away. The room feels strangely empty without his presence, he'd had an effect on her even in those few seconds and she moans against the fabric. It seemed her heart was not going to be easily released nor easily captured by her stoic husband.