this rather rushed one-shot is a sequel to "With all that I am and all that I have", this time focusing on Patrick and Violet after Robert and Cora have fled the dining room
"Can you believe it?" Violet all but shrieked as soon as she caught sight of her husband finally joining them in the drawing room over an hour after Robert's stormy exit from the dining room, following his wife upstairs rather hurriedly.
All his secret hopes of her having calmed down since then suddenly vanished into thin air, dispersing far quicker than the billows of smoke had just a few minutes ago when he was still nursing the last of his cigar alone in the close confines of one of the few rooms his wife rarely entered. Only very reluctantly had he left the sanctuary that was the smoking room.
It should not have come as quite such a big surprise to the Earl, he knew his wife to be exceedingly stubborn, especially when someone dared to stand up to her. Their son was surely no exception, he did not have a jester's licence just because she had given birth to him some twenty-odd years ago. However, Patrick sometimes wished that Violet would be even just a smidge less strict and rigid in her beliefs, less stuck in her own ways. It would make for a much easier time with her and Rosamund still living in the same house; their daughter had certainly inherited her mother's strong belief system and stubborn nature. And so it did not surprise Patrick when he walked into the drawing room to find the two of them sitting opposite each other, each a glass of something in their hands — and neither of them saying a word. Judging by their expressions, it had been only minutes since their last argument about something or other.
Steeling himself for another few uncomfortable minutes that evening until he would be allowed to retreat to the quiet comfort of his room, he heaved a sigh and walked closer. Carson handed him another glass of strong whiskey and nodded when he quietly told the man to call it a night now. They did not need a butler in here with them, and he knew the heated discussion he had been afraid of was now inevitable. He had already had two glasses of the amber liquid and a third one had not been on his list for the evening, but he felt like he might need it to make it through in one piece when his wife was in such a tizzy.
He had barely taken a seat when Rosamund all but bolted up, set her glass down on the tray behind the settee, and then mumbled her goodnight to flee the room, leaving him alone with his wife. And just like that, his assumption about their earlier pastime while he had been away had been confirmed, not that he was particularly pleased about that. Just once, he would have liked to have been wrong about them.
Sighing, he took another sip and then, finally, he mustered up the courage to acknowledge his wife. She was sitting there, her back as straight as an arrow, and she kept looking at him expectantly with her lips pursed. It was almost as if she was daring him to disagree with whatever was obviously still weighing heavily on her mind.
"What?" Patrick only asked, sounding more exhausted and exasperated than he had intended to.
His unusual choice of tone did not go unnoticed by Violet, who drew in a deep whistling breath through her teeth, no doubt biting back a remark about it. Sometimes it was almost as if he was her child, too, the way she spoke to him. Most of the time he did not mind too much, he had got used to it with time. And there were plenty of days and nights where he felt their true connection shine through, where he felt like she was his companion, his partner. It was not usual to think of one's wife like that for someone of his station, for an Earl, but he did. And yet she had this ability to make him feel abysmal with just a single word or look.
"Can you believe what happened at dinner?" she asked in a dangerously low voice. A storm was coming, he knew it was. It had been brewing for a while.
"What? That Robert finally decided enough was enough?"
Indignation heavily lacing her words, Violet exclaimed: "I beg your pardon?"
She was no longer sitting as straight as an arrow, no. Somehow, she had managed to sit up even more, almost intimidating him in the process. Almost.
"You heard me, Violet. You may not want to hear it, but it is true and it is about time someone said something. I am glad that Robert finally decided to do the right thing and stand up for her."
Patrick had no idea what had suddenly got into him. He was never this confrontational with her, he valued his peace and the understanding they had come to decades ago far too much to jeopardise it like this. A not-so-small part of him was just fed up with always being talked over, like he had been at dinner. It happened far too often and it annoyed him every time to be talked over and cast aside like that in his own house in front of his servants, but he endured it just to spare them all the arguments that would be all too inevitable, the arguments he was not likely to win. He was aware he was much too benign for that, he did not have the same grit she had.
He was treading on dangerous paths, that much was apparent by just chancing a quick glance at her. Her eyes were steely, her lips pursed and her jaw clenched. She was only waiting for him to stumble into the net she had already spun, waiting for him to fall for her trap, only to unleash all her pent-up disappointment or whatever it was on him.
But not tonight. Tonight, he would not let her.
Inhaling a deep breath, he began. "Robert was right in saying what he said at the dinner table tonight. You have belittled her every chance you could get ever since their wedding day. There is absolutely nothing she could do that would ever please you, simply because she is who she is. I know you wanted Robert to marry someone whose family preferably has their own designated spot in Burke's, someone bringing affluence along with their good name. You wanted him to marry someone who could help us keep our good name and our standing among our peers. But soon enough, none of that will matter even remotely as much as it does now. The estates are crumbling all around us, the peerage is losing its influence. The estates are falling apart under the heavy burden that is the changing of times. Their owners, our peers, are desperately trying to keep this way of living we are used to alive. They are buckling under the pressure of progress, trying to survive with the industrialisation luring valuable workforce away from the estates and into the cities, day after day. That is an issue we are facing ourselves, as I have told you before. Our capital has been seeping through the cracks for years as we simply tried to stay afloat. Only an exorbitant influx in capital helped us keep Downton running as it is, an amount none of the respectable women you had in mind for Robert could have ever brought with her into marriage, not with the current state of things. Robert knew what he needed to do to help us keep Downton. It is Cora's dowry alone that saved us from bankruptcy and enabled Robert and me to make investments for the future of this house, for the future of the servants who live here and work for us and for every one of our tenant farmers. Cora might not be British, she might not have been born into the aristocracy, but she is a very fine young woman. She is arguably far better suited for this than any of the eligible young ladies you wanted him to dance with. And she is trying her best every single day. She lets you lash out at her, lets you hit her with your snide remarks, and never complains about it. She is a true beauty, you cannot deny that, and a fast learner, too. She is bright and well-read, she can easily hold her own in a conversation, and she has impeccable manners. She will make a remarkable Countess one day. The only area she could be possibly found lacking, as far as I am aware, is her heritage. And that is absolutely no reason for you to keep behaving like this towards her, so ignorantly and outright despicably. He chose her. They are married, they have been for seven months now, as you so very helpfully pointed out tonight, and that is not going to change. So it is about time you started to accept it and address her with the respect she deserves. We all owe her a lot more than we could ever repay."
At some point during his heated monologue, Patrick had stood up and begun pacing on the carpet in front of the fireplace, his glass of whiskey securely in hand. He was not directly addressing her, not after the first two or three sentences had left his mouth. He was simply voicing what had been weighing on his mind for weeks now as he watched his wife interact with their daughter-in-law.
When he turned to look at his wife again, he saw her still sitting there in exactly the same position. She had not moved an inch. He would not have deemed it possible, but her lips were even more pursed and her jaw more clenched than before. His eyes met hers, but he did not back down, her stare did not intimidate him.
"I think you had one too many of those," she bit out, gesturing to the glass tumbler he still held firmly in his left hand.
Surprised by her response, he looked down at the half-nursed drink and then proceeded to set it down on the mantelpiece.
"No, Violet. You cannot blame this on the drink. This is all on you. You brought this down on yourself. It was only a matter of time until Robert would finally find his voice and not sit there idly any more. What you said tonight at the dinner table was simply too much, you went too far."
The Earl then reclaimed his seat on the red settee opposite his wife. He leaned back into the cushions, looking at her as her mouth opened and closed, then opened again like a fish on dry land. He had rarely seen her at a loss for words, but this was one of the rare occasions.
It took her a few more seconds to collect herself and unravel her thoughts. She did not look at him when she finally spoke, but rather stared into the flames dancing in the hearth: "But even so, Robert has never disobeyed us like this. He has never spoken to me like this, I am his mother! She must have some power over him to have him act out like this, to have him take this tone with me." The last sentence was merely mumbled, a thought she had never meant to voice that had slipped out. If he hadn't known any better, Patrick would have said she looked outright befuddled by this evening's events.
"What makes you think that?" he inquired, curiosity getting the better of him.
Her head snapped back up and she was looking at him once more. Confused, she asked: "What makes me think what?"
He sat up straight again, looking at her with such conviction she had rarely seen from him before. "What makes you think she holds some power over him simply because he voiced his thoughts and feelings for once?"
"Well," she started, scrambling for words. "My Robert would never behave like this. He was not raised like this, this must be her American influence."
Patrick had guessed that this was what it would amount to. That did not mean that he was prepared at all. There was an obvious reason why his son would behave like this. Or at least it had been obvious to the Earl in recent months whenever he talked to his son about anything and everything. Recently, there had been this certain look in Robert's eye whenever the topic of their conversation had shifted to his wife. There was an emotion reflected there which the Earl knew only too well. An emotion he had buried deep within long ago in order to protect himself.
He contemplated voicing his thoughts, aware of what they could cause. But tonight, he did not hold back, not like he usually did. Throwing all caution to the winds, he leaned forward to look her in the eye and then he calmly asked: "Have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe, Robert is in love with her?"
A gasp. Shock.
She had not anticipated him posing that question. The notion alone of her son loving his wife was simply ridiculous to her. After all, he had not been in love with the woman when they had met and those feelings had not changed until the wedding day; he had married her for the money, she knew that. Robert had made that more than clear all those months ago. What could have possibly changed?
"No, that can't be. Why would he suddenly be in love with her?"
"I am not saying this is sudden. I am saying that over time, he got to know her better. They spent time together, talked to one another. They formed their understanding just like we did all those years ago, they found their common ground. Maybe, with time, he was able to see who she really was. Maybe, he finally let the guilt he felt last year for pursuing her for her dowry alone subside. Maybe, something opened his eyes at last. Whatever it is, the boy is in love with his wife and there is nothing you can do against that, not that you should. Anything you say that hurts her hurts him just as much. If you are not careful, then you are at risk of losing him."
She swallowed hard as her husband's words sank in. Her mind began to wander as scenes began to flash in front of her eyes. She saw the two of them pass by the windows in the library on one of their daily walks. The way she usually clung to his arm, huddling closer for some warmth, and the way he simply let her. The way he softly smiled at her when she was not looking up at him from under her wide-brimmed hat. The way his face would occasionally light up as she told him about something. Then the image shifted, Violet now thinking back to a night a few weeks ago, recalling the way his eyes had sparkled when he had taken her hand to lead her to the middle of the dance floor the last time they had entertained guests.
It was all there. Maybe Patrick was right about this. Maybe Robert had truly fallen in love. But how had her husband seen the signs when she herself had not?
"What makes you think that he has?"
Closing his eyes momentarily, Patrick knew that she had finally listened. But now the focus had shifted to a topic of conversation he had not yet had nearly enough glasses of whiskey to be able to discuss. Swiftly, he rose to his feet and stood before her. Gazing at her with an unreadable expression on his face, he debated whether to say the words burning on his tongue or not.
He had already said far too much to keep the peace that night, so one more thing could not hurt. Or so he hoped.
"He would not be the first man to fall in love with his wife," was Patrick's straightforward reply as he forced himself to keep emotions from seeping through. "And with that, I will say goodnight."
The Earl turned around and left the library without looking back, leaving his wife stunned and at a loss for words for the second time that night in his wake.