#cobert

Thank you for the prompt, anonny of times gone by! I do love a young!cobert :)

——

He’d not been especially tired before this moment. Robert had poured himself one last whiskey, sent Carson away to bed, and half-heartedly poked life back into the fire before he realized that he was in fact rather tired. Standing here, in the quiet Great Hall, Robert felt the evening’s dancing, talking, and general bustle finally catch up to him. And sighing softly, he lifted his tumbler to his lips.

The fire popped, once, and just as it did, he heard the creak of the floor behind him. Robert lifted his chin, ready to nod cordially at whichever servant had not yet gone off to bed.

But when he turned, it was not a servant he saw, but Cora.

There she was, his wife, swaddled in folds and folds of lace-trimmed red velvet, descending the last flight of the stairs. Her rounded shadow loomed up behind her and bounced as she stepped to the landing.

“Cora,” he couldn’t help but sigh, but all the same felt warmer at the sight of her, her glowing face lit by the candle she placed on the table at the bottom of the stairs. “What are you doing down?”

She spoke as if she had not heard him. “I’m glad they haven’t cleared everything away.” He watched her gaze go from the vases of arrangements to the evergreen greenery draped here and there but avoid him entirely.

He exhaled. “Cora,” he repeated, and he noted she didn’t respond to the hint of a reprimand in his voice. “It’s very late. You should be resting, not down here.”

It was obvious she rolled her eyes then, even if he couldn’t really see it, but he continued nonetheless. “If you need something, you must—“

“Oh, for goodness sake,” she grumbled as she came forward, slowly but steadily. “I’m not an invalid, Robert.”

“Of course you’re not, but—“

“And it isn’t as if I’ve strayed far—only downstairs. Surely I’m permitted to escape my room.” Here she rested her hand on the small of her back, and he watched her as she swayed slowly across the Great Hall towards him. The fabrics of her gown breathed bruff-bruff in the quiet space, and it made him smile. “Everyone under this roof was allowed to make merry and mingle except for me. You don’t blame me for wanting to see what remains of the fun, do you?”

“No,” he smiled wider at her, but narrowed his eyes, too. “Though I must say taking the stairs in the dark does seem rather ill-advised.“

“Oh—“

“And you said yourself only a few hours ago you felt unwell.”

Beside him now, Cora rolled her head away from his. “I’m only tired and a bit uncomfortable. All to be expected at this stage.”

“That’s another thing—“

“Robert.” Cora’s hand was then suddenly at his arm, and Robert quieted. He looked at it—swollen but lovely—and then up at her face in the glow of the firelight. “Please.”

Her voice was sweet and sincere, and Robert sighed. “It was only the Servants’ Ball.”

He was surprised at her laughter, but he warmed at its sound.

“All the same,” she tumbled out with a shake of her head, “it would have been nicer than my own four walls.”

Robert looked back at the fire, happier than before. Her swirled his drink and took another sip. Beside him, her velvets brushed against themselves.

“I hope everyone knows how much I regret not joining in. I can imagine what some of them must have thought: the American, not respecting the traditions of the house.”

Robert peered at the profile of her face as she spoke.

“Though perhaps I wasn’t missed. After all, no one besides Perkins has seen neither hide nor hair of me in weeks.”

He looked back at the fire and chuckled; her words were somewhat true, though not in the way she’d meant it. She had been confined to her bedroom for the very end of her pregnancy for a little more than a fortnight now, the expected date of their child’s arrival having come and gone four days ago.

His eyes went to his left, at Cora, who stood beside him. He looked at her in the firelight, at her dark hair, her pinked cheeks and lips, her middle…large and round beneath her shapeless gown. He watched as she pressed a hand to it, as she took in a long breath, and as she exhaled slowly through a low hum. And the place that thumped trembled. She’d been doing that since luncheon.

“Are you quite all right?”

“Hmm?” Her bright eyes turned to him and then quickly away at what he assumed was the look of concern he wore. “Oh. Yes.”

He lifted his chin, again examining the profile of her face. Her brows pinched a little and then relaxed again. “If you’re certain.”

She picked up the corners of her mouth into a quick grin, and nodded; again her hand rubbed at her middle. “If I’m honest, I was hoping it would happen tonight. I’ve had some pains.”

“Have you?”

“Yes,” she looked at the rounded mound of her middle, then, and rested her swollen fingers upon it. “But not enough.”

He frowned, suddenly strangely embarrassed but nodded. And then, after a moment of only pops and cracks from the fire, Robert returned his gaze to her. “You were missed at the ball,” he said quietly. “Several asked after you.”

She looked at him, and her fuller cheeks crinkled her eyes when she smiled. “Only because I’m carrying your son!”

“Not only because of that,” he volleyed. “You are liked better than you think, Cora.”

“Perhaps by some,” she was still smiling, and Robert let himself admire her this way: pinked and full of life.

“And by me. Very much.”

The words slipped from him in a soft moment, like an escape, and he watched on as her glittering eyes found his. Her smile from before changed, then. It warmed over into something small and intimate, something dear. He watched her fuller lips twitch, and then she broke her gaze and found his empty hand, taking it in the one she had rested on the swell of their child. “I should say you must only say those things if you mean it, but I do like to hear you say so.”

He was pleased, his whole body relaxing into the feeling. “I do mean it. I do. And, I missed you this evening.” He squeezed her hand. “And thought how much nicer it would be to dance with you rather than Mrs. Davies.”

This earned him a laugh, and he watched as she shook her dark head and gestured to herself, bringing their joined hands outstretched beside her. “Robert, I’m as round as a globe. You’d scarcely be able to get your arms around me.”

“Not quite a globe, my darling.”

She scoffed, and Robert spoke again.

“And I can very easily get my arms around you.”

He felt himself move, above the sounds of her laughter, felt himself place his tumbler on a table, felt himself take the bend of her waist into his hand, felt himself take her other hand, and he felt her body—soft and warm—in the circle of his arms.

“Robert,” Cora grumbled playfully when he slowly began a waltz. “I can’t even manage a turn!”

She wasn’t wrong, he thought, as he swayed them left and right and then around. Her middle was very large, touching his own though his arms did not bring her to him, and he laughed in his throat. “Nonsense. You dance well.”

“It’s not nonsense,” she argued, but her eyes sparkled when she laughed. “I’d bet I have two left feet if I could see them.”

“Which,” he lifted his chin as he spun them, “is precisely why you shouldn’t have come down the stairs in the dark.”

She tipped her head when she sighed, and the glow of the firelight seemed to dance on her face as he turned them once more. “Are you really upset that I’ve come down?”

“No.” He sighed, and then lifted a brow. “But I suppose I am allowed to worry. You seem to forget that I am the child’s father.”

The corner of her lip rose, and he turned with her again. “And you worry for it? Truly?”

“I worry for you both. You know that.”

Cora stopped, and he held to the gentle bend of his wife’s waist as he stopped a moment after her. He was half-surprised she didn’t speak immediately, but instead looked up at him silently instead. Her eyes looked, her mouth quiet and opened just slightly, as if she may break her silence at any moment.

But she did not.

Instead, it was Robert who lowered his chin and swallowed before he managed, “You do know, do you not?” Had he said it aloud before now? He was certain he had, though perhaps he’d thought it so often and he’d felt it so strongly that it was possible he had not. “That I love you.”

Robert felt her hand, soft and warm, find his. He felt the way her fingers squeezed at his thumb, and he had to blink away the swell of emotion that suddenly bloomed behind his ribs.