The gravel crunched under the last car as it pulled away. The goodbyes uttered to their guests still hung in the cool night air. They stood near each other watching the car grow smaller and smaller in the moonlight, the noises of the party now long since vanished and silence now slowly creeping up between them. But it was a different silence than before, a softer silence. It was a silence that reminded her of a thousand other nights like this one, nights when they'd say their farewells at the door and then Robert would grasp her hand and smile at her proudly - another party well executed, another job well done. But tonight would be different; tonight Robert wouldn't grasp her hand, and the acknowledgment of this set an ache in her fingers.

Cora swallowed away the thought and noiselessly sighed at the sadness she tasted. The incongruity of tonight threatened her composure. For she could feel Carson still behind them, standing at the door, waiting as he always did to take his leave. But then she could also sense the way Robert stood by her, unmoving and looking out into the night. The air around him strange and lost and so starkly different than any night before.

She dared herself to peer up at him, to capture his image in her mind to replace the current one there. The one where he was younger, brighter, smiling. The one that danced along with the waltz that now burned away in her ears. She remembered the night well, too well. How young they had been. How it felt to have his hand on her waist and to be spun around the room with him, countless eyes upon her, wondering who she was or if they already knew, whispering about her fortune. But she didn't care. Lord Downton held her in his arms, and his eyes were bluer than she remembered and shining.

What had happened to them? Her mind tumbled through the decades, through the smiles, dinners, and heartaches. Flashes of the years hammered away in her head - some milestones of their life together: discovery of her pregnancy with Edith, Mary's wedding, Sybil's first family dinner and how Mama had complimented her etiquette. Some moments seemingly mundane, but these seemed to clench at her heart even more. The sight of his eyes on hers across the table, communicating things that would be entirely too inappropriate to say aloud; the sound of the crackling leather saddle when he tried to teach her to ride only months into their marriage, the leaves around them browning with the season; the coldness of the water he'd brought from the washroom as she drank it down, his hand resting on her swollen abdomen, their baby moving beneath her skin. The present had dissipated, the past vividly painted before her eyes as she stared off into the stars around Downton.

The weight of his gaze brought her from her absorption, and she at last focused her eyes up at him. A moment passed between them, a moment on the edge of another. Was it a question, a smile, a kiss, a sigh? Whatever it was hid behind his eyes, only the heat of it letting her know it was there. It lingered, lingered, lingered, and Cora searched his eyes for it before it was abruptly extinguished. His gaze broke hers and he turned from her and went into their house, devoid of any anger, but heavy with the loss of whatever it had been.

She glanced back to the spot in the sky, as if the past would be there, but there was nothing. Nothing but the stars steadily shining and a deep darkness.

With a thick swallow, she too turned and forced herself inside; her shoes echoed on the wood of the floor.

"Good night, your Ladyship."

Carson's great booming voice wasn't loud. On the contrary it had been silken and sweet. Nevertheless, Cora had been startled. She pulled her lips into a tightlipped grin and responded with a nod.

"Shall I send up your maid, my lady?"

Cora took in his words, but shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "It's quite late now. Send her to bed."

Her butler nodded in understanding, probably more understanding than she even knew herself, and smiled in such a way that Cora felt as if he could see it, as if he could sense the tentative coldness between the Lord of the house and herself, the Lady.

"Very good, my lady."

She climbed the stairs, lifting her necklace from over her head as she entered her room, closing the door securely behind her. She slowly removed her things - gloves, earrings, shoes, stockings - and then pushed her fingers into her hair, feeling for the pins and taking them out one by one. Dark, loose waves fell down slowly, and she averted her gaze from the vanity's looking glass when the thought of how her hair had dulled over the years entered her mind. She didn't want to think any more of herself. Or her past. She just wanted sleep. Not sleep because she was tired, but sleep because it would be the only thing to silence the loudest thought of all: Robert.

Cora pushed herself from her chair and stood before the mirror, turning slightly to see her dress, to find the clasp. And there it was, two tiny shining black buttons between the nape of her neck and her shoulder blades. She craned her neck to see and then stretched her arms. She tried again. And again. And then again, but there was no use. She couldn't undo it.

And that was it. She saw her reflection, her evening gown still hanging on her body, and without warning the tears began to flow, to pour. There were no sobs, only tears, and she wiped them away with her hands.

Stop, stop, stop. She commanded her emotions, pleaded with them and just when she felt that control was again in her reach, the small sound of a click came from behind her.

She turned and saw him, Robert, standing partially in her room, shielding his heart with the dividing door.

Shocked and embarrassed, she blinked her tears away, turning her head back to the mirror and praying that…well, she didn't know. She only prayed. Perhaps that it had never happened? Perhaps that this had all been some horribly disturbing dream and that she'd wake six months earlier warm in Robert's embrace.

"I thought Baxter may still be with you," Robert's voice was quiet, but clear.

Cora shook her head, meeting his reflection in her mirror. "I sent her to bed." Her voice, although quiet, struggled through the words.

Robert stood still, the hand she could see hung limply by his side. He didn't move for moments more, and neither did she. Both just watched the other standing still, until he spoke again, this time even more quietly. "You're crying."

The fact said aloud brought on another bought of tears and her lip began to quiver anew. "It's only," she lied, "that I can't quite get the buttons. And I'm so tired." She sniffed and shook her head slightly, as if she could shake away the tremble of her heart. "I'm so tired." She said it again, to herself, the tiniest whisper barely big enough to reach her own ears.

But something else did reach them. She could hear him moving closer to her, but she was inexplicably afraid to look up at him. It was as though if she looked up he wouldn't really be there at all. But he was, and he was standing right behind her.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he brushed her hair from her back and to her shoulder, his movements measured and soft. And then his hands returned and the tug of her dress was there and then the slightest of touches on her skin. His fingertips.

Her lungs forgot to breathe, her heart forgot to beat. He had touched her. Lightly and perhaps mistakenly, but his fingertips had touched her skin.

Her senses amplified, she could hear his breath and feel his heat. His fingers lingered near her, unsure of where to go, until at last, her arm. He turned her, slowly. He turned her until she stood before him, and Cora had no choice but to look up into his eyes. Bluer than she remembered and shining.

Oh, God. It was useless to pretend. "Robert-"

But before she could say more, he caught her lips in a kiss, a hard kiss, a desperate kiss, a kiss that spoke so loudly it screamed. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her.

Her body responded to him, warmth flooding her, a burning tingle at her core, and she met his kiss with fervor.

Buttons were torn, dress and pajamas were ripped haphazardly and thrown to the floor. In an instant the bed was beneath her and Robert was above, kissing her, holding her, saying her name hungrily and it was so much more than she could possibly handle.

"I love you, I love you." It spilled out of her as he kissed her neck and groped her breast. "I love you."

There was a moan and then a push inside of her, and she bit her lip at the way she completely melted at the sensation.

He moved purposefully until he slowed, leaning on one arm, and lifted her chin up with steady fingertips.

"Look at me," he commanded. And she did.

He began to move again, his eyes completely lost in her own. He moved, slower and slower, still looking deep into her eyes and it broke her. Soon the tears from just minutes before came back but Cora's gaze remained on her husband's as he rocked above her.

Again another kiss, a softer one, a slower one. "Cora…"

He lifted himself and she noticed the wetness of his own eyes. He swallowed. "…my own beautiful Cora. My love. My love."