She did not even turn to look at him as he came through the door that divided their bedrooms, the door that was a physical barrier between them the previous night. He had not bothered to knock before entering the room that he had always thought of as theirs for the past 34 years. He approached her slowly, cautiously, unsure how to proceed. His eyes tracing the outline of her form he took a deep breath and cleared his throat. Finally, she turned towards him, clad in a pale green dress with black gloves and a pearl necklace. The toll of the past few weeks was evident on her face but her eyes remained vacant and carefully fixated on his right shoulder and Robert felt a tremor in his resolve. His lips had parted but no sound had escaped for his throat had become tight, a lump blocking it as he gazed at his wife, so dear to him.

Her measured voice broke through the flames of tension between them. "We should go down." Still she did not make eye contact as she adjusted her glove above her right elbow. Deciding she had waited for his reaction long enough, she started for the door.

"Cora…" Her name held a shadow on his tongue. A poignant reminder of the chasm they were still so close to falling into. Now she stood motionless beside the big poster bed, the side he had shared pristine from its lack of use the night before.

It was as if he were dreaming. Her shoulders were slumped in defeat as he once again paused. How long she had waited for him to wake up. How much she had yearned for him to put his words from his dedication to her on the night of their anniversary into practice like he always had. They had not even celebrated their wedding anniversary in private that night as their foundations became shrouded in smoke. And that toxic smoke had never lifted, not from them. It had seeped into the pores of both of them, each reacting differently to its presence, making them see the bigger picture but not clearly. There were still many blind spots. A nightmare to negotiate.

"Your Mama will be most perturbed if we are the cause of a late dinner." Her lack of feeling stung him as he watched her retreat and his feet automatically started after her.

"Don't you think that is the least of our concerns right now?"

"Is it? I was always under the impression you thrived on traditions and set ways, no matter how small." He blinked as her verbal slap hit him, his chest suddenly heaving. Seeing her hand upon the doorknob he strode forward and firmly grasped it, halting all movement. Cora inhaled sharply at the contact, his bandages pressing against her skin. His close proximity unnerved her as she tried to push all speculation of what was running through his mind away and remain calm.

His tone had now lowered an octave as he observed her jaw set, a subtle hint that she was bracing for the coming storm. "I was always aware that you thrived on change though until last night I hadn't realized just how open you were to the concept! I know I've treated you with a degree of indifference lately-"

"-Yes, you have!-"

"-but I don't believe that warrants the presence of another man in our martial bedroom!" Cora flinched at his words, a hard frown upon her forehead as she stared determinedly at the door, her hand still trapped beneath his. "Just tell me why?!" The shakiness of his voice sent a rattle down her spine as she attempted to collect her own emotions. Closing her eyes she selected her words carefully.

"He… he made me feel like I could be useful again." Robert's head spun as a memory of his wife hankering for the days when she was running Downton as a convalescent home materialized in front of him. "His manner towards me reminded me of a bygone life and…" she faltered, fear of his reaction coursing through her veins.

"And…?" he prompted sharply.

The words tumbled out without her command. "And he looked at me the way you used to." His hand dropped from hers as the full force of her declaration hit him. "Excuse me." A brief sparkle of light caught his eye and he saw the tears balancing precariously on her lashes as she swept passed him into the hall. His heart smarting from her words, he followed after her.

She knew she shouldn't have said it. She knew she would hurt him and yet she had allowed the words to escape her lips anyway. She knew she could use his neglect of their marriage, of her, as an excuse until she was blue in the face. But she also knew that she wouldn't just be tormenting him with her actions. As she cast her mind back over events of the past few weeks she knew that he was not solely responsible for the breakdown of their relationship. And she felt nauseous at her comprehension of it.

He could have easily drunk another two or three glasses. The amber liquid had always been very good at soothing his nerves when they were frayed but as tempted as he was to open the decanter for a fourth time, he knew he should stop. He knew that if he continued to wallow in his heartache he would lose all ability to think clearly. And a clear head was essential if he was to find a way to reconnect with his wife. He knew that his happiness depended upon it.

Walking into the Drawing Room he cast his gaze around. Mary and Tom were stood beside the fireplace, apparently absorbed in a technical discussion. His mother sat on the sofa, trying to deduce Isobel's state of mind regarding Lord Merton. Edith sat in the chair beside them, seemingly lost in her own world while Isis lay quietly at her feet. Cora wasn't there. His attention flickered to Carson who had just appeared through the door that led to the Saloon, carrying a tray of drinks. Not wanting to appear worried or hasty, Robert adopted a neutral expression as he passed between the furniture and its occupants to his butler.

"Carson do you know where Her Ladyship is?" he enquired quietly.

"I believe she has retired for the evening My Lord. She cited a headache and asked for Baxter to be sent up shortly after dinner." Robert felt his stomach plummet. Picking up a glass of port from the tray and nodding his thanks, he made his way over to his daughter and son-in-law. Without knowing if this was a ruse to keep him out of her bedroom again or if she was actually feeling unwell, he had no desire to aggravate the situation further. As his stomach continued to somersault, he placed his glass on the mantelpiece. It had suddenly lost its appeal.

Little sleep was claimed as Robert lay in his small Dressing Room bed that night. Every now and then, heavy sighs would permeate the air as he stared up at the ceiling, his inner demons doing battle in what felt like a never-ending cycle. He kept wondering how his wife was doing, if she was alright. How easy it would be to open the door just to look in on her. But he had resolved not to this night. To give her space, or so he had told himself copious times already. It was a façade, an excuse employed to avoid her rejection of him. The one thing he couldn't bear again. The one thing he knew he must risk. It was a frightening prospect and the walls around him seemed like a welcoming shelter. But they weren't where his heart wanted to be. These walls could never offer a sanctuary like hers.

The light was slow to seep into her brain that morning. After spending most of the night tossing and turning her mind had finally allowed her to get some much needed rest. Opening a groggy eye she tried to peer at the clock on the mantelpiece but her vision was still blurry. Catching sight of a dark moving object by her bed she blinked rapidly, hoping she wasn't still dreaming. As Robert came into focus he shifted uncomfortably in his chair again, observing her intently. Unsure what to make of this development she hauled herself up into a sitting position and applied her poker face.

"I heard you felt unwell last night. I hope you are feeling better this morning," he began awkwardly.

"I'm not sure I've had long enough to assess that yet," she replied uncertainly. Her husband looked down to his hands, which were rubbing together of their own accord, belying his calm demeanor.

"I remember sitting like this beside your bed once before, after you had the Flu. I cannot recall ever feeling as much relief as I did the moment you opened your eyes." His hands twisted together as he raised his head to look at her. A slight crease had appeared between her brows but she otherwise remained still. Encouraged by her apparent willingness to listen, he continued. "I understand what you implied when you said you felt useful again."

"Do you?"

"I didn't feel very useful during the years of war, yet you found a new purpose during that time. Then the war ended and it was taken away from you whilst my role returned for the most part. I had forgotten just what a lonely place that could be. I've become so caught up in everything of late that I neglected the most important person in my life." His breath caught as her eyes filled with moisture. "I'm so sorry Cora," he whispered.

Even after all their years together, it was rare for him to bare his soul to her in such a way and his words had touched her heart. In that moment, she knew he had woken up. As her hand fell to the side of the bed for him, the smokescreen began to lift between them. A soft smile painted his features as he reached for her hand and squeezed it tenderly.

"I'm sorry too," she murmured, her thumb gently running over his bandages. Robert opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. "I shouldn't have encouraged him in any way no matter how things stood between us."

Robert raised his wife's hand, brushing his lips over the back of it, his eyes never leaving hers. "I still should have been there for you Cora and I wasn't. But I don't plan on making that mistake again. Would you like to go to York for luncheon?" For the first time in a long time, Cora's face was alight with hope and Robert revelled in the feeling of being the cause of it once again.

"Do you have anything else pressing your time?" Robert thought of the meeting in the village, his inspection of Yew Tree Farm and the accounts that needed settling.

"No darling, I want to spend the day with you."