Cora wasn't sure how many long seconds had passed in between her last inhalation, but as the pressure in her chest built uncomfortably, she remembered to breath. It always surprised her, how something as intangible as air be so different from place to place. She'd first noticed it stepping off the ship in England, how different the country tasted on her lips than New York, how strangely the scent tickled her nose. There was the usual choking stench of a city but then, underneath, a faint whiff of heather, and as she explored London, the ghostly scent of musty leather, like an ancient book being dislodged from the depths of a hidden library.

Alexandria was no different. The oxygen felt denser, moist instead of the crisp English ether she had so quickly become accustomed to. Frankincense and cinnamon mingled together as Cora breathed in, coating her tongue like a decadent dessert, leaving a nutty aftertaste. Immediately the thick heat, the onslaught of smells, made Cora hunger for water but she couldn't close her mouth, couldn't keep her head inside the carriage as it passed through the crowded, chaotic streets. She would gladly drink in all of this foreign place, gladly succumb to parchment to linger in this spot.

Along the road, children ran barefoot after one another, yelling in their high-pitched voices, words in their native tongue that Cora had no hope of deciphering. Women rushed to their destinations, shrouded in black from head to toe, only their eyes visible between the layers. They held the most fascination for Cora, as they moved in numbers, the fabric from their veils trailing behind them, a great giant dark wave that moved on the desert wind. Peppering the path they traveled, men shouted to the newcomers, holding up trinkets for sale, fruit that looked as exotic as anything Cora had ever seen, as though it had been plucked from the Garden of Eden.

The carriage jerked and bumped its way through the streets, and only after a particularly nasty buckle in the road, when she was thrown half into Robert's lap across from her, did Cora remember her husband's presence. He caught her effortlessly, as though waiting for some accident to befall them and Cora laughed at the stern settlement of Robert's features. He had been waspish since their separation on the ship, and even their safe delivery to Alexandria's shore did not restore his good mood.

Dark thoughts threatened to ground her, tempering the intoxicating effect Egypt was having on her. Thoughts that were never too far away and that all swirled around Robert and how things were between them. But then, like a gust of clarity carried on a sudden breeze, Cora recalled Robert's words from the night before. They may have been laced with drink, they may have been slurred out into the night when he thought she was sleeping, but they had been said nonetheless. He loved her.

And now that he had given voice to her greatest wish, hadn't she realized it for some time now? Her heart had been trying to make her head believe what it had known for months. All of Robert's small gestures: the lingering looks, the growing ease with which he spoke to her, the way he sought to touch her even outside of the bedroom, they had all taken on a quality in which, if she had read it in a novel, would have convinced her that the hero was indeed besotted with the heroine. But her heart had been stubborn, still looking for reasons to disbelieve, still poking at the wounds of their early days together. It wasn't that she hadn't wanted to believe, but that she had wanted it too much.

The truth of it made Cora softer, instantly softer and she was frightened by her own response. For if she thought she had loved Robert before, it was nothing compared to how she felt now that she knew his secret. Her heart needed him with every contraction of its chambers. Her beloved. Her dear, dear husband. Who loved her and whom she adored.

"Cora?" Robert's voice was laced with worry and Cora snapped her thoughts out from within her daydreams, realizing that she still sat half in his lap, half crouched on the floor of the jostling carriage.

"Are you hurt?" Robert demanded, gripping her tightly by the arms and helping her back up into her seat.

Cora shook her head, laughing, her face lighting up with embarrassment. "No, no. I'm perfectly fine. Just stunned."

"Yes," Robert agreed slowly. "This whole place has a sort of shocking effect."

Cora frowned at his response and covered his hand with her own. Robert stared down at their joined digits. "Do you truly hate it?" Cora asked softly.

Robert continued to blink at their hands, the hard edges of his tensed mouth relaxing. He looked up at her, his eyelids lowering and he shook his head. "No," Robert said, a warmth elongating the syllable. "No, of course not."

And though Cora was sure that it was a lie, a lie perpetuated for her benefit, Cora let him tell it, only smiling in return. She let go of his hand, instantly feeling a chill from the loss of him, and settled back into the hard bench of the coach. Inhaling as fully as her corset would allow, Cora blew out her breath and folded her hands on top of one another. She looked across to Robert to find him chewing at his bottom lip, studying her, his eyes shimmering in the shadows of the carriage. He seemed on the verge of saying something, his lips circling around the tip of a word before pressing together, the impulse leaving. He turned his mouth into a grin instead.

"What?" Cora laughed, though her brows dipped together.

Robert waved his hand. "Nothing." A pause, then. "You look lovely, did I tell you that today?"

Cora snorted happily. "No, but thank you."

"Travel suits you." Robert continued.

"I like seeing new places!" Cora exclaimed.

"The explorer's spirit!" Robert's grin faltered and the brief flicker of merriment in his eyes was extinguished. "It's a wonder you don't think me very dull."

Clearing his throat harshly, Robert turned his attention out the window, squinting hard at the passers-by, though Cora doubted he really saw any of it. It all became suddenly clear to her, all of Robert's hesitation the past year, all of the length he packed into the spaces between them. He had been just as terrified as she of rejection, just as untrusting of the overwhelming feelings bubbling under the surface.

"I don't." Cora said firmly. Robert's head whipped back in her direction. "You're the very opposite of dull."

The peaks of Robert's cheeks turned a high pink and some of the smile returned to his face as he jutted his chin toward the world outside of the coach.

"I think we are here."


The hotel porters unloaded their baggage in a silent frenzy, heaving case after case off of the coach and making a neat tower of it along the sidewalk. The masses of people, the gritty roads and static noise of Alexandria's port had given way to a more genteel landscape the deeper they penetrated the city. So much so that as they rounded the main thoroughfare and arrived in front of their hotel, Cora thought it much closer to the villages near Downton than she would have expected. Pretty women, corseted and laced into their finest Worth creations shuffled on the arms of their dapper looking men and finely polished carriages lined up in front of the hotels, ready to bring charges up and down the foreign streets.

Cora put a gloved hand up to the brim of her hat, holding it in place as she looked up behind them. The gold lettering spelling out Grand Hotel Abbat hung above, fastened to the wrought iron atop the porch covered entrance. The limestone facade of the hotel, with it's wide, symmetrical window pairs and rectangular shape reminded her of something she might see on fifth avenue in New York. The bamboo window shades Cora spied through the dusty glass the only disparity she could see from the outside. The false familiarity assuaged some of Cora's increasing nervousness.

Robert, by contrast, had become more silent as they approached the hotel and Cora's own reticence was easily forgotten as she felt the rigid discomfort emanating from him. She wasn't sure what still bothered him, but Cora conceded that it most likely had to do with the prospect of spending untold amounts of time with her parents. She would have to make sure that they had plenty of opportunities to break out on their own adventures.

When all of their trunks had been unloaded and ushered under the awning of the hotel, Cora and Robert were left standing with one another, Mitchell and Jones following the porters to begin the process of unpacking. Cora shuffled a step closer to Robert as they both stared at their fellow travelers entering and exiting the bustling front door. The heat of the day had settled heavily on her and Cora riffled in her clutch, finding her fan and flicking it open with a twist of her wrist. Robert's eyes skittered to her side.

"Are you warm?" He asked before snorting at his own observation. "Of course you are! It must be cooler inside. Let's find our rooms."

Taking her by the elbow before she could reply, Cora let Robert lead her through the lobby. Palm trees and brightly colored mosaics decorated the concierge's desk, which filled the back wall of the entrance way. They passed a larger sitting area, plush sofas and chairs populating the alcove where a number of guests had found a place for relaxation and socializing. Voices competed with one another as chatter spilled out to where they walked and the hard intonations and clipped consonants of one voice in particular tugged at Cora's ear. Glancing over her shoulder, Cora spotted her mother's fiery curls, barely contained under her eschewed hat. Pulling from Robert's hold, Cora rushed in her direction.

It was only then that she realized, all this time, she'd never asked Robert who her parents were traveling with. That it was the Jansens made no large impact other than Cora thought them possibly the worst representation of her mother's friends. Robert would surely come to loathe their company as much as she did.

Cora could feel Robert's approach behind her as he tried to keep up, but she continued moving toward her parents until she was practically towering over them. Martha looked up first, and she sprung from her chair, her smile hesitant at first before blooming into a toothier display. Isadore, who had been explaining some piece of business to Martin Jansen, stopped speaking when he realized no one was paying any attention and he shifted in his seat, his head falling back as he took her in.

"Cora?" Isadore said her name as he shook his head, his eyes bulging wide in disbelief. "What on heaven's name are you doing here?"

"Isadore…" Martha laughed off her father's name as though teasingly admonishing a child, but Cora heard the undercurrent of tension. She looked back and forth between her parents in confusion.

"Martha," Isadore spoke in the low and even tone that usually sent Cora and Harold hiding as children. Her father hardly ever raised his voice, instead it fell deeper, the words becoming razor sharp. Cora shrunk back slightly, bumping into Robert behind her. "What is going on?"

For her part, Martha recovered quickly and raised her palms up, shrugging her shoulders. "The children are obviously on holiday." Martha floated over to them, all smiles and languid gestures. "It's so good to see you dear. And Robert! I hope your voyage was a pleasant one."

Cora let her mother bring her into her arms, automatically pecking her cheek in response, but her eyes stayed on her father. His face was quickly turning a speckled shade of red. Remembering that they were not alone, Isadore stood. He gripped the edge of his jacket and pulled at it savagely, a gesture Cora knew well. The pressure of held back tears built under the bridge of her nose. Robert's hand was at her elbow as Isadore slowly wove through the chairs to where they were. His forced smile was too much like a grimace and Cora glanced away as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She squeezed her eyes shut at the contact, and bowed her head as her father stiffly held his hand out to Robert, hiding the tear that escaped.

Martha moved into Cora's space. "We should let them get settled." Her mother gently extracted her from the middle of the gathering and turned her in the direction of the reception area.

"Why didn't Papa know we were coming?" Cora asked her mother.

Martha made a clucking noise in the back of her throat. "Oh my dear, he's just being Isadore! He's thrilled you are here!"

"Mother-".

"Robert," Martha raised her voice over Cora's as she looked back at her son in law. "You should get Cora up and change. We'll have tea in the courtyard at half past four and she looks peaked. A nice rest will do everyone good."

Martha flashed a wide grin at both of them before turning in a whirl of skirts and walking back to the others. Cora saw that her father had his eyes on them. His expression was restrained, unreadable and Cora felt the tears spring up again. Where was her papa, who would snatch her up in his long arms after a day's work, the stubble of his cheek brushing against hers as he kissed her in greeting? Had she outgrown his affection? Did her absence make him forget how he had loved her?

"Cora?" Robert asked carefully after the seconds of silence had stretched out. "Come, darling."

Cora nodded her head, smiling weakly up at Robert. His eyes caressed her face with concern and while Robert's care had her dizzy with happiness, her father's rebuff spoiled it. It didn't seem fair that she had to give one of them up to have the other, either her father's affection or Robert's. In that moment Cora felt a finite split from her former life. Cora Levinson had finally, irrevocably, taken her last breath. She was now, completely, the Viscountess Downton. Robert was her family and he would be all that she needed.