AN: This story focuses on Cora and Roberts relationship as it pertains to season 2, episode 8. I've attempted to fill is the blanks, using dreams and memories, within that episode(Cora out with the Spanish flu and Robert…well….anyways), and I've also created some of my own pre-cannon fair. Some of my timelines might be off a little, as well as my understanding of Edwardian culture, but i tried ;)
I struggle with Robert's personality - a lot. But here goes...
I'm Just taking these characters out to play, everything and everyone belongs to the keepers and creators of the show. Rated T. Enjoy.
Robert's life was quickly unraveling. The severity of Cora's condition hit him like a slap in the face. Her breathing was strained and as he listened to her gasps his own chest tightened with distress. Seeing her lying there, suffering and nearly unconscious filled Robert with unease. He knew he had overstepped the bounds of their marriage for far too long, and now it seemed as though karma had reached inside him and was gripping his heart in retribution. Sybil would hardly look at him. He silently watched as O'Brien place a wet cloth over Cora's forehead. She grimaced at the intrusion but quickly settled with relief.
A sense of futility washed over him. "I wont be far," he murmured to Sybil as turned to leave.
The accusation that laced his daughter's tone continued to sting. He replayed her words, 'Where were you?' as the door clicked shut behind him. He sighed as he struggled to determine which direction to turn. With growing solicitude he stalked away, heading down the corridor, taking the long way to his dressing room. He replayed her question again, analyzing it for hidden meaning, noting blame and despair. "What have I done?" He silently asked himself as he landed heavily on his bed. Robert looked down at the floor and placed his head in his hands. Cursing his recent disdain and betraying behaviour, he closed his eyes.
Lady Grantham was rendered speechless, and her shocked expression turned comical as Robert caught her off guard, accepting a second invitation that week. Typically he was not interested in the glitz and glamour of the Season, and usually declined invitations with the ferocity of a petulant child. Overall he found London life to be uncomfortable and restricting, and instead he was drawn to the country where he enjoyed the hunt and the quiet parties that ensued. Robert was not naïve to his obligations of finding a wife, producing an heir, and nurturing Downton his whole life long; he simply preferred the thrill of stalking and hunting, and flirting with women his parents had already deemed unacceptable. A creature of habit, even in his early years, he favoured what he knew. However this year was his sister's debutante season so his compliance was expected, although his eagerness was not.
He first spotted her, porcelain and statuesque at Rosamund's debutante ball. Her striking blue eyes were captivating. Robert didn't recognize her from any party he had ever attended, and when he enquired no one knew a thing. Hypnotized by the carefree manner in which she carried herself; he was intrigued. He positioned himself with a vantage point of the whole room, taking care not to make his observations obvious. He watched her, and eventually his curiosity got the better of him but before he had a chance to approach her, she was gone.
Robert accepted the next invitation only to be disappointed. He accepted the next, and then the next after that. He was starting to lose his patience when finally he spotted her, standing amongst a group of unfamiliar women. Her hair was different, pulled up higher, showing off the length of her neck. He watched her again. Drawn to her earnest and contagious smile, Robert found himself smiling when she smiled.
Robert settled himself amongst a clamorous group of friends who were laughing loudly and joking inappropriately. After staring at her for an indecent amount of time he noticed that her cheeks had slowly begun to flush. She appeared perplexed as her eyes scanned the crowd in front of her. She turned her head and moved her eyes purposefully, as though she were looking for someone. Pausing, she furrowed her brow. Then suddenly she turned quickly and looked directly at him. Caught off guard he stumbled out of his chair, and stood. Across the ballroom their eyes met momentarily, and then quickly they both looked away. He grinned to himself, knowing he had her attention.
In spite of the mixed emotions he felt as he watched her pleasantly engaging with other men, Robert was enjoying himself. He lost track of her completely as they both got mixed up in the crowd on the dance floor. After excusing himself from a second turn with the very eligible Ms. Josephine Dowling, he began his pursuit. He spun around, eyes searching wildly, until finally there she was, watching him with a subtle, playful smile. The volume of their unspoken connection was deafening. A coy, half smile lifted Robert's cheek before she looked away, her attention beckoned by someone behind her.
Finally Robert mustered the strength to go and introduce himself. When she spoke he instantly recognized what was so captivatingly different about her.
"You're American," he stated bluntly, wincing at his rudeness.
If she noticed his awkwardness he couldn't tell, which made her all the more fascinating. Before they could become more properly acquainted her Chaperone, whom he correctly assumed was her mother, whisked her away leaving him wanting, and wondering when the next ball would be.
He lifted his head and sighed. Remembering Cora that way only served to amplify his self-loathing. There was so much on his mind, so many ways in which his life was spinning out of control. Pushing himself upright, he deciding to distract his thoughts, and work usually helped to slow his racing mind. He entered the library unnoticed as two housemaids, laden with cleaning paraphernalia, made their way through the opposing door. His stomach dropped as he watched Jane pull the door closed behind her. Robert sighed heavily as he dropped himself into his chair. Settling his elbows on his desk, he looked at the window that was covered with foggy perspiration.
Robert often spoke of his life before the war with pride. He found great value and purpose in his self-identified role as caretaker of Downton, he felt importance as a father, contentment as a husband, and self worth in serving his King and Country. Yet recent years had loosened his grip on his values, the very things he equated with happiness. His newest role with the British Army made him feel ridiculous and redundant. His daughters had matured and become independent, autonomous women who needed very little from him. And then there was Cora, self-reliant and flourishing, making her less reliant and arguably less attentive. The natural result of these intrusive life changes was wallowing self-pity.
It was her eyes that he noticed first, not just the colour but also the softness and acceptance that was undeniably familiar. Whenever they spoke Robert felt understood, as he was drawn to her through a perception that the casualties of war had altered both of their lives. In the weeks after Jane's arrival things continued to strain for him and his wife. Robert was easily provoked and equally aggressive, when it suited him. He began spending more and more time alone, and found himself looking forward to interactions with Downton's newest housemaid. Robert showed an interest and offered support for her son, and in return Jane stroked his ego, restoring his need to be needed. He did, of course, recognized the similarities between the maid and his wife, he would have been naïve not to, but there were differences too, and the biggest difference was interest. Jane was interested.
As quickly as striking a match, a flame was ignited within him. It happened the moment their hands touched, as they fumbled over apples in the laneway. Robert recognized the burn of desire, which he savored and used to subdue the pain caused by neglect. Lashing out at Cora was no longer effective at pacifying his despondency. Jane's mournful presence was the only thing that seemed to ease his smoldering temperament, and that afternoon when he came across her in the dinning room, the raging fire within him was blinding to the point of reckless impulsivity. He grasped her face and pulled her close, pushing his lips on to hers. He kissed her hard, and although surprised, she welcomed his forcefulness.
That night, the first in a long while, he slept next to his wife, peacefully dreaming of a life of value.
Robert fingertips pressed into his burning lips, censuring his infidelity. He cursed his attraction for Jane and his reproachful lack of self-control. There was so much at stake as a result of his indiscretion. He looked up at the ceiling as tears filled his eyes. Losing Cora now, after pushing her away would be unbearable. What he wouldn't give to see her look at him with admiration, and longing in her eyes; to spend time with her like before; to kiss her.
It was a small house party hosted by the Lord and Lady Willoughby, close friends and distant relations of Lord Grantham's. The Willoughby's were open-minded people and preferred a younger party. They welcomed the chance to meet new friends, including some of the more prosperous American women who would make handsome matches for any one of their three eligible sons. Robert and Cora, he now knew her name, had played their flirtatious game of 'cat and mouse' at many social gatherings since their first encounter, yet this was the first time they had been in each other's company at a smaller, more intimate engagement.
Robert watched her intently through dinner, talking easily with those next to her, smiling and laughing, attracting attention from many of the single men in attendance. However, when she looked across the table at him, he felt like the only man in the room, and something inside him stirred. The men entered the sitting room, opting to join the ladies earlier than usual. It took him a moment, but he found her settled in a chair at the back of the room, alone. Observing.
"This is overwhelming" she stated matter-of-factly, as she lifted herself out of her chair to stand next to him.
"Why do you say that?" He looked into her eyes, trying to figure her out.
Cora gently shrugged her shoulders and looked out over the group of people that were scattered about the room, deep in their own conversations. "It's easy to get lost in a ballroom." She looked back at him, "to blend in." She sighed and smiled at him sheepishly, "Never mind me," her grin deepened "I'm being foolish."
Robert lifted his eyes and scanned the room. Not one person was watching them; it was as though the universe was prompting him to risk impertinence. Before Cora could change the subject he leaned in and kissed her. Their lips connected and she was silenced. Cora's eyes widened in surprise and he started to pull away. She reached forward and stopped him, lacing her fingers around his. Their clasped hands fell between them like an anchor, pulling their bodies closer together. Without hesitation Cora pushed her lips in to his, returning his affection with fervor. After a moment of relishing in their first taste of intimacy, he pulled away and nervously glanced around, fearful of being caught. When he looked back at her, she was smiling warmly. Her expressive face was flushed and her eyes filled with emotion that made him feel like he was more than his circumstances; he felt wanted. He felt needed.
He let out a heavy, exasperated sigh, and under his breath he cursed gruffly. "Damn it!"