I published these drabbles on Tumblr over the past couple weeks. I haven't posted anything on here in a while so I thought I would update with these. It also gives me inspiration to post more drabbles by having them here in one story. I hope to keep continuing these but I know I will be busier now that summer is over. I hope you enjoy/enjoyed if you've read already. Ha.

Cora ate a small breakfast that morning, not having much of an appetite after her argument with Robert the night before. She opted to have a tray brought to her in bed; not wanting to feign politeness with Robert in front of Rosamund. Though they were both skilled with that practice from having been married so long, Rosamund would pick up on anything amiss and she didn't want any unnecessary confrontation. Although, she didn't want to forget about the fight either. She pushed the remainder of scrambled eggs and half bitten toast to the edge of the tray and sipped on her coffee before ringing for Baxter to dress. Fortunately, Rosamund's driver was taking them to the station early so that they wouldn't be rushed for Rose's tea with the Russians that afternoon.

After she was dressed, she walked down Rosamund's stairs to see Robert wishing his sister goodbye. He was promising to visit again soon when their eyes briefly met. His stomach somersaulted and he averted his gaze, standing awkwardly by the door. He forced himself to meet her eye again- this time with an apologetic smile but she didn't return it.

"Goodbye, Rosamund," they exchanged kisses and Robert followed them out the door held open by Rosamund's butler. Baxter had finished loading the suitcases and climbed into the car after Robert and Cora.

The silence in the backseat was heavy between them; as if thickened by the agitated thoughts churning in their heads. They often spent car rides quietly together in the backseat; but those were comfortable silences. They would feel calm and reassured just beside each other; often with their hands clasped together, exchanging squeezes that met any need for communication. They sat now as far apart as two strangers would in a shared taxi. Her hands dangled rigidly by her knees and his were crumpled over each other tightly to his chest.

She sighed as a memory of a recent time shared in the backseat of a car in London – during Rose's season – floated briefly through her thoughts replaced with bewilderment at the man she looked at now. He was definitely not that same playful, attentive, and passionate husband that flirted with her at the palace. He was not the same man who would share spectacularly indulgent kisses with her as they were chauffeured across London – not caring that it wouldn't look proper if they were seen. Which, all too often, they were. She shivered when she remembered his salacious words against her neck mixed with the pleasure of his demanding hands pressing well past her knees as he whispered, "I care far more about us and how we feel," he murmured, "than whatever anyone else will say."

She sighed louder this time: a high-pitched despondent push of air and marvelled at how things had changed so much in so little time.

"What is it?" he obliged in an annoyed tone, thinking it wouldn't be wise not to respond. His voice was even gruffer than he intended.

Her eyes widened. She hadn't been aware of the intensity of her sighs. She paused. "Nothing to bother you with," she said bitterly.

"Well, fine," he bit. "I won't let it 'bother' me then."

"Right. I knew it wouldn't."

"I'll tell you what does bother me," he uttered sharply. "How I am made out to be in the wrong when I came to surprise you - to give you a treat - only to be left alone imagining you, my wife, out with another man."

"I didn't know you were coming, Robert. You made it seem like coming to London with me was the last thing you wanted to do. Heaven forfend you might actually have to spend any meaningful time with me or listen to what I think. I know you think it unfeasible that any man might want to do only that," she growled.

"I – I didn't… I never said that," he defended.

"You said it is hard to believe," she let out a frustrated choke remembering how he spat those words harshly at her. Oh, she didn't want to cry. "And you mustn't believe it or you would have no reason to be angry. You could have taken me out still. I don't think you were coming to surprise me or treat me at all. It was all for you but if I'm so objectionable to be around, then why did you come? You've made it very clear – and not just last night – that you think I'm not worth 'bothering' with."

"Of course I don't think that," he struggled to look at her as she stared down at her gloved hands in her lap.

"You didn't even say goodbye to me when I left," her small voice cracked; the frustration on her features shadowed by sheer sadness. Her crystal blue eyes were glazed over and she took a deep, steadying breath; calming the breaths that threatened to shudder if she said anything more. She didn't. She shifted away from him and sat as close to the window as she could. She twisted her neck and stared at the pavement as it whipped behind them – focusing on how every spin of the wheels brought them closer to the train station – closer to … home.

"Cora…" he reached over to place his hand over hers and grip her fingers with his.

She clenched her eyes tightly shut. "Don't."

He hesitated but released her hand. "You can't possibly believe I don't care."

"Oh – so not only do I not have anything worthwhile to hear, you're telling me what to believe? Well, Robert," she forcefully stressed the syllables of his name, "It's hard to believe otherwise when every time I try to become involved, you push me aside."

"When have I done that?!"

"Pip's corner," she began. "Dismissing my thoughts on getting a wireless, brushing aside our anniversary like it didn't matter-" she began listing.

"What?" he scowled. "We had a dinner party."

"Yes. A lovely dinner party organized by the staff. You barely remembered before and quite frankly – if it hadn't been for the dinner, I would have guessed you didn't remember on the day. You declared to the table that I have beauty, brains, a heart and a conscience but I've seen very little evidence that you believe I possess anything but first thing – and only because you made it clear last night how that's all a man could possibly see in me."

"Well, every man would see that…" he tried to lighten the mood. He knew it was a mistake the second it left his mouth. She glared at him, her hands actually beginning to shake.

"That's all you have to say?" she fumed, her voice dangerously low behind clenched teeth.

"Of course not," he pleaded. "Cora, I believed everything I said then. You know I still do."

"Oh, do I?" she disparaged. "And do you also believe what you said last night?"

The immediate flash of uncertainty in his eyes hurt her the most. She could feel the weight of his reluctance to speak in the air then he stated bluntly, "Well, I do think that Bricker fellow wants a lot more from you than your observations about art. And as you said yourself, I have every right to say what I think."

She swallowed the piercing pain down her throat. "And I guess you do," she bit into her lip and crossed her legs away from him – not speaking to him again for the rest of the ride to King's Cross, the train ride to Yorkshire or the short drive to Downton.

"How extraordinary was it to see Mama completely shocked from that prince from her past?" Robert chuckled, shutting the connecting dressing room door behind him.

"Hmm," Cora hummed emotionlessly, flipping a page in her novel. She didn't look up from the book when she added, "it's almost as extraordinary as the fact that you seem to think you're sleeping in here."

Robert's hands stilled at the knot of his robe. "Cora," he hesitated. She shuffled further into the bed, bringing her knees almost up to her chest and buried her nose into her book.

Silence.

It was when she saw the outline of his body in her peripheral vision standing on her side of the bed that she turned, raising her eyebrows in warning.

"I don't want to spend another night away from you," he told her softly. "I know last night, well - I was cross and the things I said came out all wrong…"

She turned back to her book - not actually reading anymore - but just staring at the unfocused words on the page, blurry not just from fatigue but from tears that pooled in her eyes. She blinked them back and swallowed.

"Robert," she pressed steadily, "You see, that's just it. I don't think anything you said came out wrong but rather you let slip what you really think. That's what happens when you drink alone when you're upset. I've seen it on many occasions over our marriage, I just didn't think such low opinions and harsh accusations about me would ever be what you let slip."

"I was upset, Cora," he pleaded. "I wanted so badly to spend the evening with you."

"You wanted so badly. You, you, you!All I'm hearing is what you wanted when what I should be hearing is an apology, Robert. Don't you think I would have rather spent the night with you too?" she jerked her head to him from her book, eyes widened. "I asked you to come to London, remember? And when I saw you sitting in Rosamund's drawing room, I was delighted. Did you know that? We could have had a wonderful evening together still but then you said what you did and -" she shut the spine of her book loudly and set it on her bed table. She switched off her lamp and curled away from him.

"And … what?" he asked quietly in the darkened room. "Cora, please," he sat down on the edge of the bed behind her and placed a hand on her hip. "Darling…"

She lifted her hip, shrugging his hand off her quickly.

"Darling…" he repeated.

"Don't call me that. Not when your behaviour shows you obviously don't think I am. You've had all evening to show me otherwise but you've scarcely said a word to me," she choked. "So, please…" she tightened the covers over her and shifted away from him to the centre of their bed.

He turned her bedside lamp back on. "You're right," he admitted. "I should have done. I was just so flabbergasted by this Russian prince thing and …" he sighed. "It's hard for me to apologize when I know I've been so thoughtless. And unjust," he added.

"…Are you going to?" she scoffed and rolled her eyes into her pillow.

He grabbed her hip again but instead of shaking him off, she stared at him expectantly over her shoulder. He took a deep breath and nodded slowly as if steadying himself as he spoke, "I am sorry for what I said. I was angry but it shouldn't have been at you, Cora. I wish I didn't say what I did… It isn'ttrue. I so badly wanted to surprise you and be with you but my anger clouded my judgement. You didn't know I was coming so of course it wasn't wrong for you to accept another invitation. It's just… "

"You were cross," she finished blandly.

"Yes," his hand moved from her hip, lining his fingers down her arm to brush his knuckles along the smooth skin of her wrist. "And because of how I acted, now you are with me," he sighed regretfully before flicking her lamp back off. The mattress lifted as he rose from their bed away from her. Watching his slouched, defeated posture in the dark as he reached the door to his dressing room made something in her succumb.

"Wait," she choked. A pause. "You may stay."

He turned around, searching her eyes as he did. He couldn't tell if she was angry from the flat way she spoke. Her expression was hard to read in the darkness. "I don't like spending the nights apart from you, either," she faltered through a whisper.

He shrugged off his robe, tossing it onto the settee at the foot of their bed with a cautious but optimistic smile. Climbing in beside her, he kissed a tentative kiss to her forehead.

"Goodnight, Robert," she was quiet but firm as his lips left her skin.

"Goodnight, Cora," he brushed his fingers though her hair. He combed a curl behind her ear before his fingertips ran to palm over her cheek. "Mydarling," he hushed reassuringly before he settled beside her to sleep. She felt the weight of his arm across her waist: a weight that usually provided her solely comfort. But tonight, she couldn't rid the sinking feeling in her stomach that accompanied his touch. She couldn't put a name to it but when she shuffled forward slightly and he pulled her back to him, she realized that the familiar comfort of his embrace was still there - but it was tinged with what she was perturbed to realize she could only describe as feeling stuck.

What was happening?

So much of her wanted to roll over into him and make her uneasiness go away; let her insecurities fall away under the rush of his touch – the reassurance of his soothing kisses. But she didn't. She didn't because she knew like his touch, his lips would be affectionate but tainted tonight: marking her with a possessive trail of warm nips and kisses to claim her. No…she would wait until his touch wasn't laced with this threatening feeling in her chest mixed with a burning in her throat.

She swallowed. Looking down at his wrist draped over her ribs she almost didn't recognize the embrace as his. She thought seriously about moving his arm behind her- back to his side – away from her. But, she couldn't. She just wanted his touch back. Robert. No jealousy, no bitterness – just the adoring and warm presses he naturally pressed against her skin before they fell asleep each night. She disguised a sigh through a yawn and shuffled her hips closer to him, closing her eyes.

Maybe tomorrow.