"Cora, I thought we could go to your favorite restaurant; it's just outside of the cit-" Martha interrupted herself to shout through the open driver side window, "You blind fucker! I have the right of way, and I'm driving a big ass van!" She made a rude gesture at the other driver before going back to driving, both hands gripping the steering wheel.

While Violet grasped Patrick's arm tighter and gaped at the back of Martha's seat, shocked, the others chuckled, and Cora looked as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "Oh, can we, Momma? I haven't been there in ages!"

Robert laughed. "I can practically see her begin drooling, Martha. We really should take everyone there."

"You got it, babies." Martha swerved through several lanes of heavy, fast moving traffic, honking her horn and swearing, earning several squawks from Violet and a few gasps from the others, unused to such motion in a vehicle. "That's what the OS bars are for, gang!" Martha threw out behind her merrily, hitting the accelerator and causing everyone to surge backwards against their seats.

"And seat belts!" Cora called out, turning her head to ascertain how the family was doing.

"What in heaven's name is an 'OS bar'?" Violet asked.

While Cora pointed with her left hand at the handle shaped bar above the passenger side door that she gripped in her right hand, Martha called out, "The 'Oh Shit!' bar of course!"

Violet groaned and shook her head, burying her face into Patrick's shoulder. "God help us."

"Momma, Harold didn't come with you? I thought you said he'd be here?"

"Hell, who the fuck knows, Cora? I think he's been living mostly on one of those damn yachts of his, and he almost never answers his cell phone or calls back when I leave a message. Your father might know more, though. And he promised he'd be home by the day after tomorrow. Shit!" Martha ended this little speech, briefly confusing Cora and Robert – who was listening to this conversation – until they saw her lean on the horn and flip the bird to another driver who'd gotten in her way as she pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant.

After parking the van, Martha sang to the rest of them, "We're here!"

Cora had already unbuckled her seat belt, licking her lips as she tried to get out of the van.

"Don't, Cora! I'll come help you!" Robert fumbled with the buckle and finally got free just as Martha had come around to slide the door open for them. He jumped out, immediately taking Cora's hands to guide her down the couple of steps to the ground.

"Is it safe?" Violet murmured into her husband's shirt sleeve.

Rolling his eyes, Patrick kissed her head. "We're stopped and everyone's getting out. If you don't mean to sit in here all alone for the duration of this meal, you should follow suit, Violet."

Rosamund and Marmaduke slid toward the door. "Mama, come on. Where is your spirit of adventure?" Rosamund inquired with a light laugh.

Marmaduke slid an arm around Rosamund's waist after they'd gotten out, smiling and remembering how he'd told his wife that the trip would be an adventure.

"I never wanted an adventure," Violet retorted, but let Patrick help her out of the van anyway.

Once they'd crowded into the entryway of the restaurant, Violet glanced around in horror, hissing to Martha, "This place is filthy! Just look at the floor! And what is all over the walls? We can't possibly eat here; it can't be sanitary."

Martha stared at Violet a little, then pointed at the health inspection certificate on the wall. It sported a large "A" and a 98% rating. "It's about as sanitary as most places can be, Empress Violet. That's not good enough for you?"

Tearing her eyes from the certificate, Violet sputtered out, "But – but what about the litter on the floor?"

"Ambience? They're peanut shells and the dust from people cracking them and stepping on them." Martha rolled her eyes. "And the stuff on the walls are tchotchkes." She shrugged. "Again, ambience."

"Tchotchkes?" Violet repeated the word with great incredulity and turned to Patrick, to whose hand she still clung. "What in heaven's name have we gotten ourselves into?"

Patrick chuckled and kissed his wife's cheek. "Go with it, Violet. It'll be good for you to experience something different." He squeezed her hand and led her in following the others into the dining room after they'd been called.

They seated themselves around a large round table, where Cora made an immediate dive for the bucket of peanuts in the middle of it, beginning to shell them like a mad woman.

"Slow down, darling!" Robert said, laughing and reaching over to help her shell more of them.

The rest of them picked up their menus, perusing them, Martha saying, "Now order whatever and as much as you like, since it's on me. Everything is excellent here."

"No, Martha, we can't let you pay for everything," Rosamund protested, lowering her menu.

Shrugging, Martha peered around the side of her own menu at Rosamund. "Well, it makes me happy, so you'll have to deal with it. You're in my neighborhood now." She winked and went back to selecting her food.

"Hi, everybody, my name's MaryEllen, and I'll be y'all's server this afternoon." The tiny girl sported a long, bouncy blonde ponytail and one of the most twangy southern accents Cora and Martha had ever heard. She started setting down water glasses in front of each person. "Can I start y'all out with some drinks and appetizers?" The girl smiled, tucked the tray under her arm, and pulled out an order pad and pen.

Violet stared at the girl, then turned to Robert. "Did you understand a word of what that young lady just said?"

Continuing to crack peanut shells for Cora, he nodded. "Most of it. She wants to know if we want drinks and starters."

"Oh." Violet studied her menu again, her brows knitted together. When the waitress got to her with a polite, "and for you, ma'am?" Violet spoke slowly, as if to a child. "I would like the pinot grigio. That's one of the white wines."

Patrick groaned and hid behind his menu, his face red from embarrassment. Martha gave Violet a severe "what the fuck?" face, and the others shook their heads.

But, to her credit, the waitress merely smiled and said, "That's a good wine, ma'am, but if you're gonna have steak you might wanna try the cabernet sauvignon." As the last two words escaped her mouth with perfect pronunciation – and the whole sentence without a trace of sarcasm – Martha smirked at Violet, who'd begun staring again.

"You know, the Empress will just have to manage with the pinot, MaryEllen. Robert? Your turn to order?" Martha looked at him, still smirking.

When the waitress left to put in their first round of orders, Rosamund hissed at Violet, "Mama, what in god's name do you think you're doing? That was insufferably rude!"

Violet lifted both of her hands in a deep shrug. "How am I to know if she knows the difference? She sounds as if she's from some backward part of the world! And I hate being called 'ma'am'." She scowled and flipped her menu to the entrees.

"She is from a backward part of the world; it's called the South. And I can say that because my father's from there. It doesn't mean she doesn't know her wines – or any other liquor or food. For fuck's sake, Violet, she does work in a restaurant, and I get the impression it's not her first day on the job." Martha whipped her menu closed and let it fall to the table with a flop. "As for the 'ma'am,' well, you better just get used to that, Empress. You're just a dame here, and that doesn't mean the same in the States as it does in the UK." She chuckled and leaned back in her chair, sipping her water through a straw.

Cutting her eyes at Martha in a stare of deepest displeasure, Violet grumbled, "I am never 'just a dame,' no matter where we are."

Martha simply continued chuckling, knowing her point had been won.


"Cora, you don't have to keep fighting sleep." Martha adjusted her speed and clicked on the cruise control.

"But everyone else is napping." Cora looked back at the other five – Violet leaning against Patrick, whose shoulder was pressed to the window; Rosamund curled up on the seat, her head in Marmaduke's lap and his supported by the head rest; Robert's hands under his cheek in repose – then once again to her mother, suppressing a yawn. "If I go to sleep, who will entertain you?"

Laughing lightly, Martha patted her daughter's knee. "I drove up here alone, so I think I can manage a few hours while all of you get some rest. It was a long flight, and a large meal with alcohol will take its toll on tired people. And you, my darling – well, I know you're exhausted. Take a little nap now, and then you can take an even longer nap when we get home."

"Momma –"

"No, Cora. But me no buts. Your eyelids are positively drooping. Rest, sweetheart. I insist."

"Yes, Momma," Cora said wearily.

Martha's mouth quirked into a grin as she glanced at her already sleeping daughter in the next moment. "I better enjoy this silence," she murmured to herself. "I have a feeling it's not going to be this quiet for the rest of their visit."


As the van pulled into the drive, Martha sang out, "We're here, loves! Wake up! You can go back to sleep as soon as I get you settled, but beds will be much more comfortable than this vehicle, I assure you!"

The family stretched and rubbed their eyes, peering out the windows at the fine, large house. Martha grabbed her bag and keys, bursting out the door and slamming it behind her so she could open the back. Robert slid the side door open, hopping out to help Cora from the front. The others slipped out of the van, going round to assist Martha with their luggage. Once they'd sorted it all out, Martha loaded down with Cora and Robert's own cases, she trotted toward the front door, full of energy and cheer.

"Martha, let me take some of those!" Robert called to her.

"No, no, Robert, I've got them. You help Cora. I know what she's like when she's wakened suddenly. You'll have your hands full." She chuckled and directed Marmaduke to take her keys and open the door for them.

"Mother!"

"Don't deny it, Cora!" Martha threw out behind her, bundling the cases into the house, letting Marmaduke help her only a little.

Once everyone had bundled into the large entryway, Martha turned and addressed them once more, grinning.

"Issi should be gone for a good while yet; I sent him on an errand. But he'll be back for dinner, and then we can all surprise him." She grinned. "In the meantime, all of you can do as you like – our house is yours – but let me first get you settled in your rooms." Turning, she started out of the entryway, the others following her as she spoke to them over her shoulder. "Now, Cora and Robert, I know you usually stay in Cora's old room, but I thought Cora would be more comfortable if she didn't have to worry about the stairs, so I put you both in the downstairs guest room."

Robert laughed. "Martha, Cora goes up and down the stairs at Downton all the time."

"Yes, well, she's on vacation. She shouldn't have to work so hard." Indicating a door with a nod of her head, she preceded the pair into the room, dumping their luggage by the bureau with a smirk. "Alright, you two know the drill, dinner time and everything. See you in a bit." Kissing them each on the cheek and waving away Robert's expression of thanks, she backed out of the room and closed the door.

She gave the rest of them a wide smile.

"The rest of you are upstairs. Follow me!" Martha grabbed one of Rosamund's cases and one of Violet's as they all hoisted their luggage up again. She traipsed up the stairs with the rest of them straggling wearily in her wake. Stopping at a door not far from the top of the staircase and on the right side of the hall, she turned to the four. "Marmaduke and Rosamund, you're in here." Leaving Violet's suitcase on the carpet next to the door, Martha leaned forward to open it for them. "I hope you'll be comfortable. Let me know if you want different pillows or anything. We have a variety in the hall closet."

"I'm sure this will do very well, Martha." Rosamund took the older woman's hand and briefly pressed it, smiling at her. Running her eye over the rest of the room, Rosamund began to laugh. She pointed at a large basket on the coffee table of the small sitting area by the windows. An assortment of objects could be seen over the edge of the basket, and it didn't take many clues for Rosamund to discern what sort of objects they were. "Martha, what do you call that? Party favors?"

Martha raised a brow. "We haven't had a party yet. They're welcome gifts, of course."

She appeared supremely undisturbed by Marmaduke's blush when he bent over the basket to examine the contents. "Good lord," he breathed, blinking hard.

Shrugging, Martha went over to the door. "I'll be downstairs in a bit if either of you need anything."

"Thank you, Martha," Rosamund said, chuckling at her husband's half fascination and half incredulity with the "welcome" basket.

Leaving the two to settle, Martha picked up Violet's suitcase again, and walked the elder Crawleys down the hall. She stopped near the end of the hall, at the next to the last door on the left. Opening it, she ushered Violet and Patrick inside. "Our grandest guest suite for the Empress and Lord Grantham." Martha chortled, her voice teasing.

Patrick made a small bow to her, laughing. "We're honored, Martha."

Violet merely rolled her eyes and put her luggage by the closet door. "Are those pillows extra firm?"

"Yes, Empress," Martha said, rolling her own eyes in return. "You told me at least half a dozen times about them. I'm not likely to forget, am I?"

The other woman gave a little sniff, then, noticing a similar basket of goodies on the top of the dresser, Violet's face wrinkled in evident disdain. "You seem to have had other priorities."

"Violet." Patrick's kept his voice low, but the way he intoned her name contained a note of warning.

"Merely being welcoming, providing my guests – family – with amusement. Use them or not – it's up to you. They're yours either way, and after our visit over Christmas, I figured the two of you may have 'graduated' somewhat." Martha's wink at Patrick made him redden a trifle.

"Well," Violet began, clearing her throat. "Think what you like, Queen of Sheba, even if it's the height of vulgarity to be assuming such things."

Patrick's low cough and cautionary glance came a half a beat ahead of Martha's rejoinder. "Vulgar or not, Empress Violet, it is my profession. And as my family – in whatever strange form that relationship comes – your happiness does concern me. But I'll leave the two of you now to rest. Preprandial drinks are at 6:15 usually, but if you could gather in the library five or ten minutes earlier tonight, I would appreciate it. So we can surprise Issi." She grasped the doorknob, preparing to leave. "Let me know if either of you need anything else."

Violet watched Patrick's determined gesticulating and sighed inwardly. Moving forward a step, she said, "Martha, thank you for the pillows." At another jerk of the head from Patrick toward their hostess, she unbent enough to say, albeit in a stifled voice, "And the room is lovely."

Martha bowed her head in acknowledgment. "I'll see you two later, then." Just as she was about to close the door, she waggled her eyebrows at the pair of them. "Have fun, dears."

Her chuckle echoed in the room after she'd shut the door. Violet sank down into a chair, shaking her head. "She simply cannot help herself, can she, Patrick?"

Patrick laughed lightly, sitting on the chair next to hers and taking her hand to kiss the back of it. "I'm glad she can't, really. It's endlessly amusing."

"You mean annoying," Violet muttered under her breath.

"Whatever you say, darling." Patrick kissed her cheek, grinning. "I'm going to unpack."

Violet waved a hand at him distractedly. "God help us," she murmured, closing her eyes briefly before getting up to unpack as well.


"You need another pillow, sweetheart, under your knees." Robert bustled around the room, looking in the top of the closet where he thought he remembered Martha keeping such things as extra blankets and pillows for them.

"Robert, I need no such thing."

"Cora, please don't say that if you just don't want me to be bothered. I'm not bothered at all, if it means your comfort…." He stared hard at the top shelf, seeing no pillows or blankets, his expression perplexed.

Sighing deeply, and sitting up on her elbows to scowl at the back of his head, she said in a slightly louder and more adamant voice, "I am not saying it so you won't be bothered. I am saying it because I'm perfectly comfortable. And very tired." She bit off the last word, a sure sign of her growing exasperation.

But Robert didn't get the hint. "Cora, I know your mother keeps extra pillows for us somewhere in the room whenever we stay." He continued to furrow his brow, muttering under his breath as he searched the second closet in the room.

With a groan, Cora fell back upon the three pillows he'd already insisted in putting behind her head.

"Did you say something, my dear?" Robert queried, his head now bowed over the bottom drawers of the bureau as he scrounged around in them for the elusive items.

"No, Robert. And even if I did, you wouldn't listen." She shook her head and wrenched one of the offending pillows from the pile she lay upon, finding three excessive and, frankly, uncomfortable.

Looking up at her, his visage a picture of hurt feelings, he shook his head. "That's untrue, Cora. Of course I listen."

"Then why won't you listen to me when I say I don't need all these pillows?" Sighing loudly, she squirmed a bit, wrinkling the bedclothes. "I mean, for fuck's sake, Robert, you won't let up for a minute! I just want to take a nap, and you've decided to be ridiculously overprotective! Do you want me to kick you out of the room?"

The pout remained affixed to Robert's face at this. "I merely wanted to make you comfortable, sweetheart," he replied in a small voice, pushing the bureau drawers neatly and noiselessly shut with the side of his leg. "And I didn't want you to think it would be a bother for me to get things for you."

He appeared so upset, that Cora's expression softened, her voice following suit. "Darling, I know it's not a bother. It never is. You've been nothing but attentive to me since we found out about the pregnancy." She sighed and levered herself up on one of her elbows to look at him more easily. "But right now you're bothering me. I said I'm comfortable enough, and I meant it. You know I will tell you in a minute if I need something more." When he cast his eyes down, studying his hands in embarrassment, she said softly, "In fact, I would like something. And it would make me more comfortable."

His eyes snapped up, and he smiled a half smile at her. "Name it, Cora."

Lifting her hand, she beckoned to him, smiling back at him, then patted the bed beside her. "Climb up here with me? Hold me while I sleep?" she whispered.

Robert exhaled deeply, awash in relief and affection for his wife, his half smile broadening into a wide grin. "That I can do. Most happily, sweetheart."

Leaving his shoes at the foot of the bed, Robert got up on the bed and pulled Cora into his embrace, kissing her brow as her eyes fluttered closed.

"Comfortable enough?" he asked.

"The most comfortable I've been all day," she murmured before yawning and falling straight to sleep, her hand over his heart.


Marmaduke sat in front of the coffee table, extricating items from the gift basket and gaping at them. "It's uncanny how well she can guess what we like." He shook his head, placing yet another sex toy down on the table and extracting a book from the seemingly bottomless basket of goodies.

Pausing in hanging up shirts, Rosamund rested a hand on her hip. "How come I've gotten stuck with the unpacking while you get to do that?" Her lips twitched as Marmaduke's eyes met hers, which let him know that she wasn't really put out at him.

He chuckled. "I never said you had to unpack my things, darling. I can do that later. I'd rather you come over here next to me." Waggling his eyebrows at her, he smirked.

"Oh, I think that will just get us in trouble." She laughed and eased another of his dress shirts onto a hanger.

"'Trouble'? What trouble?" He held up the book. "Besides, Martha believes we've merited the second volume of the 'Advanced' level. Don't you want to come look at it with me?"

The rolling richness of his low laugh and the suggestive look he gave her made delicious chills travel up and down Rosamund's spine. "Hmmm. I'll think about it." She very carefully avoided meeting his gaze but could feel the color rise in her face. The first volume of that particular pair of books had proved incredibly useful and exhilarating to both of them over the preceding six months.

"I hope you're thinking about it." He kept his eyes trained on her, watching her blush spread from her face down her neck and under the collar of her blouse. "Especially since Martha included these." Twitching out one item, he held it up too.

Rosamund's curiosity got the better of her, and her eyes lit upon a set of handcuffs in his hand and the wide grin on his lips. "Fuck," she breathed out.

"Don't you want to try them out?" He flicked a glance over to the clock. "We have plenty of time before we have to get ready." Marmaduke's expression transformed from mischievous expectation to hopeful yearning.

Lowering her lashes for a moment, biting her lip to hide her own grin, she dropped the next shirt back into his suitcase. "Come over here then, you devil," she murmured, throwing a cheeky look at him.

His face all alight once more, he jumped up from the chair and dropped the book back into the basket.

"Don't forget the handcuffs," she remarked with a lift of her eyebrow, her voice replete with mirth.

"Never," Marmaduke replied, crossing the room with a few strides and wrapping his arms around Rosamund. Crushing his lips to hers, he waited for her sigh of contentment and subsequent moan of longing before pressing her down upon the bed. "We'll look at the book later, shall we? For now, we can revisit an old favorite."

"Of course, my devil." She pulled him down and breathed hot air into his ear as she enjoined him, "Make me moan again, Marmaduke."

"All afternoon if you like, my darling." Grinning, he captured her lips again, intent upon doing anything and everything she wanted.


Violet woke from her nap suddenly, unsure what had caused her to do so. Blinking, she looked around the room, rolling her eyes when they rested on the basket on the dresser. In another moment, she figured out what had woken her. Patrick's head rested upon her chest, his arms entwined about her, a smile wreathing his lips even as he slept. Violet could tell he was dreaming – his eyelids jumped with activity, and he let out a loud murmur (surely not the first, and what had made her wake) as he nuzzled his head into her bosom happily.

Glancing at the clock, Violet decided they could lie there for another quarter hour before they would need to get up and change clothes for dinner. She smiled and brushed her fingertips through his somewhat disheveled salt and pepper locks as he dreamed on, his own smile soothing her and breaking her out of her rather surly mood of before. They'd unpacked in near silence; then, before Patrick had finished emptying his suitcases, Violet had settled on the bed, clutching her extra firm pillow, and fallen asleep as soon as she'd shut her eyes.

Patrick must have crawled onto the bed next to her not long afterward, embracing her and resting his head against her, all without waking her. She hadn't realized how ridiculously tired the trip had made her – both of them.

She let out a soft sigh, closing her eyes and resting her head back again, her fingers threading into his hair still. Turning over a myriad things in her mind, she let the sounds Patrick uttered every-so-often and the way he clung to her trump them all. Violet bent her head a little to kiss his hair, her eyes still shut. Then she chuckled softly, remembering that in the one glance she'd taken into the basket Martha had left for them, she'd seen a slim, colorful book tucked among, well, god knows what, she thought. But the book's title had indicated that it was the intermediate level of the book Martha had given her at Christmas. She really does believe we've 'graduated,' Violet thought, grinning.

Then she had to keep herself from thinking other things, since there really wasn't time for any of it. At the moment, at least.

Patrick's face had settled into quiet repose when Violet opened her eyes and gazed at him. After a moment or two, she bent her head once more and kissed his head, his brow, then his cheek. "Wake up," she whispered into his ear.

He murmured quietly and tightened his embrace, letting out a low hum of pleasure at finding his head still on her breast, delightfully surprised that she hadn't pushed him away, but that her fingers were twisted in his hair. "Not yet," he whispered back.

"We'll be late if we don't dress for dinner soon, Patrick." But her voice was soft and she continued to run her fingers through his unruly locks.

"I don't want to move. This is the nicest I've felt since we left Downton." He inhaled deeply, letting the subtle scents of her soap and perfume make him feel even more peaceful.

Her gentle laughter resonated throughout his body. "But we're here because of Isidore. He's your friend, and you don't want to be late to surprise him, do you?"

Sighing, he reluctantly raised his head, opening his eyes to fix them on her face. "No, I don't. He's one of my best mates. But, bloody hell, if he wasn't…." Patrick shook his head, then, in a swift motion, he pulled Violet farther down the bed and kissed her soundly, making her squeak in surprise before she smiled against his lips.

"Later," she whispered after breaking free, a respectable interval having passed. "I promise."

"Well, since you promise…." He kissed her again, unable to help himself. Sometimes Violet showed just how much she was still the adorable, fiery woman he'd fallen for.

He loved that she still could catch him off-guard, could still make him fall for her. And did, every single day.


"Martha?" Marmaduke hissed her name, his face bright red, even though he was relieved he'd finally found her downstairs in one of the sitting rooms, reading a medical journal.

Glancing up, Martha's brows knitted together at his evident anxiousness. "Marmaduke, is there something wrong?"

"Uh, sort of," he admitted, his visage sheepish as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other in the doorway.

"Well, don't be shy, dear – come in." She waved him over and flourished a hand over the place next to her on the sofa.

Although Marmaduke shuffled into the room, he didn't sit next to her. "I need to ask you something," he said in a near whisper. "I, um, well, Rosamund and I, we, um –" His face flushed crimson, and he became completely tongue tied.

"Now, Marmaduke, you're talking to me. Why on earth be embarrassed? Come on, spit it out." She put the journal aside and sat up straighter, wondering if something might be seriously wrong.

Taking a deep breath, he finally looked down at the carpet and blurted out, "We can't find the key to the handcuffs."

Unable to stop herself, Martha let out a loud laugh, then clamped her hand over her mouth, still shaking with amusement. "Oh God. Is she still…?"

Marmaduke raised his eyes and nodded curtly, twisting his hands together fretfully.

Standing, Martha took one of these hands, pressing it warmly and smiling with gentle reassurance. "Stop worrying. They're safety cuffs, Marmaduke. There is a release button on each one. You should have no trouble locating them, now you know they're there."

He let out a long breath, nodding gratefully.

"Now go free Rosamund. You've got maybe an hour until you need to be down here." She patted his cheek in a motherly way, then caught him unawares with a question. "Did you enjoy them?"

Still blushing, Marmaduke grinned. "Very much."

"Go on now," she said, chuckling and waving him away. She watched him hurry through the door and heard him climb the stairs with the noise that came with haste. Shaking her head, she moved to put her journal on the pile of things on her desk, then went upstairs as well, wanting to take a shower before Isidore got back.

There were already so many amusing things to tell her husband later on. Martha couldn't wait to see the mirth in his eyes when she did.