My Dearest Darling

Chapter 11

They were standing at the railing, the stiff sea breeze billowing all around them. Both of them were glad for their warm winter coats, and, albeit begrudgingly, Robert had to admit that he was grateful that Bates had insisted he take a scarf outside.

"How do you think the girls are getting on back home?" he asked suddenly.

He was staring far off into the distance, out over the choppy seas beneath the ship's bow. To her, his voice sounded near and yet frightfully distant at the same time.

Cora turned to face him, steadying herself with both her hands still firmly holding onto the railing as the winds caught in the hem of her thick woollen coat. Her brow was furrowed when she hesitantly replied: "What makes you say that, Robert?"

Then it was on Robert to turn his face away from the cold breeze, turning to look at his wife huddling so close to him. She was so close that he could swear he was able to see small flecks of gold among all the light blue in them, just around her pupils. If gazing into her eyes was the only thing he could do for the rest of their lives, he would honestly admit to being perfectly content. The fear and then the reality of losing her made him realise that.

"Oh, it's just — you know how Mary and Edith are, they never got along too well, not even when they were so very little and especially not when they grew up. I just hope they manage on their own in the big house, surrounded by the children," he replied, averting his gaze back out to the restless sea. He found strange comfort in looking at the waves, despite the queasiness the motion caused him. Maybe it was the turbulence that both, the sea and his restless mind, shared.

He had never done too well on boats and ships, especially when the sea was as rough as it was that day. Somehow, though, he had found that staring into the deep inky blue depths of the ocean beneath seemed to help. Still, he already felt the beginnings of another wave of sickness arise in him.

"Darling, they have both grown up, as you said. They might not be as close with each other as we had always hoped they would be, but they are not the young girls fighting about who will get the next frock or the nicer hat or who gets to play with the newest doll first. They haven't been for some time, in case you hadn't noticed, my dear. Not living in the same house did them well, as did their husbands and children, I believe."

She smiled softly at him, not that he took any notice of that. He was not looking at her. No, he was still staring out into the distance, his greying eyebrows knitted together in concentration. Cora let her eyes wander over his side profile, tracing his strong nose and the gentle curve of his lips, thinking of how they felt pressed to hers in a kiss. Not lingering on that thought for too long, though, she noticed the loose and wrinkly skin on his face and how gaunt his cheeks looked, causing his cheekbones to appear much more pronounced than they ever had. This entire situation was all taking quite a toll on him, she knew. He had not eaten well ever since his mother had died, or maybe it was because of her diagnosis — or maybe it was the combination of both that caused his loss of appetite.

Her Robert had always been on the chunkier side, never quite being able to say no to a second slice of whatever pudding Mrs Patmore had prepared for them. He had always appeared to be rather burly with his tall frame and broad shoulders, but his face had had this boyish charm that had drawn her in. His kind expression and gentle eyes were what she had adored from the moment she laid her eyes on him — they were what had told her that he was a good and kind man, unlike so many others of his station. His kind and loving eyes that looked at her with such adoration were still the same, they had not aged like the rest of him.

His warm gaze that could turn into an icy and harsh glare instantly when provoked, which luckily happened not too often. Cora much preferred the softer side of him, because she knew that that was who he wanted to be — and was. He had told her countless times, in the privacy of their bedroom, how much he resented himself for raising his voice on some occasions, losing his temper much quicker than he would have liked to.