A Little Less Lost
She felt lost while holding on to his unwavering hand. She knew she couldn't stand upright now if it wasn't for his palm touching hers. There was so much unresolved between them, but at the moment, she needed his constancy. She held on to his hand because this was the one thing she could hold on to.
The thick cotton of his black jacket brushed against her upper arm with every step they took down the driveway to the waiting motor. Cora was hot under the multiple layers of her own mourning attire. Everything stuck to her, and she wasn't quite sure if the humidity was a phenomenon that only applied to her or if it was the weather. She couldn't deny that she had felt febrile for a while now. But she couldn't bring herself to care.
Their steps on the gravel whirled up clouds of dust, and a dry cough escaped her throat. Cora felt her eyes beginning to burn again, and she tried swallowing the lump in her throat. It was still sore from the strangled sobs that had rocked her body minutes earlier in the sitting room of her mother-in-law. Only Robert now turning to her and searching her eyes made her notice her tightening grip on his hand. She pressed her lips together not to break down right in front of him again.
For a moment, Robert looked like he was about to speak. His eyes shone with a surging question, and his lips parted ever so slightly. Within a fraction of a second, though, it was over, and Robert was resuming his introspective pose. Not that Cora was sure that she would have been able to answer his question, let alone open up to him again.
The ride home in the motor was silent. They sat side by side, each lost in their thoughts. And yet, they were closer than they had been in what felt like forever. Their hands still touched. Loosely only – resting between them on the seat – but they were connected.
Cora tried to fight the image of Sybil struggling in her very last moments, but it kept resurfacing. It plagued her with the dreadful certainty that this horror had been inevitable. Dr Clarkson had said so. Cora had thought she could have saved her baby had she been a tiny bit more successful in convincing her husband to listen to their doctor. But ultimately, it wouldn't have mattered. Nothing mattered. Sybil was gone. And Robert – even though she held his hand and there was the tiniest bit of new-found closeness between them – was miles away. There was without a doubt a deep rift between them. And a nagging feeling in her stomach told Cora, it was her fault. She had not only prevented any chance of reconciliation but also pushed him farther away with every passing day. Everything was hard and hurtful these days, but nothing hurt as much as seeing Robert. Robert all in black. Robert's sad grey eyes seeking hers so desperately. Robert as the ever-present image of guilt.
It just hurt too much.
A part of her was glad that she didn't have to look at him right now, but could only feel him. It was more soothing this way.
"Cora," his voice suddenly croaked from beside her. His tone was low, and it sounded a bit desperate. Cora's gaze that had been directed out the window for the last couple of minutes turned to him but didn't quite meet his eyes. She waited for what he had to say.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. Cora immediately shook her head. She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. Her grip on his hand tightened again.
"Don't," she shushed him. For a single second, she looked into his eyes. There was more blueness in them than in the last few weeks. The grief had made his light blue eyes grey. Seeing his pure look of heartfelt emotion now, squelched her heart, and her eyes shot down into her lap. Her thumb stroked the back of his hand, as her look returned to the window of the car.
"Don't," she breathed again, barely audible. Robert mirrored the movement of Cora's thumb and joined her in her preferred silence for the rest of the ride. When they arrived, Robert helped her out of the car, but the way into the house they each made on their own. No interlocked hands anymore. No bodies so close to each other that they touched.
Cora was glad when they entered the house.
Her steps felt dull on the carpeted floor of the main hall. Their visit to Mama's had drained Cora of the last drop of energy she had left. Now she stood lost in the vastness of the great hall and felt so utterly empty. Empty and exhausted.
She turned to Robert who didn't know a thing about what was going on inside her.
"I need a minute to rest." As soon as the first words left her lips, she cast down her eyes, unable to look into his while speaking.
"Alright." His answer was simple. Apparently, he remembered her wish for silence and taciturnity back in the motor.
Cora turned on her heel and approached the grand staircase. She felt so empty that it was as if every step echoed in her body. It got worse with every move that distanced her from Robert. As she reached the first landing, she halted.
"Robert," she said cautiously before even turning back around. Her hands kneaded the fabric of her black skirt. She saw he had already been on the way to the library, but now he stood alert next to one of the armchairs in the hall and looked up at her with big eyes.
"I…" Cora cleared her throat. "I just wanted to say thank you." The last two words came out barely as a whisper. But the mild expression on her husband's face told her that he had heard them.
"It's alright," he said.
Cora continued looking at him. It didn't hurt the same as prior to their visit. She wanted to say more. It wasn't only 'thank you' that she had wanted to say. She opened her mouth again.
Thank you for not being angry. Thank you for not blaming me now. Thank you, Robert, for wanting to do the right thing. Because I know this is all you ever aim for.
No words came out. She sighed instead. Cora tried to pull up the corners of her mouth. She knew it couldn't even count as a tight-lipped smile. It was way too forced and there was much too little happiness, but still, she wanted to send Robert a sign.
He took it with a small smile of his own. Cora resumed her ascent of the stairs and felt the tiniest bit less lost. When she was in her room, waiting for O'Brien, she already took a seat at her dressing table because her legs felt too weak to hold her upright after this stressful 'tea' her mother-in-law had invited them to. After kneading her hands for a while absentmindedly, Cora pulled off her gloves and put them down on the table in front of her. Her palms were sweaty, and she tried to dry them on her thighs but sweaty palms weren't remedied that easily.
A small relief was when O'Brien finally came, helped to put her in some lighter garments, and left her on her chaise longue for a nap. Cora knew she wouldn't be able to close her eyes for a second, but she still had to have the dearly needed rest.
Her mind didn't really want to quiet down. Images of Sybil were interrupted by Dr Clarkson's pained face, and then there was Robert's debating voice, and there were his arms around her and his sobs in her ear. It was so much. Cora was glad that she was by herself now at least. But it didn't give her the same respite as it used to. The thought arose of what Robert was doing right now. But it didn't really matter, Cora told herself because she needed time alone to rest anyway.
After a while of letting her body recharge, Cora got up and stepped to one of the large windows. She pulled away the curtain a little and observed a squirrel frolicking in front of her window. Watching the gardens had been one of the few things that hadn't made things worse and had therefore been a good activity lately. Cora could lose any sense of time when the gardens absorbed her.
There was a soft knock on her door. Cora knew from the cautious note in it who it was. She knew he had considered long and hard if he should come up to her. But he was there, in front of her door, asking for entrance.
Her fingers pushed into her orderly coiffure to tame any errant curls, even though she knew O'Brien had seen to her hair diligently only minutes before. Without turning away from the large window, she called, "Come in!"
She heard the quietest squeak at the turning of the door knob before his voice sounded.
"Uhm, is it alright if I come in?" he asked.
"Of course. I just said so," Cora answered without turning around. Her fingers had found the seam on the curtains and started fumbling with it absently.
"Yes, but I know you said you wanted some time to yourself. I didn't want to disturb your rest."
Cora gulped. He was so considerate. "It's alright," she breathed, her eyes cast down onto the window sill. The door was being closed.
"You know, I didn't ask them to do this," Robert said.
"What?"
"I didn't ask Mama and Dr Clarkson–"
"Oh, I know," Cora interrupted. Now she turned to him. How could he assume she would think such a thing?
There was a wave of relief washing over Robert's face. "I wouldn't want to put you through any pain, Cora. More pain than there already is anyway. You know that, Cora, do you?"
That was all it took for the sobs bubbling in her throat to spill. Cora had cried an awful lot in the past weeks but she didn't seem to run out of tears and grief. Now, she sobbed and bawled, and very quickly Robert's shocked face disappeared behind a veil of tears.
The next thing she knew was the feeling of Robert's arms around her body. His head rested against her temple, and he whispered calmingly into her ear.
"Shh." His palm wandered up and down her back. Unlike in Mama's sitting room where they had been holding each other while sobbing uncontrollably, Robert was just a steady rock now. His body didn't shake, his chest didn't rumble, and his strangled cries didn't echo in her ear. Cora's emotions weren't anywhere near as reined as his.
"I… I know," she brought out blubbering. Her arms that had hung loosely at her sides now wrapped around his body, and her hands clutched rather desperately at his back. "Robert," she sobbed because she needed to feel his name on her lips. "Robert, Robert, Robert," she buried her face in his shoulder, and her quiet voice was muffled by his jacket.
"Oh, Cora." He stroked her hair, and his tone was a little emotional after all. Feeling him so close was all Cora needed right now. Nothing had felt as right lately as the feeling of Robert in her arms and around her at that moment. The warm air of his breath hit the shell of her ear, and even though Cora's body was still rocked by her sobs, his breath was like a lullaby in her ear.
"Robert," she hiccupped. He was only continuing to stroke the back of her head. "Robert," Cora repeated, but she didn't dare to look at him, so she only turned her head on his shoulder to not be entirely muffled by the fabric of his jacket. The thought alone of what she wanted to say to him next – what she had to say – made her heart rate accelerate. She knew well enough how badly she had treated him lately. She knew that in all this tragedy she had been the one who had trampled all over their marriage. In the back of her mind, she had been aware of it, but she had preferred to let her grief consume her. Now that the extent of her acts dawned on her, panic clutched at her plummeting heart.
"Robert, I know that I've not acted like that lately," Cora started in a shaky voice, still tear-stained. Oh, she hated what she had put them in! She wasn't sure if her words would be enough or if Robert expected more to be convinced that she meant right.
"But I hope that you know and that I'll be able to show you…" A silent cry interrupted her speech. The last words were only whispers against his neck. "I do love you."
It felt weightier than the first time she had admitted it.
"What?" he seemed to choke.
"I love you, Robert." Cora's voice was low. She hated when he dared her to repeat these words, because usually when he did so, he very well knew that she loved him. Now she couldn't blame him. He had every right to question her.
For a second, Cora struggled to read his reaction. Robert was burying his face into her hair, and it took a moment for her to realise he was pressing kisses on her head. His whispers in between were unintelligible. Cora's heart still ran wild with the panic of having pushed him away too far.
"Robert, I did things wrong," she pleaded. "But you have to know that I feel so bad for hurting you, and… and–"
Robert pulled back now, just enough that she had to lift her head and look into his eyes. "Oh, Cora! I know. It's alright now." He brushed his knuckles softly over her cheek. Cora tried to ignore the wetness in his eyes.
"Breathe, my dear," he said. He must have seen the panic in her eyes. Cora tried to calm down, and when Robert grabbed her hands, it helped her a little. "It's been rough. Don't torture yourself even more! I know why you acted the way you did, and I don't blame you. I'm just very thankful to have you back now." He looked at her expectantly with the last sentence.
Cora nodded. Oh God, there were just so many reasons to cry. Cora thought she wouldn't do anything else in her life anymore.
Robert took a tiny step to be even closer. His face was directly in front of her, his lips so close she felt every word he was uttering next reverberate through her.
"And just so you know, I love you too."
Before he leaned down to seal her lips, Cora felt the first genuine smile spread on her face. A small one, but a smile nevertheless. His lips touched hers softly, and cautiously too. But he made no move to pull away and take it back, and a sense of serenity enveloped Cora's heart now. She had forgotten that Robert's lips had the power to reassure her and make her whole again.
