'Will that be all, milady?'

'Yes, I think so, thank you, O'Brien.'

The words were kind and the tone neutral but O'Brien could see her mistress was upset or worried about something, and when her husband entered the room a moment later, O'Brien could tell he could see it too.

Desperately curious, and yet, cautious of overstaying her welcome, O'Brien left the room reluctantly.

'Cora, my darling, whatever's wrong?' Robert asked as soon as she was gone.

'Oh, nothing, it doesn't matter,' she said, smiling weakly and getting into bed beside him.

'Of course it matters, sweetheart, I hate it whenever you're unhappy, I feel as if it's my fault – is it my fault, Cora? Have I said something? Whatever it is, I'm truly sorry-'

'No. It's not you, Robert. It's just…Patrick's death…'

'Oh, of course, I know how fond you were of him.'

'But don't you see? Without him as heir, there's going to be so much trouble over the estate and the title and…I feel like all of this would be avoided if I had a son…and I know everyone else thinks so and how disappointed they were when I didn't…your mother said that it never occurred to your father I wouldn't have a son and…'

She dissolved into tears and wept on his shoulder.

'I told you when we were engaged, never listen to a thing she says,' he said, in an attempt to lighten the mood. He smiled, but she gave a strangled sob, and he took her hand.

'Never say that, my darling. You had three beautiful daughters whose charm, wit and grace are only eclipsed by their mother's…because you are the most beautiful woman in the world to me, Cora, and I don't love you any less because you didn't have a son. I love you as much as I did when we were cradling baby Sybil, and I know a lot of things have changed since then, but the one thing that hasn't changed is my love for you, Cora, and it never will.'

'Robert…'

He wiped her tears away gently and kissed her on the forehead. When she turned her head upwards to meet his gaze, he kissed her on the lips, and then, they were in oblivion and nothing else mattered.

Later, they lay tangled in the bedclothes, Cora's head on Robert's chest and his hand wrapped around hers.

'Robert?' she said quietly into the darkness.

'Cora?' he answered.

'Thank you. For helping me through everything, for always being there, for letting me see what love really is. I feel as though, whatever happens, you'll always be there beside me to help and comfort me.'

'Always. And thank you. For being a wonderful wife and mother, for leaving America and your family to be with me and for being the loveliest Countess Downton's ever seen.'

'Countess,' she teased in her upper-class British accent, 'Countess of Grantham. It sounds rather good, doesn't it?'

'You sound like Mama,' he laughed.

'Heavens!' she giggled, 'Am I to take tea at all hours of the day and never show any signs of affection?'

'Oh, God, no,' he murmured, 'your signs of affection are very pleasing indeed,'

'Goodness!' she smiled, 'you'll have to set up as a poet if you go on like that,'

'Well, I'll need a beautiful muse,'

'Maybe O'Brien will oblige,' she said innocently. He laughed and said,

'But nobody – even O'Brien, with all her feminine charms – could be as beautiful as the woman I have right next to me.'

'Oh, Robert…'

'Cora, my darling Cora…'

'That's right, keep going,' she giggled as he kissed her, 'we'll write a sonnet yet.'