My Dearest Darling

Chapter 23

He stared at the pages in his hands without reading a word, not minding the paper yellowed by time and the countless fingers that had thumbed through it. He hadn't turned the page in several minutes, only blankly staring at the letters assembled in a few lines on the page. The letters made no sense to him, they didn't register as words — he was far too preoccupied to read any of the poetry he usually greatly enjoyed. Sighing softly, he closed the worn volume he had brought from home.

"Cora? Can I ask you something?"

Robert was afraid of asking the question that had been burning on his mind for weeks now, and that reflected in his quiet, almost hesitant tone. He knew that he simply had to ask, but he was not entirely sure if he was ready to hear the response, whatever it might be.

"Of course, darling. You know you can ask me anything," Cora replied, barely looking up from the book she had been reading.

She looked tired, and the dark circles under her eyes only seemed to get worse even though she spent most days in bed, sleeping day and night with her husband keeping a vigilant watch over her.

Robert stood up from the chair he had been occupying near one of the windows. He hesitantly walked over to the settee his wife was lounging on to sit down on the far end of it, making sure not to bump into her. This was the first time in the five days they had already spent at sea that she had willingly left the comfort of the bed to join him in the sitting area of their suite, even for just a few minutes. Finding a comfortable position to lie down was getting increasingly hard, and so Robert assumed that the prospect of sitting on a chaise was the only thing that got her out of the bedroom at all.

He took one of her delicate hands in his, his fingers intertwining with hers. It amazed him time and time again how perfectly and effortlessly her small hand fit into his bigger palm. As he stared at their joined hands, he heaved a deep breath to work up more courage, and only then he asked his burning question.

"Why do you refuse the treatment, truly?"

Cora had expected a great many questions, but this one she had not anticipated, that much was apparent to Robert when her face lost the gentle smile upon hearing his sudden enquiry.

Robert's question was followed by deafening silence. Her eyes suddenly flitted nervously between the small tea table next to her that still had their cups of tea on it, and the ornate rug spread on the wooden floor, only to finally settle on a small spot on his tie.

Cora avoided his gaze, replying: "I told you already, I want to spend the remainder of my life with you and our family and not with doctors and nurses in London. That is all there is to it."

Her voice suddenly had an edge to it, and she decidedly stopped looking at him at all and instead turned her attention back to the book in her lap.

Robert knew he was pushing his luck when she disentangled her hand from his, but he simply had to know, and this was as good a chance as any.

"But it is not. We have been married almost forty years now, Cora, and I know you too well to believe that even for a single second. You said that you lived a good life and I believe that to be true, because I do feel the same, but it is not like you to just give up. You never give up when you fight for others and you never gave up when you fought for yourself before. You always stood your ground, even when Mama was on a warpath or I was treating you unjustly, so why start now?"

Cora inhaled sharply, closing her eyes at the sound of his voice. It was gentle, his words laced with concern and thoughtfulness, but that only hurt her more than had he been angry or otherwise obviously upset. It hurt her that he knew her too well.