AN: Firstly, as I said updates for July are going to be a little patchy - I have a holiday and an exam to negotiate. The next one will be in two weeks and then I am afraid not until the first Saturday in August. After that we will be back to every Saturday. Please, please, please, keep reviews coming. They dropped a little last week and I am frantically trying to pen the last 4-5 chapters of this story, the support of my readers is what I need to make it there! Cobert love to you all.
Chapter 34 – Late September
They had been in Newport two weeks and the days had fallen into a pattern. The morning was an early start, breakfast downstairs and then they all gathered around Isidore upstairs and they talked and laughed. Sometimes Robert would leave the four of them to converse without him. After a couple of hours, Isidore would request rest, or simply fall asleep and they would depart to separate ventures in other parts of the house. In the afternoon, Martha, Harold and Cora took turns sitting with Isidore – usually whilst he slept. Robert spent most of the afternoons either reading or walking. Cora often joined him when she was not with her father.
Isidore had suffered only one further seizure in that time, which the doctor said was a good thing as they were dangerous – Isidore being a threat to himself in those moments. But, even Robert could tell that this was the only good news. His breathing was more and more laboured and he had begun to simply write his thoughts (when he could) rather than try to speak. Some days speaking more than two words was not something he could manage. The end was imminent, it was by some sort of miracle that it had not come already.
The day two weeks after their arrival, started much the same as every other day. They had breakfasted and they were seated in their respective seats around Isidore's bedside, talking and recalling old memories.
That day, the day that was going to seemingly go on forever, and forever be unforgettable, began with talk of love.
"I have something to ask you mother." It was Cora that began the conversation, perched as she was on the chair beside him, her body angled toward her father. His seat was slightly set back from hers, so he had spent many a moment in the last two weeks studying the curve of her neck and the dark chocolate curls around her ear. He had watched her earrings swing with each tilt of her head, or when she threw her head back and laughed – usually when her father said something funny. He had become entranced on more than one occasion. It made his thoughts flicker to what Rosamund had said at the flower show – about how Mr Darcy had started his descent into love by gazing at Elizabeth. "Daddy said when he was at Downton that I should ask you about when you fell in love with him." That was something else that made him smile every time, the way she uttered the word 'daddy' and the fact she used it at all. It was so modern to his ears, so foreign. But it was also incredibly endearing.
"Why on earth did he say that?" Martha directs her words towards her husband. He smiles, weakly and reaches towards his wife, taking her hand from her lap. Their eyes meet and Robert watches how, between the silence, they seem to communicate something. He had seen his parents communicate with looks, but this is different. This isn't raised eyebrows or pointed looks, this is just looking. He doesn't see anything in their facial expressions that he can decipher, yet Martha's face suddenly beams into a smile and she laughs. "Oh I see, this is about him thinking that it was the scandal of it all that attracted me first." She laughs again, and Isidore nods. Harold has leant forward on his chair on the other side of the bed.
"Well, come on mother, how did you fall in love with father? We all know his story. Head turned by the ginger beauty who laughed like a volcano, teased like a dragon and what was the other thing – "
"Danced as if the world was ending." Cora finishes her brother's thoughts. Clearly this was a well-known family story. Robert had always thought that Cora was more like her father, and indeed he did still think so, Martha was so vibrant and bold in a way that Cora was more calculating and serious. But he had also come to realise (and this image of Martha as Isidore remembered her as a young woman only helped to solidify the idea) that she also had parts of Martha buried deep down. The teasing had been something that Cora had shown him from that first meeting and for her to present it so easily had been bold. Then there was her approach to the intimate aspects of marriage – Cora had not shied away from those at all. Cora kept these facets of her character much better hidden than Martha did, they were private and only revealed to those that knew her and that she trusted. The enormity of that realisation, and what it meant about her love for him, was not lost on him. But for the first time since they had married, the thought did not scare him either. The two weeks watching someone else's life slip from them long before their time had shown him that love was not to be feared. Death was to be feared; or wasting one's life. But not love.
Love brought joy.
Sat in this room, with his family-in-law he had seen all the different versions of love and he had seen the joy that could surround it even in the very darkest moments of life. Cora loved him, and he would not waste that love. He would happily let her be the centre of love that radiated joy into his family life if it meant he would one day die surrounded by people as bound together by affection as Cora's family.
"Well, come on mother, father seemed to think you might have preferred his reckless behaviour and plan to elope more than him at the beginning." Cora's voice is full of excitement and she leans towards the bed, trying to coax her mother into spilling her story. Martha laughs.
"It wasn't just a plan. We did elope, as you well know." Robert had not known this. "I'm not sure quite when I fell in love with your father. That's the truth of it." Martha pauses. Robert watches as she traces her finger over the back of her husband's hand. She seems to be transfixed by watching her finger moving over his skin. Robert felt as if he was suddenly intruded on things he was not supposed to be seeing. The room felt claustrophobic. Everyone seems to know that Martha is going to elaborate and all eyes remain fixed on her. Eventually she turns back to Isidore. "Maybe I always loved you, I'm not sure."
"It doesn't matter." Isidore struggles to move his other hand across his body to still her repetitive caressing of his hand. When he does reach he covers her hand with his; her hand now fixed between his two hands. Martha looks back up to Cora.
"Maybe I did marry your father because I loved the thrill and excitement of running away and defying his parents. I certainly loved the idea that a man loved me so much he would give up everything else. But I also know I never would have done it if I didn't think I could have been happy with him." Her gaze flicks back to her husband. "And of course, he went out of his way to make me happy, because he loved me, which made it easy to fall in love with him, I suppose." Her eyes suddenly shift to him, and Robert almost recoils in his chair as her green-eyed gaze penetrates his own. "I think people get married for all sorts of reasons, some more honourable than others. But I think, if one person is in love it really doesn't take much for the other one to fall in love with them. Not if they are a good person, with a good heart that is unattached to anyone else. Maybe that's a generalisation. But, I think that's what happened to me." She turns her eyes back to her husband and Robert exhales slowly. "You just made it impossible for me not to love you my dear." Martha leans over her husband and kisses his forehead. Robert hardly sees.
There is a silence in the room. If it had felt claustrophobic earlier, it felt suffocating now. His throat feels tight and his eyes feel itchy. If the strange awkward atmosphere that was hanging in the room was anything to go by, Harold and Cora felt the same. The parallel that Martha had drawn was obvious, even without her unwavering stare at him. He doesn't let his gaze drift to Cora, he didn't want to see the sadness that would be reflected in them. He had seen quite enough of her disquiet recently, he did not want to see more.
"There we have it. She loved my disobedience first." Isidore brings a lightest back into the room. His words are teasing, and even between his gasps for breath the tone of love is clear.
"I don't think any woman has ever fallen in love with a man because he is perfect. Goodness, if the human race had depended on that none of us would be here! Women always fall for the characteristics that men themselves don't see as endearing. Often the ones they even try and hide."
"I'm not sure the existence of the human race would be at stake without love, mother. Love is not a pre-requisite for our survival." Harold's remark is not said to antagonise, merely to generate friendly debate. Robert had learnt that this was the way the four of them were together – open and direct – they had done well to hide it amongst his family whilst at Downton, or maybe it was simply a dynamic that was not possible to replicate with too many other people around.
"Not technically, no. But surely it must have a role, otherwise why would we feel it and strive to find it? We have been given the ability to feel that emotion so something about it must be more desirable than a life without it." Robert had never thought much about the concept of love. He didn't suppose many people did. It was just one of those things one grew up to understand. Firstly, as a concept that one's family felt for you and aspired within you, and then eventually, usually in adolescence, an understanding that this was also an emotion that could be linked to someone unrelated. With that came the confusing differentiation of love and sex, something that being at Eton, surrounded by other young men had all been more a joke, rather than something to be taken seriously. Thinking about Martha's words though, they seemed more than reasonable and the beginnings of a logical explanation to explain the complexities of such an elusive concept.
"I don't think I can argue with that. But I think maybe some people have more of a drive to find it than others. I think there are definitely some men that could live their entire lives without it. What do you think Robert?" Harold stares at him across the bed.
"I think that I have seen enough of love to realise that it can bring a great deal of joy and that must make it worth something."
"Yes, but you would also agree that we can survive without it?"
"Thankfully, I will never have to find out. I'm lucky enough to have secured Cora's love and I don't doubt it will bring me joy."
"That's not what – "
"That's enough Harold." Martha's tone is matched by an insistent stare, it reminded Robert of his own mother berating him. Cora has reached across and taken his hand, offering a reassuring squeeze. He thinks she is about to let go of his hand, but he loops his fingers around hers and holds it firmly. She was offering him comfort and he wasn't about to turn it away. She wanted to give it, and it was time to let her give her love to him freely and without fear. He was determined to embrace her love, to let that joy fill him and the family they were going to build together. He turns his eyes to hers, and they are waiting. They are brimming with apology, but he shakes his head softly and smiles.
"I'd like some time with Martha." Isidore looked tired already, they had only been with him twenty minutes. He starts coughing, and Martha reaches for the ever-present bowl. Harold stands and disappears from the room promptly. Robert stands with Cora. The sound of retching and more coughing, paired with Martha's murmurs of comfort, accompany them from the room.
"I'm sorry about Harold." They are stood outside the bedroom door and she has turned to him. He reaches forward and takes both her hands. He runs his hands over her knuckles.
"Don't apologise Cora. I meant what I said, you have brought me joy. Your love does bring me happiness. I see your family, and I see the love that exists between you all and I want that. I want a family that is based on love and happiness. I think, that if I embrace your love for me we might be able to at least emulate it." The conversation, and the presence of her family had only confirmed the thoughts he had been churning over since the flower show. If he embraced Cora's love, maybe he could learn to love her. He had realised that day that Elizabeth Bennet had fallen slowly, spurred on by the love Mr Darcy had expressed to her. It was time, high time, to put his theories to the test.
"Do you mean that?"
"I do." He might have missed the way tears accumulated in her eyes in the past. But he doesn't miss them this time. When her eyelids flutter open from her blink they are watery, a thin film of tears making the blue irises swim. She blinks rapidly and then releases one of her hands from his to pinch at the edge of her eyes. "Cora, are you all right? What did I say? Why are you crying?" She laughs softly and shakes her head.
"Tears of joy Robert." He's momentarily surprised when she steps towards him, she cups his cheek with her hand. Her fingers are soft and delicate. By the time he comprehends that she is going to kiss him, her lips are already pressing to his cheek. Her eyelashes flutter against his cheek, the brush of them is gentle and soft. He closes his eyes in comfort. Her lips linger for a second before she pulls away to look at him. Her eyes are still glassy, but he can see the joy that he had missed a second ago – the way her mouth is twitched up at the corners and her eyes, although wet, are glowing beneath the water.
He lifts her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. He feels her tighten her grip in reciprocation of his gesture. Her eyes go glassier, but he is at a loss to understand what it means. The range of things that made women tearful was still something he was sure he would never understand however long he lived.
"Go and fetch your coat, I want to take you somewhere." He refrains from asking the obvious question of where, and heads in the direction of his room to find his coat. He would ring for Charles, but he just couldn't face another five-minute conversation in which his footmen (turned valet for this trip) made more impertinent remarks about America, the cleanliness of the household or the organisation of the staff or any other strange things he had decided were just not quite right. He liked Charles, immensely in fact, and he had never said anything against Cora or her family. But he couldn't deal with the constant underhand remarks, the man took everything far too seriously.
He is surprised when he reappears from his room to find Cora is already waiting outside. He doesn't question her lack of a hat, she clearly hadn't called for Henderson either and he doubted they were going anywhere public. He also liked to see her looking relaxed. It was the most he could hope for when her eyes were mainly wide from worry and her thoughts undoubtedly tarnished by similar concerns. She hadn't worn any outfit that hadn't been in the monochrome shades since they left Downton. It wouldn't be long, he didn't think, before she was entirely restrained to black.
She leads the way wordlessly and he follows her. At the front door she pauses and turns to him, her arm reaching towards him. He takes it and loops it through the crook of his elbow as he had done so many times before. As they step through the front door, the breeze whips up around them from the ocean. Loose tendrils of her hair flip about in the gap between them, unrestrained as they were by the lack of her hat. He smiles and is filled once again with the knowledge that if he couldn't make marriage work with Cora, then he wouldn't have stood a chance with anyone else.
She clutches at Robert's arm as they walk along the tops of the cliffs. The wind whips and her dress swishes dramatically at her ankles. The loose tendrils of her hair become further unwound, and she feels the elaborate coiffure that Henderson had made that morning beginning to give way under the persistence of the wind. She hardly notices.
She didn't think she would feel any joy in these weeks in America.
Her father was dying and as they had begun their voyage across the ocean with the whole Evelyn scenario hanging between them.
It had never crossed her mind that America, on the landing of her Newport home, was the place Robert would begin to fall in love with her.
The last time her mind had been this satisfied, whilst also being terrified, was the day he had proposed to her. She hadn't noticed a single thing that happened that day once she had realised that was his intention. She felt that today was going to be another such day.
He had not said he loved her and he had not said that he was falling in love with her either. But he had said that he wanted to embrace her love, he wanted to use it to build a happy family. Surely, that meant that he could love her, that her father was right and she could make this man fall in love with her?
This was why she had decided that today was the day to take Robert to the place that had brought her so many childhood joys. A place that she had spent her happiest moments, and her saddest. It was the spot she had spent an entire day on her last visit to Newport, knowing that she might never return.
It was a fair walk along the cliff path to the place she wanted to take him, but on a day like today, with the sea whipping up a fair spray it would be just as she wanted it to be, a complete confrontation with the natural world.
Her thoughts are too consumed to think of much conversation and Robert doesn't interrupt her thoughts. She had noticed this since boarding the ship at Liverpool – he had taken to observing her. She had thought at first it was about avoiding the awkward conversations he knew they needed to have – and maybe it had been, particularly as regards Evelyn – but she also thought that it was about him giving her the space she needed to come to terms with what was happening to her father. He had remained in the background throughout their stay in Newport, mainly letting conversation carry on around him. She was grateful in many ways as it allowed her family to have their moments together as her father's death encroached. But, she also wanted a distraction, and his silence had made it more difficult for her to distract herself with his conversation and presence. Maybe they could get back to their conversations today, on the rocks, whilst staring out to sea?
The cliff walks begins a short descent onto the rocky beach. She releases his arm so that she can use her arms to balance her. He hesitates initially, and falls behind as she more nimbly negotiates the rocks that she had years of experience with. She hears him slip slightly behind her a couple of times and she wonders whether he will manage the climb to her favourite spot, but he catches up, her long dress eventually making her slower as he learns how to balance on the uneven and wet stones. At the end of the beach she stops and perching on a nearby rock she begins to unfasten her boots.
"You're going to need to take your shoes off."
"Cora, where are we going?" He has seated himself beside her and is beginning to unfasten his own shoes.
"You see that rocky outcrop there." She points about three hundred foot further down the coastline. "We're going to sit on the top of that."
"But isn't it dangerous?"
"It would be, if the sea was rough. But when the sea is like this you can walk along the base of the cliff here and then from there can climb onto the rock. You just have to make sure to climb down before the tide covers all the little smaller rocks you use to climb up." Shoes in hand, they begin the trek along the base of the cliff to the outcrop. It had been a trek made harder over the years as her dresses had got longer and her corset confining, but she knew she could still do it, and she was determined. She wanted to sit at the top and stare out to sea, to forget everything and listen to the waves crashing beneath her. It was a perfect reminder that life would go on and that the world and nature were larger and more significant than anything else. Each human life was small, a dot, in comparison to the vastness of nature. She had eased so much suffering and worry staring out to sea, in the direction of her future, as it so happened, and she was sure it would help to ground her now. Hopefully, it would also be a good escape for Robert too and they could find their old rhythm of conversation.
They are out of breath by the time they reach the top of the outcrop, the base of her dress is wet but she doesn't care. She takes a long deep breath and tilts her head to the sky, inhaling the smell of the sea and filling her head with the pounding sound of it crashing against the rock. There was a rhythm to the waves, but it is not constant – the waves are not the same size and the water swells and retracts in a way that makes each motion entirely unique. When she opens her eyes she finds Robert is watching her, she smiles and drops her gaze. Her hair whips around her face again, and she is sure it must be tumbling out of its coiffure. She lowers herself to sit on the rock, pulling her knees up to her chest, she is pleased when he sits down beside her.
"Is this somewhere you came a lot?"
"Yes. All the time, weather permitting."
"Can I ask why you liked it?"
"Troubles seem so small when you are sat up here. One false move, one large wave and you could be pulled into the water, everything seems small in comparison to that. But mostly I like the noise, listening to the waves, and staring out to sea. I feel free here." He nods. He holds his hat in his hands and she is almost mesmerised by the way his hair flicks about in the wind.
"When I was younger, and once I could ride, I used to ride up to the temple of Diana at Downton to escape my worries."
"The place you proposed?"
"Yes. That's right. Have you explored the far side of the lake at Downton? I think you would like it, the views across the water won't be the same as this, but it will be something."
"I have a couple of times, but not in detail. Maybe we could explore it together when we get back?"
"Of course. I've been meaning to ask before about your maid, I'm sorry, I can't remember her name, the one who went back with your family. Are you seeing her whilst you're here?"
"You mean Emma. I might on our way back through New York when we head home. Mother has kept her on as a housemaid at the moment, in the New York house, but I know she is looking for another position looking after another young lady."
"I'm sure it would be nice to see her, and since we are here…"
"You're right. I will write to her." It wasn't that she had forgotten Emma, she did fully intend to drop in and see her as they made their return to England, but it would probably be sensible to let her know this otherwise it might be difficult to arrange. It was nice for Robert to think of it though.
Their conversation continues between mundane topics of conversation and bouts of silence where they sit beside each other staring out at the waves. They don't discuss anything to do with her father and she doesn't want to. The time to face what was coming with that was when it happened, not now. This moment was about connecting with Robert and sharing some more of her life with him.
"You know, I used to sit here in the first summer after father brought the house wondering what was on the other side of this vast sea, wondering what the people would be like. Never did I think I might be living on the other side of the ocean one day." She laughs softly. He turns to look at her. She can't comprehend his expression and then, suddenly, he is reaching across to her and brushing her loosened curls of hair behind her ear. His fingers then brush back across her cheek, tracing the length of her jaw bone. He continues to repeat the gesture. His fingers are cold, but the sensation actually felt warm where he tickles her face.
They had done many intimate things; they had kissed so many times now, and yet, this felt completely consuming in a new way. There was something incredibly touching about him being in this place with him – her place – with the waves crashing around them and his eyes holding hers, his fingers smoothing her skin. It reminded her of the moment in the bookshop in Paris when she had tripped and he had grabbed her hand. There was a fissure of something between them in this moment. The world seems to fall away around her. The noise of the waves fades to the background, the chilly breeze no longer makes her cold. All that matters are his eyes and the touch of his hand.
She leans towards him before she had fully comprehended what she is doing. She places her hand on his neck and dips her face towards him. His lips meet hers without any hesitation. They hadn't kissed since before the garden party. The desire she feels in finding his lips now makes her stomach instantly start to flutter. She pushes his mouth open with her own. His tongue finds hers immediately in the same pattern that had become their natural routine. What she is not prepared for is the way his hand drops from her cheek to her waist where he pulls her insistently into his side, before returning his hand to the back of her neck and pushing his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck. She gasps into his mouth. It was a gesture that she had done before, often when they were in her bed and he was atop her – massaging his scalp had seemed like a good way to occupy her hands. But it was not something he had ever done to her. She pushes her hand into his hair now, willing him to move closer to her and his tongue to push more deeply. He briefly accepts her challenge, and she finds herself forgetting how she is meant to breath. There is something about the combination of his tongue at this different angle, his hand musing her hair and his other hand keeping her crushed against his side that was completely what she needed right now – complete abandonment of everything else in her life.
When he releases her lips she doesn't want to let him go. The chill rips through her again and as the noise of waves crashing thunders back into her thoughts so do the thoughts of her father and what they are really doing sat on this rock with Downton thousands of miles away. She rests her cheek against his shoulder, and just as he had supported her weight on the small settee in their suite on the ship, he supports her weight now, wrapping his arm around her back so she can lean more fully against him.
"You can cry Cora, if you want to cry."
"There will be time for crying when it's all over. Right now, it's sleep I need."
"Have you not been sleeping?" She doesn't need to be able to see his face to know that he is frowning. She closes her eyes briefly and pinches the bridge of her nose. She was not supposed to have admitted that. She was trying not to make him worry. She had been sleeping, just not well. She hadn't slept at all for the first couple of nights on the voyage over but things had improved a little once the Evelyn debacle had been cleared up.
"I have. Just not very well. It's been better since we arrived, the nightmares stopped anyway."
"Nightmares?"
"I kept dreaming that we wouldn't make it in time. But we did, so that stopped. It doesn't matter Robert, I'm fine." She feels the tear prickle at the edges of her eyes as she feels his lips kiss the top of her head. She blinks them rapidly away. It would be all too tempting to let her mind and heart get lost in yet another sign that he might actually be on the way to falling in love with her. She needed to keep herself focussed, he wanted to embrace her love – that was the step he was planning on taking, it was for her to work out how she could tempt him into greater affection with the olive branch he was offering.
"Is there something I could do to help?" She knew exactly what would help, being able to fall asleep in his arms, but that was not something he would accept, she had asked about that before.
"I doubt it."
"Somehow Cora, I think you might be lying."
"It's not something you would be happy to do, we've discussed it before, and you said no."
"You want me to sleep in your bed?" She lifts her head from his shoulder and turns to look at him. She wasn't exactly surprised he remembered the conversation, there were not many things she had asked for.
"Robert, I know it's not something you're comfortable with, I – " He is shaking his head.
"We can do that. If you think it will help, I'm happy to try it."
"Do you mean that?" She can feel the emotions bubbling within her again. The expectations building.
"That's the second time you've asked me that today Cora. Yes, I do mean it, just like I meant it earlier." She can't trust her voice to speak. She takes his hand in hers and settles back against his shoulder. He pulls her against him. "I was enjoying that book I read to you on the ship, Little Women, maybe we could read that together at night, do you think that would help you sleep too?"
"That would be nice." It would be more than nice. That afternoon on the ship had been her favourite moment of her married life so far. There had been something so beautiful and simple about being curled on the settee, her back against his chest and his voice gently reading her the words of a favourite book over her shoulder.
"I've been meaning to ask if there is anything you would like to do for your birthday? I know with everything going on you probably haven't thought about it. But it looks like we are likely to be here and since I missed the event entirely last year, and this is your first birthday since our marriage, I think we ought to mark the moment in some way." They had indeed missed each other's birthday's last year, but she had remembered to purchase him a snuff box as a gift whilst they had been on their honeymoon for his birthday this year. His mother had hosted a party as well. Other than that, it had blurred into much the same day as any other at Downton. She probably should have made more effort but she hadn't felt comfortable doing so moments after returning from honeymoon to her mother-in-law's house. It was not her role to organise things for Robert's birthday, not yet anyway.
"I hadn't thought about it. Maybe just a chance to sit on the beach here, with mother and Harold and some food. I'd like good traditional seafood on the beach, I miss that at Downton. It would be nice for you too, to get a taste of what summers here are like, not that it's summer, but you can imagine it." She doesn't even think of her father as a presence for the day, he wasn't likely to make it to her birthday and it was best to not imagine that he would. That would only fill her with disappointment when her dreams of the day are shattered.
"I'll speak to your mother about it."
"Rosamund said you had chosen a gift for me, I hope you didn't go to too much trouble?"
"Well, if I did, it would be the least I could do for my one and only wife." She drops her eyes, embarrassed by the strength of his assertion – where had this Robert come from? She is about to question him about this when a call of their names echoes from the cliff walk behind them.
"Lady Downton! Lady Downton! Lord Downton!" They turn simultaneously to the calls of the servant. They are both already on their feet. The man starts shouting commands about coming quickly, but she hears none of them.
There was only one reason a servant would be running, to find them. The time has come.
Daddy is about to die.
Her brain freezes with that realisation, she is momentarily transfixed to the spot.
"I've got you." His hand is in hers, it squeezes hard. She glances up towards his face as the wind whips around them and her hair finally falls completely from its coiffure. She knows he means it, he is going to be there, beside her. He was going to be her rock for as long as she needed. She squeezes his hand back, her thoughts too transfixed on what is happening to her father to form coherent words to thank him.
Daddy is about to die.