It's almost comical that I'm posting this. You know, after all my adamant insisting that I'm finished writing fanfic. But anyway, I've always been curious about this particular moment in Cobert's history. It's something that was glossed over in the show, and even though I probably wrote a couple of tumblr drabbles about this (that later got deleted along with my old blog), I couldn't find any fic that really flushed out this idea in its entirety. So here we are again, folks. I'm not entirely sure how long this one will be, but probably not of epic proportions. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it & aren't entirely sick of me just yet! It's probably crap, I mean, it's been ages since I wrote anything decent so...here goes nothing!


The rhythm of her heart beat twice as fast as the clicking sounds heels made as she strode downstairs to the library. Her palms grew damp from an anxious heat that stirred within her. And she carefully wiped them on the front of her skirt while transferring the slip of paper between her hands.

When it came to her husband, Cora Crawley was rarely unsure. But that is precisely what she felt in this singular moment.

Her uncertainty lead to indecision. She spent nearly half an hour after breakfast pacing the length of her upstairs dressing room before calling on O'Brien to dress her for the day. And even then, she kept the slip of news that came to be in her possession among the contents of her breakfast tray hidden away from her ladies maid.

But it didn't stop O'Brien from pressing the matter. She did, like so many other ladies maid's, live for intrigue.

Still, Cora couldn't discuss it with her. Not before she informed Robert. So she brushed off O'Brien's inquiries, and the rest of the dressing took place in a stiffened silence. She hated the uncomfortable quiet between them, but it was necessary.

Just as this conversation with Robert was necessary. No matter how uncomfortable it might be, it had to be said. She only hoped she hadn't wasted too much time with her nervous pacing that she wouldn't be able to catch him alone.

Fortunately when she made her way into the library, it was practically deserted, save for Robert at his desk. She felt a wave of relief course through her followed by a sense of dread. While they could have it out now as she would have liked them to, they would actually have to have it out. And the prospect was both appealing and daunting to her all at once.

He was bent over his desk, scrawling madly away while simultaneously flipping through a leather bound book. She knew, after many years of marriage, he was updating the figures from their more recent tenants.

His eyes darted upward as she approached him before flickering over to the tiny clock that rested on the top shelf of the desk. His mouth curled into a slight smile, and he commented lightly, "You're a bit early for tea."

It wasn't an air of disapproval she caught in his tone, but rather, a sound of pleasant surprise.

Good, she thought. And this realization afforded her a similarly shy smile to his own.

"Ah well, I was hoping to catch you alone," She admitted, her grin deepening as she stalled beside his chair. She peered up from heavy lids, hoping her demure expression, softened him a bit.

He glanced to his left and seemed to take in the curve of her body. Her hip rested against the top edge of his desk, as if she were inviting herself to side atop it. If weren't for the various papers and journals that littered the surface, and the prospect that either of their daughter's might soon walk in, she might have been bold enough to do such a thing. And he might have been bold enough to shift her more comfortably onto the surface. But neither one of them felt particularly bold at present.

Still, Robert surprised her by capping his pen as his gaze, and resting his hand atop her thigh. He leaned back comfortably, allowing his thumb to caress her leg through her skirt.

Her heart now hammered mercilessly between her ribs as she realized she now had his full attention.

"I've a bit of news," She broached hesitantly, hoping their present arrangement would disguise the minute quiver in her tone.

"Oh?" He arched a curious brow, his head tilting to one side.

Cora looked down at the paper clutched between both hands. "They've..." She swallowed, forcing the difficult words out, "...they've finished reading the bans."

Her eyes flickered up to meet his. And in that instant, she saw the mischievous glint fade from his pale blue eyes. His hand dropped from her leg, and he looked away, letting out a heavy sigh.

"So..." He managed rather glumly, "...they're moving forward with it all."

She wasn't sure if she was disappointed or irritated by his deflated tone until the question came out, steely and unguarded, "Did you think they wouldn't once you gave your blessing and she went off to Ireland?"

His frown deepened, and Robert regarded her with narrowing eyes as he managed to retort, "I was hoping once she got a taste of reality, she would see it wasn't the sort of life for her."

Her nerves were rattling inside of her now. Whether it be from his expression, his tone, or a combination of both, she couldn't be certain. But her right thumb and forefinger unconsciously smoothed out the slip of paper that remained in her position.

Cora rolled back her shoulders, cleared her throat, and decided evenly, "Well apparently she feels it is." She hesitated, forcing herself to stare back at his waiting face as she delivered the final words. Words she knew he would take as another blow he could not defend himself from. "She's invited us to the wedding."

"Has she now?" He practically snorted in that patronizing manner she found bothersome. Robert shifted in his seat, uncapping his pen again as if it were more important he resume his work than continue in this discussion. "As if she hasn't rubbed enough salt in that open wound," He grumbled loud enough for her to hear, scratching the pages rather forcefully with his pen.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she let out a terse breath, "Robert..."

"I suppose you'll manage to find a reason to politely decline," He jumped in sharply, forcing her gaze open.

"So..." Cora's brow pinched together, the words of her question clipped, "...we're to decline?"

He glanced up at her, brow arching as he proposed stiffly, "Would you have us accept? And show the world how we approve of Sybil's choice of husband?"

"But you did approve?" She reminded him urgently, "At least you approved enough to give them your blessing."

Robert looked back down at his work, plainly insisting, "I gave them my blessing because there didn't seem to be another choice."

"There's always another choice, Robert," She countered, her hands tightening around the letter, straining the fibers of the paper until her knuckles turned white.

His pen scraped harshly across the page in several strokes before he spoke again, "And would you rather have me parted on bad terms with them?"

"Of course not!" She sighed out of exasperation through tightly pursed lips.

"Then what, Cora?" Robert's palm slammed against the surface of the desk, and he shot another look of irritation up at her. "What did you expect of me?" Both of his hands now flew up in defense as he insisted, "She was leaving either way. We both knew there wasn't anything we could say or do that would stop her. The blessing was merely a formality."

She now felt her heartbeat calm into a hard, even rhythm, and in place of the frantic thumping was now a clenching sensation. She was angry at him. She knew this was how he would react, and yet, she still couldn't help but be angry at him.

Cora paced deeper into the room, passing behind him, her hands splayed across her middle. She stared out the open windows, watching the sun poke its brilliant rays in between pacts of white, fluffy clouds. When she found her voice again, the words came out in a guttural murmur, "And I suppose you see the wedding invitation as a mere formality then?"

"We cannot go," Was all he said.

She felt another harsh twist inside her chest, and peered over her shoulder, eyes narrowing, "Cannot? Or will not?" She wasn't afraid to pick apart his words if necessary, to find fault in what she believed was already a weak argument.

"Please Cora, I do not wish to quarrel on the matter," His tone was softened by annoyance, and she felt the slight implication that it was her fault there was even a quarrel to be had.

And this only incited her ire towards him. "I'm not the one quarreling," She spoke evenly, her defiance plain. "I'm simply informing you that our youngest daughter has invited us to her wedding."

Robert set down his pen once more, and turned around in his seat. He kept the same air as she did whenever he shared his retort, "And I'm informing you that you must find a polite way to decline."

"And is this declination for you? Or for us?" She cocked her head from side to side, awaiting to see if he'd take up the challenge she was laying before him.

His jaw muscles flexed tightly, his eyes bulging in a look of rage that threatened to explode into far fiercer words than what was already exchanged between them.

And Cora knew she had outsmarted him in this moment. It took everything in her to stifle the satisfied smirk that threatened to spread across her lips. She bit on her bottom lip, arching one of her brows as though silently provoking him.

And he knew it. The blood rushed to his face, and she saw the distinct splotches of pink invade his otherwise crisply white countenance. But before any other words could be said, the unmistakable sounds of two sets of feet drew nearer to where they stood, facing off.

And then Mary's smooth and assured voice rang clearly throughout the room, "Good afternoon Papa. Mama."

Cora turned back towards the window, concealing the letter beneath her folded hands at her waist. Robert focused his attention back at the paperwork, and both girls strolled about the room, right through the tension that hung low in the air.

"I do hope we aren't interrupting anything," Edith commented lightly.

It was the sounds of tea sloshing in cups and the light clink of silver against fine bone china, that immediately responded as Mary and her helped themselves to their tea.

"Of course not," Robert assured her after a few moments. He stood and made his way over to the table, finding his own cup and saucer.

Cora remained motionless nearby, watching his ministrations from the corner of her eye. She felt Robert glance in her direction, trying to steal her attention back towards him. She was always a pillar of reassurance for him, she always knew what to say and when. And he always looked to her for the reassurance that was needed in moments like this.

She felt that's what he was trying to do right this very moment. But she stayed resolute. She'd be damned if she would help him maneuver through this. Besides, she couldn't help him through something she couldn't yet agree to.

And so, she heard him exhale a deep breath before informing the girls, "Your Mama has just told me that your sister's wedding has been announced."

"Oh how wonderful!" Edith exclaimed far more enthusiastically than the situation called for.

Mary swallowed her tea and asked more primly, "When is it?"

"I don't know," Robert murmured while stirring the contents of his cup, "you'll have to ask your Mother."

She closed her eyes at this, railing internally from his slight. Unfolding the now worn piece of paper, she turned to face them all and offered as brightly as she could given the circumstances, "The 18th of July."

"A wedding at the height of summer," Mary huffed and rolled her eyes at this. She took a brief sip of tea, and then added, "Golly, I hope Ireland fairs better for us all than Yorkshire will."

"I'm afraid we shall not find out," Robert remarked while casually strolling towards the fireplace.

"And why not?" Mary piped up, her brow furrowing from her place on the red velvet settee.

"Your Mother and I have business to attend to that day," Robert told her, sipping his tea, and looking purposefully at Cora from over the top rim of the cup.

Edith glanced between them and probed curiously, "What business is that?"

"The pair of you ought to go," Robert answered, ignoring his second daughter's question; another sip of tea filled the brief pause in conversation. "But..." He looked at them as he suggested lightly, "...don't make a fuss about it. Sybil doesn't wish to make it a spectacle of the thing."

"Yes," Cora added coolly, crisply refolding the letter as each of her next words cut through the air, "Sybil doesn't wish to make a fuss."

Nobody said a word for a few seconds. It was as if all the air in the room had been sucked out of it. In those few moments of silence, Robert and Cora merely stared across the room at one another. The girl's sat on opposite settees shooting glances at one another before chancing more subtle ones at both their parents, who stood in clear opposition. Once they couldn't possibly take anymore sips from their cups, it was Edith who dared to speak up.

"Mama?"

Cora looked to her daughter, and saw the look of concerned splayed across her face. Clearing her throat and glancing downward, she quickly found an excuse to retract herself from the room. "If you'll excuse me, I've rather a headache now, I'm afraid."

And without a final look back at Robert or her daughter's, she knew this was only the beginning of the battle. And it was one she was determined to overcome.