Still?
Tom went upstairs to check on the baby. Edith and Matthew were quietly talking at the other side of the room. Cora was left alone, as she so often was nowadays. She knew her family was being kind, giving her the space she needed, not crowding her with their attempts to cheer her. She couldn't be cheered. She didn't want to be cheered.
Even in the moments when she was not consumed by the chasm of grief that swallowed her heart, she felt the sadness replaced by anger. Cora had never been an angry person. She had never been one to hold a grudge, always finding that life was simpler without holding onto such things. But she had never felt hurt like this before. She didn't know what to do with it. And the anger was better than the crippling pain of loss.
Mary had gone to the library to find Robert, and Cora was glad of it. Mary's cool head and often cold demeanor were difficult to stomach just now. Better she turn that towards her Papa. He was moping, Cora knew, avoiding the unpleasantness of being in a room with her, but she liked that he was avoiding her just now. It was just the slightest bit easier to bear to have him take the brunt of her anger, to point to him as the source of her hurt. Hurting him, in turn, eased her suffering.
Cora's mind flicked back to one of the crueler things she had hurled at him in the days since Sybil's death. When she had told him that they were even now. She had slipped getting out of the bath and had killed his unborn son. And now, just a few years later, he had killed her daughter. They had each ruined each other's lives and stolen the dearest things of their hearts.
Cora never could have imagined she would say something like that out loud, especially to Robert's face. But she felt somehow apart from herself. As though she could see herself from a distance, detached. She saw how the hurt radiated off her like thorns on a delicate rose. She saw how her pain and anger had turned her into something she hardly recognized. And even though it was better to put it all on Robert, in the back of her mind, Cora felt herself ache even more for what she had done to him.
Her children were her life's blood. Her three girls were everything to her, and having lost one, it was like she had lost a limb, like she would never walk again. But Robert was her heart. Her whole heart. Everything in her life that she had and loved, every single bit, was down to him. She had given her heart away to him more than thirty years ago, and he held it still. Even when she felt as though he was the cause of her heart shattering in her chest, she felt her heart beat through him. It made the pain that much worse, really, pinning the cause of it on him, not being able to share her pain with him or to take any part of his pain away.
But hadn't she earned this one moment, this one single thing to cling to selfishly? Since the moment she and Robert met, she had done everything she could to make him happy, to make him proud, to ease his burdens, to be the vessel for all his love and joy. But mourning Sybil, this was Cora's alone. This was not something she wanted to share. Not with Robert, not with anyone. Even as she knew that she was stubbornly clinging to all her anger for fear of letting it fall away and being left with nothing but the consuming grief that was only inches from sweeping her away every second.
She did not want to be swept away. And what was worse, she knew that Sybil wouldn't want her to be. That was all that kept her going through each day, waking up and getting dressed and coming downstairs and existing like a hollow shell. Sybil would not want her to fall to pieces or turn away from the world.
Cora stood from where she sat alone in the drawing room and left, ignoring the way Matthew and Edith watched her. She had it in her mind to go up to her room, to call for O'Brien and get undressed and take solace alone in her bed. But instead, her feet carried her to the library. The door was ajar, and she could hear Mary and Robert inside.
"A fool and his money are soon parted. I have been parted from my money, so I suppose I am a fool."
The self-pity of his words caused another wave of anger to bubble up inside her. He clung to a world that no longer existed. That never existed. Not since they had inhabited it together. Cora had watched for years as Robert tried to live life just as his parents had. He stubbornly insisted on being Earl of Grantham the same as his father had done. Never mind that Cora had never been Countess of Grantham the way his mother had done. Cora liked doing things her own way, finding her path through things. Robert just wanted everything to come easily to him by following the path laid out before him. In her kinder moments, Cora might have thought it endearing. Just now, it was rather infuriating.
Mary spoke, changing the subject. Which was probably for the best. "You won't win over the christening."
"Not if you're against me," Robert replied. Cora could not see his face, but she knew precisely the kind of sad expression of warning he wore.
"I'm never against you," Mary told her father. "But you've lost on this one."
"Did Sybil truly not mind?" he asked.
Cora knew without even needing to ask Mary what Sybil had told her. She knew that her Sybil had no strong feelings any which way about religion. All the girls took after Cora that way; tradition was one thing, but insisting on one church over another? Sybil would have laughed at the very idea of something like that being fought over. If she had been here to see Robert rail against it, she would have made a little joke and pursed her lips to keep from giggling, and with her eyes shining with mirth, she would have kissed her Papa on the cheek and told him not to worry himself over something so silly.
Mary answered Robert, and Cora leaned in closer to the door to hear her response. "She wanted Tom to be happy. She loved him very much, you know. We all need to remember that."
A sob nearly escaped Cora's throat, and she pressed her gloved hand over her mouth to stifle it. Mary's words had sparked a memory deep in the recesses of the painful past that Cora had shoved aside over the years. Long ago, when Robert had gone away to war, leaving Cora a brand new Countess and a mother of three young girls. It had been a terrible time, worrying constantly that beloved husband would be injured or killed, overwhelmed by the duties left to her alone in running the house and the family and the town in Robert's absence. There had been a day when Cora was detained by something or other when Mama came for tea with the girls. Sybil had only been about five or six then, and she had asked her Granny why Mama was so sad. Cora had, not unlike now, been on the other side of the door, listening in. Violet had told Sybil, "Your Papa has gone away, and your mother is worried for him. She misses him very much."
"We all miss Papa," Mary had pointed out, just as haughty at age nine as she was now.
In return, Violet had patiently told her, "Yes, that's true, but you must remember that your Mama loves him very much. I daresay you could ever find a marriage so full of love as theirs."
Cora felt the tears sting her eyes as she thought back to those words. To that time. She had been so worried and she had loved him so much. More than anything. Sybil had felt that way about Tom, she knew. Just as Mary did for Matthew. And just as Edith would for a man worthy of her, one day. Perhaps that was what she was proudest of, as a mother. She had raised three beautiful, smart daughters, all of whom would not settle for anything less than a love as true as the one their parents shared.
And they did still love each other, didn't they? Cora could do nothing but love Robert. Even after all they'd suffered through, they had come out the other side still loving each other so very deeply. This, though, losing Sybil? This was harder to bear than anything they'd ever endured before. And though she blamed him, though she hurt so much she wanted to break from the pain of it, though she could hardly see through her anger and her tears, Cora knew she loved him still.
She had been about to enter the library and ask Mary to leave so that she and Robert could be alone to talk when Robert himself spoke.
"I keep forgetting she's gone," he said. "I see things in the paper that would make her laugh. I come inside to tell her that her favorite rose is in bloom. And then, suddenly…"
"Say that to Mama," Mary said, her voice shaking with emotion. "Please."
"She doesn't want to hear it from me."
Robert's voice was cold. Resigned. Heartbroken. Mary was in tears, Cora could tell, but Robert was far beyond that.
She heard Robert leave the room. Perhaps he was going up to bed. Cora hoped he was. She needed to be alone with him. Now even more than before.
O'Brien walked through the foyer, and Robert stopped her to ask for Barrow. Cora waited in the shadows, not particularly wanting to see or speak to her lady's maid at the moment. Strange, Cora had leaned on O'Brien so much over the years, never more so than the last few. After the miscarriage, O'Brien had been so attentive and protective and wonderful. And then through that horrible flu, Cora knew O'Brien had saved her life with her devotion. But since losing Sybil, Cora found herself craving distance from the woman who had been her trusted confidante. Perhaps because O'Brien was not a mother. Perhaps because O'Brien had always been somewhat unsentimental and cold about things. Whatever it was, Cora no longer wanted or needed her company the way she once had.
When O'Brien was out of sight and Robert was already up the stairs, Cora quickly followed after him. The dressing room door closed just as Cora turned the corner. She went through without hesitation.
Robert whirled around, obviously expecting to scold Barrow for entering without knocking, but his jaw dropped when he saw her standing there. "Cora?"
"When Barrow comes up, will you please send him away?" she requested.
"Whatever for?"
Cora should have known better than to expect Robert to agree to anything without question. "Because I want us to be alone. Because I want to take care of you myself. And I'd like you to do the same for me. I don't want to call for O'Brien tonight."
He stared at her, curious and disbelieving in equal measure. "What do you mean?"
She swallowed hard, gathering her thoughts before answering. Thankfully she was saved from having to do so by a sharp knock at the door. Robert moved past her, and she stood aside.
"Barrow, you're dismissed for the evening," Robert told his valet through the small opening in the door. "I can take care of myself tonight. I'm sorry to have called you up here for nothing."
"Is everything alright, My Lord?" Barrow asked warily.
Robert's gaze flicked over to where Cora stood silently. "Fine," he said to Barrow.
The two men politely bid each other goodnight, and Robert closed the door again before turning back to Cora.
She moved across the room to his bed. His bed. Not her bed. Not their bed. She sat at the end of it. Her heart pounded nervously. Everything between them was so fraught, and it was all her doing. But they needed this. He needed this. And she needed to be able to give it to him, just for tonight.
With a slow, heavy exhale, Cora looked up at Robert who stood there patiently waiting for her to speak. And so she did. "I don't want to talk, Robert. I don't want to talk about anything. But I overhead you in the library with Mary. And I don't want to talk about that either, but she said that Sybil loved Tom, and we all have to remember that. She's right, of course. But it reminded me, too, that I love you. I am hurt and I am upset and I have never felt pain like this ever in my life, and it hurts so much that I can hardly breathe most of the time. I'm not through that. Any of it."
Robert looked at her with awe. With tears shining in his eyes that he tried to blink away. With a lump in his throat that he swallowed away. "But you love me still?"
"Still," she confirmed. "Always."
They did not talk after that. Robert honored Cora's request, and she was grateful for it. The only words they spoke were soft ones as they undressed each other and changed into their nightclothes. Cora went into her bedroom only to fetch her nightgown, not bothering with her dressing gown or slippers. Robert helped take off her jewelry and placed it on his own dressing table, and he stood behind her to take the pins out of her hair, placing each one beside the discarded necklace and earrings.
O'Brien would have extra work in the morning, putting away all of Cora's things and then tackling the rat's nest that her hair would surely be after not being tied back properly while she slept. In fact, Cora should have made sure to dismiss O'Brien so she wasn't left waiting for Cora to ring. But a lapse in concern over the servants was the least of Cora's worries just now. This was unlike her, she knew, but until just now, she had spent weeks watching herself from afar. She wasn't completely back to herself just yet. Tonight brought her just a little closer.
"Do you want to sleep in here?" Robert asked quietly.
"I'm not ready to have you back in my room yet," she admitted. "I don't know when I will be. But I don't want to force you to sleep on your own tonight if you don't want to."
"I would like very much to sleep beside you," he answered, somewhat haltingly. Nervously.
Cora nodded. They both got into the small bed in Robert's dressing room. This was not the first time they had done this, so they knew that it would be a rather tight fit but not impossible.
They turned out the lights and settled together, wrapped in each other's arms for the first time since they had become grandparents. That was another thought that Cora pushed aside for now.
And despite everything, Cora found herself settling into Robert's embrace with her head resting on his shoulder with the same comfort they'd found together for years and years. The hurt was still there. The anger and pain and grief were all still there. But perhaps they could be just a little quieter for night. Just a little easier to bear.
"Cora," Robert whispered. "I love you very much." His hold on her body tightened.
She shut her eyes tight, feeling tears threaten her again. "Go to sleep, Robert," she whispered back. She did not tell him she loved him again. She had already told him once. She knew he believed her.
And maybe after tonight, she might be able to believe herself again.
