The door between his dressing room and her bedroom had closed behind him. They were alone. It was just the two of them, at long last.
The clicking sound of the door snapping shut behind him was the last straw. Robert collapsed into his usual armchair in their bedroom, sinking deep into the soft cushions. Heavy sobs were shaking his entire body as he put his hands to his mouth, but she knew that he was still holding back most of what he felt. He was her Robert, after all, and he had always felt these things so very deeply. But to see him reduced to this mess, his usually tall and formerly rather stocky frame suddenly looking so slumped, worn out and small as he sat there made her heart ache even more for him than it already was.
"Robert, it is okay. My dear, it is over. You needn't be strong any more, not when it is only you and me."
How could she say that? How could she say he needn't be strong any more? In all likelihood, she would be the one to be laid to rest not too far in the future, and he would be left alone. Left without his mother and his beloved wife to guide him. He couldn't bear just thinking about it without feeling utterly helpless and distraught, another wave of sobs wrecking his entire body as he continued to bury his face in his hands.
Cora knew she would not be of any help, not with their present situation, she would only make matters worse. Which is why she decided to stay at her vanity, even when everything inside her screamed at her to go to him. All she wanted to do was to be there for him, to hold his hands, hug him tightly to her, and kiss him. All she wanted to do was to remind him that she was still there. All she wanted to do was soothe and comfort him and his aching heart, wanted to tell him that they would be alright. But that would be a lie, and he hated lying.
So instead, she waited. She waited until the heavy sobs were quieting at least slightly, speaking in a quiet, calming tone: "Darling, come to bed, it's been a very long day."
He didn't respond and she wasn't even sure that he had heard her.
But a while later, Robert had calmed himself down further, at least enough to finally face her and come to bed.
He stood up and wiped, slightly angrily, at his face to get rid of the treacherous tears staining his cheeks, took off his black dressing gown and walked over to the canopy bed. He silently climbed into their bed and slid under the blanket, readjusting the pillow beneath his head several times until he was at least a bit more comfortable.
Robert was staring at the ceiling with his red-rimmed eyes when she got in bed next to him, putting her head on his arm and snuggling as close as possible under the covers. He felt her presence and reacted like he always did, or at least often. He stretched out his arm and put it around her slender figure, pressing her closer to him.
She calmed him, his mind finally stopping its incessant racing, his heartbeat slowing down at long last, and all that just because she was lying next to him. How long would things stay like this, how long would he be able to feel her calming presence in this bed with him, could hold her in his arms?
A week had passed since he experienced the worst day of his life. He had not known it then, but there had come a day even worse than when they told him his father had died suddenly or when Cora had had her miscarriage. It had been even worse than any and all days of war he had seen in his lifetime combined, and he had spent months upon months in Africa, fighting for king and country.
The fateful day had started out as a relatively normal one in his books, as normal as could be with film people in the house. In the morning, after he had enjoyed his usual breakfast, he had checked the books and read and wrote a few letters. It was no longer his responsibility to do any of that – Mary and Tom were running the estate for him – but he always liked to stay in the loop, at least partly. Downton was still his responsibility, he was the earl. After that, he had lunch with his family and then spent his afternoon hiding from the film people wrapping up the last shots in their dining room, going on an extra long walk across the estate with Teo faithfully strolling next to him, never leaving his side.
And then everything came crashing down.
Doctor Clarkson had arrived in the evening with the terrible news about Cora's condition. It had been a shock to them, even if they had talked about it all before and he knew that cancer was a possibility. Some part of him had been in denial about it until then, until the doctor all but changed his entire life. He had not even had a chance to fully process the Doctor's words or even take Cora into his arms for some comfort when his mother's maid had called out for them from the gallery above and within a matter of hours, his mother had passed away.
Not only that, but it had also been a week since he had had a proper conversation with his wife. They still had not talked about the elephant in the room, and it was one of the biggest elephants he could possibly imagine. They needed to talk about it, the unspoken was looming over them like a dark cloud, but he could not get himself to raise the topic, or any topic at all for that matter. He felt he was not strong enough to start the conversation, not when he knew he could likely not finish it.
Robert had been talking and putting on a brave face when around the others, especially around their daughters, but his façade started to crumble as soon as they were on their own. Away from the others, he suddenly grew silent and distant. To his wife, he looked utterly forlorn and lost. He knew he did not have to pretend, not in front of her. She knew him too well and saw through it all.
Cora could swear he cried in his sleep, not wanting to be so open and emotional in broad daylight – or maybe he wasn't sleeping at all. And she couldn't blame him, she felt and did the same.
It had been a week since his world had shifted on its axis. And so had hers, although not as abruptly. While she had had her suspicions for a while and had started to come to terms with what her future could be, he had been blissfully unaware. She had shut him out, not wanting to cause more hurt in the middle of his struggle with the possibility of losing his mother.
In truth, Cora had not slept properly in months, not without waking up exhausted and hurting in the morning, but the last week had been so much worse than anything before. She had had her suspicions for a while but wanted to put off the visit to the doctor for as long as she could. And then they were to take a trip to France to investigate this curious case of Violet having been gifted a villa decades ago. She had enjoyed herself, at times she had almost forgotten about the worries that were looming over her like a sword ready to strike at any given moment.
Earlier in the day, just after they had an early tea in the drawing room with some guests after coming home from the funeral, Doctor Clarkson had wanted to speak to her for a moment. He had only asked himself to the abbey the following day to discuss her treatment plan before taking his leave, not wanting to add to the heaviness of the day. How was she to tell him that she did not want any treatment?
Even worse, how was she to tell Robert – and what about their girls?
Their daughters still had no idea how sick she truly was. She had not wanted to bother them, not with the funeral of their granny needing organising and their need to grieve her. She would have to tell them eventually, and soon at that. She had promised herself to give them and herself time until at least the funeral was taken care of. Which had been the case. She could not put it off any longer, not in good conscience.
They had buried Violet just over twelve hours ago.
In a way, it had all felt like a rehearsal to her, for her own burial. She had observed the proceedings, had mentally taken note of many things, and would make a list of things she wanted to be done the same or differently. She would try to put her affairs in order before it was her time to go. She saw the day with a clarity she had never experienced before, not with her father, or Sybil, or Matthew. She could not recall much of their funerals, but Violet's would probably stay ingrained in her mind for the remainder of her life.
She had watched Robert like a hawk all throughout the day and had noticed his absent mind as they walked behind the motor with her coffin, following it down to the church in the middle of the village. To most onlookers, he must have appeared calm and collected, just like an Earl should, but she knew that not to be the case. She had known him far too long; she knew that he tried to distance himself from the situation to make it through in one piece and with his dignity intact. She saw his mind in uproar, saw the tears he held at bay the whole day through.
Cora had had weeks to come to terms with the likelihood of her ultimate diagnosis, and she had made peace with her fate, thinking back on her fulfilled life with her husband, children, and grandchildren.
He had not had that luxury. It all came crashing down around him in a matter of mere hours. How was he expected to cope with that? He had almost lost it completely during the garden party when she had told him about the possibility of her having cancer. And when they finally had certainty, his mother had died not even an hour later. He had said he would not be able to bear it, and now suddenly he had to. It seemed as though his worst fear from that evening had come true, and she did not know how to help him through it all. He had to mourn his mother and had to prepare mourning for her, but nobody could prepare for all that. Worst of all, she could not help prepare him for that.
Violet had died at an old age many never reached or even got close to reaching. His mother had been a constant all throughout his life, who had guided him whenever he had been lost, just as much back when he was a child, when he was the young viscount, and then later as the Earl. For the longest time, it was his mother who helped him deal with it all. And now he had to cope without her, and Cora had forbidden him from telling their daughters. She had alienated him from everyone. He was all alone with this.
Right then, lying awake in bed in the middle of the night, she decided she would change that - she had to. She could not have Doctor Clarkson come here to discuss anything concerning the treatment she did not want, with her daughters not even knowing she was sick.
She just could not. She could not leave it all to him. She could not leave him alone with this, or the heaviness of the burden would eventually break him.