Robert and Tom arrived back at the house just in time for luncheon. Once their coats had been taken, Carson approached Robert with a telegram. He opened it and grinned widely as he read the contents.
"Carson, let Mrs. Hughes know that I'd like a word with her in the library after luncheon. Was there anything from Lady Mary or Lady Rosamund?" He tucked the telegram in his pocket.
"No, my lord. Not yet." Carson lifted one of his bushy eyebrows a fraction of an inch. "However, there was a message from the Dowager Countess. She 'requests' your lordship's presence for tea this afternoon."
Robert passed a hand over his brow in agitation, sighing. "Yes, well, we both know that her 'requests' are always 'orders,' don't we, Carson? Did she ask for her ladyship as well?"
Carson replied, "No, the Dowager Countess specifically requested you, my lord."
"Thank you, Carson. That will be all." Robert turned to Tom. "The ladies will be waiting."
Throughout luncheon, Robert watched his wife's face grow sadder. Tom made a grand effort at lively chatter to make up for Edith's near silence, and Cora cast him grateful glances between bites. Once she'd finished her meal, however, she couldn't seem to contain her tears. Throwing a pained look at her daughter, she stood abruptly. With a low "excuse me, I need to…," Cora dropped her serviette on her chair and hastened from the room.
Robert stood as well, fixing Edith with a glare that made her lower her lashes in shame before he flung his serviette down on his plate and left the room in disgust.
He caught up with Cora on the staircase landing, where she was sobbing so hard she'd had to stop because she couldn't see. Slipping an arm around her waist, he guided her to their room. Once they'd stepped inside and he'd closed the door, she turned, burying her face into his chest. Without a word, Robert embraced her, rubbing her back in what he hoped was a soothing manner.
"My own daughter won't speak to me, Robert. She barely looks at me," she choked out between sobs. "How does she think that makes me feel? Why can't she be happy for us?"
Not knowing the answers to these questions – and uncertain that Cora actually sought answers, from him at least – he simply let her clutch at his jacket lapels and weep on his chest, her head tucked under his chin. Robert allowed his gestures to speak for him, to give her the comfort she needed.
As her tears slowed and her breathing became normal again, Robert whispered to her. "Come along, my love. I think you could use a rest." Feeling her nod and hearing her sigh, he kissed the top of her head and led her to the bed. He tucked her within the blankets and pressed his lips to the glitter of tears remaining on her cheeks. Then he kissed her hand and looked down into her face, saying, "I have to go to the Dower House for tea this afternoon. If you don't want to go downstairs, darling, tell me, and I'll have Mrs. Hughes send up a tray later."
Squeezing his hand, she nodded again. "Please, have her send up a tray, Robert. I don't think I can bear tea today without you there with me."
"Try and get some sleep, sweetheart." Caressing her cheek, he gave her a small smile before departing.
A scowl replaced the smile as he observed Edith spin around at the end of the hall and bear down on him at full speed, an anxious expression on her face. Apparently she'd been pacing the hallway, waiting for them to emerge from the bedroom. "Papa –"
Shaking his head, Robert marched toward her, only to move to go around her.
His daughter reached out to grab his arm. "Please, Papa –"
Robert stopped and detached her fingers from his sleeve. "No, Edith. I can't speak to you right now," he said, his voice low but inflexible as steel. He couldn't look at her. "Do not knock on your mother's door."
To his dismay, Edith turned on her heel, as she burst into tears and ran to her room. He flinched when he heard her door slam. Sighing, his shoulders feeling very heavy all of a sudden, he continued on to seek out the sanctuary of his library.
Robert stopped short at the sight of their housekeeper standing there. "Mrs. Hughes? Is there something I can do for you?"
A look of confusion crossed her face. "Mr. Carson told me you wanted to speak to me here after luncheon, Lord Grantham."
His expression clearing, he walked over to her, shaking his head. "I apologize, Mrs. Hughes. It's already been an – well, an interesting and somewhat fatiguing day." He extracted the telegram from his pocket, smiling as he held it out for her to take. "I received this today."
Mrs. Hughes' smile reflected his own when she looked up from reading the telegram. "This is wonderful news, my lord."
"I'm quite pleased by it myself, actually." Taking the paper back from her, he placed it in his pocket once more. "Can you have everything ready by next week, then?"
Nodding, she replied, "Most assuredly, my lord. Completely ready."
"And not a word of this to her ladyship. It's to be a surprise." His grin faltered just a touch and he looked down. "I think she could use a nice surprise at this point."
Seeing his expression, Mrs. Hughes took one step closer to him. "Lord Grantham," she said, her voice soft, "I want you to know that those of us downstairs are very happy for you and her ladyship."
Robert lifted his eyes and smiled gratefully at the kindly face in front of him. "Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. It's much appreciated."
"I'll leave you now, your lordship, unless there's anything else?"
"No, no. That was all. I know you'll take care of all that needs to be done." Robert stepped aside so the housekeeper could get by him.
"Of course, my lord." Mrs. Hughes gave him one last warm smile before leaving the room.
A few hours later, Carson's voice interrupted Robert's reverie. "My lord? The car is ready to take you to the Dower House."
Robert placed the cap on his pen and turned in the chair. "Thank you, Carson. I'll only be a moment." Remembering something, he stood and said, "Carson? Would you tell Mrs. Hughes to take a tea tray up to her ladyship in about a half hour? I meant to ask her earlier, and it completely slipped my mind."
Carson inclined his head. "Certainly, my lord."
Following Carson into the foyer, Robert endeavored to collect his scattered thoughts as he collected his hat and coat from the butler. He was not at all sure he wanted to see his mother.
Robert sighed when the gates of the Dower House came into view. Girding himself for the attack he knew would surely come, he exited the motor when the chauffeur opened the door and gave his coat and hat to his mother's butler. He took one more deep breath just before entering her drawing room.
"Mama!" he said with false enthusiasm as he bent down to kiss her cheek before sitting across from her at the tea table.
Violet pursed her lips at her son. "Robert, don't pretend to be happy to see me. I know you aren't." She poured tea for the two of them, then passed him a cup.
Robert let yet another sigh pass his lips. "Fine, Mama. You're right. I'm not happy – I'm on tenterhooks. Usually when you 'request' a tea time audience with one of us, it can't be good." He took a sip of tea, then said, "So, let's have it."
Rolling her eyes, Violet replied, "Really, Robert, you don't have to be quite so dramatic about it."
"Am I not right? Don't you have something to say to me? Something I probably won't like?" He sat up straighter in his chair.
"I only wanted to speak to you about Cora and this pregnancy business," she answered, her eyes on her spoon as she stirred her tea.
Robert put his tea cup down on the table. "Yes, I imagine you do," he muttered under his breath.
Violet lifted her eyes to his at last. "Robert Crawley, what on earth were you thinking?"
He hadn't expected that question. Baffled, he merely said, "What?"
"What do you mean, 'what'? Things were finally going smoothly, and then you and Cora have to make this kind of announcement!" She punctuated the statement with a jab of her hand in the air.
Robert looked at her incredulously. "Mama, do you think we planned for this to happen?"
Violet came very close to snorting. "Of course not. Not even you two would be that ridiculous. But, for God's sake, Robert, can't you control yourself enough to keep it from happening?"
Shaking his head, he stood and crossed over to her drinks cabinet. As she didn't seem to have any Scotch, he poured himself a generous glass of sherry and drank deeply of it before turning to her again. "I can't believe what I'm hearing! Cora and I are in our fifties, she hasn't been pregnant in seven years, and before that she hadn't been pregnant in eighteen! Do you honestly suggest that we should have been abstaining?" He imbibed another large drink of sherry, wondering how he'd come to be discussing this with his mother of all people.
"If you had been, like most married people your age, this wouldn't have happened!" Her voice became increasingly querulous. "No respectable English couple would continue to carry on the way it is quite clear now that you two do!"
At this, sherry cascaded from Robert's mouth and all over the rug. "Bloody hell, Mama!" He picked up a serviette and wiped his lips.
"Robert!" She eyed him in shock. "Have you taken leave of your senses?"
"I was about to ask the same of you! How on earth is it any of your business if we 'carry on'? You might be happy that we're happy together – that we're happy about having another baby! Instead you act as if it's our fault that we are! That it's some sort of calamity or complication!" He slammed down the now empty sherry glass, his face growing red.
"Calm down, Robert! I'll not have you throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of my drawing room. You're acting like a child." Before Robert could reply to this, she went on. "And speaking of children, what if this baby is another girl?"
Still red with anger, Robert pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes. "I would think it would be more of a complication if the child were a boy. What of Matthew? The money he put into the estate? What about any children he and Mary have? Their sons?" He withdrew his hand to look at her. "Trust me, Mama, I am not unaware of the consequences of having another child." Turning to pour another sherry, he endeavored to still his shaking hands.
"I'm not so sure about that, Robert. And what of Matthew? He invested in the estate. Am I not right to assume that you and any other future heirs of Downton – if Matthew doesn't inherit – will share any profits with him, with Mary and their children? Is that not how it works?" Violet stared at him.
Robert drank more of the sherry and ran his hand over his forehead. "Mama, you are giving me a headache. Of course, Mary and Matthew and their family would be provided for. That is beside the point."
"Well, silly me, I thought that was precisely the point." She sipped her tea and glanced at her son, who leaned heavily against the drinks cabinet, his head in one hand and the sherry glass in another. She couldn't resist adding, nearly under her breath, "Perhaps this time Cora will get it right."
Banging the half-full sherry glass down on the cabinet, sherry spilling over the sides unheeded, Robert took several steps toward his mother. "That's it! I won't stand here one more second and let you take shots at Cora! Blaming me for lack of self-control is one thing, but criticizing her for something that is quite beyond her power is another. Don't you dare say anything like that to Cora. Ever," he growled. He swept past her chair to the door. Here he paused and pivoted back to glare at her. Her countenance wore a look of utter shock at his palpable rage. "I hope you only mean her having girls. Because if I thought for one moment you blame her for the accident that claimed our son, I would never, ever, speak to you again."
Robert snatched his coat and hat from the butler and brushed past him out the front door of the Dower House. He barked to the chauffeur that he would be walking home. He needed some time to calm down before he saw anyone.
As soon as Carson opened the door, Robert inquired, "Have there been any telegrams from Lady Mary or Lady Rosamund? Or even Mrs. Levinson?"
"No, my lord," he said, taking Robert's coat and hat from him.
"Right. Well, where might Lady Edith be?"
"Lady Edith is in her room, I believe, my lord," Carson responded.
"Good," Robert said, half under his breath. "This is going to get resolved. Right now." He left a somewhat mystified Carson in the foyer and hastened to his daughter's room. The strong feeling of protectiveness for his wife he'd experienced in the past week or so had undergone an astonishing surge during his conversation with his mother. He felt not only protective of Cora physically, but emotionally. And the hurt that so many of their family members were causing her by their seeming indifference or even outright hostility to news that had caused them such joy was too much for him to take anymore. He remembered how she'd wept in his arms over Edith's silence, and he couldn't wait any longer to take steps to rectify the situation.
"Edith!" Robert rapped his knuckles on her bedroom door.
She opened it a moment later in surprise. "Papa. What are –"
He interrupted her by stepping past her into the room. "You and I need to have a discussion."
"Al-alright." She closed the door and leaned back against it, as if she needed to keep as much distance between them as possible.
"I don't think you understand how upset your mother was earlier, Edith. And when your mother is upset, it upsets me." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Might you do me a favor and explain why you can't at least pretend to be happy for her – for us?"
"Papa, I'm sorry. I didn't realize…" She held onto the doorknob behind her back with both hands and looked down at the floor. Taking a deep breath, she attempted an explanation. "I don't think either of you understand how it makes me feel to see my mother having another child." She raised her head, and Robert saw tears sparkling in his daughter's eyes. "It's another reminder of what I don't have, Papa. It's supposed to be our time for having children. Mary will probably announce any day now that she's expecting too, but I don't even have that hope. I have no one."
Just as Robert felt himself thawing toward his daughter, she added, "I'm glad that Mama isn't ill, but why did she have to be pregnant?"
Robert uncrossed his arms, his hands balling into fists to prevent himself from slapping Edith. Because he sorely wanted to right then. Of course he would never do such a thing. He had a temper, and he could do his share of shouting, but he wasn't by nature a violent man. And he would never lay a hand on one of his family. "Do you think your mother became pregnant on purpose? Do you think she wanted to make you feel sad or lonely or to remind you of what you don't have, as you say? Edith, sometimes I wonder at you. I don't know if you realize how self-centered and churlish you sound when you say things like that." He approached the door, grateful that Edith moved away from it of her own volition, rather than making him push her aside – probably not very gently. He looked at her again, but this time his glance was more pitying. "You know, Edith, perhaps if you shared in your mother's happiness, our happiness, you wouldn't feel so alone. Something to think about, my girl."
From behind the closed door Robert could hear her weep. He shook his head. He honestly felt sorry for Edith, but he couldn't let her continue to act as if her mother's pregnancy was planned as a personal affront. He wouldn't allow it.
The next several days drained Robert of all energy. They finally received a telegram from Mary, one with a terse congratulations on the news and informing her parents that she and Matthew planned to arrive home about a week before Christmas. It appeared to placate Cora, but Robert knew his eldest. The storm would arrive with her in December.
Edith at least pretended to be resigned to her mother's state, but her cool politeness to Cora set Robert's blood simmering. However, like Mary's succinct telegram, any attention seemed enough for his wife. At least on the surface – at least for now. Edith avoided her father altogether when she could, evidently still smarting from his remarks to her in her bedroom.
Surprisingly, at least for Robert, he increasingly looked forward to his work with Tom on the estate. Tom's acceptance of Cora's pregnancy, his efforts to smooth things with the rest of the family, his small attentions to Cora – which did not go unnoticed by Robert – had earned him a great deal of gratitude and respect from his father-in-law. Robert found himself softening toward the revolutionary chauffeur who had stolen his daughter's heart. He began to appreciate more and more what Sybil had seen in him – and that perhaps Tom hadn't stolen her heart after all, but that she'd given it to him willingly.
Robert refused to communicate with his mother, and the Dowager Countess, just as stubbon as her son, did not ask herself to dinner or tea – or anything else. This suited Robert fine, as he had enough to deal with already to exhaust him.
He and Cora continued to struggle with her fears concerning the bath. Every night, though, it got a bit easier for her. Robert worked on it with her by degrees. First she bathed on her own as he sat in the washroom with her, then helped her out. The next night he reclined on the bed until she called for him. Getting out of the bath always proved to be the true test.
In a few days, she was able to get out by clinging to his arms alone. Then, after he dried her off, her hands still gripping him tightly, Cora walked out of the washroom with his arm around her waist. It was the first night he hadn't had to carry her out of the room.
As they sat on the bed together after this particular night, Cora expressed her gratitude to him with an especially intense kiss.
"Cora, darling," Robert said, "it's late. We should get some sleep."
Before she could say anything, he'd gotten up and turned off her lamp, walked around to his side of the bed, tucked himself under the covers, and switched his own lamp off.
"Robert?" she said into the dark. "Will you hold me?"
"Of course I will, my dear." He moved over to her and waited until she was settled before he slid an arm under her waist and spooned up to her back. "Goodnight, my love."
"Goodnight, my darling," She fell asleep in no time, for which Robert was glad.
Over the next several nights, a pattern emerged. Robert helped her with her bath, then, when Cora initiated anything more than tender kisses or comforting embraces, he would plead fatigue and insist they go right to sleep. His behavior perplexed Cora, and she began to wonder if he no longer found her desirable, or if her fear of the bath had changed the way he saw her somehow.
On the third night of this, she sighed heavily as she heard his breath deepen close to her ear. She wasn't sure how long she could go without feeling his hands on her body, his lips on her skin, his…. She closed her eyes tight and endeavored to forget about it for now and go to sleep.
Robert woke in the middle of the night to the increasingly familiar sounds of Cora dreaming. Except… it was one of those dreams. His entire body tensed as he listened to her pant and sigh his name in her sleep, as he felt her begin to writhe in his arms….
"Oh, God," he breathed, feeling his body react against his biding. He'd been able to keep his urges under control since he'd found out she was pregnant, but this – this was too much for him.
Carefully, quietly, he pulled his arm out from under her and backed out of the bed. Even in the grey of the room, he could see the look of bliss on her face as he passed her on his way to the washroom. He left the door slightly ajar, listening to the soft mewling noises and sharp gasps she made in her sleep as he got rid of his pajama bottoms and undershorts as quickly as possible.
Awakening with a gasp by her own dream, Cora lay there, becoming aware that her husband wasn't in bed with her. In another few seconds she became aware of something else – noises coming from the washroom: low groans and heavy breathing. She got up and pattered the few steps to the door. Finding it open a crack, she pushed it open just enough so she could look into the room. She stifled an exclamation of surprise at the sight that met her. Robert was there, in silhouette. He faced the bath, standing with his legs up against its edge as his hands moved along his arousal. The moonlight streamed in through the high window, touching the silvery locks on his head and giving him a faintly angelic glow, the work of his hands notwithstanding.
Unable to stay put any longer, Cora glided silently into the room, her eyes glazed with desire. She knelt beside him on the towels that covered the floor – left over from her bath – and, before he even noticed she was there, she curled her fingers around him.
Robert's eyes flew open. "Cora, no – I –" He fell silent as her other hand and mouth replaced his own hands, and he concentrated on keeping his knees from buckling underneath him. He watched her, his own eyes darkening, his fingers twisting into her hair.
Cora continued her attentions, her hands sometimes sliding around to grasp his buttocks – at which he moaned deeply – then back again. His breathing became ever more labored until he thought he would collapse with pleasure. All of a sudden he was breathing her name, then crying it out, and, with a final twitching of her hands, he groaned and slumped over, clutching the side of the bath.
As Robert stood there, panting, endeavoring to recover his wits, Cora looked up from where she still knelt beside him. "Now, do you mind telling me what's going on?"
"Cora, might a man put his pajamas – or at least his underthings – back on before you question him?" Robert knew she was serious, but he wasn't yet ready to answer her question.
Standing, Cora retrieved these garments from a chair and threw them at him. She put her hands on her hips. "Better?" she asked.
Sighing, Robert stepped into his undergarments and then his pajamas. "Cora, I'm sorry."
"For what?" She kept her hands where they were, her look half curious and half accusatory.
He started into their bedroom. "For, well, for that." Robert gestured toward the bathtub.
Cora followed him, her hands still on her hips. "I'm not sure why that's something to be sorry over. Might you enlighten me?"
Robert flopped onto the bed, his shoulders hunched, unwilling to meet her eyes as she stood before him that way. "I – I know you've wanted to, well, to…."
"Yes. I have. All of my appetites have increased, Robert. The doctor took that as a strong sign of my pregnancy, in fact."
He lifted his head to look at her. "He did?" A faint smile crossed his lips.
"He did. But don't change the subject." She began to pace back and forth. "Robert, honestly, that –" she pointed to the bathroom – "is, as far as I know, something you only do when I'm ill or mad at you or far away from you. Isn't it?" She stopped, her eyes boring into his.
Robert nodded. "Yes. But –"
"Robert, why, then? Am I undesirable to you?" Cora's eyes glittered with tears at even the thought of this.
"No." He began breathing slightly heavier just thinking about her earlier dream. "Dear God, no."
"Then what? I'm at a loss." Now she crossed her arms, looking at him expectantly.
"Cora, I –" he took a deep breath – "Cora, I'm afraid of hurting you, of hurting the baby." Robert gazed at her, knowing the complete truth of his words would be in his eyes.
Cora shook her head. "Robert, why didn't you say so? And do you know how strange that sounds to me? Up until we found out for sure…. Why is this a problem now?"
"I don't know," he said honestly. "I just keep thinking about before, and add to that your fears with the bath…." He hung his head again. "I don't want to hurt either of you," he whispered.
Sighing, Cora sat next to him on the bed and took his hand. "Robert, look at me, please."
Robert turned his face to hers as she requested.
"I really don't think you'll hurt either of us, darling," she said. "But if you're uncertain, telephone Dr. Ryder. Please. He said we could ask him anything. Besides, I'm not sure I can do without your loving attentions for the next several months." She smiled at him and touched his cheek.
Placing his other hand over hers on his cheek, he moved it so he could kiss her palm. "I'll telephone him tomorrow. I promise, my love."
Cora's voice was teasing now. "See that you do." She yawned. "Now, I think sleep is in order after such exertions."
His heart leapt at her wicked grin, and, gathering her to himself, he pulled them down onto the bed and kissed her soundly before drawing the covers over them, holding her closely as they fell asleep.
After luncheon the next day, Robert barricaded himself into the foyer, leaving Carson on guard. He wanted no one to overhear his conversation.
Picking up the receiver, he prayed that the good doctor would be available for consultation with him as he gave the operator the appropriate information to be put through to the office in Harley Street.
"Dr. Ryder here."
Robert sighed in relief. "Yes, Dr. Ryder, this is Lord Grantham. You saw my wife over a week ago?"
"Yes, I remember, Lord Grantham. How is her ladyship?"
"Oh, she's fine, doctor. But, well, you know how you said we could telephone if we had any questions?" Robert began to get nervous about what he would have to ask.
"I do. Do you have a question for me, your lordship?"
Drawing confidence from the doctor's genial tone, Robert said, "Yes. I do. I'm sure your records indicate that my wife lost – lost a baby about seven years ago. To be honest, knowing for certain that she's again pregnant has made me reconsider whether I should – well, whether we should be intimate." He whispered the last word into the phone.
Dr. Ryder stopped himself from chuckling, sensing the true concern of the man at the other end of the line. "Lord Grantham, if I am recalling correctly, her ladyship's miscarriage was because of an accident, correct? There was no trouble or illness of her or the fet- er, the baby?"
Robert closed his eyes, a pain still in his heart remembering these things. "No, Dr. Ryder, there was no other reason. It was just – just a horrible accident. She slipped getting out of the bath."
Nodding, the doctor said, "If that is the case, your lordship, you shouldn't worry at all about resuming intimacies with your wife. From her examination and our conversation beforehand, she is perfectly healthy, and you were already engaging in those activities before." Robert blushed at his words, but the doctor, not seeing him, didn't skip a beat. "In fact, if she welcomes them, it can be considered a form of exercise for her. In many women it also decreases mood swings."
Robert began to grin. "Oh, she's definitely welcoming –" Catching himself, Robert cleared his throat. "So – so, you'd actually encourage it?"
Dr. Ryder smiled. "Yes, if it's not too tiring for her. And Lady Grantham will be the judge of that."
"Thank you, Dr. Ryder. Thank you very much." Robert's grin now stretched from ear to ear.
"It's my pleasure, Lord Grantham. Please telephone any time you have a question for me."
"Thank you again. Good afternoon, Dr. Ryder." Robert placed the receiver down on its cradle, eager to tell his wife the news.
Not finding her in their bedroom, he nipped down the hallway to Sybbie's nursery. Slipping in the door, he whispered, "Cora."
She turned from where she was playing with Sybbie and, seeing his eyes all alight, got up, leaving Sybbie with a kiss on the forehead. "Yes?" she inquired, holding her breath.
"He said all is well," Robert whispered. Then he bent down and hissed something in her ear that made her blush.
"Nanny, we have to go attend to something urgent," Cora said. "Sybbie, Grandmama and Grandpapa will come get you for tea." Sybbie ran up and accepted embraces and kisses from both before retiring back to the corner where her dolls resided.
Robert loved that Cora appeared giddy as he laced his fingers through hers and led her down the hallway to their bedroom. As soon as the door closed, leaving them alone together, Cora stood on tiptoe to crush her lips to his, threading her fingers through his silvery hair.
"Cora," he whispered, once she'd moved down to his neck, "do you think we could do that thing you did the morning before we went to the doctor?"
Pausing in her attentions to his neck, Cora drew back with a wicked grin. "Oh, I think I can just about manage that, darling," she replied before pulling Robert to her again, kissing him with such a fervor that he couldn't imagine giving up these delights for almost six months.
"I love you, Cora," Robert breathed into her hair.
"I love you too, my dear."
Silver/gray: "security, reliability, dignity, maturity, solid, conservative, practical, stability, strength of character, authority"