I hope you're all keeping well. I'm glad this chapter didn't end up being as big as the last one haha I hope you enjoy :) Have a great evening :)

Cora ran her hands through Robert's hair as he snoozed ignorantly by her side. Lying on his stomach, with his head resting on her chest, he lay peacefully with his mouth slightly ajar. Watching him sleep left her feeling full with love, the innocence and vulnerability of her sleeping husband making her feel content at the sight of it. Since the night where he had been out looking for Mary, he would reach a certain point in the evening and he would flake almost on cue. That's when she would drag him off to bed for the night so he could get some rest, much to his dismay and annoyance. It was obvious though, as soon as he got into bed, that he was thankful for it. As he rested into the pillows, or into her, he would relax and go limp as he let the tiredness wash over him. When they had gotten into bed, both of them feeling weary from the day, he had taken her hand and pulled her against him so he could rest his chin on her head. The comfort in feeling his body against her made her smile, and it hadn't taken long for her to hear the light snore as he had drifted off. Then, she had carefully moved away from him and gently moved him until he was flat on his back. It had barely woken him, and when his eyes had peered sleepily at her, all he had done was smile, reach out for her hand and pull it against him like a comforting teddy bear. The days had been stressful over recent months, and during the day he had developed an almost permanent state of pensiveness. At least when he was asleep it seemed to evaporate from his features, and he looked calm and peaceful.

As Cora sat there, her eyes tired, she tried to gauge what time it was. The problem with living at the Abbey, and it had been a stark contrast to her life before, was the enveloping darkness that night time brought. In America, and when she had first stayed in London, she remembered that there always seemed to be something that went on at night. There was always a glow from the street lights outside or the sound of passing people on their way to work. Obviously, her family had money, but the huge home they had in the States wasn't sat in acres of rolling green hills. They lived in the city, had a home in the American version of the country, but even then there was almost a hum of life around the house. Downton was much different. At night it seemed to be the only thing in living existence, as if it absorbed the noise and sounds from anything that came within inches of the front door. Surrounded by the Yorkshire hills, the only light source came from Downton itself, and so as she stared into her room she could hardly make out a thing. If she put the light on, it would be like staring into the sun, and she didn't want to wake her sleeping husband. In the distance, she could hear a very quiet ticking noise that was emanating from a clock, and it was reminding her incessantly that the hours were not moving as quickly as she had hoped.

Sleep had not been an issue when she had gotten into bed, and once Robert was snoozing next to her she had found that she had drifted off almost instantly. Having him by her side always made her feel at ease, and the peacefulness that came with it helped her feel comfortable enough to drift blissfully into a deep and undisturbed sleep. Not that evening though. Sleep had arrived in a welcoming fashion, but when she had started dreaming she had felt like she had forgotten to do something. It was like something important had been forgotten, and even in her dream, she had a real sense of anxiety over whatever it was. Then, as she had moved into the next part of her dream she had pictured 2 envelopes. That was enough to start her from her dream and have her staring up at the darkness that was her room. When she had calmed herself and had reached out to feel Robert next to her, she had gone through what she thought it meant. It had dawned on her, almost instantly, that she had never opened the letters that Tom had given to her earlier in the day. They had been caught up in so much that she had told herself that she was going to give herself some proper time to read them before bed. Then, with Robert wanting her close and her feeling content in his arms, she had completely forgotten about it. When she had seen the cursive writing that she knew to be Mary's, glaring up at her from the envelope, she hadn't been able to shake the feeling that it was something important. The words that had to be in the letter had to be something that Mary could not feel she could say to their faces, and that in itself was something unusual because Mary was normally brazen with her words and never had an issue telling people what she thought. Well, not until Matthew died anyway. What could possibly be in the letters that could be so hard for her to say? Cora had an idea, of course she did, she was Mary's mother, and that alone had set her mind reeling through the various things it could be. Now she had thought about the letters, they went through her mind like a train, and she knew that she was going to have to read the one addressed to her. That would require her to put a light on. They were on the table next to her bed, so the only thing she had to worry about was the fact that the light might wake Robert. Cora wanted him to get as much rest as he could.

Leaning to the side slowly, so as not to make sudden movements to wake her sleeping husband, she reached blindly for the light switch. When she felt the dangling string, she gripped it and pulled it down, the room erupting into a warm yellow glow. Instantly, she turned her head to look down at Robert, who was unfaltering in his sleep. Lifting her left arm, she wrapped it around his head and cradled it against her. When her hand cupped his cheek, she rested her fingers on his chin and rubbed it with her thumb. The hand of his that was snaked over her waist twitched, and she kissed her finger before pressing it on his forehead. It would have been nicer to kiss him on the forehead directly, but because of where he was if she leant too far down she would likely wake him.

The paper of the envelope felt cool in contrast to the warm cocoon she was sat in, and she managed to get it open with just the use of her right hand. It would have been easier to use her other hand, but it was nice to have it rest against Robert's soft face. There was a light stubble growing, that would be gone in the morning when he had a shave, but his skin was so soft, it was like silk against her fingers between the tiny spikes that were growing.

Unfolding the letter in her hand, she tilted it towards the light so she could see the words a little clearer. Robert's cheek twitched, and she soothed him with her finger as she leant closer to the light. There was a sense of dread in her stomach like she knew that she wasn't going to like what she was going to read, but it wouldn't stop her. If this was going to be the way that she found out what was going on in her Daughter's head, it was better that she read it than be in the dark about the whole thing.

"My Dearest Mama,

It hurts, Mama. It hurts more than I thought anything ever could. Every single breath reminds me of my wonderful husband, and what a man I have lost from my life. I write this during the darkest days of my life, my thoughts no longer my own and my heart irreparably broken. I have made a decision, and I know that you won't agree with it, but it's something I feel is the only escape from feeling this way. Everything seems dark, everything seems impossible, and functioning on the most basic level seems above me. I want you to understand firstly that this decision is my own, and is something that I can not be swayed from. I don't want you to feel guilty, even though I know you will, because you feel so deeply, Mama.

I know that you understand this grief that betrays me, poisons me and moves me away from the cold fearless person you all know me to be. Sybil passing knocked you sideways, and now I know what pure grief feels like, I know that we let you down in helping you through it. I'm sorry, Mama, I'm genuinely sorry. We are made of different things though, and so how we handle grief is different. I think a lot of people assume that you are soft, but I believe that you are stronger than people give you credit for. I see that so much more now. You're kind, Mama, kinder and purer than I could ever be. You are resilient. You have survived a change in worlds, a change in times, and you have come out a lot stronger because of that. I don't think any of us have appreciated what you have done for this family over the years, and taken advantage of you and your kindness. I know that in our eyes, American's are more emotional in comparison to the British Aristocratic stiff upper lip. I admire how much you have brought this emotion out in all of us, and I think you have made the family better for it. Don't let anyone ever make you feel that feeling is wrong. I admire the way you didn't conform, even to Granny's expectations, to our aristocratic ways like they expected you to. I think our lives would have been much different if you had. I can tell by the way that you are with Papa, how you show him your love with affection, that you love deeply. We love deeply, Mama, you and I. I think that's one of the things I inherited from you. I think that's why I have fallen into the deepest pit of grief because I loved Matthew so strongly that losing him has left me broken. I miss Matthew, Mama. I miss him with every breath, every touch, and every single thing in this world reminds me of him. I can't bear it. I can't breathe. I can't see straight. I can't feel anything outside of this pain. I feel suffocated. I know you' ll try to understand me because you always try your hardest to understand us even if you can't. We are different, but yet we are the same.

I remember how you were when we lost Sybil. You were distant for so long, you were angry with Papa, and you were angry at the injustice of her death. I feel that. You were strong though, and even though you were angry with Papa, you had him to pull you out of the agony. Matthew is gone and I have nothing.

I wrote this letter because I know you'll carry the burden of the guilt that you didn't do anything to stop this. As a mother, you'll be disappointed that you couldn't protect me. I don't want you to feel that. I want you to feel peace with my decision because no matter what, I am stubborn and do what I feel, even at the expense of others. I love you, Mama. I want you to pass on to George the soft caring nature that you have. It was the same as Matthew, and I know you'll do a wonderful job. Please love and watch over Papa as I know he'll feel this strongly, but he'll do his best to seem like he is ok.

My whole world has crashed around me, and I feel like I am on a desert island with no hope of escape. I feel like I will never be free. The grief has encapsulated my heart within an icy case, and I no longer have Matthew, who had melted my heart without me realising. I am the epitome of hopelessness. I am lost, I am alone and I am in pain. Now you don't have to worry about me any longer. I'll be free.

I love you, Mama, I really do. Forever and always.

Mary."

Cora felt her bottom lip begin to quiver as she tried to blink away the tears that were filling her eyes like a bathtub. Goosebumps spread down her arm as her hairs began to stand on end, and she held the letter against her chest as if she were trying to remove the pain from what it was trying to say. The letter had confirmed what she had feared, and now she didn't quite know what to do with herself. Mary had obviously wanted to explain, to show her what she had been feeling to help Cora understand. It was something she likely knew that she couldn't put into words in her presence.

"Oh my darling," she whispered as the tears began to fall down her cheeks. It felt like her heart was breaking as she envisioned Mary sat writing the letter, and the way she must have been feeling to even contemplate, let alone act on, the obvious pain in her core. Cora knew she should have done more to try and take that pain away from her, try and understand her, and navigate her through it with as much love and attention as she could. It was Mary though, and Cora knew that she had done her best to keep herself away from people. Unless she had forced her to comply, there was only so much she could have done. Even though she knew that it didn't stop her feeling hurt by the words. The eldest of her daughters, the strong and unwavering woman who had taken her life and role with ferocity and passion, had contemplated taking herself out of the equation. As a mother, this was one of the hardest things to come to terms with. Even more so because she had done nothing to stop it in the first place. Maybe if she had spent more time with her?

Cora thought back to when she had lost Sybil, and how she had felt lost in the sadness, so she knew what it could do to someone. Mary had been astute enough to realise that although Cora had been so angry with Robert, he had also been the one to get her through it. If Cora hadn't had Robert by her side, how would it have panned out in the end?

The emotions from reading the letter, and the stark reminder of her darling Sybil, and how she had nearly lost her other daughter made her begin to cry quite ferociously. The sadness, guilt and slither of anger began an uprising in her chest that made her place the letter back onto the table and cover her face with her hands. If Carson hadn't found her, things would be very different right now. Were these feelings gone now? Had Mary moved out of the fog after her failed attempt?

The crying was hard to hold in, and she felt Robert begin to stir against her so she tried to soothe him by rubbing his face. Then she felt his arm move away from her waist and he squinted up at her as he realised that the light was on. "Darling?" he croaked, pushing himself upwards until his head was level with hers. When he was able to focus on her, it taking a moment to move the sleep from his eyes, he saw that she was upset and he reached out to take her hand. "My Darling, whatever is the matter?"

Cora sniffed and felt his arms wrap around her and bring her against his chest. The other letter on the table was addressed to him, and she knew that it would likely encase a similar sentiment and feeling. Robert was quite a sensitive man, and she knew that if he read the words in that letter he would be heartbroken. The loss of Sybil had left him a changed man, and she could always see the way his face contorted at the sound of her name in conversation. To know that the true intentions of his Mary would be too much for him to handle. It would likely make him angry and upset, and Cora didn't think he could deal with it without first being angry. When he did get angry, he often didn't mean what he said, and the last thing she wanted was for him to hurry off in a rage to confront Mary about her actions. Maybe he would see it as weakness? Maybe he wouldn't be able to comprehend the fact that she had purposefully wanted to do what she had did? Cora didn't think that it was the right time, if there was ever going to be one, to let him know the real truth. It had shaken him enough to get over the ordeal of going out to find her, let alone to know the truth and look at Mary in the same way. Cora wanted to protect him, because really, did he need to know? Cora wanted to read the letter for herself. Now was not the time to mention it. "I had a horrible dream," she lied.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, squeezing her tighter into him and giving her a kiss on the forehead. "What a thing to wake up to! I was worried something was seriously wrong." Robert rubbed her back with his hand and brought the blanket up closer to her neck. "It was just a dream, my love."

Cora nestled herself into him, feeling the comfort in his embrace as he cradled her against him. "I know. It was so real though, so true, I just couldn't shake the overwhelming sadness that came with it."

"What was it about?" he asked delicately.

"It was about Sybil. It reminded me about how awful the time after was and how angry I had been. I don't know what I would have done without you." Cora pulled as much truth into the scenario as she could because after all, the letter had reminded her of that.

Robert kissed her again on her head. "A time I don't think I'll ever truly get over. I'm just glad we didn't have to experience that again with Mary. It's not worth thinking about. Go back to sleep, darling. I'll stay awake until you're sleeping peacefully again."

Cora smiled and tilted her head up to give him a kiss. "I love you."

"Not as much as I love you," Robert replied, continuing to rub her back with his hand.

Cora knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep until she had seen Mary. Once Robert had fallen back to sleep she was going to go down the hospital. It didn't matter if it was late, and it didn't matter if Mary was asleep, Cora knew she had to talk to her about the letter. As a mother, how could she settle knowing the true intentions of her daughter's actions? She had to speak to her and know if that intention was still there. No matter how difficult the conversation, and how difficult it was to understand, some truths had to be spoken. If Cora couldn't get to the bottom of it she would have to go to Dr Clarkson and they would have to use the approach of getting involved with the psychiatrists if only to make sure that Mary was ok. As she lay there against Robert she closed her eyes and waited patiently for him to think that she was asleep. After a number of minutes, she felt him delicately shift them both downwards so they were lying flat, and he gave her a soft kiss on the forehead before moving away and pulling the covers up and around her.

"I love you so very much," he whispered, assuming that she was asleep.

Cora had to refrain herself from reacting, even if she felt her heart expand with love for him as he looked after her. Doing this was to protect him, she rationalised with herself, and she would make sure that if he did read the letter that it was at the right moment. Now all she had to do was wait for him to drift off so she could sneak out and head down to the hospital. It wouldn't take long.

Mary had felt a little anxious when she had returned to her room to let Mrs Hughes get on with whatever it was she had come out for. There was something about the way that she had looked that had made Mary curious. Very curious. It was dark outside so she didn't have anything to look at, and when she had tried to settle herself by reading, she found that she couldn't concentrate. It was impossible to keep still, so she got up and decided to go for another walk. What she could do was walk past and see if she could see anything, to quieten her mind and help her relax for the evening. The overwhelming urge to pry was niggling at the back of her mind. It felt like something important was going to happen, and even when she tried to rationalise what she thought it was, it just didn't ease. The desire to find out if her inkling was correct was much more than a selfish desire to know what's going on. Mary could find out what she wanted if she forced it, but it was more the idea that she wanted to confirm her thoughts and ideas about what was going on between them. It wasn't personal gain, which Edith would say it was for, it was because she wanted to know that Carson had someone in his life that was his, that would love him, care for him and give him someone as his own family. Carson deserved it more than anyone she knew. Years of service and dedication to her, and to Downton, had left him without a companion. There was something about having someone that was your own that made life so much better, and she knew the pang of loss from losing it, but also the warmth and joy that it bought. Carson deserved more than she could ever give him, as all she could really give him was job security and money. What did that amount up to really?

Rounding the corner she could hear a murmur of voices, but they were very low, and it confirmed to her that the door hadn't been shut behind Mrs Hughes as she had entered. This made her lift her feet up and deposit them down slowly, like a tip toe she used to do as a child. As she moved quietly down the hall, she could hear her heart beating in her ears, as if it was trying to block her out from hearing anything interesting. It seemed difficult to try and not make a decibel of sound. Mary was used to not having to make excuses for what she was doing and rarely had to make herself hidden from anyone. This just felt delicate, and almost naughty, because she was prying on someone else's business. She had to keep rationalising with herself that it was fine because it wasn't for personal gain, just knowledge and confirmation. Closer and closer she got, like a mouse flitting around in the night, moving to her destination.

Placing her hand on the wall, she leant herself forward and peeped ever so slightly around the corner. The shadows of night time worked in her favour, providing extensive camouflage. What she saw made her stomach jump. Carson had his hand on Mrs Hughes' cheek, cradling her head against it. Mrs Hughes had her face away from him, but she could see that she had her hand on Carson's wrist and his hand. Carson was looking at her, and the angle that his head was at was not enough to see the fullness of his expression, but from what she could see, he was beaming. Carson, the Butler of Downton, was glowing with pride and happiness.

That was all Mary needed. There was a warm feeling manifesting in her stomach, and she realised that it was the smallest slither of happiness. It was something she hadn't felt for some time. It was almost a selfless happiness, feeling content and positive about someone else's fortune. Mary approved, and she had to make sure that Carson knew. No matter what her Papa thought, no matter what anyone else thought, if this was the thing that could make Carson happy, then other people's opinions be damned. Carson saved her life and had served the family with a fierce loyalty for as long as she could remember. If the family could not support him, then this would have to be something that Mary resolved. Not a chance would she stand by and watch anyone get in the way of their happiness. Mrs Hughes may not be warm to Mary, and they may have had differences, but for Carson to show such fondness showed a character that must be explored. Maybe Mary just hadn't given her enough of a chance? Carson was a good judge of character, he must have been to be so dedicated to her, so Mrs Hughes must be special for him to think so highly of her.

When Mary thought about it deeper for just a second, moving backwards and out of sight, she hoped that Mrs Hughes wouldn't try and alter Mary's standing in Carson's eyes. Then she shook her head, Carson wouldn't allow that, and that was just her own selfish thoughts creeping back into her mind. No. Mary would have to telephone Tom so she could share this news because it was wonderful. It wasn't concrete, she knew, but why else would Carson be holding Mrs Hughes' face is such an adoring manner?

Mary moved silently back towards her room, feeling herself smile at the sight she had witnessed. When she got towards the top of the stairs she heard footsteps and turned herself to look down at whoever was coming.

"Mary!" she heard the soft voice of her Mama.

Mary squinted and could see the wide-eyed expression of her Mother, and she knew instantly that this visit was off the back of her letter. "Mama? It's late!"

Cora got to the top of the stairs and took Mary's hand. "We need to talk, and I couldn't wait until morning."

Mary nodded knowingly and began walking back towards her room, feeling the strength of the grip that her Mama had on her hand. This was going to be difficult, she could tell.