"But I thought…Cora, didn't you tell me this was impossible?"

After dreading it all afternoon, Cora had finally told Robert about the pregnancy when he'd arrived in her bedroom that evening. He was now seated on the side of her bed on his side, gaping at her, too shocked for the moment to be upset or frightened.

"It wasn't quite impossible, clearly," she said quietly.

"But you—your bleeding—you said you were too old…" he went on, as though any developments that didn't fit the facts as he knew them must be false.

"I was wrong," she squeaked. How she wished he would say something, react in some way other than this confused groping.

"But how…"

"Clarkson says that it's not unheard of for a surge in fertility to accompany this time in a woman's life."

"A surge in fertility?" he exclaimed. "My God, did he not think to tell you that at the time?"

She cringed, hearing horror in his voice for the first time. "He didn't tell me that, exactly—I don't think it's very common. But he did…he did think I was being hasty, and he did tell me that we should wait longer." Cora dropped her eyes in shame, for this was the worst of it: that it was her fault, that she could have prevented this. "He doubted I could get pregnant, but he said it would be safest if I waited at least a full year after my last monthly. But I…I didn't want to wait any longer, and I didn't think there could possibly be a baby at this point, I really didn't. I'm sorry, Robert. I'm so sorry!"

He stood, but he did not come and take her in his arms as she thought he might. It's a shock, she reminded herself as she watched him walk slowly to the window and stare out. It was a shock to you, too; he needs time to comprehend it as you did. And for several long minutes, Robert did not speak. Cora held her breath, waiting, she did not know for what.

"What will happen?" he asked eventually, his voice emotionless, his back still to her. "What will happen now?"

Why would he not react? "Clarkson says I may not carry to term," she said. "But if I do, I'll need a caesarean."

"Christ," he muttered, and she wasn't sure if he was swearing or praying.

"There have been advances made," she told him. "Some women…some women do survive those."

Robert turned to look at her for the first time since he had stood. "Yes, but most of them don't, do they, Cora? Particularly when they're already in delicate health!" His eyes were trained on her sharply, and his tone was almost angry, accusatory. She could not help but shrink back against the pillows, her silence telling him everything he needed to know.

He sighed heavily, raking a hand over his face and through his hair. She was too frightened at his reaction to speak further, and so the silence stretched on between them.

"Can we have this…taken care of?" he asked quietly.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling. But she knew exactly what he meant, and her blood was running cold at the thought.

Robert shook his head. "I don't mean…that. I don't want you to have some macabre…procedure; I know that's more dangerous than any of the rest of this. But aren't there…potions you can take? Aren't there midwives who would know of such things?"

Yes, she'd heard tales of herbs that could be taken when a baby had just begun to grow, but those were for a first missed cycle, not three months or more in. "It's too late for that," she said, trying to swallow her horror that Robert would suggest such a thing. "But I wouldn't do it even if I were only a week along!"

"Cora, this is your life we're talking about—"

"And this is our baby!" she exclaimed, appalled that he wanted to argue her into ending the life they'd made together. "How–how dare you tell me to hurt it!"

"How dare I? How dare I?" Cora stiffened, hearing the anger pulsing through his words. "How dare I try to save your life? How dare I care whether the wife I've nursed for decades lives or dies? How dare you make me out to be the wrong one! It was you who insisted we have intercourse, and it was me who suggested we wait. But you were determined that we would, and so you lied—you lied and told me it was safe!"

She gasped, stung. "I didn't lie!"

But he only raised his voice louder at her interjection, heated words pouring from his lips. "Do you know what I think, Cora?" She bit her lip and gave a small shake of her head, frightened at what he might tell her. "I think you're selfish, horribly selfish. You're shortsighted and foolish and spoiled and childish and self-serving. You wanted me, and you wanted me immediately, and you couldn't wait another few months!"

Cora had never in her life been shouted at—certainly not by Robert—and her tears were flowing freely now as the storm of his fury broke over her. "I did it for you," she sobbed, and it was perfectly true. As much as she'd wanted to make love for herself, as much as she'd looked forward to her own pleasure, she had wanted it all the more for Robert, longing to please him with her body. "I did it because I loved you!"

"Don't lie to me!" he snapped, and she began to cry harder, feeling his words like a slap. "You didn't do it for me; you weren't thinking of me at all. You were thinking of yourself and what you wanted. Screw the consequences," he shouted, "—the consequences you knew very well! Screw our daughters! And screw me, and everything I've done for you for the past twenty years!"

"I'm sorry!" she wailed. "Robert, I really am sorry!"

But he stalked to the dividing door and slammed it shut behind him.

AN: This is a shorter-than-usual update, but I really thought this scene should stand on its own. (Sorry for leaving it hanging in such an awful place!) I promise to give you a longer one next week...as well as one that doesn't make you want to throttle Donk.

Also, knowing I had a short chapter this week gave me time to write two updates to The Ways They Said It, so it's not all bad. ;-)