1 December 1900

My Dearest Robert,

I am sorry it's been so long since I've written but things have been quite hectic at home. Sybil was slightly ill, nothing serious in the end. She is perfectly her sweet self once again, but she did need some nursing and so I found myself by her bed mostly. Edith and Mary, thank god, remained untouched through the ordeal. And I am in fine health, so you needn't worry about a thing.

Robert, please tell me you are coming home soon. I miss you so dreadfully.

I apologize for this short letter. It is selfish of me but I fear the act of writing you, instead of being able to walk into the library and have you before me to speak with, is causing a melancholy that I just cannot indulge in at the moment. I know you understand, my love. Please be safe.

All of my love to you,

Cora

Cora half listened as Edith chattered on about her mornings lessons, nodding and smiling at appropriate intervals. Sybil paid no mind to either of them, playing with the new finger puppets one of the young housemaids had sewn her during her convalescence. Absentmindedly, Cora swept her hand over the top of Sybil's head, touching her newly recovered child a reassurance of her improved health. Although her favorite time of day was the hour that the girls came down before tea, Cora was too distracted by Mary's absence to truly enjoy her visit with them. Her eldest had been aloof since the episode with Patrick, and while it had pained her before, she found her ability to withstand it crumbling. Cora found her ability to stand anything for too long crumbling.

Before she realized she had spent most of the hour only vaguely aware of the two children with her in the library, Nanny was there to scoop them away for some fresh air. Cora almost stopped her, now that they were about to leave craving their company, but she squashed the urge. She wouldn't be any fun as she was, it would be selfish of her to keep them close when they should be allowed to run and play after a morning full of learning. And things needed her attention. She had volunteered to oversee the decorations for the church's Christmas Bazaar, she was woefully behind on shopping for the girls and the new cook Rosamund and Violet had hired as a "surprise" was due later that evening. Thinking about everything that vied for her attention made her want to escape into her room and lock the door. To think she had welcomed all of the distractions when Robert first left, had even relished in the feeling of being so needed. Now she would sell her soul for an afternoon of peace.

Carson's entrance into the drawing room, followed by a footman carrying her tea, disbanded her thoughts and Cora lifted her chin. "Carson? Have you seen Lady Mary? She didn't come down with the girls."

A ghost of a flicker of Carson's lips betrayed him before he said, "I have, milady."

"Oh?" Cora inquired, curious.

"Lady Mary?" Carson called and Cora turned, surprised to see her oldest daughter walking in carrying a silver serving bowl. She watched as Mary carefully brought it to the side table, her face a serious study in concentration. The lid rattled a bit as she lowered it down. Mary grasped the top's intricate handle and then pulled it off quickly, unmasking a heaping pile of steaming scrambled eggs. Cora raised her eyebrow, not entirely certain what was happening.

"I made them, Mama. For you! Lily in the kitchen showed me." Mary declared, her chest puffed out with pride.

"You made these for me? All by yourself?" Cora asked.

"Indeed milady. I saw it with my own eyes," Carson said, his low voice booming.

Cora found she couldn't speak, picturing Mary in an apron, whisking eggs, doing her task as she did everything, with an intense perfectionism. Out of all her children, she would have never imagined Mary to be the one to voluntarily do something that one of the servants could do. Cora continued to blink at the eggs and Mary began to fidget.

"It's only you've seemed exceptionally sad lately. And scrambled eggs always make me feel better." Mary explained uncomfortably.

"Oh Mary," Cora said lowly, impulsively clasping Mary's hand. A hopeful smile took over Mary's face and she watched intently as Cora filled her fork and placed the fluffy eggs in her mouth. Cora had braced herself, expecting to forcefully swallow the food, pretending that they were delicious. But to her surprise they were indeed quite good.

"Will you have some with me? They are splendid!" Cora patted the seat beside her and mother and daughter continued to eat in silence. The lightness of the eggs encouraged an appetite that Cora hadn't had in days and she eagerly ate alongside Mary.

"I'm sorry, Mama," Mary said quietly, placing her fork down and looking at her lap.

"Whatever for?" Cora wondered, placing her hand on Mary's shoulder.

Mary looked up, her brown eyes troubled. "I haven't been very nice to you lately. Because of what Patrick said. And I'm sorry."

"Oh darling," Cora comforted, squeezing Mary's shoulder gently, "I know you were just upset. I knew you would come around eventually."

Mary seemed to think about her words before nodding. Cora cupped her chin and held it steady, tenderly. "I love you Mary, no matter how upset or angry you may get."

"I love you too Mama," Mary whispered, her ears turning pink at the admission.

A commotion of sound interrupted Cora and Mary and Cora squinted with confusion, before standing and hurrying out into the great hall, Mary close on her heels. Cora stopped short, disbelieving the scene playing out before her. The footmen wobbled under the many cases of luggage they carried into the house. Mrs Hughes turned in a circle, looking as though lost. And directing all of it was the blunt edged voice she had spent a girlhood being embarrassed of.

"Mother?" Cora interrupted when she got over the shock of seeing her.

"My dear," Martha sang, her lips turning into an exaggerated frown, her usual expression of disapproval. She strode over to her and held her at arm's length, scrutinizing.

"You're pale and skinny and there are bags under your eyes. I see I came just in time." Martha accessed. Before Cora could comment, her mother looked around her at Mary, still standing silently at her mother's side.

"Don't tell me this is little Sybil!" Martha gasped, jokingly.

"It's Mary, Grandmama!" Mary admonished shyly and Martha laughed loudly, a sharp horn of a sound that startled Carson as he walked into the room.

"Of course it is!" Martha patted the top of her head affectionately before bending down for a kiss. "Now why don't you follow my maid, Jones, and perhaps she can find some gifts from New York in grandmama's bag."

Mary clapped her hands and looked to her mother for permission. Cora nodded once and Mary ran after the retreating maid.

"What are you doing here?" Cora asked, still amazed at her mother's presence.

"Well ,that's a fine greeting after a week at sea." Martha huffed, removing her hat.

"It's just a surprise is all. You've never just shown up." Cora said.

Martha handed her hat to a housemaid near by and then took Cora's arm, guiding her toward the drawing room. "You're mother in law wrote to me. She seemed concerned for your wellbeing and naturally for her to be concerned I thought I'd find you either on your death bed or muttering gibberish to yourself in the vein of Mrs Rochester, so naturally I rushed right over."

"Well, as you can see neither is the case," Cora sighed. "I'm fine, Mother."

"Just looking at you I'd say I disagree, but oh well. I'm here now so we might as well make a holiday of it." Martha stated, ending the discussion as she went to the bell pull to ring for tea.

Martha's arrival had stirred the atmosphere within Downton. The servants seemed beleaguered by the unannounced arrival, her bold and foreign ways unsettling the quiet dignity that normally blanketed everything done at Downton. Edith and Sybil were bouncing with excitement, visiting with their grandmother late into the afternoon as she told them tales and spoiled them with gifts and goodies brought with her from America. Mary regarded the strange visitor with a little more reserve, though by the end of the evening, she too was at Martha's feet, begging for one more story of their mama as a child.

Once dinner had been eaten and the children had been tucked into bed, Cora and Martha relaxed in the library with their brandies. It was only a matter of time before Martha put her drink down and focused her full attention on her daughter. Cora met Martha's own blue eyes steady on at first, but faltered when her mother's gaze turned from inquisitive to worried.

"How have you been dear? Really?" Martha asked softly.

Cora shook her head, crossing her arms over her middle and pressing two fingers to her lips, which trembled under her touch. She continued to look into the fireplace as the embers popped in the silence, until the sounds of Martha shifting in her seat joined the fire's noise. Cora felt the dip in the sofa as Martha sat beside her. It only took her hand placed lightly in between Cora's shoulder blades for the trembling in Cora's lips to take hold on the rest of her body and before she knew it, she was in her mother's arms, crying. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried like this, her head propped on Martha's strong shoulder, her cinnamon scent as comforting as her embrace. And then suddenly she could, the memory of being in London clear, as was the reason for her tears. It was Robert then too. She was young and in love with her fiance, desperately in love with the man, and he was in love with Downton and the money she would bring to secure its future. The memory only made her sob harder, thinking how far they had come, how much they had built together, and now it all seemed to be falling apart.

"It will be alright," Martha soothed, making passes over Cora's back and rocking her as though she were a child once again. "It will be alright."