My Dearest Darling

Chapter 38

He had had more than that one full tumbler of whiskey the night before, and he spent the entire morning bitterly regretting the repeated decision to let his sister refill it, again and again. That dull, pounding ache made itself known even before he opened his eyes when Bates came knocking on his bedroom door to wake him up early for his trip to the hospital, and he all but groaned before getting out of bed.

But, as Robert had rightfully observed, his valet was even more attentive than usual. Bates must have realised that the Earl had had maybe one glass too many the night before when he finally told him of the new developments upon getting changed for the night, and so he had come prepared with a glass of powder already in hand — handing it over wordlessly to Robert sitting on the edge of his bed with a disgruntled expression on his face. However, the valet could simply not stop himself from giving his employer a not-so-subtle knowing smirk when he handed him the glass back.

The mercilessly throbbing headache that was a result of his blatant over-indulgence subsided quickly enough with the powder Bates had brought; Robert almost felt as if he did not deserve that relief, not after inflicting the pain on himself in an effort to drown out his thoughts with his sister's expensive whiskey the night before. The pain that lingered afterwards, though, could only be attributed to his worries, and no powder in the world could help him with those.

What did help, though, was being with his wife. Robert found that just sitting next to her, just looking at her, just getting to hold her hand — it all helped take his mind off things. Even if just for a little while.

Sooner than he would have liked, a young black-haired nurse quietly walked into Cora's room in Harley Street and came to a halt a healthy distance off from the bed. She must be a new nurse, or maybe she was only responsible for caring for patients directly before or after surgery. Whichever option it was, neither Cora nor Robert had seen the young woman before.

Despite that, Robert and Cora both felt that she exuded quiet and somehow even comfort to some degree — something both were secretly very thankful for. Just as quietly as she had entered the room, the nurse said: "Good morning, Lord Grantham, Lady Grantham. I am here to take you to the operating theatre now, milady, if you are ready?"

Robert briefly looked up at the young woman standing in the middle of the room, tearing his gaze away from his wife, only to let it return quickly to her small, sleepy form next to him.

Cora was lying in bed with her hair still in that frightful excuse of a braid he had managed the night before with violently shaky hands. He had tried to calm down after the doctor had left, had tried to will his hands to cooperate, but they simply would not. And the braid that resulted in that was only marginally better than his very first attempt weeks ago.

She was tired, her eyes were only halfway opened, and she barely moved. But she smiled at him as he held her hand, his other continuously stroking her hair and cheek delicately. However, Robert knew his wife and saw how, even though she appeared calm on the outside, she was more than afraid of what would follow.

His voice not only laced with emotion but outright laden by it, he said: "It's alright. You'll be alright, you're in very good hands here. The doctors will help you and I will wait for you. I will be here when you return, I promise."

Cora became more alert when he said that, finally opening her eyes fully to look at him. She looked at him, her blue eyes locking with his like they had done countless times over the course of their marriage, and he saw nothing but adoration and love as she slowly reached out her hand to place it on his cheek, mirroring his caring gesture from seconds before.

"Robert, if thi-"

"No."

A lump began to form in his throat, tears started to well up in his eyes, and his cheeks began to burn — no doubt they must have been flaming red — the instant she started to speak those dreaded words. Robert's hands became clammy and his heart not only sank into the pits of his stomach, it plummeted there. She should not start saying things like that, not with what was about to happen to her. Memories flashed before his inner eye, memories of him trying to get those same words out not too long ago while lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor in their dining room, thinking it was his last chance to ever tell her how much he loved her.