My Darling,

I sit on the train to Liverpool, thinking of you, replaying our last moments together. I do not know if you stood in the drive, eagerly waiting for me to turn one last time, wanting to send me off with a sad wave. If you did, I beg you to forgive me for not turning. I could not. I could not drive away into an uncertain future, watching your brave smile falter as you grew small in front of Downton's vast backdrop. I needed to look straight ahead if I was to board this train at all. I have read your own note, pressed into my hand before I left you, three times already and it warms me and worries me in equal measure. Please do not spend your spare moments imagining the worst. Please take care of yourself. Please kiss the girls each night for me. Please write to me, even if you have nothing to say, so that I may read your words and conjure the sound of your sweet voice whispering them into my ear. I promise everything in my power to come back to you safe and whole and to do my part in hurrying this blasted war towards its conclusion.

Yours always,

Robert

Cora smoothed the letter out onto her lap, reverently stroking it over and over. She tapped her own pen to her lips trying to string together coherent thoughts so that she may write him back, but the only words that came to mind were wrought with the misery of missing him. Clearing her throat and taking a deep breath, trying to rid the anxiety from her body, she plastered a smile on her face, as though her countenance could be imprinted on the paper along with her writing. Ink flowed from the tip of her pen in Cora's loopy script and she lost herself in her letter to him.

My Dearest,

I am glad you did not turn in the car for I wouldn't have been able to maintain my composure as you sped faster away from me. I apologize if the tears shed the night before your departure caused you to doubt my ability to manage while you are gone. It was a momentary weakness that needed indulging in or else it would have ripped me in two. But I am collected now and diving into the responsibilities of the estate. And the girls, of course, keep me more than occupied. You would be so proud of them. Mary is so stoic, keeping her little chin high and soldiering on with her studies. Edith is more prone to melancholy, but I have begun to teach her embroidery and she is fast at work on a gift for you and seems pleasantly distracted by her task. Dear Sybil is mostly ignorant of what is going on, as she should be at her age, and I am loath to admit it, but I take the most comfort from her as she showers me with her innocent baby kisses. Her tinkling laughter is a balm to my nerves and I sneak into the nursery while Mary and Edith are deep in their lessons, so that I might have more time with our smallest bundle of energy. Mama has been checking in on us, and though that might cause you alarm, she has been subdued in her disapproval, so there is no need to send a squadron here for appeasement (I jest...mostly).

I could write pages and pages to you Robert, just so that I may have a few moments where I feel close to you, as writing seems to help me do, but there are many things to attend to and I do not want to disappoint you in my handling of them. Stay vigilant my love. Come back to me soon.

Your devoted wife,

Cora

Robert folded up the note and placed it carefully back in its envelope. Blowing out the candle that had illuminated Cora's words, Robert settled back in his cot carefully, as it groaned under his shifting weight. He stared above, unblinking, at the apex of the canvas tent covering him. Within the confines of his quarters, the distant snores of the men under his charge became a background hum. The strange, primal sounds of Africa echoed as well, causing Robert's hair to stand on end. All of it a stark reminder of the gentle stirrings that Cora was prone to at night. During the day, he was occupied with the bloody business of battle, but at night, when the war took a respite and he lay in the dark unable to sleep, he thought of her and Downton. He had not known how hard it would be, a half a world away from the family that held his heart. Robert hadn't realized so fully, until he lay perspiring and lonely, how much of him he had freely given away to his wife since their marriage.

Cora sank into her bed heavily moments after Jenkins had left. Every part of her ached with the burden of duty. The day had been one endless line of people requiring her attention for something they thought immensely pressing. Carson required the hiring of two more hallboys, the Petersons wanted to negotiate their lease on the south farm, Dr Clarkson had wanted to talk to her about a fundraiser for new hospital equipment and James, Caroline and Patrick had arrived for a few days visit. They had stopped by, as they were 'passing through' York, but Cora was positive the real reason behind their stay was to spy on her fairing while Robert was gone. James was always a little too keen to sink his fingers into Downton, and as the years grew lengthier between Sybil's birth and any other sign of a fourth child, he became more and more forward in his opinion of himself as the next in line after Robert. For him to come around now, while Robert was away at war, felt to Cora like a shark circling a bleeding seal.

As exhausted as she was, Cora couldn't find relief in sleep. The worries of the day as well as the obligations waiting for her tomorrow weighed on her mind. This was the time Cora missed Robert most acutely, his side of the bed a gaping wound. And with missing him came a recurrence of her old homesickness, made long dormant by time and Robert's care. Cora couldn't help feel the foreignness that still clung to her now that her strongest link to England and Downton was away.

Tossing under her covers, Cora faced the spot where Robert should be, a shaky breath escaping her lips. As she did every night since his leaving, she closed her eyes and said a prayer for his safety. She sunk deeper into her pillow, trying to conjure up a picture of Africa, what it would look and feel like and smell like to him. She tried to place her proper, stalwart husband there, fighting in the primitive, arid desert and when her imagination became too vivid and her heart began to pound too aggressively in her chest, finally her senses would release her from wakefulness and plunge her into the land of dreams.

"Mama! Mama!"

Cora's shoulders hunched forward in defeat and she pinched the bridge of her nose in weariness. Mrs Wilson lips' flickered up in a sympathetic smile, the menus they had been going over forgotten once the tip-tapping of little shoes came knocking closer. A sobbing Edith ran into Cora's sitting room, followed closely by a more leisured paced Mary.

"Girls…" Cora sighed, shaking her head. "You mustn't fight so, it's...Edith! What has happened to your hair?"

At her mother's declaration, Edith burst into fresh sobs, fingers grasping for the girls that once hung on the left side of her head. The seven year old turned her red face to her sister, pointing her finger as Mary stood passively by, arms crossed.

"She cut them Mama! She did it!" Edith blubbered, bobbing her head, accentuating the asymmetry of her hair.

Cora turned to her eldest daughter, her face stern. "Mary, is this true? Why would you do such a thing?"

"She asked for it." Mary replied calmly.

"I did not!" Edith shrieked.

"But you did," Mary stated slowly, as though an adult talking to a very ignorant child. "You wanted to play lady's maid and countess and you insisted on being the countess and I've seen Jenkins do the same for Mama loads of times. I was just tidying up your hair."

"I thought we were pretending!" Edith lamented. Giving into her misery, she ran into Cora's open arms.

Shushing her middle daughter, Cora squinted her eyes carefully over the top of Edith's head, catching Mary in her gaze. The nine year old held her mother's eyes, but her calm exterior began to wither under her mother's scrutiny. After a few more moments, Cora snuggled the sniffling Edith tighter, stroking her hair.

"It's alright, poppit. Jenkins will make it even and it will all grow out in no time. Until then, you and I will make a special trip into Ripon tomorrow to get new hair ribbons. Would you like that?" Cora smiled down at her daughter as she pushed herself out of her arms, her tear stained face shining.

"Really, Mama? Oh yes!" Edith exclaimed happily. An outing alone with her mother was a rare treat.

"My lady," Mrs Wilson interrupted cautiously, "Mr Murray is coming to meet with you tomorrow to go over the accounts."

Edith's face fell and Cora bit her lip, cursing her full schedule and her sleep deprived mind for not being able to keep track of it.

"Well, he's coming after breakfast and shouldn't be here for very long. We can leave right after you've had your lunch, Edith, and then we'll take tea in Ripon as well." Cora decided.

Edith clapped her hands together as Mary put her hands on her hips. "That isn't fair, Mama! I want to go into Ripon too. And I want new hair ribbons!"

"Perhaps next time you'll keep your hands to yourself if they plan on causing mischief." Cora scolded. She stood up, placing a kiss on Edith's head, who hugged her in return. Moving toward Mary to do the same, Cora was met with an exaggerated turn of her eldest's shoulder as she slid out of her mother's reach and refused to meet her eyes. Sighing, Cora turned to Mrs Wilson.

"Could you please deliver the girls back to the governess? I need to freshen up before Dr Clarkson comes to discuss the fundraiser." Cora requested quickly, rushing past the girls and up the stairs. She had only just had her breakfast and already the day was wearing on her. Once on the gallery, Cora caught sight of the nanny, leaning over Sybil who was clothed only in her undergarments and lying outside the door of the nursery, kicking and shouting at the disheveled woman. Cora quickened toward them.

"What is going on here?" Cora asked and the nanny startled at her sudden presence, attempting, unsuccessfully, to smoothen out her skirts.

"I'm so sorry your ladyship, but Lady Sybil refuses to get dressed this morning." The nanny explained.

Cora bent down and pressed a hand to her youngest daughter's shoulder. The toddler stilled under her mother's touch and jumped up, flinging herself onto Cora. "Story, Mama?" Sybil pled.

"Oh darling, Mama has an important meeting she must attend soon. How about before your nap? I'll tuck you in and read you anything you want." Cora bargained, rubbing Sybil's cheek.

"All right, Mama," Sybil sang, her tantrum from earlier quickly forgotten.

"Now be a good girl for nanny and go get dressed." Cora got back up and tapped Sybil's bottom as she ran back into the nursery, the nanny quick behind her.

Cora once again made her way to her bedroom, her throat burning as she wished, for the thousandth time, that Robert would be waiting for her behind the door.