10. A Fool

"A pleasure doing business, Mr Crawley..."

"Mm, likewise certainly," Robert mumbled, the coins clinking together as he deposited them in her hand with a few notes.

"You be careful with that temper now."

"Who says I have a temper?"

"I do. It might be your un-doing. Think on what you have, what you want and what you need."

"Yes... certainly."

"Bye now."

"It's so good to see you looking better," Robert smiled, coming into the room and making O'Brien hurry to leave. Cora looked up and seemed surprised both by his comment and his genuine look of relief.

"Good morning," she managed. Robert closed the door behind O'Brien and walked around the bed.

"May I?"

She looked a bit confused but nodded. He sat at the side of her bed, leaning in to press his lips softly and shortly to hers. A girlish flush filled her cheeks.

"I'm glad you came," she said, folding her hands in her lap.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't remember much of last night..."

"I was here," he assured her.

"You were? I remember looking at you but I thought it was a dream..."

"I was so worried about you."

"I've been worried about you."

"Why's that?" he asked.

"We can talk about it later..."

"If you have something say, please say it. I don't think it could matter, I'm so relieved to see you looking better."

"I heard... I heard you together next door. When I was in here," she explained slowly. Robert stiffened. "I thought things between us had truly become unmendable. I didn't want... I felt so terribly, terribly guilty for what I'd done, Robert. Then I heard you talking to her the way you used to talk to me and I just... Well, anyway. I'm here now."

"And I'll be thankful for every day to come that you are." His sentiment cut her deeply and made her bleed raw with guilt.

"Robert..."

"I'm sorry you had to hear what I said... I wasn't even thinking. I just kept thinking of you and..." the other name escaped him.

"Don't forgive me yet Robert, please... I still feel so awful," she tried to hang onto the tears but they escaped, slipping down her cheeks in effortless little streams.

"Don't cry..." he whispered, delicately brushing them away with the pad of his thumb. "I don't expect things to be alright straight away... But I want them to get better. I want us to be happy."

"Oh Robert," Cora shook her head. "I can't forgive myself."

"You will in time," he said gently. "...Unless you were in love with him?"

"No! Goodness, no..."

"We'll be just fine then," he told her, feeling all his doubts settle like floating dust and sand to the bottom of a sea bed. "Like we used to be."

"Like we used to be," she whispered. He took her hand and clasped it with both of his, kissing her palm affectionately.

"I heard Mr Carson has improved... And Lavinia is well too," Cora said after a few minutes, drying her eyes.

"Yes, we've been very lucky. Though many of the servants that fell ill didn't make it. I know it's not strictly proper but I feel I ought to attend the funerals."

"I'll come with you if I can."

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

"Come in," Robert called. The doctor entered, closing the door behind himself.

"I've just come to do a check-up, is now a good time?"

"Absolutely," Robert got up. "Would it be best if I left?"

"Maybe..." Cora replied. "But don't go too far."

"I'll be right outside."

Robert left the room feeling far more fresh and free of emotional burden than he had done in a long time. Cora was well, their family was protected. Nobody he knew had died. He was just starting to feel light on his feet again. Even what the old woman had said in his prophecy didn't phase him. Nothing could bring him down. The Spring sunshine was bright and glorious, he was the master of his house, ruler of his estate and business. He was Lord Grantham. An Emperor.

Over that week, Cora progressed back to full health and accompanied Robert to the funerals of the two young hall boys, three maids and the newly promoted footman the house had lost. Downton village grieved, with the rest of England, for the great number of souls lost to the deadly influenza and prayed thanks for the lucky survivors.

Jane left the Abbey's employment swiftly and cleanly and though she loitered for some words with Robert, she received none. The house benefited from the new and noticeable partnership between the Earl and Countess. Even as their first challenge drew nearer in supporting one another in Sybil's departure for Irish soil, it seemed things were finally getting back to normal. He held her as she watched the train leave, he consoled her in private when they got home and Sybil wasn't there... They were getting stronger again.

And then a few weeks later, a letter arrived.

Cora had taken her morning mail outdoors, sitting in the shade on one of the many outdoor benches, she came to an envelope with hand-writing she didn't recognise. It was short, fat and scribbley writing that made Cora wonder how the delivery boys had even read it.

Slicing through the envelope, she then withdrew two folded pieces of strong parchment with a very different hand-writing printed across it.

Dear Lady Grantham,

Cora took a sharp intake of breath. Her stomach churned with nervousness and feelings that unsettled her. She knew that hand and she certainly didn't want to read what it said. Stuffing the paper back into the envelope, Cora put the letter to the bottom of her pile and later disposed of it piece by piece - without reading its contents. Letters like those would soon become common in her morning mail...

"Gosh, Cora! It's freezing. Come back to bed."

"I will, I will! I was just looking."

"What were you looking at?" Robert asked as Cora replaced the curtain and climbed back into beside him.

"The stars. I like looking at them afterwards."

Robert frowned, suddenly deep in thought. The Stars.

"Are you alright, darling?" she smoothed back his hair and kissed his jaw.

"Mm, fine..." he said absent-mindedly.

"Oh?" Cora raised an eyebrow, her arms around his neck while she kissed his cheek. "You seem... very... preoccupied," she said between kisses.

Robert grinned and looked her in her eyes.

"I love it when you smile that way at me," he whispered, his own grin fading as he took on a sincerity to his voice.

"Careful Lord Grantham, you might just flatter me," she kissed his nose and relinquished her embrace, snuggling down under the covers and closing her eyes. He lay down beside her, leaning on his side and gazing at her. Her lips quirked up into a smile.

"Go to sleep, Robert."

"One more time?" he whispered, already playing with the hem of her night dress.

"You've had me twice already..."

"So?"

"Alright, but I'm just going to lie here. You've tired me out."

"I bet you won't 'just lie there'," he said, pulling down his drawers already and preparing to roll between her legs.

"I will..." she yawned.

"Coraaa?" he sing-songed at her. She opened her eyes and pretended annoyance. "Let's fondle," he growled, making her giggle.

"Oh, Robert! No," she half-heartedly fought him back but his weight was above her, his lips sucking at her neck, one hand cradling her head of long dark curls.

"Now, Lady Grantham," he said, keeping up his bravado. "Tell me how you're going to lie there and do nothing when I coddle you down here..."

"Ow!"

"What?" his head shot back up.

"Did you just bite me?"

"No," he looked at her like it was an absurd question. "I just did this." His mouth went to her skin again and he received the same reaction. "I thought you liked that!" he protested.

"Well usually, yes, but not quite so hard."

"I wasn't being..." he sighed, getting increasingly frustrated, he rolled back onto his side of the bed. "Was he too hard when he did it?"

"Robert!"

"Well was he?"

"I thought we'd reached an understanding about this..."

"I'm going to sleep in my dressing room, I can't talk about this when we're both tired."

"There we are, milady," Miss O'Brien set down the breakfast tray.

"Thank you, O'Brien... That will be all."

O'Brien left and Robert entered looking equally as tired as Cora did.

"I'm sorry about last night," he said before he could get a word in. "I don't know what came over me..."

"I'm sorry too. I don't want to argue... We'd been doing well for these first few months, maybe we deserve a bit of a lapse."

"Maybe... I've some things to do in Ripon today if you'd like to come with me? I thought we could have lunch together, take a walk?"

"I'd have loved to, but I've a few things to do today. Maybe next time..."

"Alright," he said, trying to hide his disappointment. "Are you going anywhere? Maybe I can drop you off?"

"I've some correspondence to take care of and then I'll go into the village with Mary - we're looking at wedding cakes."

"She really is still serious about Carlisle?"

"It appears so... though they've not set a date yet so who knows why we're looking at cakes."

"Well... good luck," he smiled, reaching her side of the bed and leaning in to kiss her parted lips. "I am sorry, you know."

"I know..."

"I'd better get going then. I'll see you this afternoon."

"Alright, darling."

Cora watched the door close and she looked down at her breakfast. A couple of letters sat beside her tea pot. A cream one with fat scribbley writing sent dread coursing through her. Moving her tray, she fought with a replaying memory that brought back one of the greatest regrets of her life. Her head swirled with unease as she virtually watched herself admitting Evelyn into her bedroom and further to the very bed where she sat. It was no longer thoughts of Robert's inadvertence that disturbed her so, but her own misguidance that plagued Cora with self-doubt. And the letters that now frequented her post every other day were simply tarrying with the process of letting her contrition go.