They stood there for what seemed like years, Cora's eyes wet, but silent. His own seemed to be wet as well, the blues of them swimming in the thickness at his lids. But silent, his were not. They seemed to scream at her, to ask her why, to beg her to tell him what on earth he had witnessed and to please then lie and say it wasn't true. But it was.

"Robert-"

That was enough. One small sound of her voice had him longing to go further into the house, up the stairs, and presumably to his dressing room. She stood there as he determinedly passed her, calling his name, asking him to please listen, to let her explain, even though she wasn't sure that she could.

"It was only a kiss. It didn't mean anything!"

He had whirled around, his face grave, etched with the lines of their years together. "How can you say that?"

She blinked, swallowing a breath.

"How can you say it didn't mean anything?" He took two steps toward her, his voice, although steady, filled the space they stood in. It echoed off the walls and around the stairs. "How can you say that?"

"Because it didn't, Robert. It didn't and does not mean anything-"

"It means something to me!" A shout. A shout, but devoid of any anger. Pure sadness. No, not sadness. Disappointment. "You kissing him, Cora…" he dropped his voice, shaking his head, "it means something. It means quite a lot. To me."

Her tears fell freely then, and she tried to croak out something to make him stop, something to make him turn around, but he didn't. He stormed up the stairs and a door slammed behind him.

Cora soon followed, quietly slipping into her room - their room - and into her bed - their bed. She crawled into the covers, crying, much like a girl and not like the countess she was. She cried and cried until, at last, her body exhausted itself, and she fell asleep curled in the bed. Her face was buried in the pillows, her hand grasped at the handkerchief she had merely an hour before stuffed into her purse.

One of the things she hated most of all 34 long years ago was the polite lack of feeling she learned she must always express. To be stoic was to be proper. And no one knew this more than her husband, Robert.

So now as days passed, and then weeks, the facade became easier. They pretended to not mind sitting near one another while in the car. They were civil at dinner and even afterward, wishing the other a good night before everyone to see. And even when they arrived, at last, back at Downton, Cora gave no objection to Mary's suggestion of a party. A dinner party, with dancing afterward. Robert hadn't exactly approved, but he hadn't said no, and so the planning had commenced and then, the day had arrived.

Cora fiddled with her necklace upstairs in her room, a nervous habit she had long since rid herself of, but somehow it had resurfaced. She stilled her hand, stretching her fingers straight and placed it in her lap, using the other to pick up a glass bottle of perfume. She opened it, about to press the stick to her neck and wrists when there was a soft knock at her door.

She twisted and looked at it, her mind immediately listing those she thought it could be. Baxter. Mary. Edith. Rose…Robert? Robert.

Was it him? She found herself hoping against hope, but shook her head before she distressed herself yet again. There was another knock and Cora realized she had stopped her breaths. She pulled one in quietly and called, "Come in."

A crack at the door, and then a face.

"May I come in?"

Cora straightened her back. "Mama?" Her jaw fell slack. "Of course."

She stood as Violet came inside, shuffling a bit and leaning on her cane. When she noticed how Cora stood, she wiggled her fingers, a way to suggest that she be again seated. She did as she was bid.

"Is everything alright?" Cora watched her mother-in-law perch upon the chair nearest her. The chair Robert had so often sat in while she dressed.

Violet didn't answer immediately. She simply looked at Cora with a lifted chin.

"It seems to me," she began, now readjusting her cane, "that that is the very question I should be asking you." She met Cora's eyes once again, this time firmly locking them in place.

Cora was taken aback. She couldn't lie. She couldn't hide it. But she would try. "Whatever do you mean?" She reached for another bottle on her vanity.

Violet wagged her head impatiently. "My dear, there is no denying that something has happened, so please, let's not make this harder than it needs to be."

Cora could feel herself shaking her head, swallowing, thinking of something to say. "I-"

"Has it ended?"

Cora found it difficult to pull in breaths. She replaced the bottle. "Wh-" she closed her mouth and eyes before trying again. "I don't know what you-"

"The nonsense with Bricker."

Now Cora couldn't breathe. "How-"

"How did I know?" Violet tilted her head condescendingly. "How didn't I? I've known you since you were quite young, my dear, following Robert around in a love sick daze. I'm afraid there isn't much you can hide from me…" She rotated her stick, "especially the way you had been flaunting the affair around like new jewels."

There was a quick sharpness in her chest. Tears immediately sprung to the back of her eyes, burning them. Affair. The word hit her like an arrow.

"But now," Violet still spoke. "I'd like to know if you've quite finished."

She tucked in her hands, and she lowered her eyes. Her face flushed hotly.

"Well, are you?"

She pressed her lips. "Yes," she whispered. And then her throat began to tighten.

"Good." Violet stood, leaning on her stick, and beginning for the door, but not before booming a command. "Then I expect you to be at Robert's side tonight. And I expect you to dance."

But, but Robert wouldn't dare. "I can't. I don't-"

Mama's eyes widened considerably. "You can, and you will."

Cora looked up to her, and her chest cramped at her expression. She thought that Cora was done. She thought that Cora felt nothing for Robert and that, that twisted sharply in her breast. Because she did. She did so very, very much and Simon was just…well, she wasn't sure what Simon had been.

"I don't love him."

Violet didn't move. Cora spoke again.

"Simon Bricker. I don't love him." Tears began to burn her eyes. "I don't even like him. I never did." And now came the sobs. "And Robert…" She took in a breath and a sniff. She shook her head. "I hurt him." Saying it aloud made the pain twist again in her chest. "I hurt him, and I'm sorry." Oh, God. She was. "I'm so, so sorry!"

Shoulders shaking, she gripped her stool to keep from falling over. Suddenly there was nothing there but bitter, bitter sorrow and the burn of regret. She didn't even notice Violet had come closer until she felt her hand, cold and steady, on her shoulder.

"My dear."

Cora looked up, trying, and failing, to contain her emotions.

"I do not doubt your feelings for Robert. Nor do I doubt you regret whatever it is you've done."

Panic. But it was nothing. "I-"

Violet held up her hand from Cora's shoulder. "Nor do I care to know what it is you've done. It doesn't matter." She brought the hand back to her stick and merely just stared for a moment. The longest moment Cora had felt in quite a while. "The matter is…" a sigh, "the matter is that Robert still loves you." Violet pushed out air. "And he will not be the one to admit it. So I will."

Cora saw her mother-in-law through blurred vision. A tear fell when she blinked. "I don't think so…" A new torrent of tears.

"Cora…"

"And…" Cora choked. "I don't deserve it."

Violet's snapped. "Stop that."

Cora looked up, quivering lip and all, to Violet.

"You deserve it. And please, for Heaven's sake, pull yourself together. I'm not here to argue."

Cora swallowed down a cry. She batted away tears, even wiping a few from her cheeks. She shook her head. "Then why are you here?"

Violet swallowed as well. She said it softly, delicately, and so very full of love. "I'm here to mend my family."