31 October 1921
When Cora wakened the next morning, the first thing she felt… was nauseated. A great wave of it washed over her, and she scrambled to extricate herself from Robert's embrace, nearly falling over the side of the bed as she climbed over him in her haste to get to the washroom in the quickest way possible. Woken and utterly confused by this, Robert tried to grab her as she fled from the bed, but she had already hit the floor and was running.
"Cora?" he called out.
She hadn't had time to even close the door behind her, so he heard her being sick. He rushed over to the washroom. Cora sat on the floor looking miserable and pale. Robert picked up a water glass, filled it, and handed it to her along with a hand towel. Giving him a grateful glance, she rinsed her mouth out, wiped her face, and then drank a tiny bit of water, testing to see if it would stay settled. When it did, she drank a little more, her stomach still troubled.
While she did this, Robert found her dressing gown and brought it into the washroom, picking up his own and draping both over his arm on his way there. He extended a hand to his wife, and she allowed him to help her stand, then put her dressing gown on her. He kissed her forehead, perceiving that it was slightly cold and clammy.
"Are you alright, darling?" he asked, slipping into his own dressing gown.
Cora nodded and drank the rest of the water. Taking the glass from her, Robert slid an arm around her waist and guided her back into the bedroom, sitting her on a chair and kneeling in front of her, taking her hands.
"Sweetheart, are you sure you're alright?"
She nodded once more, remarking, "Probably something I ate last night didn't sit well."
Robert looked at her in confusion, as they had eaten precisely the same things the night before, and he felt perfectly well. He let this pass, though, pressing her hands and asking her a few more questions instead. "Do you feel ill otherwise? A chill or a headache? Perhaps you should lie down, Cora—"
"No, please, I'm really fine, Robert." She gave him a small smile. "I am quite hungry though."
"You still want to eat?" He gaped at her. "Are you certain?" Seeing her nod yet again, he said, "Well, perhaps something light. Toast—"
Cora interrupted him a second time. "I want eggs."
"Eggs?"
"Yes, please. And coffee."
Robert couldn't deny that she already appeared and sounded better. "Well then, darling, let me order them for you." Kissing her forehead again, he stood up and walked into the sitting room to call down for breakfast.
Cora leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes and clutching her stomach. Despite what she'd told her husband, Cora wondered whether she might actually be sick, whether she might have picked up some sort of Italian virus. No, that's ridiculous, she thought. It probably was something I ate…. Or perhaps part of menopause, like I thought the other morning….
Meanwhile, Robert replaced the telephone receiver and remained sitting on the settee, ruminating. They had eaten the same dinner last night. She didn't seem sick otherwise. Yet she'd been ill first thing after waking up, and she was still hungry, wanting something specific. He furrowed his brow. It could just be a fluke… but it could also be another piece in the puzzle. Sighing deeply, he put his head in his hands. He didn't want to think this way, but his mind kept landing there. Cora, however, didn't seem to be thinking that way at all. Every time he'd dropped a hint, her expression had been either blank or perplexed. Stop it, he told himself. You have to stop thinking this way. Getting your hopes up when they'll most likely be dashed…. Your wife is in her fifties, she has only been ill once that you know of, and then there are all the pieces that don't fit. There are probably several explanations for what's happening…. At this point, he nearly gasped in fear. What if something is wrong? What if she's sick and doesn't know it…? It was another possibility that he did not want to contemplate. Robert made a sweeping motion with his hand, as if trying to shunt all these thoughts from his mind. There was no way to know anything for sure unless he took her to a doctor, and she wasn't going to consent to that until they got home. But, by God, when they got there, that's exactly what they were going to do, so he – they – could know once and for all.
Having decided this and feeling somewhat easier because of it, Robert stood and went into the bedroom. "Cora, I think you should get back into bed for a while. They'll bring breakfast on a tray, and I'll sit there with you too."
Still feeling somewhat shaky, Cora acquiesced and let him help her to the bed and get settled there. By this time the knock came at the door, and Robert went to get the breakfast and tip the waiter, then brought in the tray and set it up before her. He climbed up on the bed next to her, where he marveled at her immediate dive for the scrambled eggs. Taking a piece of toast and a few pieces of bacon, he watched her continue to eat. Robert had to be quick about grabbing some more of the breakfast for himself before she devoured it all.
"Well, I suppose you're feeling better then, Cora?" She nodded as she drank her coffee, but he went on. "Be that as it may, I think we should stay here today."
Nearly dropping her cup, Cora turned to him, disappointed. "But it's our last day in Venice, Robert! We're not going to stay the entire day in the hotel, are we?" She pointed out the window. "And look how beautiful the weather is!"
"Sweetheart, I'm concerned that you might be unwell. I don't want to make it worse by traipsing around the city."
"No! No, I'm fine, I promise!" She appeared near tears. "Don't keep us cooped up on our last day! If I am ill again, we'll come back and I'll get right in bed, but truly, I'm well enough, Robert."
Robert put his arm around her shoulders and pushed her hair back from her face. "Alright, Cora. I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd get so upset. We'll go out. But I'm going to hold you to what you just said – you get ill, we're coming right back. Yes?"
She looked at him, saying "Yes," before leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. "It's a deal." She finished her coffee. "Now can we get dressed and go? I want to see if we can find Sybbie something special in the shops."
Kissing her lightly on the lips, he smiled at her. "Of course, darling. But we won't spend all day shopping, will we?" He got up and walked toward the washroom.
"No, Robert." She rolled her eyes. "We won't spend all day shopping."
They didn't spend the whole day shopping at least. Most of the morning they wandered into and out of shops, finally finding a few little things for Sybbie and a handsome new dressing gown for Robert in a deep shade of wine. The rest of the day they rambled around the main part of the city, exploring nooks they'd previously neglected. In late afternoon they arrived back at the hotel, and this time Cora found herself too tired to even protest when Robert suggested she have a rest.
After Robert had seen Cora tucked up into bed with a kiss, he closed the bedroom door behind him and poured himself a Scotch. He put his coat back on and took the glass out onto their balcony, leaving one of the doors ajar in case she called for him. Sitting on one of the wrought iron chairs, he took a drink and stared out over the city. It had been a perfect day for them to amble through the streets, not too cold and with a cloudless sky.
In fact, they'd had such a lovely time that Robert had almost been able to forget Cora being ill that morning. Almost. He'd kept a close watch for signs of sickness, but had seen nothing, save her exhaustion upon their return. She'd eaten luncheon with hearty appetite, laughed and chatted and teased with him, and her face had a healthy rosy glow while they walked from place to place.
Now Robert leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, his head bent, gazing at the amber liquid in the glass he held in both hands, as if it could give him the answers he sought. He couldn't deny it; no matter how well the day had gone, he was still wondering – and worried.
He had another sip of Scotch and stared into the glass again, wishing he had a cigar. He hadn't brought any with him on the trip, not anticipating spending much time in male company – or by himself. And he hadn't missed them until now, as smoking aided in his cogitation, and at the moment he really wanted to think. Well, I'll just have to do without, won't I?
Sighing deeply, Robert contemplated the option of simply telling Cora what he was thinking. Perhaps she could offer up more pieces of the puzzle. But it was possible that he would cause her unnecessary worry, and he didn't want to do that. He wanted her to have a wonderful last few days of their trip, especially now that they planned to spend a day in Paris. No, his decision from this morning still held. He would observe her and do his best to wait until they were back home before saying anything to her. And try not to pin hopes on something that was most likely impossible….
Robert worked on putting all these thoughts away, as far to the back of his mind as he could manage, while the sun set and darkness fell. Finishing his drink, Robert stood up and went back into the sitting room. Looking around, his eyes landed on the broken chair. He chuckled, remembering that night, the look on Cora's face when the chair had tilted crazily, their laughter, and how they'd merely moved to the settee and continued.
Perhaps worrying too much was simply borrowing trouble. They still had a few more days of their holiday, and Robert resolved to make sure his wife had terrific fun.
Glancing at the clock, Robert realized he'd been sitting outside for nearly two hours, and that if they wanted to make the reservation he'd made – this time in a restaurant recommended by Sig. Conti, the hotel manager – he would have to wake Cora up so they could get ready. He slipped into the bedroom and turned on a lamp, sitting beside his wife on the bed. He put a hand on her hip and leaned forward to kiss her forehead, her cheekbones, her chin, then her lips. He could feel her smile as she awakened to his kiss.
Sitting back up, Robert smiled down at her. "Did you sleep well, my angel?" He brushed a few stray curls back from her face.
"I did, darling. I had the most marvelous dream, too." Cora sat up, grinning at him.
"You did? What did you dream about?" He slid his hand up to her waist and pulled her a bit closer to him.
"You. I dreamed of you as a little boy." She touched his face, still smiling.
Robert turned his head slightly to kiss the palm of her hand. "What was I doing?"
"Nothing in particular. Just little boy things. I think carrying around a stuffed pony, playing with a toy train, learning to fly kite with your father." She cocked her head. "I don't remember your father looking quite so much like you, but he did in my dream." Cora ran her thumb lightly along his bottom lip. "He was very handsome, and you, my dear, were adorable."
Catching her hand in his, he pressed another kiss to its palm, then clutched it to his chest. "Yes, well, if Papa looked like me in your dream, I'm sure he was handsome." He winked at her. "I'm glad it was a good dream. I think you may have been due for one." He squeezed her hand. "Now, my darling girl, you and I need to get ready for dinner. We have reservations." Robert kissed her hand one last time before standing up and going to his wardrobe to pull out dinner attire.
Cora followed suit, pulling out a dress she knew was one of his favorites and getting ready as quickly as she could.
As he tied his tie, Robert remarked, "I'm getting quite good at this, my dear."
"Well, darling, as they say, practice makes perfect." She adjusted her headpiece in the mirror and then stood, looking him over and chuckling. "If we ever lose Downton, you could always become a valet."
Robert gave her a hard stare. "You know I don't find that amusing, Cora. You may be able to poke fun at our near miss, but I cannot." He fumbled with his cufflinks, slightly put out at her flippant attitude about something that still chafed him.
"Oh, Robert, I apologize. I forgot myself for a moment." She crossed the room and stilled his hand. "Let me do that. I fear you'll tear your shirt the way you're fussing with it."
Looking down at her while she worked with the studs and links, his expression softened. "It's alright, Cora. I realize you were trying to be facetious, not blasé, about that, er, incident."
She kept her eyes on her task. "Good." She lifted her eyes when both cufflinks were securely in place.
"Thank you, darling." He kissed her briefly before she went back to pull on her gloves.
Shrugging into his dinner jacket, he checked his pocket watch again. "Are you nearly ready, Cora? We should leave soon."
"Yes, I just need to put on my coat."
They both put on coats, Robert his hat and gloves, and they left the hotel room for the restaurant. Cora clung to his arm, the night air chilly. Fortunately it was but a short walk before they were in the warmth of the restaurant and being shown their table – in a private dining room.
"Robert! No wonder you were so intent on our keeping our reservation! How lovely! Unless—"
He sat down after handing their coats to the host and looked at her. "Unless what?"
She chuckled. "Unless you're trying to hide what an appetite you wife seems to have lately from the other diners."
Taking her hand, he grinned. "Don't be ridiculous, Cora. I'm not sure anything can top the night you took chicken off my plate." He laughed.
"Except maybe the time you almost accidentally clocked a waiter because you were in the middle of a temper tantrum." Her tone was still teasing, her eyes bright with mirth.
"Not one of my finest moments, I'll admit," he said, with a wry smile, picking up his menu. Robert didn't want the conversation to turn sour, so he changed the subject. "What would you like tonight, my dear? I believe I will have the fish."
Cora picked up her menu as well and perused the list of entrees. "I think some ravioli. And chicken parmesan."
Robert looked up from his menu to blink at her. "Both?"
She drew her eyebrows together. "Oh, you think I shouldn't?" She closed her menu and took a sip of water. "The ravioli then."
"Cora, if you're hungry, then by all means, order whatever you like." He hadn't meant to upset her.
Continuing to frown, she waved her hand. "No, I probably don't need all of that. It's fine."
Robert put his menu down and reached across the table to put his hand over hers. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn't have said anything. Please order exactly what you like."
She looked at him and smiled a little. "But I won't be able to fit into my dresses if I keep eating like this." There was a bit of humor in her voice, and she wasn't about to disclose to him that she was already having trouble fitting comfortably into some of them. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
Squeezing her hand, he merely smiled and said, "Then we will buy you more. Besides," he grinned wider, "if you can't fit into your dresses, you can't wear them." He winked at her.
"Incorrigible," she muttered, laughing and shaking her head, having some of the wine the waiter just poured while Robert gave their order: fish and ravioli and chicken parmesan.
"We can share it," he said, winking again and picking up his wine glass.
Cora gave him a saucy look, as if to say "not if I eat it all first," but she didn't say it aloud, simply had another sip of wine and grinned at him, knowing he was only teasing.
The two conversed together, discussing the last leg of their trip and plans for their day in Paris until the meal arrived.
"Doesn't this look good, Cora?" Robert picked up his knife and fork, then realized his wife hadn't responded. He looked up and saw that she was too busy eating ravioli already to pay attention to him. Chuckling and shaking his head, he began eating his own meal.
After Cora seemed to have gotten past the point of ravenous hunger and was slowing down a bit, Robert engaged her in conversation again, clearing his throat slightly. "How are you feeling, Cora?" He said this as nonchalantly as he could and took another bite of fish.
Glancing up at him, she smiled. "I'm feeling vastly contented, darling. This is marvelous. Do you want part of this chicken? I can put it on your plate." She grinned at her own joke.
Robert felt slightly more at ease at her joviality and chuckled. "No, my dear. You have it. I'm quite satisfied with the fish."
When she'd finished every bite of both dishes, she looked at him and grinned.
"Dessert?" he queried.
Cora's smile became wider. "Yes, please." She picked up the dessert menu and glanced at it quickly, settling on the first thing she saw with the word "chocolate" in it.
When the waiter approached them again, Robert ordered her dessert and a Scotch. "And coffee, please," Cora added. She had begun to grow tired, and the wine wasn't helping. She hoped the coffee would help, because she didn't want to tell her husband this. She'd observed over the past few days the lines of concern that appeared upon his face any time she mentioned that she was fatigued, and she didn't like to worry him.
They fell quiet for a time while Robert drank some of the Scotch the waiter had set in front of him and Cora sipped coffee gratefully, sampling the dessert.
"Would you like some, Robert?" she asked, proffering the spoon with some of the dessert upon it.
"Just a taste, I think," he agreed, opening his mouth to accept the bite. "Mmm… that's quite good, Cora."
"Would you like another bite?" She had another spoonful herself.
Robert wiped his mouth with his serviette. "No, darling – you have it." He took a sip of Scotch.
Surreptitiously watching his wife, Robert found himself grinning. He was sure she didn't realize that with each bite she took she would close her eyes and, with a rapturous look upon her face, nearly purr with delight. By the time she reached the end of the dessert, Robert was openly gazing at her, his lips twitching.
Opening her eyes after this last luscious mouthful, her glance fell upon her husband, who was regarding her intently and unabashedly. "Why are you staring at me?" She felt a blush creep up her neck.
He continued to look at her the same way. "Because I want to, because you're beautiful."
At this Cora's blush spread into the roots of her hair and to the tips of her ears, and she lowered her lashes, smiling.
Robert reached across the table and took her hand in his again. "And you're even more beautiful when you do that," he whispered. "How would you like to go dancing in our room one more time? We still have the gramophone there."
She lifted her eyes to his and nodded. "Yes. I'd like that very much."
Standing, he kissed the back of her hand and pulled her up to stand in front of him. "It sounds like the perfect end to our holiday."
They got their coats, and Robert took care of the bill and tip, and they walked back to the hotel, Robert's arm around Cora's shoulders to ward off the chill of the evening.
"Robert? It's not the end of our holiday yet, though," she pointed out. "We still have the lovely Orient Express and a day and night in Paris awaiting us."
"We certainly do, sweetheart. So, simply the perfect end to the Venice part of our trip." He dropped at kiss on her hair as they strolled along. "And I'm happy that we'll be visiting Paris. We can say we spent at least one night in 'The City of Love,' as they call it," he said, chuckling a bit.
"I know this will sound hopelessly sappy, Robert, but it's true to me: any city I'm in with you is a city of love." She giggled.
Robert stopped walking and pulled her around to face him, putting his other arm around her as well, looking at her adoringly. "No, my darling. It doesn't sound sappy at all. It's music to my ears." He leaned down and placed his lips upon hers in a soft kiss, pulling her close to him.
Cora rested her hands on his chest, feeling an incredible thrill at his pausing to give her a kiss – one that was growing in intensity – in so public a place. After a few moments, both appeared oblivious to everything else around them, their hands beginning to roam over one another's backs and arms. Another several moments later, Robert remembered where they were again, and ended the kiss, but only pulled back slightly to look at her with a smile on his face.
"Cora Crawley, you do make me forget myself sometimes."
Still a little breathless from the kiss, she beamed at him. "It's nice to know I can still do that."
"Oh, you most certainly can." Robert grasped her hand and led her back to the hotel, his pace somewhat quicker now, making her laugh.
As they wound their way through the lobby and up the stairs, Robert never took his eyes off her face. Cora wondered how they didn't actually bump into anything, since she wasn't looking where they were going either. But they made it upstairs and into the room unscathed, where Robert shut and locked the door behind them.
"Now, where were we?" he asked, throwing his coat, then hers, on the settee, and then slowly drawing off her gloves, still barely taking his eyes off her.
"Robert," she said softly, with a little chuckle. "What about dancing?"
He grinned and chuckled as well. "Cora, give a man a chance…." Kissing her cheek, he walked over and poured them each a drink, handing her one as she took her shoes off.
Robert drank his own drink as he looked through the records. Cora came up beside him, stroking his arm lightly with her free hand and peering around him at the titles.
He pointed at one with his glass. "What about that one?"
"Yes, I like that one. It's one of Mother's favorites. And it's a good song for us too."
Putting his glass down, Robert took the record from its sleeve and placed it on the gramophone, starting it and taking off his dinner jacket, tossing that onto the pile of coats on the settee. Taking her drink from her hand and setting that aside, he slid one arm around her waist and took her hand in his, starting to dance with her.
"I know you're always saying that you're a bad dancer, Robert, but I think you're much better than you think you are."
"Well, I will admit that I am better at it when it's just you and me," he replied, looking at her affectionately.
Cora's lips curved upward in a smile. "I wonder why that is."
Robert said nothing, simply tightened his hold on her and rested his cheek against her temple, murmuring along to the music, "Longing for you all the while, more and more; longing for the sunny smile I adore; birds are singing far and near, roses blooming ev'rywhere. You, alone, my heart can cheer; you, just you."
Sliding her hand around from his shoulder to stroke the soft hair at the nape of his neck, she felt close to tears. Unable to find her voice, Cora closed her eyes and mouthed the words along with him as he continued to sing softly with the record and lead her through the dance, "Let me call you 'Sweetheart,' I'm in love with you. Let me hear you whisper that you love me too. Keep the love-light glowing in your eyes so true. Let me call you 'Sweetheart,' I'm in love with you."
Just before the last line of the last verse, Robert drew his head back, raising his voice loud and clear to sing the words as he looked into her eyes. Then he let go of her hand to cup her cheek, smiling and whispering, "How's that for sappy?" He'd stopped dancing, and as the last strains of the song played, he gave her a tender kiss. Then he said to her, "But every word the truth."
Cora gazed up at him lovingly, words stuck in her throat, blinking back tears. She was still playing with the hair at nape of his neck, and she never wanted the moment to end.
Robert ran his thumb gently across her cheek. He could tell she was tired. "Cora," he said, his voice low, "perhaps we should go to sleep. We have an early start tomorrow."
The hand that stroked his hair went still, and her eyes grew sad. "No," she whispered. "Please, not yet." Gently, she pulled his head down, pressing her lips to his, her other hand grazing over his chest through his shirt.
All other thoughts melting away at this, Robert deepened the kiss, his hand slipping from her face to her shoulder and then around to her back, his arms pulling her closer to him. Cora sighed as his mouth traveled from her lips to her ear, then down her throat. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back.
As Robert's lips and tongue trailed down from her throat to her collar bone, his hands followed suit, moving from back and waist, to bottom. He also started walking her backwards toward the settee, because he could already feel his body responding intensely to her intoxicating scent and her hands upon his chest.
Until she stopped. "Robert," she breathed.
"Umm hummm?" he wondered why she'd stopped walking but couldn't be bothered to look up, too intent upon kissing her.
"I can't move back any farther," she whispered, tugging gently on his shirtsleeve.
He finally lifted his head and saw that her calves were up against the low sitting room table. He looked at her and grinned. Cora knew that look. He was getting an idea, which almost always meant one of two things: brilliant results or disaster.
Releasing her, he swept everything off the table with one impressive motion of his hands. The he picked Cora up and lay her upon the table, settling her as comfortably as he could before sitting on the table himself and leaning down to kiss her mouth, his hands fondling her breasts through her dress. Finding this a bit awkward, Robert moved himself so he was also lying on the table on his side, helping her turn onto her side as well, so they were facing one another, their lower legs hanging off the end of the table.
Cora laughed. "Darling, wouldn't the bed be more comfortable?"
"Shhhhh…" he said, beginning to kiss her again and using one hand to pull her dress up.
Running a hand over his body, Cora found that he was already very aroused, and she simply rested her palm there, her fingers moving ever so slightly over him through his trousers. Robert moaned and worked his own hand beneath the waistband of her undergarments, stroking his fingers over her, lightly at first, and then, as she began to gasp, harder. Cora's motion against him stilled and she grasped his arm instead, her eyes closed tightly as his hand set up a steady, rapid rhythm. She began to writhe, and Robert put his arm under her head to protect it from striking the table while he worked with fingers and thumb.
Neither noticed that the table had begun to creak and tremble, as the creaks could not surpass her cries of pleasure and the trembles seemed part of her own shudderings and quiverings. All was soon still, save for the rushing of blood through them both and their heavy breathing. During this pause, Robert conceded to Cora's observation that the table was not incredibly comfortable. He got up carefully so as not to fall, thinking he felt the table move in a strange way. Shrugging, he lifted his still panting wife up off the table and supported her with one arm around her waist, as he began to transfer first his dinner jacket and then their coats from settee to table.
Robert sat Cora on the settee and took her jewels carefully off her – the headpiece already in danger of falling off anyway – placing these on the end table, not wanting them to get lost in the garments on the other low table. He pulled her dress and slip both over her head, and threw these on the growing pile. As quickly as possible he unbuttoned his shirt buttons as Cora stood to divest herself of stockings and undergarments, all going on the mountain of clothing.
Cora watched Robert take off his trousers with a smile on her face. His eyes on hers, he flung the trousers to the top of the pile. At this there was a unquestionable snapping noise and then a thud. Both turned to see that one end of the table had hit the floor, the contents having slid down, half hiding the two legs that appeared to have broken off. Robert looked at Cora, who had her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.
Torn between amusement and seriousness, Robert stated, "Well, it's a good thing I thought that table too low for much else. That might have been us toppled to the floor."
A giggle escaped from between Cora's fingers and her eyes lit up with merriment. "Are we going to break every piece of furniture in the suite before we leave?"
Chortling heartily, he grinned at her from ear to ear. "Only one way to find out, my dear…" Robert lunged for her and hurled them both upon the settee, Cora laughing as he threw his one last garment on top of the heap on the floor.