AN: I have finally been breaking through the writers block! I have managed to write this little one-shot in amongst writing the last chapters of 'From Paris to Yorkshire' (so that will finally be fully uploaded and finished in the next couple of months). This is set after Robert's return from America in series 4. It seemed right to post it on Valentine's Day. Please review - they are the best tonic for writer's block. Cobert love to you all.
Cora had excused herself about an hour before, not long after his champagne toast, stating she had wanted a rest before dinner. He had watched her walk back across the lawn and despite the significant looks Mary and Isobel had given him he had remained with the others, if she had wanted him to follow, she would have made that clear to him. Having experienced the bazaar today, and heard about the various stream of trips Rose, Edith and Mary had taken to London in the last few days he wasn't surprised that she needed a rest, it seemed Cora had shouldered the weight of organising the bazaar largely on her own.
Looking about him now with the stalls packing up and the servants returning to the servants' quarters to get ready for dinner, he excuses himself to go and get ready for dinner himself. The weariness he had largely kept at bay after all that travelling was beginning to creep up on him and it would be reassuring to have a few extra moments with Cora before heading down to dinner together. He had missed simply having her in the same room with him.
He taps gently Cora's bedroom door as he reaches the landing. There is enough time to see her and hold her before he needs to get ready to dress for dinner. He had missed her, surrounded by all those America accents but not the only one that had mattered. No reply comes from the other side of the door so he gently pushes it open.
He expects to see her sat at her dresser or reading her book in the window seat before the arrival of Baxter to dress her. Instead he finds only her hat strewn on the dresser, and with another step into the room finds her laid on the chaise in the corner of her room, her chest rising and falling softly with sleep. Nothing was as beautiful as seeing her relaxed softly in sleep, her lips slightly parted and her dark lashes laced together.
He gently lowers himself onto the end of the chaise and notes her shoes are still on her feet, he gently unbuckles them, careful not to wake her from her slumber and places them on the floor. He resists the urge to move the stray curls of hair that have escaped from her coiffure back behind her ears, afraid to wake her. Instead he stands and rings for Baxter. By the bell pull he spies Cora's current reading material and smiles, picking up the well-worn novel from the side table. Pride and Prejudice had been the novel they had discussed like no other during their courtship. He flips the page open to the page she has bookmarked, surprised when a letter falls from the folds of the pages. He flips it open, recognising his most recent letter to her from America. The door behind him opens and Baxter steps into the room, an evening gown over her arm.
"Good evening, m'lord, I wasn't expecting to – " She stops, having caught sight of Cora sleeping on the chaise. A smile stretches across her face.
"I don't think her ladyship will be making it down to dinner. I thought perhaps you could organise with Mrs Hughes and Mrs Patmore for some sandwiches to be brought up for her ladyship when she wakes?"
"Of course, m'lord." She hesitates at the door, and then turns back to him. "At the risk of being impertinent I have noticed that her ladyship has not slept particularly well in the last few weeks. I think the rest will do her good." Baxter disappears out the door and Robert lets his gaze fall back to Cora, a small edge of unease crumpling his brow, she hadn't mentioned having any difficulty sleeping in her letters.
He takes the blanket from the end of the bed and drapes it gently over her before placing a kiss on her head, her fingers twitch a little, and her breathing falters before her breathing once again returns to her deep slumber.
His mother had made one of her usual barbed comments during dinner about Cora's inability to cope with one long day. Isobel had made an equally curt reply and the subject had thankfully been dropped. He had excused himself straight after dinner using his long day of travel as an excuse, to go and see if Cora had awoken from her slumber.
He finds her still slumbering on the chaise, a plate of sandwiches untouched on the dresser beside her. Concern overcomes him afresh wondering about how long she had been struggling to sleep and the stresses associated with organising the bazaar. His own experiences from organising that event made him all too aware of the political disagreements that were rife between certain members of the community.
He enters his dressing room and rings for Bates. His mind settling back into thinking about the bazaar earlier. He had not been lying when he had raised the toast to Cora – the bazaar was a complete triumph. As he had circled the stalls, his tenants and villagers had praised the event, the layout and the activities available and he had willingly admitted that he would take no praise, many of them unaware that he had not even been in the country or part of the organisation this year. They had disclosed to him how Cora had taken the time to contact all of the stallholders in person to find out the space they would need and how much help they would need setting up. He had been incredibly proud, she had taken time to find out details that in the past he had only ever muddled through on the day of the event. It reminded him of her time during the war running the convalescent home – she had the most tremendous ability to organise large scale events when given the chance to do so.
On the few occasions over the years that he had spent with Cora's family, the time always worked to remind him of the young woman Cora had been all those years ago. This time, more than any other, returning to see the bazaar in full string, he had been overcome with pride at how much she had achieved and how much she had grown in the years they had been married. He had always admired the spark that he had seen as early as their London season together, but she had remained timid and unsure in the shadow of his mother for so long, only showing that spark and brilliance to himself and the girls. It had slowly emerged in her day to day running of the house in the initial months following his father's death and his mother moving into the Dower House. For many years now, he had been proud to see her reveal that wit to their friends and neighbours. Today, with the changing social norms of society, he was pleased that she seemed to have developed easy rapport with the people essential to the running of their community. He had always found it so hard to integrate himself effectively into their lives, but Cora seemed to possess an ability to be liked that he lacked. Maybe it was being a woman, or American? Or maybe people viewed her differently as someone that had married into this way or life, rather than been born into it?
He dismisses Bates passing on with him a message for Miss Baxter to take the evening off, he was perfectly able to help Cora when she woke. He steps through the adjoining door quietly, unwilling to stir her inadvertently from her sleep. He takes her copy of Pride and Prejudice from her bedside table and settles himself on her side of the bed, flipping the book open to where she had marked her place. He gets through the hilarity of Mr Collins proposing to Elizabeth when Cora starts to stir on the chaise. He lifts his eyes from the page just as her eyes flicker open.
"Sleeping beauty awakes." He had missed those eyes, her gaze, her smile. Writing letters was never going to beat being in the same room as his Cora. She smiles back before a small frown settles on her face, her gaze flicking down to the blanket he wrapped around her earlier. "You were still asleep before dinner and Baxter and I thought it best not to wake you. Mrs Patmore has sent up some sandwiches." Her gaze flicks to the plate of food and she gently sits herself up on the chaise, stretching as she does so.
"Thank you." He moves to sit beside her on the chaise.
"It's the least I can do when you've singlehandedly managed the bazaar and the house in my absence."
"You've put up with my brother and my mother for weeks, and by all accounts saved him from disaster."
"I believe I thought only of you." She grins, one eyebrow arching as she lifts a hand to finger his lapel. It was such a small gesture, but Robert meets her gaze and sees the determination in them. Her art of seduction had always been subtle, no doubt a product of the social norms of women in society. Subtle or not though, there was nothing Robert could compare her touch to. Her finger slips over the edge of his collar and rubs the skin at the base of his throat.
"I should let you go away more often if you're going to come back paraphrasing Mr Darcy." Her voice is a whisper, a lilt to her voice that Robert recognises as desire. He takes her hand from where it still strokes at his collar and places a kiss firmly across her knuckles.
"You should eat some sandwiches whilst I take the pins out of your hair." She laughs, and shakes her head.
"Robert, you've been abroad, away from home and are tired from a long week of travelling. No sooner are you back, I fall asleep and miss your first evening at home, and now you're ordering me sandwiches and offering to unpin my hair. I think I should be the one looking after you." The determination flickering in her eyes unravels him and his lips meet her waiting ones. She emits a breathy gasp. He feels her kissing him back, drawing him closer to her.
"Cora, you really should eat something." He feels her laughs against his shoulder.
"You're much tastier than sandwiches." He doesn't have a chance to do anything other than blush, as she turns her face and draws his lips back to hers for a lingering kiss. Their lips separate but he continues to trace his fingers gently up and down her arm, he had missed simply being able to hold her close before going to sleep.
"I hope you haven't been making these racy comments to any of these men that have been loitering at Downton in my absence? What did you call them in your letter, Mary's desire of suitors?" She smiles, brushing a curl of his hair off his forehead.
"I don't need a desire of suitors Robert, as you well know. I have you." He doesn't need to hear the words, of course he doesn't. It had only been a teasing comment anyway, but it is wonderful to hear her sincerity. To hear in such a straightforward way that this wonderful woman had chosen him and still chooses him. It had been too long (even before his trip to America) since they had laid like this, post-coital, and quietly teasing each other and expressing their feelings so honestly. His personality hardly suited grand declarations of love, not after that first time and a handful of occasions since. Cora had always been more open, he had put that down to her being American.
"Cora, you do know what you mean to me don't you? I don't think I say often enough how happy I am with you; how happy you have made me."
"Of course, I know, darling, of course." He kisses the top of her hair which reminds him of kissing her earlier when she had been slumbering deeply on the chaise. His mind wanders back to that comment Baxter had made about her not sleeping well.
"Baxter said something earlier that made me think you haven't been sleeping well, is that true?" Her hand stills on his chest where it had been drawing circles. It was true then; her hesitation gives him his answer.
"It's a good job Baxter is not employed by your mother, she would sack her for sharing her mistress' secrets."
"Why haven't you been sleeping?"
"I have been sleeping. I have just struggled to get to sleep some nights, that's all. It's been a very long time since I haven't had you keeping the bed warm beside me. I think I just struggled to fall asleep some of the nights without you here, that's all. Usually when you're not here it's because I have banished you to the dressing room for one reason or another. It was strange to not have you here when I wanted you here." It was terribly endearing to hear her voice that, to hear that he wasn't alone in cherishing the simple parts of their relationship. He pulls her closer to him, letting her head rest in the curve of his shoulder.
"Well, I'm here now." The lapse into an enveloping silence. The only sound their united breathing and almost imperceptible sound of her hand rubbing circles on his collar bone. He feels her eyelashes flicker on the curve of his chin, her face tilting to find his gaze again.
"Will you kiss me again? Kiss me like you do when it's just us and these four walls." His brow furrows with curiosity, it had been many years since they had conversed in such an openly sensual way. They had grown so used to one another they seldom needed words to know what the other wanted. They had learnt to understand each other from the touches, the depth of their kisses, their looks. Words were non-essential, they could be avoided. Meeting her gaze now, he sees the sincerity of her request in her eyes. He acquiesces, there was nothing she could ask for that he wouldn't give her.