I can't. I can't. I can't. Robert's words echoed in the empty room as Cora laid in the curtain-induced darkness. They made her sick to her stomach. I can't.

"Oh, God," Cora groaned as a wave of nausea took over her body. She hadn't slept a wink. She rolled to her stomach, hung her head over the side of the bed, and stared as the curled ends of her hair swayed the tiniest bit until they stilled. She knew she was going to be sick.

She had tried, and failed, to lure her husband into her bed. No, that wasn't right. She had lured her husband into her bed, but he had refused to stay. And why? She didn't have to rack her mind to know why. She knew. It was the reason she was sick, really. Embarrassment washed up with the next wave of nausea and she hung her head even lower. She wished she could undo what she had done; she wished she could turn back the clock to before dinner…but, then again, would that have really changed the way the evening ended?

Cora silenced her thoughts and heard the clock on the mantle tick through the early morning hours. She lifted her head slowly and focused on a spot on the bedside table near her. No, in all likelihood, the evening wouldn't have ended any differently. Robert would have left. She'd still be here, lying alone in this room, untouched and uncared for by her husband.

Ding Ding Ding… six o'clock now; only two more hours until she would need to be presentable. Evaluating the sickness lurking in her belly, she carefully rolled to her back and lay quietly. She tried to stop her nagging memory in hopes that she'd begin to feel better and get some sleep, but all efforts were for naught. His words from last night and the look in his eyes as he had searched her own were all too clear.

Cora breathed in deeply and shook her head very slightly. She wanted to sleep. If she slept she may feel better. Hopefully.

"Good morning, milady!" Emma, her maid, greeted briskly as she pulled the curtains back, allowing sharp swords of the sun's rays into the room.

Cora squeezed her eyes tightly and complained, "Too bright."

"Are you ill, milady?" her maid looked at her with a worried expression.

Cora opened one eye and paused for a moment. There was no more nausea, but her head pounded and throbbed. "Water, please?" she requested hoarsely.

Emma brought her a glass and Cora sat up and sipped gratefully.

"What's for breakfast this morning, Emma?" she asked setting the glass on the bedside table. Perhaps some toast and coffee, albeit British, would help her head.

"Oh, but, milady, don't you remember? You're to meet Lord Downton for breakfast. You're going out sight-seeing today."

Cora let her head fall back and she scrunched her face. "No," she grumbled, much like a child being made to study her lessons. She fell limply to her side and continued her complaints into her pillow. "Oh, Emma. I want to go home."

Her young maid sat on the edge of her bed and touched Cora's arm compassionately. "We'll be back at Downton soon, milady. Soon enough."

Cora opened her eyes at the name of "Downton" and realized that her maid didn't know what she had meant. Cora didn't want to go back to Downton. She wanted to go home. Her home. She wanted to feel the warm, salty breeze on the veranda of her summer home in Newport, it whipping through her hair that she'd worn down her back. She wanted to sit in the white rocking chair there with her friend, Margaret, and watch the sailboats on the water, all boasting a fluttering Star-Spangled Banner. She wanted bacon, real bacon, the thin, crispy pieces that accompanied her dark, rich coffee, and her very large, fluffy pancakes.

Of course, she wouldn't have those things now. Not anymore. Her home was to be cold, windy, and surrounded by fields and rolling hills as far as she could see. It was lovely, of course, but the goal of this arrangement wasn't simply to move somewhere lovely. It was to be accepted. The stain of "new money" back at home was indelible; for a time it seemed like here may be different – Robert and his society had accepted her. However, she had been mistaken. Her money had been accepted, but apparently she had not.

So, an hour later, when Cora climbed into the open carriage and met Robert for the first time that morning, for he had eaten without her, she felt hollow, like the coastal gusts were whipping right through her and numbing her.

The pair, with their driver, trotted through towns, and alongside rocky beaches, and then overwhelming cliffs. It looked unreal; the way the sapphire water juxtaposed the tall, gray earth was undoubtedly beautiful, but Cora's spirit did not feel enlightened by it.

She sensed Robert stirring next to her and she knew he'd speak soon. She wished he wouldn't. She was content to sit here in silence. She didn't want to talk about last night.

"How did you sleep?" he asked delicately.

Cora kept her focus on the view. "Fine," she lied.

He looked around a bit, awkwardly. The silence between them was louder and more uncomfortable than she'd ever noticed it to be before, but it was better than talking. Please, no more talking.

"You'd had a bit to drink," he added.

Cora's face caught fire and the urge to jump out of the carriage and bury her head into the ground was nearly impossible to resist. She wouldn't respond to that. She couldn't. She was ashamed of her behavior.

"I was worried," he then conceded quietly.

Cora heard and furrowed her brows. "Were you?" her tone was dangerously flat.

"I was."

This time, however, instead of embarrassment she felt something new, something stiffer, something more biting. She felt anger. It swelled and swelled inside her chest and she found herself gripping her skirt and shaking her head.

"Don't do that," she warned.

"What?" Robert looked confused.

"Mock me." Cora was shaking.

Robert looked around again and seemed to be absolutely flabbergasted. "How, pray tell, have I mocked you?"

For the first time that day, Cora looked at Robert. Her eyes were piercing and cold. "If you were really worried about me, you wouldn't have left." She looked away again hurriedly.

Robert, seeming to become angry himself, leaned toward Cora, "You know exactly why I left."

Cora pushed out a breath and whipped her face to his. "I doubt it."

"I was trying to be honorable."

"Honorable?" she spat.

"I didn't want to take advantage of you!" His expression was severe and his eyes were stern.

Cora leaned in closely and looked into his eyes.

"You already have," she seethed and sat back, crossing her arms in front of her.

Robert was stunned and quiet, also sitting back and taking in deep breaths next to her.

"You knew what this was," he continued after a moment. The tone of his voice was very matter-of-fact. The sharpness of his earlier words had been dulled considerably. "I never gave you any inclination of any feelings more than those of friendship. I want you to be comfortable and I want you to feel appreciated. For you are. You are very much appreciated. But there's something that I want you to remember," he paused here and looked at the profile of Cora's face. "I'm not the only one who has taken advantage of someone."

As Robert looked away, Cora looked down, guilt now quickly filling the hollowness that she felt earlier. Her arms remained crossed in front of her, but now instead of a defensive shield, she held herself, hugging her stomach that now felt so heavy. Although Robert did not sincerely mean to hurt her, and all he said was true, she had never heard him speak of his feelings for her, or rather, lack thereof. It hurt, but she was grateful for it. Robert was right, of course. He was good to her and she had, indeed, married him for reasons beyond emotion. But the fact of the matter was, there was emotion on her part. She was in love and no matter how she tried, or how paradoxical it seemed, she was falling more deeply in love with him even now.

They sat in the silence that Cora had longed for earlier, then, the horse trotting along in the sunshine, the driver dutifully pretending as if he had heard none of their argument, and the sapphire water sparkling the same way it did as Cora had gazed upon it moments ago.

As they stopped for luncheon, both Cora and Robert sat in the carriage minutes longer than they needed to, even after the horse had been tied to a post. Robert had nodded to their driver and watched him walk away.

"Are you alright?" Robert's voice came unexpectedly.

Cora couldn't bring herself to look at him, for fear she may cry, and instead she answered a meek, "Yes," and waited for him to continue.

She heard Robert swear under his breath as he sighed heavily. She peered up at him and then back down again. "I'm not very good at expressing myself…appropriately."

Cora looked at him. He was concentrating on his hands, his thumbs rubbing one another nervously.

"Nor am I very adept at deciphering some of the emotions of my female relations." This last confession seemed to be a struggle for him to say. Cora hated to admit it, but she knew she had been a little more than contrary this past week, which wasn't truly in her nature.

"I think I'm a little to blame for that," Cora owned, giving Robert a guilty look. "It's just, I'm afraid I was so accustomed to the attention I received while we were courting, that I only assumed…well, that I'd be receiving the same amount of affection."

"Oh. I didn't know. I…I feel a little foolish. You see, I wanted to give you more attention as well as…visit…you, but I assumed you'd want your space to get…settled, as it were," Robert eyed Cora with an expression of both confusion and relief.

"It appears we've been at cross-purposes," Cora laughed a small laugh and Robert mimicked her response.

"Yes, it does."

They sat quietly, enjoying comfort as the reward of their successful quarrel.

"You look very nice today, Cora," Robert complimented, holding out his hand to her and giving her a warm grin.

Cora took his hand and held it. Looking into his eyes she couldn't help but to return the grin and blush. "Thank you, Robert."