He was concentrating so intensely on the ledgers - his pen scratching quickly across the pages, grunting words to himself under his breath - that he never even heard her enter the room.

He jumped when her hands rested on his shoulders. "Cora," he breathed without turning fully around, knowing by the weight and shape of her fingers on him that it was her. "You startled me."

"I'm sorry, darling. I didn't mean to." He sounded annoyed but she leaned to kiss the top of his head, once, twice, idly staring at the thinning grey streaks running across his scalp. "What are you still working on? You should be - "

"It's nothing to trouble you with. I just have a few more things I wanted to go over, before tomorrow, before meeting with Murray and Tom, now that he's here. I want to make sure I have it all in order." He reached for the glass of Scotch on his desk, sipping slowly on it. "I can't have anything out of order," he added softly.

She rubbed her hands over the top of his jacket, stifling a sigh. His muscles were so tense under her palms and she feared the results of the meetings she knew he would be having over the next few days as he seriously discussed the future of the estate with the necessary people. After dinner with the family, so much more lively with Tom and Sybbie back at the moment, they'd passed through for a few hours to drink and play cards, and then she'd gone up and changed for bed. In a new nightgown, with her hair braided loosely over her shoulder, she'd sat in bed with a book in her lap for at least an hour before she'd given up any pretense of reading and had gone off in search of her husband. He'd never made it up to meet with Bates - she'd gone over to his dressing room and dismissed Bates off to Anna. There was only one place he would be, and had been too often as of late. And she couldn't take it anymore. She was tired of trying to go to sleep without him, and waking up with only a dent on the pillow beside her to let her know that he had been there in the night.

"Go back to your bedroom, Cora. I'll be there soon." He quickly pressed his lips to her cheek in dismissal.

His words hurt, for she wanted to be included, wanted to be troubled. After all they had been through in the last few years, didn't he at least know better than to say those exact words to her? Hadn't they sworn to stand by each other, nearly forty years ago? Hadn't they endured their share of hardships and survived them, only stronger, and only together?

And what could barely pass for a kiss was the most affection he'd shown her in days, as he'd been so busy. But she steeled herself and pressed forward, wanting him and needing him to let these things go for the night and come to her, come find her. Come find her and be with her in this storm that seemed to be gathering around them.

Her hands slid slowly around him until she was leaning over him, cheek pressed to his cheek, arms fully around his chest.

"'My' bedroom?" she asked, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Am I in some sort of trouble that you would send me to 'my' bedroom all alone? I was thinking it would be so nice to walk with my husband up to 'our' bedroom, and spend some time there together," she teased, whispering into his ear. "Come to bed, Robert. Come lie next to me. Please, darling, I need - "

He raised his hand to the side to cut her off. "Cora, stop, please. I need to be here and I need you to understand that."

His tone made her breath catch in her throat and then draw back immediately, her arms falling to her sides, her fingers reaching for the ruffles of her dressing gown, tucking away inside them before she curled her arms back around herself. She paused long enough to hear his sharp intake of breath as he regretted his words. His eyes met hers for just a moment as he spun around in his chair.

"Forgive me, dearest, I simply have too much - "

"It's quite all right, Robert. I'll just … I'll just …" she couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence, turning and heading for the door and walking as steadily as she could to the stairs. Back up to be alone in what had indeed become her own room again, after all this time.

She was simultaneously grateful and hurt that she heard no footsteps coming after her as she raced blindly up the stairs, hot tears stinging her eyes. She gulped sobs back down until she was inside her chambers, suddenly angry and sad and scared enough to fling the key in the lock, effectively shutting out her husband who had spent the last few months shutting her out again.

After all this time, Robert? After all this time? she cried angrily to herself, crawling back into bed and turning to face the fire. It was lit every night as it had been since she had first arrived at the Abbey so many years ago - she'd lost count of how many nights she'd fallen asleep gazing into the flames, sometimes thanking God for the heat it provided for her "weak American blood," as Mama would probably still call it, or simply thanking God for the distraction from her own thoughts and worries, or walking the room with a fussy daughter, rocking and breast-feeding from the corner chair, or watching the dying embers cast shadows on her husband's face as he slept beside her.

Now she looked into the fire and wondered if the fire between herself and Robert had been permanently extinguished. He was so caught up in the estate, the money, his legacy - would it ever end? Would they ever have a moment of peace and contentment? Had they come so far and fought so hard, survived so much, to be reduced to this? Had she lost him again, just when she'd thought everything from the last few years with the silliness of Simon Bricker had been repaired? Would they not be able to hold hands and enjoy their grandchildren and perhaps travel and take slower and shorter walks on the grounds together, as she'd always imagined?

Cora hugged a pillow to herself, a poor substitute for the husband she dearly missed. She stared into the flames, and cried herself to sleep.