Dearest Cora,

I'm delighted to hear that you've properly settled in and that Robert is finally starting to take care of you. Is Darling Violet being too much? If she is, then do not hesitate to come straight home. I don't care how much it would cost; if you need to get away for a while, you are always welcome home. (And Robert as well of course.)

Harold finished his buisness degree last week and is already working with your Father. He says that he likes it but I think he likes the money and city life a lot more. I'll have to ask your father to keep an eye on him. Of course, we never had that problem with you. You were always such a good little girl. Oh, Cora. I realise that I am never this emotional and it frustrates me to be so out of control at all times but I feel I must tell you something.

Do you know the phrase, "one doesn't recognise what one has, until it is gone?" Well, that's how it feels now. I miss you more than I thought I would and perhaps that makes me a bad mother but it is the truth. Isidore thinks that I was in denial before and didn't want to accept that there is now an ocean between myself and my only daughter. I don't know what to think. Harold won't let me rush his hair and sing to him. He says he's too old now but you always had time for me.

I'm sorry I didn't fight for you as much I wanted to and I know I shouldn't apologise only to make excuses but I feeel that this needs to be said; I didn't want you to go though what I did. I wanted to spare you years of living in squalor only to spend years living amounsgt people who see you as less than dirt. "New Money" was the most polite thing I was ever called nd the thought of my baby girl going through the same thing nearly tore y heart in two. So I shipped you off to England in the hope that you would be accepted quicker with a title. But the horrifying revelation that came to me when it was too late was sickening. I fear I may have just dropped into the deep end with the sharks and you don't know how to swim.

Cora, come home if you ever want to, if you ever need to. Come home someday even you don't want to.

I hope all is well with the Crawley's and life isn't too hard. Christmas is next month so expect a gift! If I have to hire a porter to carry goodies over the Atlantic then I shall do so with pleasure. Your father sends his love and shall write soon but is very busy at the moment.

Be safe,

Momma.

Cora dropped the letter onto the tray which carried her breakfast and looked at the ceiling as if it held all the answers in the universe. She blinked twice and counted backwards from ten. In French. Dix, neuf...

She exhaled slowly and griped the blankets with sweaty palms. She started again. Dix, n-neuf... Damn. Her bottom lip suddenly found itself assaulted by her teeth and her breath became erratic. What is the French for eight? Come on Cora you know this! You're a Levinson! Her lip was released with a 'pop' and her head shot down to look at her wedding ring. She wasn't a Levinson. Not anymore.

The fight against her tears was futile but a valiant effort all the same. The heels of her palms tried to stem the flow but she sobbed aloud when she accidentally hit the bruise on her forehead. A flash of Bricker's wild eyes flashed in front of her. Home, I want to go home! Her hands smelt of the jasmine lotion that her mother always uses and a second sob escaped with far less resistance. Home. She imagined her father admonishing her for being away for so long, she knew exactly what he'd say to her.

"You left me to fend for myself with the red heads, Pumpkin! Save your old father from their never-ending arguing and get me a special coffee." He would wink at her and his mustache would twitch funnily making her laugh.

The sobs were coming frequently know as she half laughed at the thought of her father spiking his coffee with brandy. "Remember this, Cora, it's a family recipie." Another wink. Oh, Poppa, I miss you. I miss coffee! She brought her knees up to her chest and sobbed freely, hugging herself.

This was how her husband found her five minutes later as he opened the main bedroom door to say good morning; she was asleep when he woke up earlier.

"I thought we could go for a- Cora?"

He approached the bed and sat down next to her. Her shoulders were shaking and her face was buried beneath a nest of ebony curls, resting on her knees. Something in Robert pulled at him when he saw her like this but he pushed it aside to be dealt with at a later date. He reached over to place a palm on her back.

"Cora?" He asked hesitantly.

She instantly stiffened beneath his hand and stopped sobbing but light sniffles could still be heard. He foolishly took this as a good sign and began to rub her back slowly. Her muscles tightened further as if burdened by the troubles of the world. For all he knew she was burdened by the troubles of the world, but he didn't understand. Surely he should share some of this burden?

She suddenly sat up sharply, causing his hand to fall and turned away from him. In her haste, she forgot about the wooden tray that was at the bottom of the bed and it crashed to the floor with a foreboding bang. She winced and stood up from the bed, dressed in her white satin night gown and turned her back on him once more.

Robert's hand was now occupying the warm space where she was sitting on the mattress and he blinked repeatedly trying to find the right words. He watched as she took a deep breath and retrieved her robe to put on, which caused his eyebrows to raise. She never put her robe on in the daylight. In their room.

"Get out." She whispered. "Please."

Robert's eyes narrowed in confusion. She sounded so... broken.

"What's wrong?"

His loud voice seemed to startle her as she flinched but he couldn't be sure as he couldn't see her face.

"Nothing."

His eyes narrowed further; her voice was too high. She was lying. he got up from the bed and stepped right behind her, uncaring of the crunching sounds made as he stepped on the delicate china of her breakfast things. The noise of a glass cracking under his large boot made her shoulders flinch again.

"Don't lie to me." His voice was slow and had cruel edge that she had never heard before. But before she could think on it any further, his strong arms had snaked around her waist, pulling her into his chest.

"Don't!" She struggled to get out of his hold and tugged at his hands but he was too strong. "Please, just get out!" She started to cry again when she realised that it was hopeless. She stopped struggling and collapsed back against his chest. As soon as she went still, he turned her expertly and picked her up bridal style. His boots crunched over dried toast and more glass as he walked over to ring the bell for a servant.

"Please stop. Leave me alone." Her voice was a broken whisper again but it did nothing to sway his blank face. He was stone and unfeeling in the face of her desperate pleas.

Her refusal to cooperate and hold onto him made him growl in frustration and annoyance. She was purposely making it difficult to maneuver around the room, but he couldn't let her walk on glass and God knows what else, barefoot. The growl was short but deep and started in his chest. The young woman in his arms shivered and blushed when she realised the cause, but he didn't say anything. He didn't even look at her. He was stone.

Robert made his way over to his dressing room door and awkwardly tried to open it. He growled again when his attempts proved futile and gathered her more securely in his arms. Why does she have to be so bloody difficult? He smothered a smirk and brought his right leg up to do a well aimed front kick near the lock and his leg smashed through the wood.

Cora jumped in his arms and twined her hands around his neck in surprise but not before she saw the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. He did that on purpose.

The heavy door swung on it's hinges and he strode into the small masculine room, placing her gently on the bed. She thought he would try to join her but he turned and closed the door by dragging the chest of drawers near his bedside in front of it. She raised an eyebrow at his brute strength and looked at him incredulously. It looked heavy but he made it look like it weighed less than a book.

She sat up quickly and instantly regretted it. Her head exploded and her vision went blurry but she persisted to sit up. It must have been all the crying. Robert saw her eyes close in what looked like pain and he took a step forward to help her but she sensed his movements and held up a hand for him to stop.

"You should go to sleep." He said in a cool detached tone. Anger bubbled under the surface but he remained blank. All I did was ask her if she was alright right.

"I'm fine." She barked.

"You are not fine! You're hurt and it hurts me that you refuse to talk to me!" His patience had finally snapped and he ran a hand through his hair in a effort to calm himself down. He turned so she couldn't see his face and inhaled slowly.

"I'm not hurt." She said defiantly to his back.

"Not all wounds are physical." He replied in a calmer tone without turning around.

Cora didn't have an answer for that and remained sitting up in his bed. She couldn't just tell him that wanted to go home because he would think that she wanted to leave him. That was the last thing she wanted. This feeling will pass, it's just a bit of homesickness. She longed to reach out and smooth the tension in his shoulders but decided to look at the carpet instead. What a fascinating pattern. Not. She wanted him to sit down next her and wrap her up in his arms and tell her that everything would be alright. But he didn't. She started to cry again.

Robert heard a sniffle and turned around to see his wife crying at the carpet. It wasn't the soul wrenching sobs that it was before but she was still crying. He stepped towards her again with his hands outstretched. He watched as she flinched away from him and his hand curled into a fist in the air between them. She wants me gone; fine. I'm gone. Robert wrenched his body away from her and walked towards the door.

His hand was on the door-handle when her voice called out to him. "Where are you going?" She sounded frantic and he could tell that she was facing him but he didn't turn around.

"I'm going to see Carson." She didn't reply. Ask me to stay Cora, ask me and I will. Her silence was louder than any shout and hung between them with a palpable stench. His hand tightened around the door-handle and he yanked the door open.

"You should get some sleep." He grinded out between his teeth and stalked out of the room, leaving his wife's tear stained face staring after him.

Robert took a deep breath to calm down outside of Carson's room and knocked twice. He didn't wait for an answer before walking in and sitting down on the rickety old chair next to his Valet's bedside. Carson raised his eyebrows and said, "please, do come in."

His voice was croaky and hoarse but had a sarcastic twinge to it and Robert had the honour to look slightly sheepish. The young Lord flinched at the sight of the grotesque, purple hand marks on Carson's neck. It looked like a child had painted their hand and planted it on his neck. Robert sighed and reached over to pass him a glass of water that was on his nightstand.

"You shouldn't be talking."

Carson accepted the glass and took in Robert's form stiffly sitting on the chair next to him. The man's spine was achingly straight; Carson feared that it would snap if Robert continued to sit like that.

"How's Lady Downton?" He handed the glass back to Robert as an excuse to look at his face more closely. His jaw was clenched and he blinked when Carson mentioned his wife.

"She's..." Robert trailed off and looked at Carson. It took three seconds for his facade to crumble and the young Lord crumpled in on himself on the chair. His hands plunged into his hair and started to massage his skull while his elbows rested on his knees. Carson waited patiently and sat more comfortably against the headboard. He had the feeling that it would be a long talk.

"We had our first fight. I think." His voice was muffled and Carson smiled briefly but didn't reply.

"I came into our room to say good morning but she was just crying on our bed. She told me to leave but I didn't and... and we had a fight. Well, we didn't, not really, I mean neither of us shouted or anything, but we weren't exactly being nice to each other either." He leaned up to rub his temples and closed his eyes.

Carson nodded. "Do you know why she was crying?"

Robert shook his head and exhaled slowly. "I thought we were... better than ever. I know that sounds stupid after the events of last evening but we..."

Robert met Carson's eyes briefly before blushing and looking away.

"I know." Carson smiled when Robert startled and looked up.

"You know? Know what, exactly?"

"The maids like to gossip and the one who brought the water mentioned something about the kitchen being in a right state. Something about finding a piece of clothing where it shouldn't be."

Robert blushed and his mouth fell open but no sound came out.

"I guessed it had something to do with you but I had no idea how scandalous your midnight trip to the kitchens would really be. Your face gives too much away, Robert. You could have just told me that you were hungry." Carson grinned.

"I wasn't hungry; she was!"

Carson raised his eyebrows and Robert snapped his mouth shut, knowing he said too much.

"I really didn't want to know that, but thank you for that piece of information."

"You know what I meant." Robert collapsed back against his chair and sighed. "What are we going to do about Rookwood?"

Carson's smile dissolved and his eyes became angry. "I don't know. Bates agreed to stay on for three days because I can't work; obviously. Your mother would have a fit if she saw me. What are we going to tell your parents?" Carson looked as if he just thought of this and paled. Robert rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to tell them the truth, before luncheon, in the library."

Carson nodded slowly, "good luck with that."

Robert snorted and looked at him curiously, "did you say Bates is still here?"

"For the next three days. It was Evan's idea."

"Hmmm, do you think we should involve him?" Robert said, his hands flexing on the arm rests.

"Evans? I don't know, I would say that he's too straight and would probably run to Lord Grantham with all the information we have so far, which isn't much, I might add."

"Well, what do we know?"

Carson took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling, "well, your father was blackmailed by Rookwood for a room for Bricker who was back from Africa. This obviously wasn't the first time he blackmailed Lord Grantham for something. He was then openly hostile to yourself and Lady Downton in London and you were attacked by a homeless man but Bates saved you. Said homeless man was obviously sent by Rookwood after Lady Downton insulted him."

Roebrt nodded and continued to give Carson's voice a break, "enter Simon Bricker, art expert and all-round prat. Together they plan to come to Downton and... what? Steal something? Show me they can hit me where it hurts? And just where did Rookwood get this Alex Smith? He's obviously inexperienced, young and quite frankly a little stupid."

"I don't think they wanted to steal something, looting is all about stealth, and they practically announced their arrival with musical accompianiment. No, I think they wanted to... hardly, but that would mean..." Carson trailed off and began muttering to himself with creased brows.

"Mean what?" Robert asked curiously.

Carson ignored him and answered with another question, "who do you think was running the show last night?"

Robert's eyebrows rose and he began to wonder if Charles had been hit in the head a little too hard. "Rookwood." He finally answered, "it's been him all along."

"Has it?" Carson sat up straighter and looked at Robert with a glint in his eye. "Think about it, Robert. From everything you have told me Rookwood is impulsive, tempremental and doesn't like to get his hands dirty. Hell, he paid some bum fifyt pounds just to 'teach you a lesson'. What if there's someone else, someone higher up than Rookwood that we don't know about."

"You really don't think Rookwood's the alpha?"

"No. If I was the alpha then I would never put myself in the thick of it; I would have Beatas for the dirty work."

"But if that's true, then what is this about? We know Rookwood has had a vendetta against me because of Cora, but why would someone higher up than him care about that?"

"The answer to that is simple; they don't." Carson began to smile and waitd for Robert to catch on. "Think, Robert, if this isn't about you or your wife then who does it have to be about?"

Robert looked at him, the colour draining from his face. "My father?!" Fury reared it's ugly head when Carson nodded and Robrt began to pace, wearing holes in Carson's floorboards and cursing his father's stupidity.

"How could he be so idiotic!? Who continues to antagonise a man who took your whole fortune!?" He suddenly stopped and walked to the door, "I'm going for a walk."

Carson didn't answer but instead reached over to his glass of water and prayed that the young Lord wouldn't do anything stupid.

"Lord Downton?" Evans hailed Robert as he descended the main staircase.

"Yes, Evans."

"Lord Grantham requests your presence in the library."

Robert barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes and flashed a fake smile. "Is he alone?"

"No, my Lord; Lady Grantham, Lady Rosamund and Lady Downton are with him."

Robert nodded and moved towards the library, "thank you Evans."

Cora's head snapped up from her book as Robert strode into the library. His eyes went straight to her and blue met blue. But although Cora's breathing stopped and her heart seemed to have skipped a beat given the way it was beating now; Robert did not once falter in his stride. His face remained passive and his demeanor cool. She was so focused on his eyes from across the room that she did not notice his fist clenching at his side.

"You summoned me, Papa?" Robert stood with his fist clenched behind his back in what appeared to be a gentlemanly pose, and though he spoke to his father, his eyes remained glued to Cora's. She seemed surprised that he was blatantly staring at her and being deliberately discourteous to his father. but she didn't look away. Robert watched her carefully and let his eyes travel languidly down her body. He admired her cheekbones, her neck, her lips and slowly moved his gaze down her arms.

Cora coughed when she realised what he was doing and felt a blush rise from her chest to spread across her neck and face. She could feel the warmth in her cheeks and knew that she was blushing like a fool. How dare he do this to me? How dare he openly view me for his pleasure and cause me this unjust humiliation? Cora watched as his cold blue eyes retraced their steps and saw the slight smirk of his mouth as he noticed her blush. Does it give him satisfaction to make me look a fool!? His eyes glittered as they met hers and suddenly she couldn't do it anymore. Suddenly his cold viewing was too much. She tried to meet his eyes defiantly but quickly became aware that it was a futile effort and gave up. Her face fell and she returned her gaze to the book in her lap.

Robert was impressed that she lasted that long but felt a small stab of disappointment that she gave up on their little game. He was enjoying himself. "I'm sorry, Papa, I wasn't paying attention. What did you say?"

"That much was evident." Lady Grantham's voice was biting and harsh. Robert flicked his eyes over to Cora but she didn't raise her head or respond to the comment, if anything she returned to her book with renewed vigor.

Lord Grantham clutched his brandy glass and spoke to his son through gritted teeth. "I said: would you be so kind as to tell us what happened last night."

"What makes you think that anything happened." Robert spoke nonchanantly trying not to let his anger show through.

Patrick tossed back the remaining amber liquid and slammed the glass on his bureau with a bang.

"Do you think me stupid!?" His voice rang over the library and Rosamund jumped in her place on the settee.

"Of course not, Papa." Robert said sarcastically but secretly taken aback by his father's sudden harshness.

"Naive then! For you must think I am something other than an Earl and respected, intelligent Gentleman. Something very uncouth happened in MY house last night and I want to know what!"

Anger rised in Robert like a wave and so he rised with, getting up from his place on the sofa nd standing in front of his father. "You gave up your right to know anything when you got in bed with a man like Rookwood. He has taken EVERYTHING from us and you're giving him MORE! Do you even realise what the word Gentleman means? Because from where I'm standing I see nothing but a no good criminal!"

"Robert!" His mother shouted at him from where she was sitting and looked about frantically checking to see if any servants were within hearing distance.

"You are the lowest kind of man!" Robert continued, uncaring. "You sell your own son and then continue to play with fire! But I have news for you, Father, you are not the only one getting burned!" He advanced on The Earl and pushed him back so they were now standing away from sofas.

"You want to know what happened last night!? Three men came into my HOME and beat up my wife, my valet and myself! But I still protected you by keeping you in ignorance and not bothering you with my problems. But that's just the thing, they're not my problems, they're YOURS!" Robert pushed his father again but this time Patrick pushed back and they both staggered away.

"I didn't ask you to! I didn't want you involved, Robert! Why couldn't you just leave this alone!?"

"Patrick, stop shouting! Robert, sit down!" Violet tried to interject and stand between but her daughter dragged her back down on the sofa.

"Don't you dare, Mama, this is the most fun I've had in weeks." She hissed and turned back to watch the show in time to catch her brother's reply.

"I wish I did leave this alone and if this was just about me, I'd leave all together and go to America or join the war in Africa! But this isn't just about me!" Robert gestured behind him to where Cora sat with her long forgotten book lying in her lap, upside down.

"My wife's money and future is now forever tied to this estate and I made a vow to protect her. I will not allow you to gamble away her entire fortune like you did with mine!"

"Oh, son, what do I always tell you? Risking life and limb for a piece of tail is never worth it; it'll only break your money or your heart!" Patrick Crawley didn't wait for a reply from his shocked son and strode out of the library. The front door was heard slamming and Cora let out a quiet breath in relief that the man was gone.

Robert was still standing in front of them, looking at the spot where is father had been. He began to turn, intending to go after him and defend his wife's honour, but before he could take two steps, Cora was by his side.

"Let me pass." He grunted at her.

"No." She spoke quietly but firmly and rested a hand on his arm.

Her calm tone startled him and he faced her fully, "Cora?" He asked desperatel, his voice breaking. It was all too much, an unknown boss calling the shots, his father being a willing puppet, Carson being injured, his mother hating Cora... Cora hating him.

He looked at her pleadingly and distantly registered Rosamund and his mother leaving the room. "Are we still angry with each other?" He asked.

She stared up at him with those eyes that seemed to have lights behind them, he never failed to appreciate her beauty when she looked at him like that. And there goes the bottom lip. He thought sadly as he watched her lip disapear between her teeth, a sure sign that she was anxious about something.

He suddenly felt paper being pushed into his hand and he looked at her curiously. She only nodded and gestured towards the... letter. He didn't recognise the writing straight away but soon caught on.

After he read he read it, he looked at her again and slowly gave the letter back. "That's why you were crying?"

She nodded again and looked at him apologetically, "I was homesick."

He laughed lightly and took her into his arms. He knew he should be saying things like; you know you can talk to me, don't scare me like that again or I'm sorry too. But he didn't. He was just so relieved that she was talking to him and letting him hold her again.

She evidently felt the same aand started to pepper kisses all over his face, murmuring sorry every now and again. It wasn't long before he captured her mouth with his lips and they were kissing each other frantically. He reached down to cup her behind and lifted her up to wrap her legs around his waist. Normally this wouldn't have been possible, but that God for American tea gowns.

Her hands were pulling at his brown hair and he replied in full by slightly nipping her lower lip. They had no intentions of everr stopping but were interrupted by a brisk, disaproving cough.

"A-hem."

Cora immediately attempted to unwind her legs from her husband but he wouldn't let her go and instead decided to squeeze and clench her buttocks as he turned his head to face his mother, "yes, Mama?"

Cora tried to muffle he gasps and thanked God that her skirt was flowing and long enough to hide his hands. She hoped.

"I-I wanted to know what's going on." She said clearly taken aback by her son's audacity to maintain a most inapropiate position that left nothing to the imagination while also maintaining eye contact with her. His mother. Violet was suddenly assaulted by images of the American polluting her boy's mind and rutting all over the house. Every piece of furniture was suddenly in jeopardy and frantically tried to think of a way to hide all antique desks and settees.

"Did you?" Robert grinned as he watched his mother turn green, no doubt thinking of them having sex right in the middle of the library. That's not actually a bad idea, he thought wickedly.

"I- no. It's fine. I'll just, ask your father." Violet turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her, leaving her son and the harlot in the library to God knows what.

Their laughter rang in her ears as she walked briskly up the main staircase until everything went suspiciously quiet. She turned around and stared at the closed door wondering what could possibly make a bunch of newlyweds go so suddenly quiet. Brief memories of a Russian Prince and rushed erotic couplings of a past long gone flashed across her mind. Her breath hitched as she remembered quite a few of her own silences and blushed profusely.

Experience told her that it wouldn't be quiet for long and made her way upstairs, deciding to let the young couple to win this round. She had bigger things to worry about. It was quite obvious that her husband was keeping things from her and she decided to make it her mission to fix this issue. She would not allow Patrick Crawley to treat her like a fool or take her for granted. She was The Countess of Grantham and she would make her husband tell her everything.

Bates stood in the boot room with Robert's shoes, he detested the thought of servitude and was sickened by the realisation that it wasn't actually that bad. His duties were light as there were no guests but his mind was still on Alex Smith. He had said that Rookwood had taken his sister, but there were no records of the young Alex having a sister. According to official records that John had sent for by telegram the night before; Alex's dad had died four years ago and his mother hadn't been seen since.

John sighed and wondered who could be ahead of Rookwood in the food chain; Carson had filled him in earlier and now it was all John could think of. Well, mostly all. His thoughts were on a loop of Smith, Rookwood, Vera, alcohol, fighting, Smith, Rookwood, Vera, alcohol, fighting.

It was endless and torturing but there wasn't a chance of sleep. Most of his 'colleagues' had long gone to bed, but something had stopped him. He wasn't able to sleep, not with all of that adrenaline running through his veins. He kept wondering whta Rookwood was doing in the library if Bricker and Smith were on the second floor. There wasn't anything in the library of interest but Lord Grantham's desk, but even then he would have been better off looking in the Earl's private study on the third floor.

Robert's shoe fell to the ground with a bang as John had a realisation. Rookwood was a distraction! Smith's words came back to him slowly but surely; "say, is the family still havin' dinner?"

He needed to know if there would be anyone about to catch himself and Bricker! That's what he was doing! John leaned against the table and furrowed his brow in thought. There's nothing on the second floor but bedrooms and paintings, why would they want to go up there?

John made a mental note to ask Carson if there was anything mysterious on the second floor and put the Viscount's shoes away. He hesitated as he had another realisation; he actually cared. He cared about getting to the bottom of this case, he cared about getting revenge for Carson and he liked this. He liked having things to do.

Bates shrugged off the dangerous sentimentality with a shrug and a grunt. As he blew out the candle he recalled the way Robert froze with fear when Lady Downton screamed. Yes, he decided, sentimentality is definitely dangerous.