#randomabiling

hurray! thank you, my darling! (more under the cut)

Sleep:

Robert - Our favorite lord has no trouble falling to sleep or staying asleep if he’s in Cora’s bed. As soon as his head hits his pillow, it’s lights out. He usually ends up on his back during some point in the night, though he is most comfortable falling asleep on his side. And though he loves sleeping with Cora (and can’t actually sleep well at all without her), he has to fall asleep curled away from her because she is just too warm while she sleeps. Her American blood.

Cora - While Robert can’t sleep too close to Cora, Cora always seems to wake up turned in toward Robert, sometimes inches away. She’s the blanket-stealing, leg-kicking, dream-cuddling sleeping partner that drives everyone mad. In the very cold months of winter, she even snores...but only slight, infrequent, whistling ones. Robert would never tell her, though. He likes to sleep with her, and he privately thinks the little snores are endearing.

First of all, this is painfully overdue (like, we’re talking months here). Please forgive me, randomabiling! Secondly, I figured we all needed some Cobert sweetness/mild smut after Sunday’s episode, so no angst here, friends. 

Disparu means ‘lost’ in French.

Thank you for the request darling! So the prompt is more or less the theme of this, or, that’s what I was aiming for. Who knows if I succeeded hah. I just hopped abroad the angst train & rode it into town. Anyway, I do hope you like this. Beneath the cut because, it’s loooong. Enjoy! <3

Who is responsible?

Her fingertips skated across the various picture frames that lined one of the tables in the library. Each photograph captured a prominent family of Downton, going as far back as Robert’s grandfather’s time. She had since learned the genealogy of the Crawley Family. It was one of Mama’s points of insistence whenever they married.

If she wasn’t bred to be a proper English wife, she would become a learned expert. And she had.

She knew most of the names by now. And in addition to the names of Robert’s grandparents and their brothers and sisters, and so on, and so forth, she heard little anecdotes about their various accomplishments and their character throughout the course of her life here at Downton. In some ways she knew them; as far as time and space would allow. But in other ways, they were just as foreign to her as if she were reading about characters in the history books.

Of course, today’s interest in the photographs had little to do with knowing the more intimate details of their lives, and more so with recognizing patterns. There had to be a break somewhere else along the way. She couldn’t be the only one; the only cause for this particular dissention from the traditions the Crawley’s used as their guiding light that moved them forward through life.

And yet, as her eyes more frantically analyzed the makeup of each faded picture, she couldn’t find any clues to the one she was looking for. Her heart hammered inside her chest at the thought that it was her, and her alone, that was responsible for their failure. That Mama had been right from the start in adamantly vocalizing her opinions about how a cross-cultural marriage would only lead to disaster and ruin to the way of life at Downton.

She had tried so hard to prove her mother-in-law wrong. She learned the names of the people that mattered. She learned how to run the household just as Mama had shown her. She had joined the proper committees and charity groups that would involve her more in the community and give her visibility among them. She had done all of those things that had been required of her from the start, and then some. But she had not succeeded in one of her most important duties.

So now, she stared down at the families, who stoically peered up at her. They had done their duty to Downton, and therefore were prominently on display in the library. She silently prayed that one day she would be among them, and let out a forlorn sigh.

However this brief noise of lamentation was interrupted by a sudden string of giggles reached her ears, and Cora nearly jumped from the break in the quiet.

Looking up and outside of the tall window of the library before her, she squinted and raised a hand to shield her eyes away from the brilliant sun. No sooner had she done that, than did she notice a trio of little girls darting to and fro across the grassy lawn, their nannies trying to keep pace with them. The single string of laughter soon broke out into a louder chorus, a melody that was interrupted every now and again with the distinct staccato of: “Lady Mary, slow down!”

Mary, with her dark locks bouncing off her shoulders as she skipped along the gravel path, hands on her hips. Her singing of “we’re following the leader,” faintly reached Cora’s ears while she saw Edith hold Sybil by the hand, trying to following her older sister at a slower, less precarious pace. Sybil of course, wanted to skip along in time with the song Mary was singing, and ended up pulling Edith forward more determinedly.

Cora indulged in a smile as she watched her girls of now eight, seven, and four play outside in the springtime sunshine. Her heart swelled with a kind of love she never knew until they came along.

Witnessing moments like this one, made her feel guilty for feeling guilty. Her girls were so enthusiastic and happy, ready to wholeheartedly embrace the thrills of life and reap the benefits that the world had to offer them. To think one day she would shatter their idealizations of one day being just like Mama, as they put it, seemed entirely unfair.

But, she swiftly reminded herself, at least they were all alike in that regard.

If the world where to place more value on men than women, then at least there would be no quarreling among them about who was most important. At least, they would all feel mostly the same. Even if it meant they felt smaller and half their worth, they would feel it together and she would do everything in her power to make up for this social injustice.

Leaning forward until the girls were all out of sight from the window, Cora glanced back down at the table in front of her. She was reminded of the harsh reality that was her present circumstance. She felt a lump rising in her throat, and she blinked hard a few times before deciding she ought to go lie down before the girls returned inside. She’d hate for them to see her upset, and in turn, feel her pain, for things they could not quite understand.

However, before she could steal herself away, she heard approaching footsteps coming from the entrance of the house. Glancing up momentarily, she saw Robert striding purposefully into the room.

“I forgot the new leases,” He explained, looking briefly at her before focusing on finding the papers on his disorganized desk.

She was grateful for the fleeting gaze, and she took the opportunity to look down again, pretending to be intently staring at the photographs.

But he had noticed.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

She felt his eyes upon her, and she nearly flinched at the kindness in his question.  

Clearing her throat, Cora nodded determinedly, not daring to chance another glance in his direction for it would be her undoing.

“Cora?” He probed again, his intonation softer this time.

“I’m fine,” She insisted, turning to face him and flash a quick smile, “really, I am.” She bit on her bottom lip to stifle it from trembling, her brow lifting.

But the look of assurance she tried to plaster across her face must not have worked, for his brow creased and he regarded her with a look of concern. Setting the papers back atop his desk, he slowly walked to stand in front of her.

She looked down now between them, her jaw clenching, fingernails digging into her palms as they tightened into fists. She wouldn’t allow him to see her weak. Not over something like this, not now.

“Tell me,” He pleaded, reaching for her arm, his hand sliding down to gently unfurl one of her closed fists.  

“It’s nothing,” She exhaled, shaking her head adamantly. “Nothing to trouble you with,” The words caught in the back of her throat, and she opened her eyes, shooting her gaze out to the window. She couldn’t look at the worrisome expression radiating from his face, it would be her undoing.

“Cora,” He urged again, his hands feeling strong and warm around hers. He pulled her closer to him, forcing her to find his gaze. His brow creased and he tilted his head to one side, “Please.”

Taking in an unsteady breath, she nodded, trying to mentally sort through the problem so she could explain it in a way that wouldn’t drive a wedge between them.

“It’s not…” She started and then paused, her eyes flickering up, and finding his patiently searching hers for the cause of her distress so he might help alleviate her from it. It was this single look that gave her the affirmation to press on, “It’s not something that has happened, but rather something that hasn’t.”

His brow knit together, mouth turning down slightly into a perplexed frown. “I-I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

Turning more fully to face him, she realized she would have to be a bit more direct about it all, no matter how uncomfortable the subject might be.

“I love our girls, you know I do,” She assured him, feeling her heart ache at the thoughts that ran through her.

But this only seemed to raise the alarm for him again. Inclining his head, he added rather seriously, “Yes, I know you do, darling. But what does that have to do with-?”

“Is there…” She interjected, her voice unhinging more rapidly now, even in her effort to remain calm. “Do you think…there’s something wrong…with-with me?”

“What?” He echoed in disbelief. “No! Of-of course there isn’t anything wrong with you!” His hands tightened around hers, eyes widening, “Why would you think-?”

“It’s just…” She cast a sidelong look to the table where the photographs lay on the tabletop. “It seems…I’m the only one who hasn’t…” She looked back up to him and finished in a single breath, “…are we the only ones to have only girls?”

He blinked back at her for a few moments before deciding slowly, “No we aren’t the only ones to only have girls…” He trailed off, chewing on the side of his mouth thoughtful before continuing, “The Winborne’s have Eleanor and Margaret. And the MacDonald’s just have Vivienne.”

“No I mean…” She blinked hard, looking down between them, “are we…are we the only Crawley’s to only have girls?” Fusing her lips together, she angled back her face to look at him, her stomach fluttering from the anticipation of his response.

“Oh,” Was all he said.

And her eyes darted away from his because it was apparent he now understood what she was getting at. And now he understood the defect in their marriage. The one unspoken topic they had kept hidden away in darkness now had a light shining brightly upon it.

Cora felt lightheaded at the possibility that all the goodness in her life could be over should Robert find cause to doubt his love for her.

They had married for other reasons after all. And she had made promises as part of the marriage contract. Promises she had not yet kept.

Her hands slowly slipped through his, and she instantly wrung them together at her waist. She looked down at the carpet, unable to think of anything else to say on the matter. And the longer the silence stretched out between them, the heavier the bridge of her nose became.

“See? Something’s…wrong…with me.” She let out a shaky breath, her eyes squeezing shut as they burned from tears that now threatened to spill.

“No,” He exhaled softly, reaching for her again while he shook his head. “No, nothing is wrong with you,” He assured, his hands seizing hold of her forearms before his arms encircled her back, bringing her into his comforting embrace.

She allowed herself to return the gesture, arms sweeping over his shoulders, and chin resting on his shoulder.

His lips pressed a reassuring kiss at her temple before he muttered, “We will have another. We will.”

The stitch in her chest broke apart at his attempts to reassure her whenever she was certain he had no proof they could have another.

“Will we?” She asked rather dejectedly. “Robert,” Her hands pressed into his shoulders, pushing away from him until they stood face to face, “Sybil’s just turned four. And it’s not as though we haven’t been trying ever since she came.”

He paused for a moment to consider her words, before asking, “And you want another?”

She blinked back at him curiously, “You don’t?”

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to try for another,” He informed her. “It’s just…we have three very beautiful girls. And if that’s all we’re to have then…” He offered her a slight smile, bringing one hand up to gently touch the side of her face, “it will give me great pride to find them respectable husbands one day.”

“But,” Her voice faltered, and she could hardly believe what she was hearing. “We will lose Downton,” She told him sadly, her heart aching at the thought of him having to give up his home and everything he held dear because of her. “Robert,” The bridge of her nose grew heavier at this thought, her eyes burning as they welled up with remorse, “Downton means everything to you.”

His thumb brushed across her cheek, and he bobbed his head slowly, “Downton means a great deal to me, yes.” She bowed her head and closed her eyes, his hand moving to the nape of her neck. Bending his face forward until his forehead met hers, he whispered softly, “But it’s not everything.”

Her hands clung to either side of his face, and she inhaled an unsteady breath.

“There are other things,” He went on, his nose brushing overtop of hers, “other things, that mean more to me now.”

Brief Synopsis: I don’t want to give too much away for anyone who’s not read this beautiful story, so I’ll use the author’s description: When the vows of marriage are tested by illness, memory can heal and harm.

Why I love it:  While I admit that the events that take place in this story very nearly ripped my heart to shreds, randomabiling wrote this story in such a way that, at times, it was difficult to remember that it was ‘only’ a story.  I think that we can all agree that we love these characters so much that sometimes we forget that they are fictional.  The things that take place throughout the course of this story are completely believable and realistic.  I can’t say more without giving away the plotline.

A random selection of beautiful words:  “That will never happen.  No matter what Clarkson tells us, we will get whatever help is needed and you will stay here,” Robert swallowed, finding it hard to keep his words steady, “where you will be safe.  And cared for.  And loved." Chapter 2/7.”