D 385 52/1 URGENT
9 FEBRUARY 1901
YORKSHIRE
COUNTESS OF GRANTHAM
LORD LEFTENANT GRANTHAM HAS BEEN FOUND. DEEPLY REGRET TO INFORM HE IS SUFFERING FROM MALARIA. PROGNOSIS UNCERTAIN. ON BEHALF OF THE GOVERNMENT I WISH TO OFFER DEEP SYMPATHY IN YOUR CONTINUED ANXIETY
P BRADLEY MINISTER OF DEFENSE
Robert was only aware of two things, heat and pain. Heat whose source could be found somewhere deep within radiating like a flame, the core burning molten blue, his insides melting onto themselves. It brought the pain, every molecule and cell twisted in agony. As though from a great distance he could hear his own moans.
Flashes of memory assaulted his semi conscious mind. Bates carrying him the last leg of their journey, his body twitching uselessly with fever. The taste of earth in his mouth as Bates's own injury caused him to fold under Robert's added weight. The sweet sound of his countrymen as the medics spoke over his bed, arguing about his condition.
Just as in the prison, time became an obscure entity. Robert tossed and turned from one day into the next. He was tired down into the marrow of his bones and once breathing seemed too great a chore, he knew he was close to dying. Death, as it was playing out for him, was a monotonous, drawn out process that finally won by exhausting the life out of its victim.
John was by his side on a particularly bad night, when Robert could hear but could not speak, when his ghoulish, fevered dreams confused his reality. The words he said were nothing but noise in Robert's head, save for one. Cora. Her name sounded foreign from Bates's voice but it still conjured her in his mind. His heart ached in his chest with the effort to keep beating and he sent an apology to her up to the heavens. He had never had cause to feel like a failure until that moment. He had tried to keep his vow to her but he had failed. There would be no earnest reunion, no holding of his new child in his arms, no more chances to tell her how he really felt.
"John..." Robert's voice was a wheeze of air punctuated by a cough.
"Yes sir." Bates leaned closer.
"Tell her," Robert said, 'tell Cora...for me…."
His words were shouted within his soul but John could not make out whatever it was that Robert's weak lips tried to utter. A great sorrow descended on him, to think he had never really showed her how deeply he loved her, that she was a vital part of him, that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He had always thought there would be enough time and now it seemed, his time had run out. It would be his greatest regret.
Cora sat stiffly upon her chair, periodically glancing out the large window that faced the street. Her tea grew tepid in its cup, forgotten in her hands. She was a dizzying mix of nerves and excitement. Her knee bounced under the folds of her dress, the quaking it produced throughout her body distracting her from thinking too much.
Finally she could hear the carriage outside as it drew up to the house. She watched while the driver hopped down and opened the door. The top of his head was visible as he bowed down out of the door and onto the sidewalk. He straightened slowly and Cora couldn't help but notice, even from the distance, that his clothes hung from his body, his shoulders rounded forward with fatigue, his face was lined like an old man's. Cora held her breath, standing as well. Her teacup rattled on its plate as she placed it down and she clasped her hands together. When they'd first received word that against all of his doctors expectations Robert would recover and would be honorably discharged within the month, she'd been weak with joy. Now that the moment was here, the moment she had both dreaded and prayed for, she wasn't sure she could face him.
"Cora!" Robert's voice filled the hall and even that sounded off, lesser than it had been. She turned to the drawing room's door, tensely waiting. His profile filled the space she was watching and he looked around a beat until he saw her. The furrowed brow cleared and his face broke out into a smile that still didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Cora," Robert sighed and she ran to him, clutching at his coat, sinking her face into the hollow of his neck. He squeezed her hard, almost painfully, whispering her name, until he suddenly remembered, pushing her out from him.
"My dear, I'm so sor-" the apology fell from his lips as he stared wide eyed at her flat middle. He reached out slowly to graze his fingers where his child should be but Cora took one step back. Robert's eyes rose up to Cora's, the irises already swimming with pain.
"Oh no…" he whispered and Cora shook her head, trying to catch her breath.
"It's not what you think," she was finally able to stutter out but not before the first of Robert's tears slipped past the barrier of his closed eyes and Cora pressed a palm to her chest, her heart constricting at his broken appearance.
His face turned blank as the words sputtered out of her, as she explained the mistake the doctor had made. Cora quickly recounted the events of the ordeal as Robert stood unmoving, listening to her. She couldn't read his face, and she felt cold as panic seized her.
"How long did you know?" Robert asked, his voice low and controlled.
"Sybil became ill in October," Cora replied in way of an answer. It happened immediately, the hardening of his face, the lines of it deepening and Cora bit her lip hard, willing herself not to cry. She had expected this, she consoled herself, it was going to be a shock for him.
"You knew for two months before I went missing," Robert spat, pointing an angry finger at her, "and you lied to me all that time!"
"Robert," Cora plead, "I thought it was the best way. I thought-"
"No you did not!" Robert roared, his face screwed up in anger. "You did not think, Cora! Did you think how I dreamt of that child? Did you think how I already had come to love it?"
"I did, Robert! I did!" Cora cried, her tears now flowing freely, her own grief bubbling up once again.
"This is why you wanted to meet me in London instead of Downton," Robert said, waving his hand in agitation. "You knew this was a betrayal of the most hurtful kind and you wanted as few witnesses as possible when I found out."
"Robert, please…." Cora said.
Robert held up his hand and stepped out of the room. He turned, looking at her over his shoulder, unwilling to meet her eyes. Cora recoiled into herself at the look of disgust that briefly took over his face.
"I'm going back to Downton. Now. You may come if you wish, or stay here. It makes no difference to me. I want to see my children." And with that Robert was gone.
Cora stared at the spot he had been in and wrapped her arms around herself, hugging tightly. Dazed, she walked to the chair she had been in and lowered into, her tears flowing freely down her face.
"Thank God Martha has left. That woman is non stop chatter," Robert grumbled, taking a sip of his tea.
"Well, I won't disagree with you, but I wonder if she shouldn't have stayed a little longer. Although she wouldn't admit, Cora needed her." Violet said over the rim of her teacup, watching Robert's mouth turn into a hard line.
"Hmph," Robert snorted.
Violet carefully placed her teacup down. "Don't you think you're being a little harsh on her?"
Robert sighed feeling the heat burn in his face, the topic his mother was broaching stirring up the anger he kept pressed down. It had been a week since he'd come home, seven days of avoiding Cora, of leaving rooms that she entered, of silent dinners, of wandering around Downton not quite knowing what to do with himself. He felt lost, stripped raw, as though dropped into a life he had read about but did not know how to live.
"Mama, I think this is best left between Cora and I." Robert answered levelly.
"I advised her to not tell you. I feel responsible that you are prolonging this tantrum." Violet said with a shrug of her shoulders.
"Tantrum?" Robert repeated incredulously. He pushed himself up and away from the small table, his fury building. "You think it unreasonable that I should feel angry?"
"Angry, yes. But not betrayed." Violet said. "If you are to be angry, then be angry at fate, circumstance. But do not take it out on Cora."
"Well, I cannot help it. My wife lied to me for months. That child was as real to me as any of our girls and I am mourning it, as well as the trust I thought Cora and I shared." Robert rubbed his forehead, leaning against the mantel as quietness followed his words.
"And don't you think it was just as real to Cora?" Violet prodded gently. "I don't think you've truly appreciated how difficult the last year has been for her."
"Oh, so you're her patron saint now? My, things really have changed in my absence," Robert scoffed, though his heart wasn't in to the fight any longer.
"I'll forgive your tone because you've been through the fire, my dear boy." Violet walked over to Robert and laid a hand on his arm. "Just do not forget that she has been too."
Robert startled awake, his breathing labored and his heart hammering in his chest. Sweat slicked the back of his neck and Robert wiped the bare skin their with a shaking hand. He sat up, closing his eyes and concentrating on his breathing as it began to even out. In the dark, the nightmare lingered. He could still feel the cold steel of his gun in his hands, the violent kick back as he fired it into the swarms that charged, the immediate glaze that happened over someone's eyes when they were fatally shot. The eyes of all the dead followed him these thousands of miles away.
Blinking rapidly, trying to dispel the images that would not leave him, Robert focused on the familiar surroundings of his dressing room. He kept his eyes on the wardrobe, tracing the lines of the woodwork until his heart beat returned to normal. It was only then that he registered the sound in the room. Looking to the right of his bed, he was startled to see Cora curled into his small vanity chair, an afghan draped across her shoulders. She was sleeping, her head tilted awkwardly to the side, and even in sleep her brow was knitted deeply, her hands balled into fists in her lap. Robert wondered who she was fighting in her dreams. His heart dropped to look at her like this. His mother's words from that afternoon echoing in his mind. He had been blind and rendered stupid by his anger. This was the first time he'd really taken the opportunity to see her since coming home. She looked unwell, all of the trials she'd endured carving her hollow. Robert swallowed, suddenly desperate to touch her.
"Cora," he called quietly though she jumped at his voice anyway. A look of confusion crossed her tired face.
"I fell asleep," it came out more like a question and Robert nodded his head.
"What are you doing in here?" Robert asked not unkindly.
Cora drew the afghan tighter around herself. "You have nightmares. I can hear you from the bedroom. You settle if I hold your hand."
"How many nights?" Robert asked unbelieving.
"Every night since you've been home," Cora whispered, looking down into her lap before standing up wearily.
"Cora…" Robert called to her retreating back. She didn't turn around, but let out a great sigh, her shoulders dropping.
"Goodnight Robert. Sleep well." Robert put his face in his hands as she carefully closed the door behind her.