He found her sitting on a bench not far from the house, but far enough to make a stab of concern gnaw at his stomach. After returning from a trip to the village to find her bedroom and sitting room empty, he had gone to Carson to inquire about her location, only to be told that she had gone for a walk after a visit from the Dowager Countess. Robert did not have to be a genius to infer that the visit had not been well-received. Now, as she sat with her back to him, he noted the stiffness in her posture, the rigid set of her spine. Sensing that she was on edge, he cleared his throat quietly so as to alert her to his presence without agitating her any further. When she turned to look at him her face was drawn and her eyes were bloodshot, though the tear tracks on her cheeks were nearly dry.

"Cora, my love, what are you doing out here?" he asked, approaching her slowly as one would a skittish animal.

"I wanted a walk."

Her curt response told him that she was indeed irritable, and that if he was not careful he would soon find himself on the receiving end of her ire. Coming around to the front of the bench, he saw that she cupped her palms on either side of her swollen belly, cradling it almost possessively. He softened at the sight, a reminder of the reason for the seemingly incomprehensible swings of her mood.

"I wish you would've waited for me to go with you. I don't like to think of you out here alone." He sat down next to her, leaving a little space between them.

"It isn't illegal for me to go outside, you know," she said, casting him a sideways glance. "Despite what your mother thinks."

He had heard her disdain for the aristocratic practice of confinement enough times to know better than to speak on it now. "You're right, it isn't. I just worry."

She grunted softly in reply, looking away. Swallowing a sigh, he tried again. "What did Mama say today?"

This seemed to be the right question, for her shoulders slackened a bit as she began to speak. "What didn't she say? She seemed to have an opinion on everything this afternoon. The new curtains in my sitting room are too gaudy. The maids' dusting isn't up to her standards. But of course, her main grievance is that I'm too soft with the girls. She suggested that I 'seriously rethink my parenting strategy when it comes to bringing up the heir.'"

He knew the former comment was not what bothered Cora; she was an unabashedly loving mother and had grown more than confident enough in her parenting in the three years since Edith's birth to ignore his mother's criticisms on that score. No, it was the crushing pressure of producing an heir that had weighed heavily on her since the beginning of their marriage and now, six years later, with two daughters and a third child arriving imminently, she seemed more keenly aware of that pressure than ever.

"The heir, Robert," Cora continued. "That's what she called our baby. I don't think she even thinks of our children as children - they're just a means to an end to her. And she seemed so certain that this one will be a boy. What if it isn't? What if I can't -" Her voice broke with desperation, and she clamped her mouth shut before she could say any more.

He reached for her, gently prying a hand away from her stomach and taking it in his own. "If we don't have a son, we don't have a son. Patrick will be the Earl, Downton will still belong to the Crawleys, and everything will be alright."

Cora shook her head. "You don't mean that. You want a son."

Of course, Robert would prefer that his son be the next Earl of Grantham, and there would surely be issues with the entail without an heir of their own, but at the moment that mattered far less to him than his wife's happiness.

"I won't pretend that things wouldn't be easier if we had a son," he admitted. "But you've already given me what I want more than anything, which is to have a family with you. Darling, I love you. I love our daughters. And I'll love this child - I already do."

She turned to him now, her eyes searching his. Sometimes, when she fixed him with that crystalline gaze, Robert felt as if Cora could see right into the heart of him. When they were first married it had unsettled him, but now it comforted him to know that she saw him more clearly than anyone else ever had. He watched as she found whatever assurance she was looking for in him, her face relaxing and a demure smile playing at her lips. The late afternoon sun that filtered through the leaves of the tree above them glowed in her hair, made her eyes impossibly blue. Her beauty emboldened him to drop her hand and stretch his arm around her shoulders. Thankfully, she nestled into him, angling her body so that she could rest her cheek against his arm, her belly pressing softly into his side.

"Can you believe that in a few weeks we'll have another baby?" Cora asked, absently tracing a pattern on his thigh with her index finger.

"No, I can't," he answered honestly. "But I'm excited, aren't you?"

"Of course I am." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"What do you think this one will be like?"

She was quiet for a moment, no doubt trying to picture their new child. "It's hard to say. Mary and Edith are so different from one another...I can hardly imagine adding a third personality to the mix."

"Perhaps they can be a mediator for the other two," he joked.

"We can only hope," Cora laughed, the sound vibrating against his shoulder. She was loose and warm in his embrace, a pleasing contrast to when he first found her. Feeling relieved that she was in better spirits, Robert leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead.

It was a long, contented moment before either of them moved. Cora began to fidget, trying and failing to snuggle closer to him, the swell of her abdomen a hindrance. "I can never seem to hold you like I want to these days," she huffed. Robert struggled not to laugh at her annoyance.

"This is perfect, Cor," he assured her. And of course, sitting with his wife on a sunny Tuesday afternoon, the spring air cool on their skin, it was.

In case anyone is wondering, I use 1889 as the year for Cora and Robert's marriage in this story (as stated in the press packet) rather than 1890 (as referenced in the fifth season), simply because I think it creates a more interesting narrative for the early years of their marriage.