I've had this drabble in my drafts for months now. It was originally supposed to be this short drabble, quick to read (and write!), but instead I just kept working on it again and again and now we're at about 5,5k words. Still hope you enjoy this one, though :)
The coach rattled along the cobbled streets, and the horses' hooves clacked on the ground in a familiar pattern. They were on their way to the first ball of the season in a grand ballroom somewhere in Mayfair, London. Where exactly, he had no idea. Rosamund had mentioned it once or twice during luncheon, but he hadn't paid enough attention. This was not her first season, yet she behaved like it was for some strange reason. She had never been too enthusiastic about attending any balls or going to dress fittings in London — until this year. He had briefly wondered what had changed her mind, but Rosamund was old enough and he had more important things to take care of than his sister's sixth London season, or was it her seventh? He was not sure. Either way, Robert wished it was their coach ride back home after the last ball of the season, all these balls that would follow this one already exhausted him and he could only guess how Cora must have been feeling.
She looked beautiful, his darling wife, so very beautiful — especially in the soft yellow hues from the gas lamps that bathed her features in this warm glow. How it had taken him so long to realise just how incredibly lucky he was to have her as his wife was something he would never be able to understand. She was looking out the window, her eyes following the houses they passed by on their way, and the softest hint of a smile tugged at her lips.
They weren't speaking. There was no need for them to, they would have more than enough opportunities for that throughout the entire evening. Robert had no intentions of leaving her side even once this evening if he could help it. This coach ride was their calm before the storm.
Robert was thankful that he did not have to spend the ride together in a coach with his mother and sister. He was sure that there was another storm well underway already and he did feel for his father who would have to negotiate between the two headstrong women, which was not at all an easy task.
When the coach came to a halt in front of a stately London home of yet another English nobleman he had surely met before but could not recall, he squeezed her hand to garner her attention. "Are you ready, my dear?"
Cora blinked a few times, averting her tired gaze back to her husband on the seat opposite her. "With you by my side, yes," she replied, smiling widely at him.
He stepped out first, reaching out his arm to help her disembark as gracefully as possible, before he put his top hat on and straightened his tie. They waited patiently out in the rather chilly April night for the coach with his parents and sister to arrive. Robert knew Cora must have been freezing, and had it not meant getting into another quarrel with his mother, he would have quickly draped his coat across her slender shoulders. But alas, he knew that would not be deemed appropriate, and so he had to helplessly watch her pull her shawl tighter around herself.
A while later, after a nice, yet rather uneventful dinner, Robert stood next to the large dance floor with his family and had to listen to his mother giving his sister the same advice she always seemed to give.
"And Rosamund. Remember what I told you. You are entitled to your opinions, but don't speak them on a crowded dancefloor. That sort of thing tends to run the people off you want to attract."
Robert looked at his sister and saw how she rolled her eyes. She had had to listen to that countless times throughout her seasons already and it did not surprise him to find her sick of statements such as that one. Though, he supposed, his mother was right. Most men were not like him. Most men only wanted a pretty wife, not one with well-founded opinions of her own. What most of his fellow man had not realised was that the two were not exclusive — his wife had both, beauty and brains, each in large capacities. He truly was one lucky man with a bright future ahead of him.
"When do you think it is appropriate for us to leave? I do feel quite tired already," she asked lowly, only for him to hear. She was well aware they had only just arrived and it would still be a while until they would be able to go home, but she had found it was always best to tell Robert these things well in advance so that he could keep them in mind for later when the need truly arose.
"Once the dancing has officially commenced, I think. It should not be long now. We have to dance at least once. See, and especially, be seen, as Mama would say. But it should not be too long now, my dear. Do you maybe want to sit down?" Robert asked, looking around the crowded ballroom in search of a chair for her.
"No, no. I am perfectly alright standing here. Though I do think that your cousin will drag you away from me soon. He is already making his way over here."
Cora's tone suggested exactly what she thought of him, and he knew she was not wrong in thinking any of it. She had no particular sympathies for James, his first cousin. He could truly be a nasty man if he wanted to be, especially when he had had a few drinks already.
"Cousin Robert, I knew that was you I saw enter a while ago. I'm sure your wife wouldn't mind if I whisked you away to talk with a few chaps I know, would she? There are plenty of other men around to keep her occupied, after all."
Robert sharply inhaled. He could already smell the whiskey on his cousin's breath that told him it was not wise to argue with him. Looking apologetically at his wife, he followed James to the opposite end of the grand room and left her there to fend for herself against his will. "I will be back shortly," he said hastily as he had to let go of her gloved hand.
Robert did not enjoy himself standing in that circle of young men, half of whom had already had at least as many drinks as his cousin. He knew he should probably pay more attention to what they were saying, but he only had eyes for her. Even from across the ballroom, he revelled at her beauty. The way one strand of her dark hair always seemed to manage to escape her coiffure and fall to her neck almost drove him mad, and the way her new deep blue ballgown couldn't hide the impending change in their lives any longer mesmerised him.
"What do you say, Grantham? Are you in?"
He heard his name, one of the other men must have asked him something, and he had not paid any attention at all to their conversation. He should be feeling bad, but he simply couldn't when he was still looking at his pregnant wife.
"I'm sorry, I was rather preoccupied just now, I am afraid," Robert said, returning his attention to the men he was supposed to be conversing with.
"Preoccupied with what? Staring at your pregnant American wife?" one of them said, a rather distasteful undertone lacing his voice when he spoke of Cora's heritage. The man was short, surely at least a head shorter than him, and quite the weak fellow, Robert assessed as he looked him over. The suit he was wearing seemed way too big for him, and especially in combination with his sleek black hair, it made him appear almost ghostly white and rather feeble. He could definitely take him on in a fight, Robert thought disparagingly, not that he would throw the first punch if he did not necessarily have to. He knew better than to cause such a scene in a London ballroom.
"Branksome has invited all of us for a week of hunting on his estate in Dorset in June. Can we expect to see you there, as well?" another man said quickly before Robert had a chance to reply to that, shooting warning looks to the black-haired man.
"June, you say?" Robert asked to buy himself some time to come up with a plausible excuse. He could not tell them that he wanted to stay home for Cora, they would all laugh at him. Marriages like theirs were rare, and most of the men standing with him in the stuffy ballroom were still bachelors and as such even less likely to understand his true reasoning. "I don't think so, I will be busy with taking care of my father's estate from the end of May while he stays here with my mother and sister for the rest of the season, as far as I am aware."
Just when the black-haired man wanted to reply — something quite distasteful, Robert imagined — the music started to fill the air and called him back to his wife.
"I am sorry to hear you will be missing out, Grantham. But I wish you all the best in your homely endeavours. And now it is time for us to find our dance partners, I assume," Viscount Branksome then said with a smile, motioning towards the dance floor that was beginning to fill with people.
"If I were married, I surely wouldn't let my wife come in the way of a great week of shooting and drinking with my fellow man. It is her responsibility to bear the child, not mine."
Robert did not have to look to know that it was indeed that short man talking behind his back.
One last time, Robert turned back to face him. "Then I do hope that marriage is still a long way from you, dear chap, in the interest of any woman who makes your acquaintance in future," Robert only said dryly, raising his eyebrows as if to dare that man to retort something.
James threw him a warning look and it was clear that he did not agree with his cousin. Oh, he would definitely get to hear more on this matter later, though most likely from one of his parents. James was an awful gossip, always had been, ever since they were little boys.
She had her back turned to him and was talking to Rosamund when he tapped her gently on the shoulder and whispered near her ear: "May I have the honour of this dance, my Lady?"
Smiling brightly at hearing his gentle drawl from behind her, she turned around and put her hand in his so that he could lead her to the dance floor. She threw an apologetic look over her shoulder back at Rosamund, who simply smiled. Rather unhappily so, Robert thought.
"And? What did the young, desirable men of society want to discuss?" she asked as he carefully and skilfully manoeuvred her across the dance floor to the sounds of a slow waltz being played.
"Nothing much, at least I don't think so. And most of them are really not as desirable as one might hope."
"Really? Don't men like you always have important things to talk through whenever they meet?"
"I think so, maybe. If they did, then I did not notice. I was quite preoccupied with looking at this stunning young lady across the room. She is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, you see," he replied teasingly, his lip curling into a subtle smile while his eyes stayed vigilantly fixed on their surroundings.
"Oh, do I know her? Who is she?"
"I think you do know her." Robert quickly glanced down at her, not watching the other dancing couples for a second, trusting they would try their best to avoid bumping into them as well. "She is quite tall, with dark curly hair and ocean-blue eyes one could easily get lost in. Even from afar, she is radiant, especially in her delicate condition; and elegant in everything she does. And her smile is to die for."
"Stop, Robert, you are making me blush. Not in this room full of people," she replied quietly, smiling coyly with her eyes fixed on his cravat pin. She tried her best to hide it, but he saw the way her cheeks had coloured when he said the words and he liked it.
"But I haven't even got to the part about her lovely accent that I happen to adore," he jested, which did earn him a stern but loving look from her.
The dance ended sooner than Robert would have liked, but he knew that she was tired. Without even asking, he guided her to where his parents were standing with his sister.
They were still a few metres away from reaching them when his mother started talking, seeming none too pleased. "Ah, Robert. What is this I hear about you not going to the shooting event with Lord Branksome's son in June?"
"Not now, Mama. And certainly not here," he replied sternly and certainly more harshly than he usually talked to her.
Consternation was clearly written all over Violet's face, her eyes wide in shock as she looked around to gauge who could have heard her son talk to her in such a manner. Her nostrils flared and Robert knew he was treading dangerously close to the abyss and he would surely have to pay for the audacity come morning. Better try to get away, and fast.
"Papa, please make our excuses should anyone look for us, which I doubt. I will take Cora home now, it is quite late already."
"Robert, would you mind if I came with you?" Rosamund asked quickly upon her father's nod, chancing a quick look at their mama and then at her brother.
"Not at all, but shouldn't yo-"
"Of course we don't mind, Rosamund," Cora interjected before Robert could finish his question, throwing him a warning look.
They bid their farewell to Violet and Patrick, although only Patrick seemed to take notice. Violet was still only looking after her children with pure horror written all over her face.
The women were walking ahead, with Robert following them a few steps behind, his hat held in hand. He heard what they were saying, even though he never liked to eavesdrop on other people's conversations, not even those of his sister and wife. "Thank you for rescuing me, Cora. I truly can't wait to get home and as far away from this ballroom as possible."
"Nonsense. I do understand you, even though the path you are choosing is not going to be favoured by your mother. She will have quite a few words to say on the matter," Cora replied, looking over at her sister-in-law.
Robert couldn't help himself. How come his wife knew so much about his younger sister's plans and intentions when he did not? It all sounded quite ominous. And apparently, his mother was not going to like it. Robert was not quite sure if his Mama could take another child of hers going against her wishes in such important matters as marriage, because that was what he assumed this was all about.
"What's this about?"
Cora looked back at him, denoting silently that she would eventually tell him, just not now.
"Did you know about this, Robert?"
Oh, his mother was outraged. As he had known she would be when he first found out.
A little over a month had passed since the first ball of the season, and Rosamund had never stayed long at any ball since then. Understandably, Violet was getting concerned with the lack of dances Rosamund was getting, her hopes of marrying her off to an eligible nobleman dwindling rapidly.
Feigning indifference, Robert walked closer and joined his family for tea after being out all day running errands in the bustling city. Only after he had kissed his wife hello did he reply to his mother — which might not have been the best decision he could have made. Violet was quite on edge as it was.
"Did I know about what?"
"Your sister's apparent choice in a husband. Were you aware of that?"
"As a matter of fact. Yes, I am aware of that."
Cora and Rosamund looked at each other alarmedly. It would have been quite wise for Robert to deny having any knowledge about the matter, and usually, he would have. But his mother was in the wrong here and he truly wanted her to see it and not take it out on Cora like he knew she would if he did not speak up now.
The pregnant viscountess stood, aided by her husband's helping hand to pull her up from the settee, before she beckoned her sister-in-law to follow her. This was as welcome a chance as possible to get Rosamund out of the line of fire for at least a few minutes. Violet was so preoccupied with huffing at her son's reply that she did not even object when the two women left quickly and quietly.
"You knew. And you did not discourage her? I can not believe you would do such a thing, Robert. First, you marry an American and now my daughter decides to marry an uppity nobody who has neither title, rank, nor house! How long have you all kept this from us?"
"You leave Cora out of this!" he boomed, standing up the instant his mother mentioned his wife. "Or do I need to remind you whose money saved Downton, and who will give birth to your first grandchild in less than two months?"
"Fine, I will not mention your poor choice of a wife this time. But still, how could you?"
Robert was seething and it took everything in him not to let his anger get the better of him when his mother repeatedly discredited his wife simply because of her heritage. How could she be so incredibly stubborn and stuck in her wrong ideas and outdated principles? It baffled him every single time. However, he swallowed most of his anger with balled fists in favour of aiding his sister before he replied.
"I met him, simple as that. And he is a respectable man with acquired wealth we could only dream of. Rosamund would be much better off with him than with any of the currently eligible bachelors you would prefer her to marry, trust me on that. It would only lead to a lifetime of misery for her, I assure you."
"You will be the Earl of Grantham one day, Robert, and what will your sister be? Mrs Marmaduke Painswick, not even Lady anything? No rank, no title, no standing in society. You cannot want that for her."
"I can, because it is what she wants. Let us be honest for a minute, Mama. Rosamund would never be content if she were to follow in your footsteps. She is not made for country living and running an estate, no matter how hard you try to make her like it. That life you envision for her is much too monotonous and dreary for her. Rosamund is not Cora, she won't adhere to every word you say just because. And you will not win in this, I can assure you."
"Robert, your wife is making you weak and sentimental, she is a bad influence. Our lives are not purely to be enjoyed, we each have our roles to play. You will be the Earl, there is no way around it, and your sister has her part to play, too. Do you want our family to become a laughingstock? Do you want really want that?"
"I doubt we could ever be that, especially once they see what kind of life new money can offer compared to all the crumbling dynasties around us. It was new money that saved us, in case you have already forgotten about that part of my marriage, because I certainly have not. And Mister Painswick has plenty of money and will only continue to get richer. He can offer her a far better life than any Viscount with an estate, but no money to support the lifestyle Rosamund is used to ever could."
"What about the grand shooting event in Dorset in June? The one Lord Branksome personally invited you to? Cora's situation is certainly not a reason for you to pass up on such an opportunity, especially during the season."
Of course. Robert had known he had not yet heard the last of it after the ball in April. It was strange enough she had not mentioned it any earlier. Robert supposed she must have kept it for moments like this, to have some sort of leverage to make him adhere to her wishes when the need arose.
"I refuse to listen to such things, Mama. And the impending birth of my first child is most definitely a good enough reason not to travel all over England just to shoot at some livestock for enjoyment. Now, if you please excuse me, I have to go find my wife."
"I can not believe this. She is making you weak, Robert! Do you hear me? Weak!" his mother almost shouted after him, huffing angrily as he left the library of Grantham House to find his wife and sister.
"On the contrary, Mama. She is making me stronger than I ever was, whether you like it or not," he replied without even turning back around to face her. He could hear her huff in frustration again, but strangely enough, that did not faze him in the slightest. Had she seen the triumphant smile on his face, she would have no doubt needed her smelling salts. It was not exactly typical for him to insist on matters she did not at all agree with and she was not used to not getting her will. But she had no way of winning this one, Robert was positive. Rosamund deserved to be happy and he knew his sister well enough to know she would never be happy with a stuck-up aristocrat with a crumbling estate. She was not Cora.
"Tom going to America after all, can you believe it?" Cora asked, letting the book in her hands sink to her lap when Robert entered their bedroom through the door to his dressing room.
Robert, who had been slowly sauntering in, mindlessly untying the sash of his embroidered robe, suddenly looked at her wide-eyed. They had discussed it earlier with Tom and she had to give him credit for keeping his temper in check then. That, however, might not be the case any longer, Cora realised.
"He can't go, we can not let him leave, least of all with her. I have said it before, I won't allow it!" he said, his voice raising considerably.
"Well, we have to let him go. And you will not stand in his way, Robert," she warned him quietly. "He made the choice, the arrangements are finalised. There is truly nothing we can do if that is what he wants."
"But what about Sybbie? Are you truly considering letting him take the last thing we have left of her mother on this earth to America, an ocean separating us from our eldest grandchild?" he asked exasperatedly. Robert sat down in his armchair quite unceremoniously to take off his loafers. He had taken one shoe off when he paused, looking at her watching him without replying to his question. Sighing, he said: "In a way, it feels like we are losing Sybil all over again and I am not sure if I could survive that a second time."
"Don't be so dramatic, Robert. She is only moving away with her father. Had things gone differently from the start, she might have lived in Ireland the entire time, and not here with us, and then you wouldn't be talking this way. Was the last time you tried to deny someone to move away not enough? I don't think there is anything you could do to sway him to stay right now, and anger has never got you far with anyone. I hesitate to remind you, but once upon a time, you even tried to make him leave, to no avail, has that taught you nothing?"
"Back then, he was trying to run off with our daughter and live with her in sin. Of course, I wanted him to go. And now he is trying to run off with our granddaughter, and I will not stand back and watch him take her".
"Yes, you will, Robert. It will take you a while to get used to, but you will let her go with him," Cora said calmly and reassuringly. "And we are not losing Sybil again, it could never be like when she died."
"Why do you say that?" he asked, walking over to the bed, his wife waiting for him under the covers.
"Because we've learnt. Because this time, we're not alone. We won't let this come between us, Robert, right?"
Robert thought for a second, unmoving, with the duvet already in hand. Huffing slightly, he got into bed next to Cora.
She turned out the lamp on her side of the bed and then faced him again. Slowly, she snuggled up to him. Her hand came to rest on his chest and she used his arm as a pillow, her face angled up at him.
Robert lay there, his head supported by his right arm behind his head, with his hand separating him from the headboard, as he looked ahead with a thoughtful and tense expression.
"Right, Robert? We will not let this or anything else drive us apart like that again," she questioned again. She sat back up slightly, propping herself up on her left elbow as she looked at his profile.
One look. That's all it took. One look into her sad and begging, yet still hopeful, eyes that were peering up at him from below was enough. One look at her and all his anger was gone. Dissipated. Just like that.
His stony expression mellowed instantly, making way for a soft smile. It was the kind that was only reserved for her, his Cora. Robert removed his hand from his head and put it around her, playing first with the hair Baxter had braided a while ago, only to wander to her cheek and gently stroke it. Lingering, feathery-light touches on her porcelain skin, hints of his affection for her. She leaned into his touch, still looking up at him with big, questioning eyes.
"No, my love. We will not let that come between us."
"Good."
She moved to lie down again, her head coming to rest on his chest next to her hand. For a while, the room was only filled with the crackling fire in the hearth behind her and both of their gentle breathing.
"You really mean it? We should let him go and take her with him?" Robert asked quietly, the sad undertone not going unnoticed. His hand was still dancing gently across her skin, ghosting touches on her cheek, while his eyes were fixed somewhere on the far wall. It didn't take long for Cora to recognise that his mind was spinning with the thoughts he didn't speak aloud.
"Yes, Robert. He needs to do what he thinks is best for him. He's looking for his footing in this world, a world that's not his by birth. He has come a long way from the revolutionary chauffeur wanting to whisk our daughter away, but he still does not feel that he belongs to this life, to us. But, if it is any consolation to you, I am fairly certain that he will find soon enough that his home is here with us now, that he does belong."
Cora pushed herself up from her position next to him and looked at him intently. The loss of contact called him back to the moment and he looked at her confused. "We have to let him go and take her with him. She is his daughter, his family. Sybbie is all he has left of her. You and I, we have the memories of Sybil as a child to get us through the darkest nights, memories he doesn't have. They are what will get us through until he returns."
"Alright," he breathed deeply. "I will let him do whatever he thinks he has to do. But if he hasn't visited with her within a year after they've gone, we will go over there. I will not be kept from my eldest grandchild forever," he said sternly.
"My, my. You have mellowed!"
"I have not!" Robert protested instantly, an alarmed expression on his aged face.
"Oh, but you have. Might I refresh your memory and remind you of the day Sybil wrote to tell of her pregnancy? If I recall correctly, you said, sounding quite disappointed: We are going to have a Fenian grandchild. That does not exactly sound like you this past evening, refusing to let her father take your Fenian grandchild away from here."
"Maybe my mother was right all those years ago after all," Robert mused then.
He knew that his wife had no idea what he was talking about. And she couldn't, he had never told her. "Do you remember the London season the year after our wedding, when you were pregnant with Mary? That year I refused to go to the hunt at the Branksome estate in Dorset because you were due to deliver Mary around the same time. That happened to also coincide with Rosamund's decision to finally tell Mama about Marmaduke. You rescued Rosamund from Mama's sharp tongue back then and left me to talk to her after tea one afternoon."
Slowly, Cora nodded. But she was confused. She had no idea what to make of this. Why was her husband suddenly talking of things that had happened over thirty years ago? He was never a sentimentalist.
"That day I did something Mama had not seen coming. I stuck up for Rosamund. When I left her in the library of Grantham House, she was shouting after me: "Your wife is making you weak, Robert!" He imitated her. Or at least he tried, not that he did a particularly good job of it.
Cora let out a loud laugh at that. She could only too vividly imagine her mother-in-law upon discovering her son tolerating the, what she had considered incredibly poor, choice her daughter had made in terms of a potential husband. "And what did you say to that?"
"At the time I said that you didn't make me weak, but rather stronger, and of course she must have interpreted that wrongly."
"But you stand by that, surely? Because I would never want to make you anything but stronger," Cora replied, sounding self-conscious now for some reason.
"No, actually. I don't think I do. I'm wondering now if maybe you do make me weak," he mused, as if he were somewhere miles away. He took no notice of the deflated, disappointed look she gave him.
"But who's to say that that is a bad thing?" he said after a slight pause. "Maybe that is what gives us the strength to face whatever is thrown at us, together. Because I need you to make me see the other side of things I usually wouldn't think of. Maybe you making me weak is what makes me strong, too."
He stopped and looked at her.
Her blue eyes were glistening with tears as she smiled widely at him, and even Robert recognised that his words had made her quite emotional. What it was that elicited that response, however, was beyond him. He hadn't paid close attention to the words he said, had simply voiced what he thought. He did not recognise what those words meant to her.
But Robert saw the adoration in her gaze, the love. Even after all these years, the love was still there, strong as ever.
Almost voicelessly, he whispered: "And you do make me weak when you look at me like that. It is taking all my self-discipline to refrain from kissing you right now, I'm not sure how much longer I can resist."
"Then don't resist. Let yourself be weak and kiss me," she breathed back.
She was not pretending to be coy, and she did not look away. This was not a ballroom, not a dining or drawing room or even just the library. They were in their bedroom, alone. So instead of remembering what she had been taught about proper etiquette some decades ago, her stare intensified and lust replaced the gentle tones of admiration and love Robert had seen before.
He needn't be told twice, taking her face in his hands and bringing himself level with her the instant she had said that.
She looked at him, and at his lips, expecting to feel them on hers, and her eyes closed in anticipation.
His lips were almost brushing against hers when he paused.
Confused, she looked at him again, her eyes no longer hooded. She could already smell his minty breath and feel his lips on hers, and yet he did not kiss her. It frustrated her more than she cared to admit.
His eyes searched hers for a second, and he looked as if he was truly contemplating something.
"Yes," he said finally, placing a quick peck on her lips before drawing back again to look at her. "You definitely do make me weak" he whispered against her lips, his thumb ghosting across her cheek again, until he finally kissed her passionately, the way she had been waiting for.