You're More Than That
On the whole, Cora Crawley was a gentle, even tempered woman. It took a lot to really upset her, and she was more often in the position to keep others from getting their feathers ruffled. She liked it better that way, to be in control of things and to provide kind understanding and an optimistic outlook.
But one thing that always annoyed her and caused her to snap when she otherwise would have taken a deep breath and shown her typical softness was to see people pout. Finding disappointment in things was natural. Dashed hopes and failed expectations were disheartening, of course. But there was a very particular form of self-pity and pouting found among the English peerage.
Cora had never found it sympathetic at all, and she did the best she could to break her children of the habit. Sybil had never been much of a problem with silly pouting. Mary had grown out of it by the time she was about twelve. Edith had a strong penchant for it that Cora failed to curb. But how could she? The biggest culprit of the awful tendency to pout was Robert.
During the war, Cora had been too busy to pay much attention to anything beyond the endless duties that required her attention in managing the convalescent home. She had even less patience for the pouting than usual. And Robert was in rare form now, whining and pouting over not being sent to the front lines as a troop commander. His pride had been hurt, she knew, but she just could not abide by all that disgusting self-pity.
After a whole evening where Robert seemingly insisted on being in a sour mood, Cora sat in bed and watched him remove his dressing gown with that same expression on his face and she just could not take it anymore. "Would you stop this!? There is absolutely no reason for you to carry on pouting this way!"
"Cora, you cannot possibly understand. Just leave it alone," he grumbled.
"I can understand, Robert. I can understand that you are feeling sorry for yourself because things have not gone the way you wanted them to. I can understand that you are frustrated at growing older, as we all are. I can understand that you are searching for a purpose because suddenly everyone around you is busy and you aren't," she snapped.
"Yes. I have grown old and useless. Allow me the dignity of mourning my utility, and I'll not trouble you further," he retorted angrily. He turned out his light and rolled over to face away from her.
She sighed. "Robert, you're being very selfish."
He did not answer, just pulled the bedsheets up over his shoulder.
Cora would not let things go that easily. She knew better. She was bone tired and wanted nothing more than to get a few hours rest before the next day took all her attention and energy. But her first duty was always to Robert as his wife. She was doing her best as Countess of Grantham to represent Downton to the world in managing the convalescent home, but she had neglected to do her best as Cora Crawley to comfort her husband. She saw his pain and knew it was up to her to soothe it.
She scooted close to him and pressed herself against his back and wrapped her arms and legs around his body to keep him from escaping. He tensed in her embrace, but she did not relent.
"May I try and convince you that you are neither old nor useless and that your utility has not been lost?" she murmured.
He grunted noncommittally.
Cora took that as a sign to continue. "The war will not last forever. When it is over and these men all go home, we will face the world as we always have. You are still the Earl of Grantham and all of Downton depends on your leadership for their livelihoods. And putting things back together after war and after losing so many of our young men, you will need to be strong for everyone. And I know that I am spending my days running in every direction while you're forced to sit still, but I can only do my duty to help the soldiers because I have you here beside me when we retire each night. I need you, Robert. I will always need you."
"You have more important duties. You don't need to waste your precious time humoring a man with hollow titles," Robert muttered.
She pressed her lips to the back of his neck, wishing that all her love for this silly man could flow through her kiss. "You're more than that," she assured him. "And it's selfish of me, but I can't tell you how glad I am that you haven't been sent to the front lines. I already spent too long worrying if my husband would return home from war. You fought your fight abroad before. Now you're here to lead us all through it."
"It's not the same."
"I know. If you would rather leave me alone and missing you, I can't stop you. But please stop pouting and be grateful for all that we have."
Robert sighed. His body relaxed slightly. Cora rather thought that was a victory.
"Turn over and look at me, please," she said, finally loosening her grip.
He did as she asked. Their noses were about an inch apart. "I'm looking," he whispered.
"Kiss me," she requested. "Kiss me and let's fall asleep and dream of better times to come."
Robert kissed her gently. There was no passion in his kiss, though she hadn't expected any. There was only the barest hint of affection. Her heart constricted in her chest at that. They settled together to fall asleep, though Cora knew her worries over Robert and everything else might keep her awake all night. She had hoped that her words might help. Perhaps they had, a little.
Then again, perhaps not.