Lily of the Valley: Return of Happiness

Cora looked at the way the firelight danced in the crystal Robert held, and she smiled. "It's been a happy day, Robert," she reached her hands out for him. "Let's end on a happy note."

She felt her heart flutter when Robert put down his tumbler without hesitation and took her offered hands into his own. Letting the flutter lead her, her fingers warmer in his grasp, Cora leaned for him. And when he pressed his lips to the corner of hers, she knew.

By the way his shoulders relaxed, by the deep hum he allowed as he smiled down at her…oh, she let the courage from her third cup of punch to lean in again, and she offered her mouth. His lips were warm like his hands, he tasted like the whisky in his glass behind him, and the flutter from earlier was now deep, deep down inside of her.

He felt it too, she noticed. He must have by the way his eyes widened at her, and she couldn't help but smile at him.

"Come to bed," she whispered, and Robert hummed, again, and nodded.

Without another word, they left the library together. They quietly passed through the Great Hall, ignoring the others still dancing, trying to keep to themselves. It was only upon seeing Anna at the bottom of the stairs that Cora lifted her chin to say, "Please tell O'Brien I've gone up."

There'd been no reason for Robert to pause beside her, but he had, waiting on her.

"Yes, Your Ladyship."

Cora watched Anna's eyes flick to Robert, and Cora looked away when Robert said, "Thank you, Anna. And good night."

She felt the corner of her lips tickle up into a smile, her heart feeling warmer, and she touched at Robert's arm, briefly.

He didn't take her hand, but that didn't matter. Cora knew by the way she glanced behind her as they climbed the stairs that it didn't matter. She felt the touch of his hand at her back, instead. She felt the way his fingers held momentarily at the fabric of her red skirts when they finally reached the gallery and had to walk down the length of the hall to her room. She slowed her steps so he could walk beside her, narrow as the passage could be, and she grinned at the way she felt the warmth of his gaze upon her.

"Shall I help you?" he asked very quietly as she walked past his dressing room door and to her own.

She opened her doors, and instead of going into his dressing room, he followed after her into her bedroom.

"Robert," she said as he pushed the door closed, "You heard me ask Anna to fetch O'Brien. I'm sure she'll be up soon."

"Dismiss her." He was now very close behind her, and she felt his fingers playing at the dress's closure at her side.

It made her chuckle. "Shouldn't you call for Thomas?"

She'd wanted to smirk again, twisting slightly to face him, wanting to tease him, but on seeing his expression she stopped herself. His eyes, darkened and more serious than she anticipated, looked her over, dipping from her neck back up to her face.

"You won't go to sleep before I come back through?"

Cora, swallowing, blinked and then smiled at him. "No," she whispered.

He smiled back at her, his playful fingers now turning her around, and she let him take her into his arms. He kissed her again—her mouth—and then again, slower and deeper. And Cora relaxed against him, kissing him in return.

He held her closer to him, firmly but somehow gently, and she felt as his hands pressed tighter, his left traveling from her waist to her back and then her throat, a feather's weight touch. He kissed her, and while some distant part of Cora's consciousness warned her against it, she further deepened the kiss herself, and pulled her body to press more flush against his. His hum into her mouth spun her tummy up into a flurry of those flutters…but then, suddenly, he let go.

The click of her door had caught his attention, and Cora was grateful he'd noticed for she hadn't heard it at all. Jerking slightly, he stepped away from her, nodding once, as O'Brien stood still just inside the room. Cora forced a grin at O'Brien over Robert's shoulder just as he turned and, agitatedly, cleared his throat. He didn't speak to her or to her maid when he went through to his dressing room, but then O'Brien didn't say anything, either.

And Cora was grateful.

She knew her cheeks were flushed as she moved to stand before the mirror with O'Brien. Her maid knew nearly all—-likely all—-of her secrets, hers and Robert's marital relations not excluded, but their intimacy had not been caught by her in some time. Years. And now as O'Brien undressed her silently and quickly, the banter that was often between them was absent.

It made Cora feel all-at-once foolish, and happy.

O'Brien slipped her dress from her, and Cora closed her eyes as her maid's fingers deftly untied and loosened her corset lacings. Cora removed her own chemise as O'Brien passed her her nightgown, turning from her. It was only just as Cora let her nightgown fall over her head that both she and O'Brien turned to the sweep of the dividing door against the carpet. The nightgown had hardly fallen to her cover legs.

"My lord," O'Brien said out of what Cora heard as surprise, but she somehow managed it quietly. After all, it'd only been just a handful of minutes since he'd gone, and Cora, her face warm and her tummy warmer, inadvertently caught her maid's gaze. O'Brien had not yet taken down her hair.

"Perhaps just a quick ribbon," Cora mumbled through her delighted embarrassment, fumbling with her housecoat, and then sitting at her dressing table.

She tried to ignore the way Robert slipped off the house coat he'd not even tied. She also tried to ignore the way that Robert pulled back her bedding just as O'Brien pulled the hair comb from her hair and laid it on the tabletop. But she couldn't ignore the brisk pace at which her maid pulled the little pins from her hair. She thought she might say something to her husband behind them, and Cora looked into the mirror to see beyond O'Brien and to Robert, a light-hearted "I thought you'd call Thomas?" sitting ready on her tongue. But when she peered at him in her mirror—when she found his face—she saw he was already watching her, his eyes seemingly waiting to meet her own. When he lifted his chin, a message she very clearly heard without his saying a single word, Cora drew herself up taller in her chair and smiled at her maid.

"I think I can manage from here. Thank you."

"If you're sure, my lady," O'Brien blinked. "There may be one or two pins left. And then the ribbon."

Cora nodded. "It's quite alright. It's very late, O'Brien." She forced a second grin. "Good night."

O'Brien didn't need to be told again; she collected Cora's dirtied things and swiftly left the room as Cora tried to find any remaining pins in her loosened hair. She winced as she pulled one that caught on a tangled curl.

"Cora—"

"—I'll only be a moment more," she interrupted as she fished for one last pin.

"Come to bed."

She stopped, and with her face warmly prickling, she peered over her shoulder at her husband who lifted his chin again in her direction. "Alright," she grinned, and she switched the lamp off at her dressing table. She lifted a brow, and tried to flirt. "Though I have heard it said that patience is a virtue."

In reply, Robert grunted a small laugh. "That may be, but perhaps we leave virtues for the morning?"

She couldn't help her small chuckle as she let her dressing gown fall from her shoulders and arms, and then as she climbed into her bed, shifting herself down under the blankets next to her Robert, who now also moved toward her.

It didn't take him long to wrap an arm around her, lying nearly atop her, as she lay on her back. It didn't take him long to resume kissing her the way he had been before—slowly and with intention, his warm lips trailing from her mouth to her throat.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel him, letting her mind float away from the thoughts of the day…the week. Thoughts of Bates, and Sybil, and Mary and Matthew. Her mind swam with thoughts of only Robert—Robert, as he kissed her beneath her ear, as his thumb passed over her breast, as he hummed when the smallest air escaped her at the pulse of nerves she felt between her hips.

"Oh," she whispered, and her fingers grasped at his shoulder, and then the back of his soft, graying waves of hair. "Kiss me."

She smiled against him when he moved his mouth back to hers, laughing into her, and then she blinked up at him when he lifted himself and to peer down at her. She was half-surprised he didn't say anything. He only gazed at her for a long moment, and then, shifted himself more atop her.

Her heart soared. She closed her eyes and felt his kisses travel from her face down, down to her breasts. She could hear the faint scratching of his hair against the silk of her coverlet and sheets, and she pushed them away from him, the winter chill not bothering her now. No, not as his hot breath warmed the silk of her nightgown, leaving her skin beneath it hot and moist.

"Let's take it off?" she suggested in short breaths, her fingers pinching at the silk, and Robert laughed.

His sound vibrated against her sternum, and Cora felt herself fall back months and months and months, to so long before now, her head feeling lighter.

"Yes," he agreed, his lips moving against her, and she lifted herself—her hips, her back-–to help him as he tugged up the nightgown that O'Brien had just helped her into.

Oh, they'd lain together many times since April, many times since she'd been ill when there'd been such distance between them. But tonight, as Cora chuckled at the way Robert caught one of her hands and kissed it when she began to unbutton his pajamas, it all felt like before. Before when, it was hard to say. Before Sybil's marriage? Before her illness? Before the war? She didn't know; it felt almost as if they'd both been navigating toward one another through a fog, and without realizing exactly when, she suddenly saw the fog had lifted.

Just as she'd helped him, Robert angled himself this way and that to allow her to remove his shirt, and she felt every inch of her grow warmer as she ran her fingers against the soft skin of his sides, his ribs, to his pajama trousers. When she slipped two of her fingers inside the drawn waistband, she heard him sigh against her. The sound washed over her, and she slipped her hand inside and found him.

More quiet laughter, though nothing was funny. The laughter between them felt nervous and wonderful, and Cora's chest blossomed in new flutters.

"Would you like for me to turn off the lamp?"

She shook her head as she stroked him, and he kissed her bare shoulder.

"Really, darling?"

"Not unless it bothers you," she said as her own lips found his chest.

When he lifted himself away to peer down at her this time, she grinned at the coy grin he wore. "Seeing you could never bother me."

And then her grin melted away when she felt his mouth taste at her bare breasts. Her stomach, and her hand missed the soft feel of his smooth skin beneath his trousers. He kissed her as he moved, her navel and hip. And then she gasped when he dipped lower still, between her legs, the wet slip of his tongue alighting every nerve inside her.

"Oh!"

"Are you alright?" She only just heard him mumble his question, and opening her eyes she hadn't realized she closed, Cora looked down to find him peering up at her. His eyes gazed at ger over the soft hills of her naked form, and the blush she'd just cooler burned back to life.

She nodded, but then frowned. "Yes, but…you needn't do that."

Cora watched as his eyes twinkled. "You did say we should end on a happy note."

She gasped again, a burst of laughter. "This doesn't make you happy."

"Why do you never think I want to do these sorts of things? Honestly, Cora."

Her incredulous laughter had him chuckling, too, and she wiggled in surprise when he softly kissed the tender flesh at the inside of her thighs. "Because we never do this. I can't think of the last time we've done this sort of thing."

His 'no' disappeared before it had any time to make a sound, before he dipped his head back at her center, his tongue warm and wet against her, her body not quite sure how to respond except to hold her breath and tremble. When her head lolled back of its own accord, she exhaled in a quiet moan.

And he opened his mouth wider, tasting her.

It made her whimper; it made her hips hitch forward; it made something in her coil deeply in that delicious space between pleasure and pain. Though distant sensations in the wake of the waves of sensitivity each pucker of his mouth made against her, Cora could also feel the coarser pads of his fingertips trace along her bare hips, his hands pulling her body in closer to him, his hum against her gender.

And it all worked together to wind her further and further into that coil, her eyes warming and closing, her own hands finding the back of his head and weaving themselves into his soft hair. Her hips lifted again at the next pulse of sensitivity, her muscles stiffened, and then that pulse extended into a cresting wave and she didn't care that her voice rumbled louder in her release than it ought to have. Her muscles floated away from her, her mind stilled, and she felt his lips kiss the inside of her thighs once more, then twice, before he slowly covered her naked body with his own.

"Dearest." His voice had lost its mischievous edge and was now the voice he only used here, in her bed, with her. And though she'd only just felt spent of all desire, the closeness of his voice sent a little trembling aftershock of pleasure through her.

When he took her breast in his mouth, she arched her back upward and moved her hands over his shoulders, his arms—the muscles flexed—his back. "Go on," she said before she even opened her eyes. Her fingers drew soft lines from his back to his shoulders to his cheeks, and she guided him closer to her. "Your turn."

Like it had before, his chuckle vibrated against her. But she didn't laugh, too. She grasped his shoulders tightly and pulled herself up to him, her lips pressing against the evening stubble of his throat and jaw. Her hands traveled further over him, feeling at his bare chest and then down between them, working together to push away his trousers, her fingers finding his hard length. And when she'd found it, they worked together to guide him inside of her.

Oh, she'd never understand why it felt any different, this way of pleasure. They'd been married long enough, and happy long enough, for there to have been many explorations of pleasure: fingers and mouths, and fitting themselves together this way and that, like pieces of a puzzle. Just as she assumed each pair lucky enough had done, they'd discovered in their early days what it was to be married. And how to find pleasure. But this, oh this was her favorite. With Robert's face so near her own, his breath in her ear, the velvety feel of his hips inside her thighs, the pinch of his brows when he lifted himself slightly away from her and looked down at her—the pleasure she felt in this simple way swelled up into her chest, and her heart felt ready to burst, beating out of her love for him.

And it felt that way now. For a moment she didn't care that she could taste herself in their kiss. She only wanted him ever nearer. She wanted to touch him, and watch him, and kiss him again as his body found a quicker rhythm that made hers seem to come to life.

She held tightly to his arms, and pulled further back her legs to angle herself upward to him, and he dropped his head to her forehead.

"Oh, Cora."

And she let go of herself again, shuddering, her eyes feeling teary and warm as he worked, and then eventually collapsed upon her.

And the room stilled.

Everything stilled. Weightless and wonderful.

After another moment, then two, she felt Robert's chaste kiss against her temple, and then as he shifted his weight from her and rolled away. "Good," his voice rumbled in a puff of air.

"Mmm," she smiled and also exhaled a long, contented breath. "Very good."

She liked the way he chuckled at that, and Cora opened her eyes and turned her head to him.

There he lay, his chin angled upward toward the canopy of her bed, his eyes closed in serene exhaustion, the slope of his nose and line of his jaw warm in the glow of their lamps. Her chest grew tighter in looking at him, at her husband who looked more at peace now than he had in months and months … perhaps years; and her tightened chest ached.

She must've stared at him longer than she thought, for eventually his head rolled to hers and he looked at her for a moment before chortling quietly.

"I should think you'd be tired."

"Not quite as tired as you. After all, you did all the work. I had all the fun."

He laughed aloud at that. "I disagree."

"Well…" her face warming fiercely with yet another blush, Cora sat up and found the bedding they'd kicked to the end of her bed. She pulled and straightened it over them, distracting herself from the feelings devouring her. "Goodness. It's colder than I realized."

He was silent as she made a point to pull it higher over his bare chest, and she noted as he watched her correct her pillows and lie down upon them. She let herself get comfortable beside him, on her left side toward him, her face angled up to him, her finger drawing lazy lines against the round of his glowing shoulder.

Slowly but surely, Cora watched as his left hand rose to the top of his head, and his fingers were buried in his curls. And it made her smile.

"You mustn't get too comfortable," she said quietly. "We still need to dress."

He hummed in acknowledgment. "I believe I'm lying on your nightdress."

Cora chuckled, "Probably." But neither moved. They only let the peace of this moment—the slow revolution of their own tiny world—remain still and quiet, until at last, the emotion that grew and grew inside her chest, the feeling of emerging from the mist, made her breath catch. To cover it, she reached for Robert's hand, and held it tightly.

Oh, she loved him; and until this moment, she hadn't realized how much she'd missed him.

She knew he was smiling, though she didn't look at his face. Even with her eyes closed, she knew the feel of him when he smiled.

"Thank you for letting me…" his voice trailed away, but Cora heard what he thanked her for, and she buried her face in her pillow for a moment to hide her silly grin.

"I don't know what came over you," she opened her eyes and looked at him, his own eyes looking up into the bed canopy. "I can't think of the last time you'd done that."

He chortled a bit. "Years." And then, she felt him squeeze her hand. "But you enjoyed it?"

Again, she felt herself grinning madly. "Yes. I must repay the favor."

He laughed again, louder now, and Cora's heart swelled behind her ribs.

"Only if you wish." Again tonight, her hand was brought to his lips, and he kissed it after he spoke. "Lying with you is more than enough."

The grin hadn't gone, and neither had the warmth, and Cora chuckled in her throat. "You certainly were eager. I hope O'Brien isn't embarrassed."

"I don't care what O'Brien feels."

"Oh, Robert. You aren't worried she'll gossip?"

He laughed. "That is the very least of all my worries. And I have quite a few to be getting on with."

His statement didn't really surprise her, but Cora lifted her chin along her pillow to look at him better regardless. "1920 is going to be a good year," she said quietly, and in a way, she really believed it. "A new decade. A new start."

"After everything the last year has brought?" Robert's fingers moved in hers. "The last five years? I'm not sure. In fact, with everything as they are I'm rather sure it'll be terribly uphill."

"Not everything is so bad." Her thumb stroked his own. "Robert, Bates will be set free. I know it," she heard herself assuring him, contrary to her own doubts, but Robert shook his head.

"No, I—that is, I have faith that he will. He's an innocent man. It isn't just Bates, it's …" he sighed, "Matthew, and now Mary is going away."

Her thoughts she'd pushed off earlier were now echoing around them, and Cora closed her eyes for a moment to hide from them.

"Matthew is well. And Mary is only going to New York."

"God knows what the papers will say."

Cora shifted against her pillow. "Mary can endure it. She's strong."

"And now Sybil will be a mother."

Cora sighed, and when she shook her head against her pillow, Robert looked at her. "A very sweet mother," she added, and in spite of herself, she smiled.

He huffed a laugh. "I know. And I know you're pleased."

"Yes, because I'm choosing to be," she answered, and then feeling her confession burn in her aching chest, she pulled in a breath. "Oh, darling. It'll be our very own grandchild. Yours and mine. A grandchild. Just think of that."

"And this makes you happy?" he smirked. "Becoming a grandmother? Growing older as the world falls around our ears?"

"Yes," Cora pushed herself closer to Robert, nudging his shoulder, and grinned back up at him. "For I get to grow older with you."

Her husband laughed, and after a long moment, he nodded and looked at her. "I suppose if it's with you," once more, he kissed her fingers. "I'll be very happy."

And for the thousandth time this evening, Cora smiled.