He paused from the conversation with some of the other men in attendance and watched her as she greeted royalty. Once again he thought of how very wrong his mother had been to oppose their marriage all those years ago…so many years ago. She moved around the room, greeting and chatting, charming everyone as she went. He wasn't nearly as charming; one must be able to speak to be charming and watching her left him utterly speechless.
His mother sat near the windows, watching. She held her cane at the ready in case she had need to rise but otherwise, she just watched. After a few moments, he realized his mother was watching her as well. There was a small upturn of the corners of the old Countess' mouth; she saw it too.
Princes and Dukes were all around her now, their wives glaring in a jealous huff. He could see that she was being dutifully polite, gracefully so. But then she looked away, at him, and a sparkle that had not been in her eyes suddenly blossomed. He couldn't help but smile. The room grew warmer, brighter, as she walked toward him. "I believe this is your dance," she told him softly, with that special look she only ever gave him. Still speechless, he nodded and led her to the center of the room. The music began and they danced.
It was glorious holding her in his arms knowing that countless other men in the room were watching jealously. They wanted what he had; they wanted her. It wasn't as simple as she was a beautiful woman; no, it was much more complex. IT was the life they had built together with her guiding hand. It was all that they had weathered, every storm, and had come out stronger and even more one. It was true; they were one. He was incomplete without her, the very best of him, his heart missing because she held it firmly in her grasp.
Words were not necessary as they danced; her eyes said it all. The room was filled with royalty, with noblemen of higher rank than he, with men more handsome and wealthier, but they were nothing to her. He was hers and all that she wanted. The music ended; he wasn't even certain which dance they'd just danced. They stood there for a moment, gazing at one another, their souls linked.
Finally she spoke. "Take me home, Robert."
Knowing what that tone, what that look, what those words meant, he felt his collar tighten and the room was suddenly much warmer, the air stuffy. "Of course," he replied, his eyes still locked with hers. They turned and as he led Cora from the room, saying a brief good bye to their hosts, Violet, the Dowager Countess of Grantham watched. Turning to her granddaughter who was sitting next to her she mumbled, "I suppose I shall have to leave with you."
Mary looked up and then glanced in the direction her granny was looking. Seeing her parents walk out the door, arm in arm, leaning into one another, Mary smiled. "Yes, of course. But not for awhile, I think."
"No, give them time. They've earned it." Replied the old woman with a renewed sparkle in her eyes.