Lilies

He didn't know.

That is all he can justify it with. He didn't really know.

He'd only wanted to surprise her, wanted to make her smile. He had waned to show her he loved her, even with little gestures, wanted to please her in small ways.

She'd smiled at him when he appeared at her door that early morning just as her lady's maid had walked out after bringing in her breakfast. He had his hands behind his back, a small but mischievous smile on his lips. She looked pleased to see him, even more pleased knowing that that smile meant he had something for her— after all, it was something that he did ever since he'd admitted his love for her a few weeks ago. She beckoned him silently with a tilt of her head and he'd walked the small distance between the door and her bed with ease, the smile not slipping from her face.

She looked so pleased, so excited, probably trying to guess what he'd brought today. And he was so excited as well to show her, until her loud sneeze took him by surprise. Her eyes started to water and she sneezed again and again and again, and he'd worried, throwing the bouquet he'd planned to surprise her with to the floor and rushing by her side. He wasn't aware that she was sick.

Her eyes fell to the bouquet and she gasped (he'd felt horrible, but he didn't show and honestly, he had a rather more pressing issue at hand).

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She sneezed again, a few more times in quick succession, and the tears flowing down her eyes had him biting his lip and ringing for her maid.

"Allergic," she wheezed, her eyes still trained to the discarded bouquet. "To the lilies."

It seemed that his little surprise—the bouquet of lily of the valley—was not really a brilliant idea as he'd initially thought. But, really, he hadn't known.

The maid rushed in before he could say anything, and he barely managed not to yell at the top of his lungs. He ordered her to get Clarkson, not wanting Cora to be in anymore discomfort than she looked. And he'd not had many experiences with allergies, neither he nor Rosamund had one that he remembered, so the panic that welled up in his chest seemed justifiable.

He'd instructed that the lilies be thrown out, only giving Cora a sharp glance when she'd protested. And then he carried her himself to his dressing room, settling her in the middle of the bed whilst he'd instructed the maids to have Cora's room disinfected.

Clarkson arrived a few moments later, and he stood by the bed as Dr. Clarkson checked up on Cora and gave her medicine to relieve the allergies, leaving a few more just in case. He stared at his wife then, sighing in relief, his shoulders sagging just as well, when he'd find her more or less better now, looking less pained. Dr. Clarkson left soon after, only instructing that her ladyship not be exposed to anymore lilies today (an anaphylactic shock—whatever that was—did not sound like a good idea to him) or anything that she's allergic to.

He paused for a moment, realizing he didn't really know what his wife was allergic to. He'd make it a point to ask her later, when she's feeling better.

Thankfully, he realized, mama and papa were out of town this week. The ruckus would have had mama throwing a fit again, and Cora really didn't need that.

He walked right inside the dressing room, having seen Dr. Clarkson out, and found his wife sitting in the middle of the bed, eyes closed.

"Sorry, love," he said as he took a seat beside her and took her hand in his. He kissed her knuckles feeling so guilty at having brought this on. "I didn't know."

"I know," she said and she opened her eyes to stare at him. "I'm only sorry I forgot to tell you."

He smiled at her sadly. "I should have asked," he said, the guilt of having neglected his wife for the past year, for not having faced his real feelings for her long ago, eating at him. He should have tried to get to know her, tried to be worthy of her. Instead, he'd been a coward, he'd hidden behind the pretence that she was nothing more than a woman that he'd married to save Downton, to face the fact that he'd fallen in love with her long before he'd admitted it to her and to himself. His head fell slightly, as his gaze dropped to the patterns on the quilt.

Cora must have known the direction his thoughts were heading because she grasped his chin between her thumb and index finger, lifting his head up, making him look at her, and smiling at him so sweetly, so beautifully, it made him want to haul her to his chest, hold her tight and never let her go.

"I love you," she told him, looking at him with love in her eyes.

"I don't understand, sometimes, how and why you do," he admitted as he took her hand in his and drew circles on her skin.

"I love you, Robert. The past doesn't matter to me anymore, what matters, is that you feel the same way to me now." She took his face in her palm and placed a lingering kiss on his lips.

Sometimes, she knew just what to say, he thought as he pulled her to his arms and held her tight, dropping a kiss to her hair a few times before murmuring, "I've long since felt the same way, Cora, and I will always feel the same for you, for all eternity."

He felt his wife sighing softly, wistfully, surprised just as he was to hear him talking about his feelings.

She smiled and nodded. "Just don't bring me lilies again next time so I live long enough to see through eternity with you," she teased, grinning at him cheekily, making him chuckle.

"I promise," he said, and they both knew that he meant more than just not bringing her lilies.

Fin (8/6/15)