AN: Firstly, I apologise for not replying individually to reviews this week. I am trying to keep up with the writing of my three stories and studying to pass some important things at work, so something has had to give, and at the moment is it replying to reviews. I will try to get back to this, but it might be sporadic. To all my guest reviewers, thank you so so much for the continued reviews.

When chapters get out of hand I usually blame Cora! Today I blame Isidore. I hope you enjoy this. If you do, please leave a review. Every single one helps me make progress with the rest of this story.

Cobert love to you all x

Chapter 25 – April 1889

She blinks her eyes open. She can already hear the rain. The weather was a match for her mood today.

She had refused to think too much about today. It had been a sort of blank space in her mind. Time had been racing towards it but she had not acknowledged its existence. It had simply been the event that time was heading towards and everything else came after.

The honeymoon period of her marriage was certainly over. They had been back two weeks from Italy and now it was time for the departure of her family and Emma. She had been married two months which in itself seemed almost unbelievable, and now the time had come for her family to return home. To their home. She had known it was coming, but she had not really prepared for it, passing it off as something to prepare for the next day, then the next day, until she had inevitably run out of days.

The door opens to reveal Emma, closely followed by her replacement – selected by Lady Grantham whilst she had been in Italy, named Henderson (her given name was still unknown to Cora) – carrying the breakfast tray. It had been awkward at first, having Henderson watching on as Emma dressed and undressed her, but in the last two weeks she had got used to it. Today, was the last of it, from tonight there would only be Henderson.

Cora wasn't quite sure she liked her, but then she hadn't expected to since she had not chosen her. She was at least forty and her hair was always tightly knotted into a bun. She was a little shorter than Cora and yet Cora always felt as if she was looking down her nose at her, her eyes scrunched up every time she uttered something slightly too American or shared a look with Emma that Henderson clearly did not approve of. The look was a combination of a marginal arch of the eyebrow, a twitch of the nose and then the eyes, narrowing like a cat ready to pounce. It was in regards to the breakfast tray that Cora had first witnessed this look on first meeting Henderson the morning after her return to Downton. On her honeymoon she had breakfasted with Robert in the dining rooms of the hotels in which they stayed, and her entire life in America had been built on early mornings. Thus, on returning to Downton and being confronted with the custom of the breakfast tray 'for the married lady' she had been incredibly reluctant to comply. She knew it would be expected – she had witnessed enough of life at Downton in her months living there before her wedding. She had acquiesced to the tray, agreeing to eat her breakfast in her room, just not in her bed. She had asked Emma to place the tray on the dressing table and she had eaten her breakfast sat at her makeshift table after being properly dressed. Her compromise had not pleased Henderson if the look had been anything to go by.

Cora slides from the bed and lets Emma begin the rigmarole of removing her nightdress and securing her corset and undergarments. Cora picks at the toast on her plate as Emma works.

"Henderson, I think Emma can manage this morning. You can go back downstairs." She can see the distrust in Henderson's eyes, the determination that glints behind them as if she is readying to saying something impertinent in return. Thankfully, she does not, and turns on her heel to leave the room. Cora feels her lungs expanding to release a breath she had not realising she had been holding. She wanted time with Emma this morning, this was their last chance to be together and she wanted to wish her well. She had been reluctant to direct Henderson so severely, fearful that the woman was probably on orders to direct everything back to Lady Grantham, but Cora didn't care, not this time. She owed Emma too much to ignore her on their last moment together. "I don't think she likes me."

"She will m'lady, once she knows you." Cora smiles ruefully in the glass at Emma.

"I don't think she is inclined to get to know me Emma. She is spying for Lady Grantham." Emma doesn't say anything, they both knew it was probably true and there was no point in denying it. Besides, Cora did not want to talk about Henderson this morning. "Thank you for staying in England all this time Emma, I know it hasn't been easy, being apart from America and your family for so long."

"I don't have much family m'lady. Only my parents and they have been delighted by my letters. I think they had had as much enjoyment from my travelling as from my presence."

"I doubt that."

"Perhaps I exaggerate, but they have enjoyed the letters. Mother keeps writing about how wonderful it is that I have seen so many countries and places already when she has never left America." Cora smiles, she had never thought about it like that, the opportunities that Emma had been given. She had always seen service as something of a terrible job, waiting on other people whilst getting nothing for oneself. Probably, on the whole it was like that, but it was also employment and occasionally maybe it did open up some other opportunities, travel being one of them. "It has been an honour m'lady, truly. I know it is not my place to say, and it means little coming from a servant, but I do wish you all the happiness in the world with Lord Downton."

"Thank you, Emma, that means a great deal more than you know." She takes a seat at her vanity, now finally dressed for the morning. It was just her hair to go and Emma tended to that whilst she ate some more toast and drank her tea. "You have rather stolen my lines. I have something for you." Cora opens the top drawer of the vanity and pulls out the small package, wrapped in some fine paper that she had managed to acquire from the housekeeper. She swivels on the chair, her braid falling from Emma's hands, the ends of her hair slowly unravelling themselves. She takes another bite of toast and gestures for Emma to sit on the other chair as she hands her the small package. "I saw it when I was in Florence, I hope you like it." Emma sort of plops down onto the chair, her movement stilted and her face a picture of amazement.

"Thank you m'lady but you really didn't have to."

"I did. You have been a great companion for me Emma and a great support as we have travelled from America to Paris, then London, Yorkshire and Italy. You have dressed me appropriately and given me advice. You warned me about your concerns regarding Lord Downton's motives for marriage. It has been lovely to have your presence right there every day. I know we haven't always talked, but you have always been a quiet comfort to me."

"I'm sorry I couldn't stay on m'lady. I would have done, if my parents had someone else, but they don't and they will need me at some point. It seemed selfish to start making roots here."

"Please, you don't have to explain. America is your home and you have every right to return there. I would not have stopped you, never. Now please, open your gift." Cora pours herself a cup of tea as Emma gently opens the wrapping. It was a brooch designed to look like a bouquet. It had seemed fitting given that of all the women she knew she really would have wanted Emma to catch her bouquet on her wedding day, something that had not been possible, for obvious reasons. The brooch had a pearl at the base, dangling from a central stem of three diamonds. From this 'stem' of three diamonds, two curved sets of smaller diamonds bend outwards before the gold then bends back on itself. At the end of these additional stems are leaves, three on either side. Between the two sets of leaves and rising from the central stem are five further diamonds, representing flowers, each supported by delicate silver stems.*

"Oh, Miss, it's beautiful." Cora does not miss that Emma has so easily slipped back into her old title. She smiles, her gift had made Emma forget herself, that was what she had wanted. "But you shouldn't have spent so much money." Emma glances back up from the jewel, her eyes a little tinged with tears.

"Oh, I didn't. I persuaded Lord Downton that he probably owed you more than he would owe anyone else. I explained that if you had not told me of his true motives for marriage and I had found out later I might have run back to London. Then, he spent my money on that, at my request, for you." She laughs and Emma shakes her head.

"You can't say things like that m'lady. Not only because you do not mean them, I am sure you would have married Lord Downton anyway, but because they are very unladylike and your mother-in-law would not like to hear you speaking so openly about money and the like."

"She will never know. Not on this occasion. I will endeavour to do better, I will have to, I know that." She pushes the fear she has about the upcoming weeks learning about her role, under Lady Grantham's scrutiny, to the back of her mind. There was plenty of time to worry about that later, now it was Emma's time. "I do hope you like it."

"I do. I truly do."

"I wish you well Emma. Will you write to me? I know it is not the traditional way of things. But I would like to know what happens to you. Whether you marry or have children, where you work, that sort of thing."

"I will m'lady, if you would like that, of course I will."

"I would." She places the brooch back into its box and then gently places it on the dressing table as she returns to the work of styling Cora's hair. Cora returns to her breakfast. The rest of the exchange continues in silence, pounding with a cascade of undisclosed emotion. Cora can feel her heart swelling with fear at the day to come – she was already feeling an emotional wreck and there were still three more people to say goodbye to. Emma collects the last few items together, including her gift, and makes to leave the room. She hesitates in the doorway and Cora hesitates on her seat, wanting to say something else but not sure what. Their eyes meet in the mirror and they both open their mouths to say something else, cutting each other off. Cora gestures for Emma to continue as she turns to face her.

"I wish you such good luck m'lady. I am sure you will be terrific here and make a real show of being Lady Downton, and then Lady Grantham. They are lucky to have you, even if they don't know it." Cora feels the tears smarting in her eyes, how many more times was that going to happen before the day was through? She didn't like to think. She walks across the room, reaching out a hand to Emma's empty one, she squeezes it.

"And you Emma, such good luck and happiness always." Emma drops her hand and then turns to the door, disappearing out of it. Cora bites her lower lip and leans her back against the door. She exhales a deep breath into the air, listening to it race between her lips.

I can do this. I have to do this.

She takes a steadying breath and returns to the remains of her cup of tea. The drink was decidedly fortifying and she was going to need that today. She swallows it down and heads out onto the landing. It was time to get the day started and begin her farewells.

The three that remained would not be quite as bad, since she had done the majority of the farewell yesterday. Lord Grantham had approached her last week and explained that he had arranged for himself, Lady Grantham, Robert and Rosamund to dine with some neighbours (she did not ask how he had managed this) and that she was to have the house to herself for the entire afternoon with her family. Cora had taken the opportunity to spend their afternoon outside beneath the dominating trees in the garden and they had eaten a relaxed dinner in the dining room. It had felt a little strange to be there without any members of her new family but it had been lovely. The four of them had laughed about old times, and her parents had shared some stories from their past. It had been a truly wonderful afternoon and she had taken the opportunity to tell them all that she would miss them. She had hugged them all and taken time to speak with all three of them separately, even her brother. She had shed a few tears, but on the whole, it had stayed light-hearted.

Most of the words having been spoken in the privacy of their family time yesterday, she knew that this morning would be a little easier in that regard but she was also aware it was going to be much worse. The emotion was already rising in her throat and clogging in her eyes. It would have been very difficult to get the words out to say what she wanted to say and she was eternally glad that Lord Grantham had seemingly had the foresight to arrange that time yesterday, she would have to thank him properly later.

Everyone is assembled in the great hall, the remains of their breakfast tea still clasped in their hands, or the newspaper in the case of Lord Grantham. Her brother spots her on the stairs and comes over. She is briefly shocked by the way he pulls her into a tight embrace. He rubs at the gap between her shoulder blades and she feels the tears she had hardly stilled after her conversation with Emma resurrect themselves – she and Harold had not embraced properly in years. He clasps her hand.

"I refuse to get emotional, but I will miss you Cora. Promise you will stay strong. I know you can, I know you will. Don't lose the Levinson spirit." He lowers his voice and leans closer. "You'll need it against your mother-in-law." Cora finds herself smiling, of course Harold was going to leave her with a list of advice. He might be younger, but he had always felt himself very superior. "Rosamund is your ally, utilise her as much as possible. I know Papa said to you the other day about making Robert fall in love with you, so remember what we spoke about before the wedding. It might help with that plan." Cora finds herself blushing at the reminder of that conversation. Harold had advised her to be bold with her husband when it came to marital relations. She nods her thanks and squeezes his hand.

"You stay strong too Harold, with Papa and everything." He nods, an unspoken understanding passes between them after years of growing up together. It was easy for them each to be strong now, but watching their Papa decline in health was not going to be easy on Harold, however much he might pretend otherwise. Cora knew full well she was abandoning him to the flames on that one, she would only have a chance to be there for the last bit. He leans forward and kisses her forehead before excusing himself back upstairs to check he hadn't forgotten anything. Cora knew that was it with Harold, he would kiss her again before he left probably, but his words were done.

The rest of the party are moving to the edge of the great hall, gently easing in the direction of the grand oak doors and the carriage that awaits outside. Cora joins them as they settle between the pillars outside the library, her parents pulling on their gloves.

She is a little surprised when she sees Lady Grantham take her husband and Rosamund by the elbow and lead them out of sight into the library. Robert comes to her side, a look of confusion crossing his face as he glances between her and his retreating family. She realises he is not sure what she would like him to do. She gives him a weak smile.

"I'm fine for a few minutes, thank you Robert." He disappears after his family. She turns now to her parents, awkwardly grasping her hands in front of her waist. What did one say in goodbye when you could not possibly say everything you really meant. "I love you both so much." She feels the tears coming and is grateful when her father takes her easily into his embrace. She inhales his scent, the unique aroma of his jacket as he pats her head and whispers his love into her ear. Her mother is a little more controlled in her approach, simply taking her hand and squeezing it.

"And we both love you so much Cora. But you will have a lovely life here I am sure. I still don't quite understand why you love Robert, but each to their own I suppose." Cora has to smile, of course her mother would try and be argumentative, even at this moment. She rubs the tears from her face as her father presses a kiss into her hair, also laughing at her mother. "And this is not the end, we shall all meet again. There will be visits and the like, I am sure. Grandchildren for us to admire. There is no point in tears, this is not the end, just a fresh start." Her mother was right in so many ways. There would be visits, they would see each other again and this was a fresh start. But it was also the end of so much. Harold appears behind her and she can see from the look in his eyes that he had heard what Mama had said. The unspoken words hang in the air between the four of them – the next time they meet it will not be joyful, it would be because of life coming to an end, not new life beginning.

"I would like to take just a moment, this final moment, as the four of us –" Her father begins, but his mother cuts in.

"Oh Isidore, it won't be the final moment, Cora will be there, at the end." Her father shakes his head and reaches for her mother's hand. He takes her right hand with his other hand.

"She might not make it and who knows how ill I might be by then." She is surprised when she feels Harold's hand inching into her left hand and he then takes their mother's hand. They stand in a huddled circle, holding hands. Even her mother has little tears in the corners of her eyes. "I would like to take just take a moment to say how proud I am of my little family. I couldn't have asked for a better life. I think we have made some wonderful memories together, I hope they bring you joy long into the future. Cora, please tell your children of me and share my love with them. Harold, I know that you are going to excel at all things business related, I only hope you become less wild at some point to spare your poor mother. Martha, I hope you know what you mean to me?" Cora watches her mother nod her head in a shaky sort of fashion. Her father brings her gloved hand to his lips. He then turns his gaze back to hers and Cora blinks the tears in her eyes away, determined to view her father properly – this will likely be the last time she will see him looking well. "You're all wonderful and deserve wonderful long and happy lives." He breaks the circle of their hands and Cora finds herself in his embrace again.

She doesn't try to hide the tears anymore, they come freely as she holds her father to her taking a chance to breathe in his scent and to try and memorise the shape of how they fit together. It all passes in a blur of tears and hugs from then onwards. The others reappear from the library and Cora finds herself passed between embraces before her parents and brother are scurried under umbrellas to the waiting carriage as she stands with her new family watching from the dry of the front door.

Was there a law that made mother's so confusing? Was there some unwritten rulebook that women got presented with when they gave birth that made them so contrary? Because surely his mother could not always have been this difficult?

Two days ago, the night of the Levinson's departure, when Cora had been silent all through dinner and then excused herself immediately afterwards, he had rushed to go after her, but his mother had stopped him.

"Leave her Robert. Give her some space." He had been flummoxed by his mother's act of kindness. He had thought she would be angry with his wife's complete dismissal of all things other than her world of tear-filled eyes and trances in which she was clearly miles away.

Yet now, a mere forty-eight hours later his mother has switched back. The kindness is gone and her voice is clipped as she asks him to please go and fetch his wife. Cora had disappeared as the ladies had stood from the dinner table, as she had done the previous two evenings.

"Mama –" It is Rosamund, from across the table. But their mother firmly shakes her head.

"No Rosamund, it is time for Lady Downton to stop moping. There is not time for such an activity when one is a lady. Which she would know, if she was one." Robert gulps, looking to his father for some direction, but his father is lighting a cigar, seemingly content to let the whole exchange continue without his input. He was fully aware that his mother did not completely approve of Cora as a bride. She was not as suitable as the English ladies since she was unaware of many of the customs of English society. Robert would not argue with that, since it was true, Cora herself would admit to it. But to accuse her of not being a lady, when she was certainly well behaved, elegant and well educated was a step Robert was not convinced about. It was not for him to reprimand his mother though, that was what his father was supposed to do. He had noticed that his father was even more reluctant to argue with his mother now – it was as if now that he had saved Downton by Robert marrying Cora that he had given up arguing with her because he had what he wanted. He didn't see the point in defending Cora now because she was a member of the family. He had argued enough for her to his mother before, but now the fight was gone. Robert swallows, that annoying feeling of being the person pacifying between his family and his wife wash over him yet again. How long was this going to go on? Forever?

He leaves the dining room and heads up the stairs to Cora's bedroom. He knocks hesitantly on the door, and a muffled voice comes from the inside, she sounded like she was crying. He assumes it had been a call to enter and he pushes the door open.

She is sat at her vanity, her head in her gloved hands and her shoulders shaking softly. He swallows and hesitates in the doorway, one hand still holding onto the door knob. He had never seen her crying before. He had seen tears in her eyes and he had seen the after effects of too much crying when she had come down to dinner two days ago, but he had not actually seen her crying. He is about to retreat, to leave her in peace and return to his mother and her wrath, but she turns to look at him. A question lurking between the furrows of her brows as she wipes the back of her hand across her cheek, smearing the tears there. She sniffs, still looking at him, waiting for him to speak.

"Well?" She raises her eyebrow and then emits another sniff. Robert remains frozen in the doorway. Her vulnerability had never struck him as much as it does now. He knew she was young, but he had never thought of her that way. She had always seemed to wise to him, so mature and grown up. Defending herself against Lady Evelyn, defying his mother on a handful of occasions, her approach to their wedding night – terrified but self-assured. Then on their honeymoon she had been carefree and happy, he had thought, talking to him about the places they had been and expressing her opinions. She had read so much too and she was buoyant and joyful so much of the time. All that teasing she had done when they had first met in Paris and then just two weeks ago on the last night of their honeymoon making that innuendo about how many more hours they had left to be together. She had always been so unbreakable in his eyes. On their wedding night he had seen her nerves, but this emotional breakdown was not something he associated with Cora at all. "I suppose your Mama wants me back downstairs?" His thoughts are pulled sharply back to her tear stained face.

"Yes." He steps a little further into her room, finally releasing the door knob.

"I suppose I should have known her compassion would not last until I had actually recovered." Her tone is as clipped as his mother's had been earlier. Robert tries to find something he recognises in her eyes, but he can't. Her eyes are glassy and he can't read them. He furrows his brow, not entirely sure what she means by 'recovered'. It all seemed a little excessive, so much crying for a family she was going to see again, in not too many months as it happened – unfortunately.

"You are going to see them again Cora." She is tugging her gloves back, but she pauses lifting her narrowed gaze to him as she stands from the seat.

"I know." She resumes putting her other glove back on.

"I'm not sure I quite understand why you are this upset when this is not the end."

"No. I don't suppose you would understand." Her glove falls into place with a snap against her skin. He had said the wrong thing. He gulps as she strides towards him to get to the door. She pinches her cheeks, trying to put on a brave face. "Having both your parents right here and very much still alive." Her words are acidic now and he recoils, he had never heard her speak like that. He thinks he understands a little better now though, this was about her father's illness, which was perfectly reasonable. He had been surprised the subject had not haunted their honeymoon. Although it had been mentioned, he had noticed that in general she avoided discussions about it and he had not encouraged them, given his unfortunate part in the whole thing.

"I promise to take you to America Cora, you know that."

"But what if we are too late? What if the other day was the last time I will see my father alive. What if that was the last time we would all be alive in the same room together? And even if we do, he will be dying. Dying." He doesn't know what to say. The word sticks in the air between them once it has struggled from Cora's mouth. It sticks and he doesn't know what to say. What is there to say about death? He could hardly reassure her, because everything was not going to be fine and they both knew it. It would be a hollow promise to try and tell her that it would be. "We should go down, before your mother comes in search of us." Her voice doesn't waver, the unhappiness and tears are gone, despite the earlier crack in her voice. Her gaze is fixed, and she straightens her back seemingly steeling herself for the coming ordeal. He hopes it won't be an ordeal and that his mother will behave, but he doubts it. She moves towards the door, but he finds his hand instinctively reaching back to the door and blocking her path. She looks up at him beneath her lashes, a curious twinge between her eyebrows. he might be determined to keep some distance from them physically, to ensure that he can keep his desires in check and not become a burden to her, but he did not think that meant that he had leave her on her emotional island alone.

"I won't try and pretend to understand Cora. But please know, that I am here, should you wish to try and explain." Her mouth opens as if to say something, but she closes it again, before chewing on her lip briefly. He watches in fascination, but still can't figure out what she is thinking. She nods, softly, and gestures to move past him through the door. He drops his hand and she glides past him. He follows her down the stairs. She turns to him as they pace their way across the grand hall to the drawing room.

"I'm not sure I will be able to explain, but I thank you, for offering to listen." She reaches across and squeezes his hand before entering the drawing room with a broad smile on her face, as if she had merely disappeared to fetch a missing glove or fix her hair rather than for a cry. His mother immediately fixes her with a cold look and Robert signs internally – this could be the beginning of a very long evening.

"Ah, you haven't forgotten where the drawing room is then?"

"No, I have not Lady Grantham." Robert finds his mouth curls up slightly in awe of her then as she takes a seat on the settee beside Rosamund, his wife was as determined as his mother, just a little subtler about it. It scares him a little, that she is likely to try and defy his mother, that would not make their lives here as comfortable as he would like. He feared that Cora might also come off much worse than she thought – his mother never lost. It was a possibility that she would hurt Cora more than Cora realised was possible at the moment, she didn't know his mother well enough. He wasn't sure how he felt about the idea of his mother hurting Cora emotionally. He had thought she was up to the task of dealing with his mother, but tonight, having seen her in tears, he was beginning to realise she wasn't as tough and bold as she often managed to present. She held herself well, but that did not mean there was not a heart beneath all that, a heart his mother would love to curl her hands into.

"Pity you didn't splash some water on your face to remove the look of tears from your eyes." Robert finds himself swallowing in shame. That was a low blow, even for his mother. He watches from his seat as Cora twists her hands in her lap. He had noticed the way she pushed her wedding ring firmly into her finger in times of anxiety, pressing it so that the skin on her finger goes white. She does that now, whilst keeping her eyes fixed on his mother.

"It won't happen again."

"I should hope not. You are a Viscountess now, and a Viscountess does not go and cry in her room. They do not cry at all, when others might see them." Robert sees Rosamund roll her eyes, he knows that lectures on etiquette were something she dreaded as much as their mother loved giving them.

"That shouldn't surprise me I suppose; the English are so unemotional about everything." Robert sees his mother start, she had thought the conversation was at an end. He fidgets uncomfortably with his trouser leg; the conversation was drifting towards territory that he had hoped they could stay clear of this evening. His mother knows Cora is upset, why persist in tormenting her? And what was Cora thinking, goading her so obviously?

"We are not unemotional. That would infer that we have no emotions, which is not possible for any person with half a brain. We merely temper our emotions and we are thus able to present ourselves properly on every occasion."

"If by 'properly' you mean appearing to not care about anything, then yes, the English do that very well."

"Cora, I don't think that's quite what Mama meant." He is surprised to find his own voice cautioning her from across the room. He can see the pain in her eyes and the vicious pressing on her rings. For either of them to continue with this conversation would only lead to scenes that would be much harder to recover from. Neither of them could afford that. Cora would need his mother's help in learning the ways of Downton and to understand her role, and one day his mother would need Cora, even if she didn't know it. Rosamund would be leaving Downton in the summer and the two of them will be thrown together much more – it would not be wise for them to fall out before they have even tried to get to know each other.

"No, Robert is right. We know you are hurt by your parents and brother returning home Cora. But we will endeavour to make you feel at home here. This is your home now too. Mama was suggesting we sourced some foods that remind you of America for breakfast the other day, weren't you Mama?" Robert knows Rosamund is lying, that had been her idea, and their mother had blatantly refused, but he is pleased she steps in to help him stop them arguing. What on earth was he going to do when she moved to London?

"Yes, well, all that's about is my children ganging up on me again. Just like you all did about Mr Painswick. I have not forgotten." Her eyes flick between the three of them and Robert feels the discomfort associated with her gaze settle in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it had not been Cora's goading that had put Mama in a bad mood, maybe she was just in that state of mind that led her trying to prove her superiority about anything or everything. "Neither is it over yet Rosamund, so you can wipe that little smug smile off your face." Robert swallows, shooting his sister a reassuring look that she doesn't see. It didn't seem fair that in her kindness in trying to protect Cora she had now placed herself in their mother's firing line.

"The wedding is only a few months away Mama, you wouldn't dare call it off."

"I might not have to. It might happen on its own accord." Robert swallows, unsure if that was an empty threat or if his mother really was planning something terrible. He wouldn't put anything past her.

"Mama –"

"To have one of you married unsuitably was a compromise I was just about willing to make to secure the future of this family, but for both of you to –"

"That's enough Violet." His father does not even raise his voice, but she complies. Nobody had even heard him enter, he stands in the doorway leading from the library and shares a look with his wife. The room goes quiet as his father takes a seat in the chair beside his mother. He watches them, the wordless conversation that passes between their eyes. He doesn't think they are in love with each other. Not like Cora says she loves him. But they certainly know each other very well, to be able to communicate without speaking. He had thought it was love, and might have defined it as such until he had met Cora and her family. Mr and Mrs Levinson were in love, and he didn't doubt that the look in Cora's eyes when she gazed at him was love – he had realised that it was not an expression that was on her face when talking with anyone else. His parents though, their looks are not love. Not that kind of consuming love that was the topic of books and plays. Their love was more tangible – easier to put into words – it was friendship and companionship. It was a knowledge of each other deeply rooted in spending so much of life together.

Could he have that with Cora?

He looks across at her, her hand still twisting her ring uncontrollably, but her back is ramrod straight (no doubt as a result of being told off so consistently about slouching before the wedding) and her eyes are clear from tears. Cora is strong. Bold too, given her cheeky remarks on their honeymoon. He had seen her bravery before too, learning to ride a horse, something she was still facing with determination, and now tonight, squashing her emotions and tears to do what she thought was her duty and returning to the drawing room. Then of course she was in love with him, surely that would make it easier for them to form a good solid friendship? They had said that was their plan before the wedding. They needed to have a good marriage if they were going to manage the challenges that will undoubtedly lie ahead. Watching as her long delicate eyelashes blink every few minutes whilst she talks softly to Rosamund, he knows that if he can't make a marriage work with Cora, he could never make it with anyone else.

*The brooch described here can be found by searching 'brooches circa 1880' and is a listing on Grays antiques 'Victorian Diamond and Pearl brooch' which is the first search result I get. I probably took some liberty by having such an item available for Cora to buy in Florence, but I wanted her to gift Emma something precious; if only because I was giving Emma up as much as Cora was.