III

The pain was getting worse. Robert hadn't said anything to Cora about the sharp pains in his stomach he'd been suffering. He hadn't wanted to. There was so much he hadn't told her lately. It seemed anything of any importance was unhappy. He didn't want her to be unhappy. He himself did not want to be unhappy either, but asking her to comfort him and buoy his spirits yet again wouldn't help anything. For years now, it seemed he'd been relying on her far too much. He was the husband and father and Earl. He was supposed to be the strength of his family and of his estate. But he had made mistake after mistake, been forced into a position of weakness and instead needing her strength. It wasn't fair to continue to take it from her. His sweet Cora was only too willing to give it, he knew, but that was reason even more to protect her from her own kind nature.

She had been spending far too much time with that Bricker fellow. Out with him in London when he had come all the way down to surprise her. Talking with him at the house when he was supposed to be looking at the art and then taking his leave. Robert had seen how she laughed with him, how she seemed to sparkle as that cad flattered her so obviously.

Cora was a dazzling woman, as Robert knew better than anyone. Beautiful and intelligent and kind and gentle and elegant. Despite their beginnings and her American heritage, Cora was the perfect wife and the perfect Countess. And now this art historian waltzing into his house and dining with his wife and making her feel as though only he could see her majesty? As though Robert himself had not spent more than thirty years loving and cherishing her?

Knowing Bricker was at the house was one reason Robert had wanted to come home. The other, of course, were these blasted pains. He hadn't wanted to spend the night elsewhere when he didn't feel well. He wanted to be home. He wanted to be where he was comfortable. With Cora.

Despite the pain, his steps were lighter as he climbed the stairs and journeyed the corridors to their bedroom. Carson had said she was still awake, and he was glad for it. It would be good to talk to her.

He could see the light coming from behind the door as he opened it. "I'm glad you're still awake," he said.

And then Robert was met with a sight plucked straight from his worst nightmares. A man—that Bricker—was standing in his dressing gown beside the bed with Cora.

It was as though the world was suddenly moving underwater, every movement slow and delayed before Robert's eyes. Cora gasped, her jaw dropping as she looked at him. Bricker turned to look at him. Robert somehow managed to close the door behind him, though he was in some kind of horrific shock, he hardly knew which way was up.

Cora shifted uncomfortably and averted her eyes as she clasped her hands in front of her. As though looking at her husband or this man in their bedroom was impolite. As though it was her gaze that was improper about this scene.

Bricker, too, turned away from him. Back to Cora, though he had the good sense not to look at her.

"The dinner was over early," Robert found himself saying. "It seemed easier to come back." The shock was washed away by a wave of anger, the likes of which Robert had hardly ever felt before. It seethed within him. "I'm sorry if it's a disappointment," he practically spat at her. He spoke only to her, not to that man who dared stand between him and his wife.

"It isn't," Cora answered calmly. "Mr. Bricker was just leaving." She gestured to the door, and the man turned toward it.

"I'm not here at Lady Grantham's invitation," Bricker said, as though he had any right to speak in this moment.

"Then will you please leave at mine?!" Robert growled. He felt his hands start to shake with the force of his rage. His chest was tight and his stomach was full of fire.

With a glance to Cora—which she did not return—Bricker went to walk to the door. Robert blocked his way. The man had the nerve to be calm. That slimy worm of a man. But as Robert stood tall before him, the worm hesitated with a flicker of fear. Good. It fed that fire inside of Robert.

"Robert, let him go," Cora implored. She, too, had the nerve to be calm.

But then the worm spoke again. "You can't be surprised," Bricker said. "When you chose to ignore a woman like Cora, you must have known not every man would be as blind as you."

A small, rational part of Robert's brain told him to let Bricker go, to let him walk out the door and to never darken their halls ever again. But the presumption that Robert had ignored his wife, that Bricker could have possibly seen anything in her that Robert did not know like the back of his hand, it was too much for him to bear. His right hand balled into a fist, but army training came back to him. He was in his regimental dress, and he knew an improperly positioned punch to a man's skull could break his fingers. Instead, he turned away. He turned away and braced his left hand and whipped his arm around in a mighty backhand to Bricker's repugnant face.

Bricker practically flew off his feet with a loud cry of pain and surprise. He fell over onto the bed as Cora shouted, "Stop it!" over and over. Robert hardly heard her. He didn't want to hear her. He didn't want to stop.

Robert lunged at him, pulling him by the lapels of his dressing gown and throwing him onto the floor. The last place he ever wanted Simon Bricker was on this bed.

The two men rolled around, Cora begging them to stop and being ignored. Robert knew he and Bricker were matched for height, but Robert's bulk gave him the advantage, and he had Bricker on his back quite easily, knocking over a side table in the process. He pulled back his right arm, now properly leveraged for a damaging punch.

But the satisfying crack of knuckles against a nose never came. Robert faltered, not from distraction, not from Cora's pleading. The fire in his belly erupted into the worst pain Robert had ever experienced in all his life, erupted up his throat and right out of his mouth.

Bricker's face was splattered with blood, and Robert instantly knew that it was his own. He doubled over and fell to the side as wave after wave of blood spewed from his mouth.


"Robert!" Cora screamed.

Mr. Bricker scrambled away, wiping his face in horror. Cora hardly paid him any mind as she flew to Robert's side.

"Get help!" she shouted. She heard Bricker move, but her focus was on Robert.

Cora gathered her husband to her lap, trying to hold him so that the blood gushing from his mouth with every heaving retch wouldn't drown him. Edith used to get bloody noses as a little girl, and she'd swallow the blood and choke if she didn't have her face angled just right.

Every part of her was shaking with fear. From this whole thing. These last two minutes had been more than she could take. Robert fighting and now this!? What had Mr. Bricker done to him to cause this?!

Oh she should have known something was wrong, though. Robert had been sullen for days. She thought it was just because of Mr. Bricker and the time she was spending with him; he'd been jealous when he had no reason to be and petulant when another boy played with the toy he'd cast aside. But Cora knew that marriage had ebbs and flows. On the whole, they had been very happy for more than thirty years. But they weren't always happy. They had their troubles, their difficult patches. They'd always managed to come out the other side, and Cora had learned patience. Eventually, Robert would talk to her and reveal all that was bothering him. He would unburden himself to her and she would gather him in her arms and cradle him between her legs and they would find their way back together.

She had him gathered in her arms now, only it was the thing of her worst nightmares rather than her fondest dreams. "I'm here, darling," she whispered to him as she silently begged for help to arrive.

He started to struggle against her, but she held him tight.

"Shh, just wait. Help is on the way."

"Cora," he choked out.

"I'm here, Robert," she assured him. Tears started to prick her eyes, but she had to hold them at bay for now. Until she knew he was safe.

"If this is the end, know that I have loved you very much," he rasped.

Cora had to squeeze her eyes and mouth shut tight to keep her sobs inside.

"Even if you no longer love me," Robert added.

She gasped at the very idea that he might believe such a thing. "No, darling, please. We won't let this be the end. We have a long time left to love each other." Cora tried to assure him, but she was instead pleading for her words to be truth.

Robert fell limp against her, blood still dribbling out of his mouth.

"No! Robert, no, please, stay with me, darling," she begged.

Sounds behind her nearly distracted Cora, but she did not look away from her beloved husband.

"My lady, the ambulance has arrived," Carson said gently.

"I'm going with him," she insisted, even as men were rolling Robert onto a stretcher and maneuvering her out of the way. She got up and followed the men carrying Robert. No one stopped her, though there were so many people about. She did not notice if Mr. Bricker was among them. She didn't care to know.

It wasn't until she was sitting in the back of the ambulance that Cora realized she was wearing her nightclothes. She had not even bothered to get a coat or proper shoes. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that Robert's hand was held between hers, that he was still breathing, that they would be at the hospital soon and Dr. Clarkson would take care of Robert.

All that mattered was that Robert's last moments in this life would not be spent with him doubting her love for him.


Pain. That was the first thing he registered. Just pain. He tried to shift, to see if he could alleviate the pain somehow but to no avail. Something between a whimper and a groan escaped his lips.

"Robert?" came Cora's harsh whisper.

She only sounded like that when she was very upset about something. He didn't know why she would be upset. He didn't want her to be upset.

He tried to open his eyes, but it was too bright. He needed to adjust for a moment. As he did, he tried to think of where he was and what was happening. Why he was in pain.

Robert's memory brought him back when he'd arrived back home after the regimental dinner. He had been in pain and wanted to come home. The pain was far worse now. Worse, too, was the pain in his heart. Because he remembered now. Bricker. And Cora. She had turned from her husband to that man, seduced or beguiled or otherwise tricked into thinking he could possibly care for her. Whatever it was, she had certainly turned from Robert enough for that cad to think he could possibly be welcomed into Cora's bedroom, and that was where Robert had found them both.

With a scowl, Robert finally succeeded in opening his eyes. He was greeted with Cora's drawn, tired, worried face. It must have been her guilt that caused her concern.

"Cora," he growled in greeting. He realized, too, that she was holding his hand. He pulled away from her.

She looked down at her now empty hand and back up at him, now with tears in her eyes. "Robert," she whispered.

"I'm alive," he grumbled. "You've done your duty. You can go now."

Cora swallowed hard and shook her head. "No, Robert, I'm not going anywhere. Not ever."

"You'll want to clean up and change your clothes," he pointed out, noticing that she had blood all over her nightclothes. He must not have been unconscious too long if she had been sitting here looking like that.

"Later," she insisted. "Not until we talk."

"There is nothing to talk about," he replied, feeling himself get cross again. The pain stabbed him once more, causing him to hiss.

Cora put her hands in her lap, looking down at them as she explained, "You had an ulcer burst, probably because of how you were rolling on the floor fighting."

"Defending my marriage," he snapped. "Whatever there is of it worth defending."

Her head turned back to him sharply. "It is all worth defending, and I do not begrudge you that. I just didn't want you to get hurt."

"Yes, because your husband is a weak old man who is blind to you."

"Stop that. You are none of those things. We have had difficulties lately, I'll not deny it. You have kept things from me, and I was not content to sit and wait patiently for you to come to me when you ignored me asking you what was wrong and what was going on. A friendship I had with someone who liked to talk about art with me means nothing next to wishing that you and I were on better terms. At not one point did I consider Mr. Bricker any replacement for you in any way. I am sorry to you, more than anything, that Mr. Bricker thought that he ever possibly could be. Neither he nor any man could be welcome in my heart or in my bed. I have loved you for more than half my life, Robert Crawley, and I shall never, ever love another, and I shall never, ever stop loving you."

Cora fell silent, her soliloquy dying on her lips. Her breast heaved with emotion from her impassioned speech. Robert did not know what to say. The anger and hurt still clenched at his heart. A different pain than the one in his stomach, but a deep pain nonetheless.

He did not know what to say, but he did know what to do. Robert slowly moved his hand so it fell onto the bed, reaching out toward her.

A small gasp fell from her lips. She likely remembered, as he did, that she had done that very thing when she was recovering from that awful flu. Another sharp turn in their marriage where the wrong course had been righted from that moment their hands clasped.

So too again, Cora took his hand, and Robert felt things begin to mend. There would be time to talk and many things to say by each of them. Now was not the time, though. Not for all of it, at any rate.

"I'm sorry," he murmured softly.

"No, I'm sorry," she answered, her voice cracking slightly.

Robert felt himself start to smile. "We can both be sorry."

Cora nodded. "Just so long as we're together."

He gave her hand a squeeze.

"I do love you, Robert. Very much. I hope you never doubt it ever again."

Robert hoped very much that she never again gave him a reason to doubt it, but he did not speak that thought aloud. Instead, he just said, "I love you, my darling."

She bent her head down, her plaited hair falling over her shoulder as she pressed her lips to his hand.

In that moment, despite everything, Robert felt at peace. They'd be alright.