As her lady's maid got her ready for bed, Cora couldn't seem to stop herself from beaming. Almost everything around her had taken on a different aspect. Truth be told, she had been wondering over luncheon that day whether things would really have changed when they got back to Downton. She'd feared that Robert, once home, seeing his mother again, anticipating resuming his usual daily tasks, might revert back to the husband he'd been before.
But he hadn't.
Robert had held her hand in front of his family, he had defended her to his own mother, he had spent time with her in the afternoon instead of out on the estate, and he had been openly flirtatious with her at dinner and then again when he'd come back into the drawing room with his father.
It appeared that Lady Margaret had been right in her observation that Robert Crawley was a different man. He was quite obviously – to everyone who saw the two together – a man in love.
Cora blushed thinking of it all, never expecting that she could be so blissfully happy. She dabbed a little more of her perfume behind her ears while her maid busied herself with her mistress' garments. Glimpsing in the mirror a bit of green among the things to be put away, Cora turned in her chair and said, "Leave the scarf out, please."
She grinned at her own reflection in the mirror and hastened to dismiss her maid, so she could complete her preparations for the rest of the evening.
When Robert scratched upon the adjoining door a little while later, Cora wasn't disappointed in his reaction after he'd entered the room. His face lit up, and he crossed the room to her, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her gently, then whispering, "From the moment you walked into the drawing room with this wrapped around your waist, I'd hoped you would wear it like this again for me tonight. There is only one thing wrong here."
Cora chuckled and asked, "What's that, my darling?"
Reaching up around her, he bent his head and said into her ear, "Your hair is most inconveniently pulled back. Let me loosen it." He'd been untying the band that held her hair back as he spoke, and, once undone, he flung the band onto her dressing table and threaded his fingers through her dark locks. Tilting her head back slightly, Robert looked into her eyes. "That's much better," he remarked approvingly before crushing his lips to hers again in a delicious kiss.
Only a few moments passed until Cora began unfastening the buttons of his nightshirt with nimble fingers, parting the fabric and grazing his chest as they kissed. Robert's hands left her hair to run over her body through the scarf, then slipped beneath the scarf to touch her more intimately: to caress the curve of her hip, to cup her bottom, to fondle a breast, to leave a trail of fire along her inner thighs, deliberately avoiding sliding his hand any higher between her legs, in an attempt to heighten her desire for him.
It worked. "Robert," she breathed, hissing in his ear now, "please."
Robert was becoming increasingly well-versed in how she expressed what she wanted, and with this, he knew she needed to feel his skin against hers. Quickly ridding himself of his night clothes, Robert turned to the knot on the green scarf. Cora curled her fingers around him, grinning. Fumbling, reaching the point of incoherency because of what she was doing, Robert whispered, his eyes closing, "Cora, I can't do this when you're doing that."
Giggling, Cora took her hand away from him while he finished unknotting the scarf, then, draping the scarf on the chaise, she climbed on the bed, looking over her shoulder and wiggling her behind at him. His eyes glazing over, Robert scrambled to join her, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her on top of him. Cora let out a little shriek as she landed with her chest against his, giggling, then fell silent as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her. She reached a hand around and began stroking him, loving to hear the guttural noises of pleasure he made.
Bending his head to kiss her neck, Robert slid his hands down her back to squeeze her bottom. Purring with delight, Cora spoke in his ear, "Sit up, darling. I can't wait any longer."
Not even completely cognizant of doing so, he sat up, propping himself against the pillows as she positioned herself in front of him, a leg on either side of his. Before she would do anything else, however, she put her fingers beneath his chin and lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers.
Again, somehow knowing exactly what she needed, Robert reached up and caressed her face, smiling at her. "I love you, Cora." He rubbed his thumbs tenderly along her cheekbones.
"I love you, Robert." Leaning forward, Cora put her lips on his as she lowered herself upon him, resting her hands on his hips. Slipping her tongue into his mouth, she began rolling her own hips, making Robert moan.
Robert slid one arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him, kissing her even more deeply. He sneaked his other hand between them, his fingers seeking the place where their bodies were joined, knowing he had found the right place to stroke his fingers when she gasped against his mouth, her eyes flying open. "Oh my," she murmured, closing her eyes once again and resting her forehead against his, beginning to move in a more feverish way as he continued the motion of his fingers.
Cora had evidently reached a place where she could no longer even kiss him, could only gasp and pant and writhe against his fingers, his body, until a wave seemed to break over her. Robert felt her tighten around him, her breathing growing even heavier, and he knew he could so easily get carried away upon the same wave. But, no. He wanted for it all to last as long as possible, wanted to give her as much pleasure as he could, felt an overwhelming need to make up for all the staid, almost indifferent, duty-bound coupling that had occurred in this room in the past months.
And so, drawing her head down to kiss her again, his hand still between them, he endeavored – and was marvelously able – to bring her to where that wave would crash over her again – and again – and yet again – until he could hold out no longer and finally succumbed to the same wave of exquisite pleasure himself. Leaning back heavily against the pillows, Robert pulled Cora with him, embracing her tightly and whispering against her hair with what little breath he had left, "I love you."
Robert could feel her smile against his neck as she ran her hands lightly up and down his sides. "I love you, too, darling."
For quite a while Robert simply held her, both of them agreeably fatigued. Then Robert began to play with then ends of her hair that fell over his hands on her back. As he twisted her dark tresses around his fingers, he thought of something he wanted to share with her.
"Cora?"
"Yes, my love?" She kissed his neck lazily.
"Are you very tired? I have something I want to show you, but only if you're not too exhausted."
"No, I'm not too tired, Robert."
Robert gently pulled her away from him and looked at her, smiling. "Good. I'll be right back." Kissing her forehead, he climbed off the bed and began putting on his night clothes.
"Where are you going?" A crease appeared on Cora's brow.
He looked at her, somewhat excitedly now. "I have to go get what I want to show you. I won't be long, Cora."
He exited the room through the adjoining door, putting on slippers and picking up a candle to light his way. Then he made his way through the darkened house to the library.
Raising his candle, Robert scanned the titles quickly, murmuring, "Wordsworth, Wordsworth, Wordsworth," almost under his breath. Finally locating it, he removed the volume from the shelf with a triumphant, "Ha!"
"Wordsworth? Not Shakespeare or Browning?" a voice asked behind him.
Yelling in fright, nearly dropping both book and candle, Robert wheeled around, clutching the book to his chest. Rosamund sat in her dressing gown, nestled in a corner of the settee, her legs tucked up under her, enveloped in a blanket. "Bloody hell, Rosamund, you startled me! What are you doing sitting here in the dark?"
"Mama and I had a fight. An awful one, Robert."
Coming closer to her, the small pool of light cast by the candle hitting her more directly, Robert noticed her hands were wrapped around a glass of Scotch and her face was tearstained. He knew then that their argument must have been truly awful. Rosamund rarely ever drank Scotch, and she never cried.
Robert put his candle down on a table and placed the book next to it. He sat beside his sister and looked at her, wanting to take her hand or put an arm around her shoulders, but he wasn't sure she would like him to. "Would you want to tell me about it?"
Rosamund nodded, squeezing her eyes shut against fresh tears. "I went to your bedroom to talk to you before, but you weren't there." Opening her eyes, she saw that he was about to say something, but she stopped him. "No, don't apologize. You couldn't have known. Besides," she said with a grin, "I was hoping that you two would become closer during that trip. It makes me happy that at least one of us will have something like that."
"Oh, Rosamund." Unable to help himself, he pulled the cuff of his dressing gown down over his hand and used it to wipe her tears. "You have no idea how grateful I am to you." He looked at her, remembering the things she'd said to him before he and Cora had even left for London, the "surprises" she'd arranged. "You saw something I didn't see, didn't you?"
Nodding again, Rosamund smiled wider. "It was how very much you wanted her to be happy, Robert. You wouldn't care so much if you didn't –" She hesitated, unsure if he'd actually realized for himself the true depths of his own affection for Cora.
He finished the sentence for her. "If I didn't love her, you mean?" Now Robert was the one nodding. "Rosamund, I don't know how long it would have taken me to come to my senses if you hadn't pushed us together like that. We needed that time alone – I needed that time alone with her, needed to see her. To focus on just her. I'm really not sure I could ever thank you, dear sister." Impetuously, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "But, thank you."
Grinning, Rosamund unwrapped one of her hands from the glass she held and placed it on his arm. "All part of being your sister, Robert. And I see the scarves must have been put to good use." Her lips twitched with mirth, her eyes sparkling by the light of the candle.
Shaking his head, Robert leaned back against the settee, grinning now as well. "You have no idea, Rosamund." He chuckled. "I'm not sure I'll see an emerald green scarf the same way again. Or a bottle of champagne for that matter."
Giving a low laugh, Rosamund squeezed his arm. "So you punched a man, did you? And the same man punched you a few days later? What a story that must be!" She tactfully steered the conversation away from scarves and champagne, knowing if he said anything more he would most probably blush. She knew all she wanted to know about that from the looks those two had exchanged throughout the evening – as well as his presence in Cora's room that afternoon and absence from his own room when she'd sought him out earlier.
"It is." Robert proceeded to tell it – most of it, at least – knowing that Rosamund would be discrete and that Cora would probably tell her own version of it to her sister-in-law later anyway.
"Goodness gracious, Robert! What a contemptible little man!" She shook her head, incredulous that a person could be so reprehensible. "But Cora must have thought you quite the champion."
Robert blushed, remembering her calling him "masterful" and telling him that seeing him punch Alistair had been exhilarating for her. "I think she did, Rosamund. Although I really hit that bast— um, er, fellow because I simply lost my temper."
"For good reason, so far as I could see. Propositioning her in the middle of a tea room? Probably knowing you would come back at any moment? What audacity!" Rosamund sipped her whiskey, pulling a face.
Seeing this, Robert tried to take the glass from her. "Perhaps you shouldn't be drinking this."
"Don't take it, Robert. Your story and this Scotch are the only two things that are making me feel better about myself right now." She held onto the glass with a viselike grip.
Robert let go of the glass, but he moved his hand only slightly, putting it on top of hers. "What did you and Mama fight about, Rosamund?" His voice was soft.
Rosamund lifted her eyes to his. "Marmaduke."
"Your new suitor?" Robert kept his hand on hers since she didn't seem to mind his having it there.
Nodding, Rosamund swallowed against the lump in her throat. "Except he's not really all that new, Robert. I've known him since my first Season." Unexpectedly, to her brother at least, Rosamund turned her hand over, grasping his. "I kept putting him off, knowing Mama wouldn't approve. He's everything I knew she would hate. He's new money, he's untitled, his family is in trade, he's unrefined, he's probably too old for me…" She trailed off, sighing and looking down.
"At least he's English," Robert pointed out.
Chuckling wryly, Rosamund tilted her head to the side. "Yes, well, he has one point in his favor that Cora doesn't, I suppose." She looked up at her brother again. "He's stayed by me, Robert. When all the other suitors, some of them I actually might have seen myself marrying, when they all fell away, for one reason or another – probably my sharp tongue, intimidatingly keen intelligence, and unladylike sense of humor, not to mention my formidable mother – he was always still there. Marmaduke loves me, Robert. And tonight I told Mama I love him too." She pressed his hand. "But she won't hear of the match."
"I'm so sorry, Rosamund." As happy as he'd been in the past few days, and especially as he owed so much of it to her machinations, he hated to hear this news from his sister. In a way, he didn't approve of Marmaduke anymore than their Mama did. But he did want Rosamund to be happy.
"I told her, Robert. I told her that I don't care about all of those other things. I'm not meant to be Countess of Grantham, so what difference does any of it make? Not to mention that after a few Seasons, the bloom goes off the rose, and one is more a survivor than anything else. Who else is going to take notice of me?" She took a long drink of Scotch before adding, "Even if I wanted them to – but now I wouldn't want anyone else. Marmaduke is the only one of them who has ever made me laugh."
Robert sat and looked at his sister. He knew what she meant. It was one of the reasons that he chose Cora in the first place, because she amused him. He thought of the past few days and what his father had told him earlier that night. "Tell me something, Rosamund. Would Marmaduke punch a man for you? Take a punch for you?"
Rosamund met his eyes, seeing that he was very serious. "Yes, I believe he would, brother. Without hesitation."
Nodding slowly, Robert bent to kiss her on the cheek once more. "Then that's good enough for me. Mama will come around, Rosamund. What about Papa?"
"Oh, I think he wants his little girl to be happy, Robert. If I have the two of you on my side, perhaps Mama will reconsider. And if she doesn't? Well, I'll just have to run away with him, won't I?" She smiled at him.
"Please don't do that, my dear. I want to be there when you get married." He smiled back.
"Well. We shall see." Squeezing his hand one more time, she fixed him with a questioning look. "Is Cora asleep?"
Robert's eyes opened widely. "Oh, God, Rosamund. I told her I'd be right back. She might be asleep by now – I've been down here an age."
Rosamund's face softened. "Go on then. I'll be fine. I have my Scotch still." She leaned over and kissed his cheek this time, letting go of his hand. "Thank you, Robert, for cheering me up. And goodnight."
"Goodnight, Rosamund," he said, gathering his book and candle and hurrying from the library.
Cora sat up in bed and stared at the clock. Robert had hurried out of the room so quickly, she thought when he said, "I'll be right back," it meant that he would be back in a matter of minutes. Perhaps ten, depending upon where he had gone to get whatever it was he wanted to bring back.
But as the minutes passed, Cora grew nervous, then she began to watch the clock. Five minutes passed, then fifteen. Getting up, Cora retrieved her nightdress and pulled it over her head because she was cold, then got back into bed, drawing the bedclothes up around her.
Half an hour had gone by. Cora got up again and peeked into Robert's dressing room. It was all dark, and at least he wasn't in his bed. She climbed up on her bed and picked up her book, peering at it in the candlelight.
Forty-five minutes. Where had he gone? Cora put her book down, trembling. Perhaps he wasn't coming back tonight. Perhaps he wasn't in his dressing room because he didn't want to face her for some reason. She went over and over the evening in her head, and there was nothing she could think of that might make him not want to come back. He had said he would come back. She knew she was being irrational, but she couldn't keep the negative whispers from her mind.
He'd never slept in her bed with her here. Maybe when faced with the reality of it, he couldn't do it. Maybe he told her he'd be right back as an excuse. He thought she would fall asleep and not notice he hadn't returned. He vacated his dressing room to make sure. So he wouldn't hurt her feelings….
But her feelings were hurt. It was nearly an hour since he'd gone. Nothing he would have had to go get would have taken so long. And now she was convinced he wasn't coming back to her room that night.
Perhaps everything wasn't that different after all.
Heartbroken, Cora tied her hair back again, blew out all the candles, and crawled into bed, curling into a ball and pulling the blankets up over her head. Crying.
Robert crept up the stairs and through the hallways as quickly as he could without his candle going out. He went into his bedroom and then quietly opened the dividing door to Cora's room. It was all dark, and Robert thought it was strange that not one candle would be left burning if Cora had simply fallen asleep waiting for him.
Then he heard odd choking noises – sobs. Cora was crying. First Rosamund and now Cora. What on earth is going on? Robert thought.
Hastening to her side of the bed, he placed book and candle on her bedside table, then sat next to where she lay curled under the bedclothes. Twitching these back, Robert asked softly, "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"
Cora didn't move. Her hands were over her face, muffling her voice. "Go away, Robert. You don't want to be here."
Robert put his hand on her back and flinched when she pulled away. "I don't know what you mean, Cora. Of course I want to be here!"
She uncovered her eyes and stared at him, almost hatefully. "You obviously don't. Over an hour, Robert. You've been gone over an hour."
A realization clutched at his heart, remembering her looks whenever she thought he would leave her at night. He kept his voice soft, his eyes pleading for her to understand. "Cora, darling, I'm so sorry. I went downstairs to get a book, and I meant to be gone only long enough to find it and come back. But Rosamund was in the library, and she and Mama had had a fight, and she was crying." It still amazed him that two of the women in his life were crying in one night. "I couldn't just leave here there. The time got away from me. Please, sweetheart, I'm sorry."
Cora appeared to have calmed down a little. She sniffled. "Rosamund? Your sister Rosamund was crying?" She sounded skeptical.
Robert nodded. "I couldn't believe it myself. She was drinking Scotch too. You see why I couldn't just leave her?"
Looking in his eyes, Cora could see that he wasn't making any of it up, difficult as it was to believe. Perceiving this, Cora sat up abruptly and threw her arms around his neck, crying again, but this time with relief, scolding herself for doubting him. "I thought you weren't coming back. It's absurd, and I know it, but I just…when almost an hour had passed, and you weren't here, I thought—"
Holding her tightly in his arms, Robert rocked her gently, stroking her hair. "I know, darling. I know. I'm sorry. I'm not used to having someone to come back to. I shouldn't have been so thoughtless. Look, Cora, may I tell you something?" Feeling her nod against his neck, Robert went on. "That first morning that I woke up with you in my arms? I knew that I always wanted to wake up with you. And I realized, too, that the night before, you were afraid I'd leave, even after everything we'd shared. I knew why you thought that – because that's what had always happened before. But, Cora, sweetheart…" he paused and drew back from her to look her in the eye, "I promised myself that I would never do that again. The only things that will keep me from sleeping in here with you are extreme illness," he began to chuckle here, "or extreme vexation with me on your part. Which I hope won't happen too often, but I'm sure it will at some point, darling, with your husband being as stubborn as he is." He smiled at her and kissed her forehead.
"I'm sorry, Robert," she whispered. "For doubting your word. You did say you'd come back."
"I did. But it was a long time, and I'm sorry for that." He traced his thumbs over her tearstained face and kept gazing into her eyes. "Truly, though, I love you, sweetheart, and I can't imagine anything better than to know I'm going to sleep in the same bed with you and wake up with you beside me."
Finally, Cora smiled at him. "I can't either, my love."
Robert kissed her tenderly, and then wrapped his arms securely around her again, wanting so much for her to feel safe with him, to know how much he would do to protect her and keep her happy.
After a little while, Cora whispered, "What did you want to show me? Or did I spoil it with my hysterics?" She laughed faintly, hoping the joke wouldn't go amiss.
"No, of course not, darling," he chuckled a bit. "Let me light a few more candles so I can see better." He pulled himself out of her arms, and stood, lighting the candle on her bedside table, and then, taking the book to the other side of the bed, lit the candle there as well. Setting his own down, he took off his dressing gown and climbed up into bed and, sitting up against the pillows, held his arm out to his wife. Cora crawled over to him and tucked the bedclothes around them both, nestling into the crook of his arm, her head resting on his chest.
"Close your eyes," Robert said. "I want to read you something."
Cora obediently closed her eyes, and Robert began to read:
"She was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleam'd upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament:
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay."
Robert picked up strands of her hair and wrapped them around his fingers abstractedly, and Cora sighed contentedly, listening to his voice and letting the words sink into her.
"I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food,
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles."
Here Robert paused to kiss the top of her head, then went on:
"And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveller between life and death:
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of an angel light."
Once she realized he was finished reading, Cora looked up at him, smiling when she saw that he was smiling down at her. "It's beautiful, darling."
Robert bent his head down a little and whispered, "It's you."
Cora blushed a trifle. "I'm not an angel, Robert, and I'm certainly no 'perfect woman.'"
"You're my angel, Cora, and you're perfect to me." He kissed the top of her head again, and then said, "I think it's what Wordsworth meant. That the woman you love is spirit and human, perfect and angelic to you. And I never understood this poem until you, sweetheart."
"Oh, Robert. I love you so." Cora nestled closer to him, closing her eyes again, yawning. It had been a long day.
Robert chuckled a little. "Alright, my perfect angel. I think it's time we got some sleep."
Cora murmured something that sounded like, "Yes, of course, dearest," against his chest.
Leaning over as best he could with Cora against him, Robert blew out first her candle and then moved back over to do the same with his. Sliding them both down beneath the bedclothes, Robert tightened his arms around his wife, brushing her hair off her face and bending his head to kiss her forehead once more.
"Goodnight, Cora," he whispered against her sweet-smelling hair. "I love you, sweetheart."
Closing his eyes, Robert smiled. Because he honestly couldn't imagine anything better than going to sleep with Cora in his arms. Unless it was knowing that he would wake up with her still there. Cora was the woman he loved, and Robert knew that, for the rest of his life, his own greatest happiness would be to make sure of and to share in her happiness.
Robert thought it sounded like a splendid way to live a life.