Late October, 1890

Nearly three days passed after the accident. Cora lay in bed; she had barely woken since she'd been brought upstairs. Robert, his face sporting several bruises and his arm in a sling from where his shoulder had been dislocated, refused to leave her room. As much as she slept, he didn't. His eyes were red-rimmed and his visage haggard. He ate only very little, his time spent alternately sitting by her and holding her hand, watching her sleep, or pacing the length of the room in agitation.

Robert would admit that he was terrified. He and Cora had been married for only a little over two years, but Robert already couldn't imagine life without her. The doctor insisted that she would recover, that she just needed rest. However, Robert couldn't help but feel as if he wouldn't truly breathe again until she woke up and spoke to him. Everything in his chest constricted and the knots in his stomach tightened every time he looked at her pale, beloved face.

As he could not seem to make himself do anything else, Robert thought. He made plans to take Cora to Europe, to bring her to visit her family in Newport. And he remembered. He smiled softly down at her and tucked a dusky curl tenderly behind her ear, remembering the way she blushed when they first met, the way she always felt in his arms when they danced, their arguments over things large and small, trips to London, and trips to the seashore. He recalled their honeymoon and their wedding night, his proposal and their first kiss, her declaration of love to him in the gardens here at Downton – and his, months later, in the sitting room of their Cavendish suite, after he'd finally come to his senses.

And how glad he was that he had. His life had become so much richer because of it. They had a splendid life together.

But it wouldn't be splendid anymore if she didn't wake up.

Robert looked at the clock. The doctor would be round to check on her again in about ten minutes. Wiping tears from his cheeks, Robert bent down and pressed his lips to Cora's forehead. "Please, my love, wake up. Please. You can rest as long as you need, just, please, wake up and speak to me. I need you so much," he murmured, brushing another kiss over her brow, closing his eyes tight against more tears.

Then, as if in a wonderful dream, she began to stir.

Sitting up straight, Robert stared at her, his eyes wide. He pressed her hand, whispering. "Cora, darling, I'm here."

In a few moments, she opened her eyes and then her mouth. "Water," she croaked.

"Yes, of course." He jumped up and released her hand, pouring water from the carafe by her bed into a glass and taking a deep breath. She was awake. He turned to her, realizing that he might need help. "Wait," he said, placing the glass down and going to the door. Her eyes followed him.

Robert stepped into the hallway. He spotted the doctor walking toward him.

"She's awake," Robert called, beckoning with his good arm. "She's asking for water." He smiled as the doctor hastened to the room.

The two gentlemen helped Cora drink the glass of water, then the doctor began examining her.

"What happened?" she asked in a low voice.

The doctor sat on the edge of the bed, his hands beneath the back of Cora's head. She winced. "You were in a carriage accident, Lady Downton. You struck your head, and you've been unconscious for the better part of three days."

Cora blinked at him. "Who?"

Robert looked at her curiously, his brows drawing together.

Then, she said something even more alarming. "Where are Mother and Poppa? They should be here."

The doctor exchanged a glance with Robert. "They're in America, Cora," Robert said hesitantly.

"I don't understand," she said. "And why am I not in a hospital, or my room at home?"

Fear gripped Robert's heart. "You are in your room at home. This is your home, Downton Abbey." He glanced at the doctor, but didn't actually care now if the man knew their – scandalous – sleeping arrangement. "We share this room, this bed, together."

Cora gaped at Robert, and the fear in her eyes left him breathless. "But – how can that be? I don't know you."

Robert's face drained completely of color. He wondered when he would be able to breathe again.

When he thought he could speak again, he took a step forward. "How can you not know me?" He locked eyes with her until, after a moment, she turned her head away, evidently uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze.

Just then, the doctor stepped in front of him, blocking Cora from view. "Lord Downton," he said in a low voice, "might you wait in the other room whilst I finish my examination?"

Robert inclined his head reluctantly. "Yes, of course," he muttered, withdrawing to his dressing room. He paced up and down the length of the room, running his hand through his hair until it stood on end.

A quarter of an hour passed before he heard a knock at the dividing door. Opening it, Robert admitted the doctor. "Well?" he asked impatiently.

The doctor shook his head. "Physically, Lady Downton is well on her way to recovery. A few more days in bed should have her fully restored. But, the other…." He transferred his medical bag from one hand to the other nervously. "Her injury appears to have affected her memory. Some form of amnesia is my guess. She seems to remember everything clearly up until about two and a half years ago, my lord. Up until –"

"Until she met me," Robert finished quietly, dropping heavily into a chair.

"Not exactly. Her ladyship doesn't remember anything at all about making the journey to England."

Robert rubbed his hand over his brow. "Is it permanent?"

The doctor shook his head. "I don't know. The brain is an area of medicine that is still a mystery to us. There are studies I could consult in the journals. I think there is an article on this –"

"Yes, please," Robert interrupted, staring at the man beseechingly. "Find out whatever you can. I implore you."

Nodding, the doctor replied, "I will come back later today, your lordship, once I've found something out. I'll telegram a colleague of mine in London as well. He has more experience in brain disorders and may be able to help. In the meantime, I gave Lady Downton a mild sedative to help her go back to sleep. She needs to continue to rest, but she was quite upset."

Robert nodded, looking down at the carpet disconsolately.

"Lord Downton, I highly recommend that you rest too. It will be a while before she wakes again. I could give you something to help you sleep if you wish."

"No." Robert's head snapped up. "I should be there with her, there when she wakes."

The doctor raised his brows. "I'm not certain that is wise, my lord. It might be better, until I find out more, to have her lady's maid sit with her. Seeing you there might agitate her again."

Robert stood and puffed out his chest. "No. What if all she needs is a little more sleep, and I'm not there when she wakes?" He shook his head emphatically. "No," he repeated, in a tone that brooked no argument. "I will be there beside her when she wakes. I am her husband, whether she remembers that or not."

With that, he quietly slipped into Cora's room, taking up his vigil by her bed once more.

Robert woke, having fallen asleep in the chair he'd dragged to the side of the bed, his arm across her lower legs. But she wasn't there anymore. Stretching himself and turning in the chair, he saw her at her armoire, rummaging for something.

"I see someone must be feeling better," he addressed to her back, smiling faintly.

Cora spun around, clutching her dressing gown to her front, her eyes wide. "I – I suppose."

Robert's face fell. "But you still don't remember me."

She shook her head slightly before lowering her eyes and turning from him to slip on the dressing gown. She closed the door of the armoire slowly, leaving her hands on the panel.

"I'll ring for your maid, Cora," he mumbled, standing and going around the bed to do this.

"Please, don't call me that."

He looked over to see that she faced him now, her arms wrapped closely around her body. "Call you what?" he inquired, bewilderment bringing his brows together.

"Don't call me Cora. It's too familiar. My name is Miss Levinson," she said, her voice soft, but her tone firm.

"Too familiar…" he murmured, repeating her words and casting his eyes upon the floor, thinking of how familiar everything about her was to him. He fought back tears. "I don't know if I can." He raised his eyes to meet hers across the room. "It's been a very long time since I've had to use that name."

After half a minute, she lowered her eyes, trembling perceptibly. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and tell her everything would be fine. But he didn't know if everything would be fine. And he didn't think she would let him hold her.

Nevertheless he halved the distance between them and stood at the foot of the bed. "I know you must be frightened." He made his voice as soothing as he knew how. "The only thing I care about is making sure you're well and happy." Taking a deep breath, he added, "I'm your husband."

She lifted her head with a slight shake, tears glistening in her eyes. "I don't have a husband. I don't even know your name."

Robert blinked hard against the moisture filling his eyes. "Please, don't say that. I'm Robert – your Robert. And I love you so much it hurts." Unable to stop himself, he closed the distance between them and cupped her cheek with the one hand he could raise, kissing her tenderly.

Cora's mouth tensed against his and her arms pushed at his chest above the sling. Robert pulled away, his eyes wide with astonishment at her livid expression. "How dare you?" she hissed, bringing her hand hard across his cheek in a sharp smack. "I suggest you leave at once before I scream for help." Her voice was hard as steel.

Stumbling backward, Robert placed his right hand awkwardly over his left cheek, gaping at her narrowed eyes. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to… I'll leave." He hastened to his dressing room, wrenching open the door and shutting it again behind him before she could see the tears coursing down his face. He leaned heavily back against the door, bowing his head into his hand as his body heaved with unchecked sobs. Robert felt as if his legs might give out beneath him, so he slid down the panel and thumped onto the floor, falling sideways as he curled into a tight ball, feeling as if nothing would ever be right again.