"Where is SHE!?" Alex yelled as Rookwood pushed him into a small, stone room in the man's tonwhouse's attic.

"I told you, Alex, we still need you. So you can stay here and have your food; or don't, I really don't care and then you can stare at the wall until I bring your dinner. Then what are you going to do? That's right, Champ; you're going to stare at the wall until we need you again." Rookwood grinned nastily and shoved Alex again, causing the teen to fall and land awkwardly on his wrist.

"I want to see her!" He sobbed at his tormentor.

"And I want a big house and a different woman for every day of the week. Oh, wait," Rookwood walked towards the door and grabbed the handle, "I already have those things."

Alex had no reply other than to look at his captor with eyes full of tears that he refused to let fall.

"Oh cheer up, Champ!" Rookwood cried exasperatedly. "Look, if it makes you feel better, I promise to keep her entertained. We'll have loads of fun!" He chuckled.

"Don't you touch her!" Panic flared in the boy as he watched Rookwood close the door.

Paul stepped into the dimly lit hallway beyond the door and shouted one last taunt before leaving Alex in solitude once again, "and stop shouting so much, there's a child around here who needs her sleep!"

Rookwood left the blonde teenager in the small, stone room in his attic sobbing quietly and jogged down the stairs. Bricker was already waiting for him in the drawing-room and he smiled condescendingly. "Oh good, you're here."

"Of course I'm here. Your note said, 'be here or I'll break your arms.' Bricker smiled back and sat down, helping himself to the brandy next to him.

"How's your nose?" Rookwood asked smoothly and took a glass for himself as well.

"Very funny, I applaud your humorous abilities. Now can we get down to buisness?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely... this is Cecil Rhodes. He's American." Rookwood handed Bricker a newspaper and watched as he looked at the small photo of aan old man with a large white moustache on the front page.

"Which tells me all I need to know, really."

"Naturally," Rookwood agreed while taking out a cigar and lighting up. "He is very interested in what we have to offer but unfortunatey for Cecil, he has inadvertently put a spanner in our plans."

"How so?"

"He pushed back a ball that was supposed to be happening last Saturday, thus pushing our buisness back a week as well."

"Why was the ball so important?" aked Bricker, placing the newspaper on a small coffee table in front of them.

"Potential clients. There's so much product at the moment that we coud real do shipping it out, but it's hard to meet clients who can afford it."

"Seeing as most of them who can afford it would never touch something this illegal."

Rookwood nodded and continued puffing on his cigar, "I was going to get Grantham invited so that he could point out men who would be the most likely to buy." He trailed off and took another tobacco filled breath.

"But?" Bricker coaxed.

"But now I want them all there." He said absently.

"All? You mean Lord and Lady Downton as well?" He asked darkly.

"Yes, and the red-headed bairn. Which is where you come in."

"Me?" He asked increduosly.

"Yes, I need you to convince Rhodes to hold the ball this weekend." Rookwood paused and looked at the man in front of him with a meaningful look.

"You mean...?"

"Yes."

Bricker sat back and waved his hand nonchalantly, "I don't do that anymore."

"You do if I tell you to."

"Why? If you're not even calling the shots then why do I have to do what you say?!" Bricker exploded and stood up from his chair. He was soon followed by Rookwood and suddenly had the man's finger in his face.

"Listen here, Simon. I DO call the shots. You DO have to do what I say and you WILL get that ball to go aheadi on Saturday. Whatever it takes!" His face was red and his breath stank causing Bricker to stumble back out of his reach.

A shrill cry was suddenly heard from an upstairs bedroom and Rookwood's anger was quickly replaced by tiredness. "She keeps doing that." He whinged.

"Doing what?" Bricker asked hesitantly, wary of the unstable man in front of him.

"Crying. I can't get her to stop crying." He turned around and reached for his drink once again.

"She wants her brother..."

"Well she can't have him!" Rookwood snapped.

"Look, Paul, we don't need the kid anymore, just give him his little sister back and let them both go," Bricker said, trying to placate everyone involved.

"Who's side are you on?!" He shouted curtly.

"Yours. I just thought that, after what happened with your si-"

"GET OUT!" Rookwood exploded and threw the glass against the far wall where it shattered. "OUT!"

Simon turned and rushed quickly from the room, secretly vowing to never bring up Paul's dead sister again.

"What are you doing today?" Robert asked Cora with his head on her stomach and her fingers in his hair.

This was the most informal that Cora could ever remember them being. Usually, after a round of morning sex he would kiss her goodbye and leave. But this time he stayed and lay against her body, keeping her warm. His voice was still rough from sleeping and she couldn't resist the urge to kissing his lips lightly.

"Hmm, nothing of huge importance; I must sort out the trunk that mother sent over with the remainder of my clothes. I might go for a walk." She leaned back against her pillows and closed her eyes, enjoying his touch. "What about you?"

"I have to see the farmers after breakfast." He sounded upset and she wondered if he was suposed to be doing that or if he was just doing his father's work. Again.

"You don't like the farmers?"

"Au contraire, I'm very fond of the farmers."

"Then why are you so downhearted at the prospect of seeing them?"

Cora's hand fell from his hair as he moved to sit up over her, their faces parrallel.

"Because it means leaving you," he whispered.

Cora looked into his blue eyes and found genuine emotion hidden there. The room was silent as her throat dried and her mind scrambeled for a quick reply; but none was forthcoming. She suddenly felt very vulnerable lying beneath his warm body wearing nothing but a blush and raw feelings.

"I also detest the thought of calling Watson to get dressed." He said with a grin, obviously not thinking twice about saying anything so sentimental.

She attempted a smile and reached up to pace a small kiss at the side of his mouth. "When is Carson better?" She asked, desperate for a change of subject.

"The doctor said that he should be fit for work in a week, so I'd give his patience another two days until he's back and rearing to go."

She chuckled and wrapped her arms around his broad back, draggaing his body closer to hers. "What time is it?"

He groaned and buried his face against her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair. "I don't want to know."

"Won't they miss you at breakfast?" She chuckled.

"Probably." He kissed her neck and whispered lightly, "but I don't care."

"Well, I do." She kissed his cheek and slipped out from under his body.

"Noooo." Robert moaned boyishly and reached lazily out to her as she got out of bed from his side.

Cora put on her dressing gown and walked around the bed to her side and sat next to him. She laughed as he buried his face into her pillow and moaned. "You're acting like a child; unwilling to go to morning lessons."

"I enjoy acting like a child." He mumbled.

"I can see that." She laughed and brushed a lock of his hair behind his ear.

"Come back to bed," he pleaded with her.

"I can't, I must have things to do this morning and you are expected at breakfast."

"You wound me with rejection," he joked and pulled back the covers to get out of bed.

"Will I see after your breakfast or must you go straight to the fondly thought of farmers?"

"I'm afraid I must leave straight away. What will you do?" He asked while putting on his own dressing gown.

"I might take a walk before tackling the trunk; I haven't seen much of the village yet." She walked with him to his dressing room door and wrapped her arms around his neck, "hurry back."

"Always. Don't go to the village without Rosamund." He smiled and bent his head to kiss her before stepping into his dressing room and closing the door.

Cora took a deep breath, his words from earlier coming back to her, he didn't want to leave her side. She squashed the rising hope for his love quickly and walked over to ring the bell. It was in stressful times like these when she missed hot baths.

"Bates! What are you doing here?" Robert asked when he answered the door to his dressing room.

"Mr Watson was busy with something for Mr Evans and asked me to look after you." He stood awkwardly in the doorway as the silence stretched between them and they both realised that they felt uncomfortable with the prospect of John being his valet. "Well, can I come in?" He asked.

"Of course." Robert stepped aside and allowed John to walk in.

"The bed's made." Bates noticed, confused.

"Ah, yes, well, I am married," replied Robert somewhat defensively.

"I thought it was scandalous for aristocratic married couples to actually sleep together."

"It is," Robert winced.

"Oh." John stared at Robert for a moment longer. "Oh... I see."

"See what, exactly?" Robert asked and turned around, preparing to take off his dressing gown.

"Nothing, it's just that I didn't know you married for love."

Robert whipped around and glared at John. "What?" He demanded.

"Well, it's obvious how you feel about each other. Say, is it true that the both of you have, you know, in every room of the house?" John asked bluntly while looking in Robert's closet for an outift to lay out.

"Because a maid told me that you were seen emerging from the kitchen together by the kitchen maid at an ungodly hour. And looking quite flushed too!" He laughed laid a suit on the bed, then turned to some drawers for shoes. He never noticed Robert's face getting gradually paler.

"And of course there's the rumour that Lady Grantham walked in on you two at it in the library yesterday!" John finally looked at his friend and his tone instantly changed from mocking to concern. "Robert?"

He led the young Lord to sit at the edge of the bed. "You feeling okay, Downton?" He asked.

"I told you to call me Robert," the young Lord replied in a quite breath.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

"Love?" Robert squeeked.

John was taken aback for a minute until the pieces fell together in his mind, "it wasn't a love match?"

Robert shook his head and looked at Bates. "I don't love her. I can't; my father robbed her blind."

John sighed and kneeled in front him, "Robert, trust me, I've seen a marriage that included love and one that didn't. Yours very much resembels the former." John looked at his friend's stricken face and muttered, "but I don't think you're ready to except that yet."

"Why?" Robert asked.

"Becasue you're the most stubborn man I've ever had the misfortune to meet," John relpied with a smile. "Don't push this. If you love her or come to love her then that's not a bad thing. In fact, it's a blessing. Do not deny yourself love, Robert."

Robert nodded and stood up muttering, "thank you, John."

"You're welcome. Now man up and get dressed! Carson will kill me if I let you go soft in his absence."

Cora took a deep breath in and walked through the main street of Downton Village. When she asked Rosamund if she had wanted to go for a walk, her sister in law had scoffed and flatly refused the offer. Cora wisely didn't take the rebuff to heart and set off straight away.

She looked around at everyone going about their daily buisness. People were sitting on benches, riding on bikes and opening their shops for the day. She walked past a bakery and was hit by a smell of the morning's fresh bread, ready to sell.

The further she walked, the more she noticed. It was a small village with the church as it's largest building. A building was in the process of being built to her right, a bit in front of the post office but she couldn't make out what it was. There was also people staring at her. Women to be exact.

They were across the street talking until one of them caught sight of her, pointed and now they were suspiciously silent, staring at her shamelessly. She was begining to feel uncomfortable under their scrutiny and rushed into a small shop ahead of her.

As the door closed behind her a bell rang out, she looked around and realised that the shop was larger in the inside with big isles stretching toward the back of the shop. Each isle was holding an assortment of fruit and veg, creating a collage of colour.

She walked up one of the fruit isles and started to look at the apples. She remebered when her father would take her for strolls in the orchard near their house in New Port and use his pocket knife to cut her slices of the apple that they picked together. She smiled and reached out for one but suddenly realised that she had no money with her. Even to buy an apple.

"They won't bite, you know?"

She jumped as a masculine voice interrupted her reverie and she turned to see a young man, a bit older looking than herself, in an apron standing a few feet away from her. "I beg your pardon?" She asked, confused.

"The apples. It looked like you were going to take one but then yanked your hand away. They wont bite." He smiled charmingly and his clear light blue eyes twinkled with mirth. This was the first friendly face she had seen since visiting the village and she smiled back.

"I know, I was just... thinking." She replied.

"May I ask what about?" He smiled and stepped closer.

"My father." She didn't know why she was answering his question but it felt good to have a conversation with someone who was friendly and didn't follow every sentence with 'my Lady'.

She took his shocked silence as an opportunity to study his features and noticed that he was quite handsome. He was of average height with clear blue eyes and short cropped light brown hair and a stocky build. The white shirt he wore under the apron did nothing to hide the large biceps and shoulders that he sported.

He nodded and said, "I don't have much of an ear for things like this, so forgive me but, are you American?" The question, that she had heard so often within the past year was, for once, not spoken with mallice and cruelty, but curiosity.

"Yes, I'm from Cincinnati. That's in -"

"- Ohio, I know." He interrupted. "I've always wanted to go to America, but I couldn't leave my dad." He looked around the shop wistfully and turned back to Cora when she asked, "this is your father's shop?"

"Yes," he answered politely. "He's at my sister's house at the moment so I'm filling in for 'im until 'e returns."

"So, you don't work here?" She asked.

"No," he laughed. "I work at the station down the road. 'Ave to be back in a 'alf hour actually, whether father returns or not."

"The train station?" She bristled when he laughed at her question.

"Ha! No, the police station. I was just recruited." He smiled at her again when he stopped laughing, "you really 'aven't been here long, 'ave you?"

"More than half a year, actually." She replied tersely, including her time spent in London just to prove him wrong.

"Half a year!?" He exclaimed. "That's a rather long holiday!"

"Oh, I'm not on holiday. I married an Englishman," she explained quickly.

He nodded his head and narrowed his eyes in thought, "but the only man I know of who has married lately is..." his face paled and he looked at her with new eyes. He was giving her the same look that the women outside gave her earlier.

"F-forgive me, m'Lady." He stammered, "I didn't know it was you. I've been away, you see, training in London."

"That's quite alright, I don't mind you speaking to me freely, in fact I welcome it. It was such a lovely change from the stilted politeness I've gotten used to!" She meant it as a joke and chuckled at it herself, but the man in front of her took her words to heart and felt a pang of pity.

"Still, I apologise for forgeting meself. Where are my manners?! Officer Henry Willis, at your service m'Lady."

"Cora Lev- Crawley. Cora Crawl- Oh, no! I'm supposed to introduce myself with the title, aren't I?! Oh, God, I'm very sorry Officer Willis. Can we just start again?"

He smiled and nodded politely.

"Good, okay." She smiled and stuck out her hand, "Lady Downton."

Henry smiled and took her hand in his much larger one, turning it and bending over to place a kiss on the back of her hand. "Pleased to meet you, Lady Downton."

Cora beamed and stepped back. "I'm very sorry to take up so much of your time, Officer Willis. I really must continue on my walk around the village."

"You're by yourself?" He asked increduously.

"Well, yes. Why does that matter?" She asked innocently.

"It doesn't, not really. I'm just surprised is all. Tisn't everyday a Lady walks into the village without 'er husband."

Cora instantly felt panic and wondered if she had broken some unspoken English rule. Maybe that was why Robert told her to take Rosamund.

"Yes, well I must be getting back to him. It was lovely to meet you, Officer Willis." She said backing out the door.

"The pleasure was mine, Lady Downton!" He yelled at her quickly retreating back.

Cora pushed the door, causing the bell to ring once more and stepped out onto the busy street. The group of women were gone but the population seemed to have doubled since she was last on the street and stumbled trying get ahead of the crowd. Suddenly she heard her name being called and turned in relief.

"Cora!" Robert called towards his wife and saw the relief in her eyes. "Where's Rosamund?" He asked, offering his arm.

"She's not here," Cora answered simply and put her arm through his.

"You came by yourself?" He asked, surprised.

"Yes." She replied hesitantly. This was it. This was when he yelled at her for being a stupid American and not knowing anything about England. Well she wouldn't take that. How was she supposed to know all of these stupid rules?

"And did you enjoy yourself?"

"Now Robert, It's no- what?" She asked surprised.

"Did you enjoy it? I know it would have been better if you had a guide but I hope it was still enjoyable."

"Oh, yes. It was very enjoyable." She sighed in relief and quickly change the subject. "What are they building over there?" She asked as they past the site by the post office.

"My father had plans to have a hospital comissioned for nearly two years already. The proposal was finally accepted and building commenced about four months ago." His voice was strained as he talked of his father and she tightened the grip on his arm.

"How are you feeling? In terms of your father?"

He looked down as they walked and it took a while before he finally answered, "do you remember when you first found out that Santa Claus wasn't real?"

She was surprised by this at first but thought that he must have had a reason for asking it and quickly replied, "very well; I was eleven and my mother declared me too old to believe in a joly magical man dressed in red any longer. It crushed me."

He nodded, "Rosamund told me when I was nine. It was quite cruel actually. I cried." Cora chuckled under her breath and waited for him to continue.

"That's how I feel now. My Papa was never a family man and always had a bad side, but he was still my father. He was still the person I looked up to and aspired to be; no matter what. That's all changed now. I've found out that he never had honourable intentions." He looked down at her and smiled sadly.

"I feel crushed because now I know he was never a joly, magical man. I feel like I lost my father."

They had started on the path that led to downton, leaving the village behind and Cora was grateful for the lack of people. "I can't imagine, but I want you to know that I'm here for you."

He nodded his thanks and continued to walk in silence for another quarter mile until she spoke again.

"How were the farmers?"

"Ship shape, as usual. Although one chap did have an idea about crop rotation. It would put back one field a year but the idea had merit." His voice sounded light and casual. In Cora's opinion, it was a big improvement upon his earlier tone of despair.

"Well I hope it works out for you. I'm afraid I didn't see much of the village, today. Perhaps you can take me again tomorrow."

Robert smirked slyly and stopped walking. He suddenly turned and grabbed her, pulling her against his lean body.

"I can take you any time you like." He whispered huskily; his voice heavy with sexual innuendo.

But instead of his deep voice going straight to her core, like it usually did, his sudden change in demeanour caused her to laugh out loud in a most unattractive way.

She looked back up to his face only to guffaw loudly once again, much to her husband's surprise. He winced and weakly said, "I'm trying to seduce you, Cora."

"I know," she said between laughs and placed her hands on his shoulders for balance.

"You're making it very difficult," he said with a smile.

"I know," she replied breathlessly. "I'm sorry." She tucked her lips between her teeth in an effort to maintain a straight face and lost the battle when she erupted in more laughter.

Robert smiled at her beaming face and stepped back. "Apology not accepted." He bent at the waist and grabbed her legs, throwing her body over his right shoulder.

"Robert!" She shrieked loudly.

His arms locked her in place as he strode forward on the deserted road. "Now, Mrs Crawley, I believe you have been very disrespectful towards me." He laughed as she shrieked again and spun in a circle, spinning her around.

"Robert!" It felt good to hear his laughter but she would rather hear it when she wasn't dangling down his back.

"Apologise, Cora, it's the only way to achieve balance!" He said while slowly spinning in another circle and grappled his back for some semblance of support.

"I'm sorry. Now put me down!"

"I'm afraid that wasn't very convincing!" He laughed and started to run ahead but he suddenly got an idea and turned swiftly to the right. On either side of the road was a dense wood through which Robert was walking in now. He put her down when they were hidden from the road by the trees and pushed her against one of the trees. She gasped but didn't have time to protest before his lips were on hers.

His kiss was hard and hot but over quickly and left her wanting more. "Im going to have to punish you now." He whisered across her swollen lips. This time, his deep voice was successful in causing her stomach to fill with butterflies. A sharp sting of arousal when straight to her core and the back of her head hit the tree behind her as she archedd into his touch.

He suddenly kneeled in front of her and trailed his hands up her legs, dragging her dress with him as he went. Her petticoat was made up thin material, for which he was eternally grateful, but his hopes were dashed as he saw a slip covering her body and more undergarments beneath that.

Not a man to be deterred, he lightly traced patterns on her skin over the silky cloth while looking for something particular. He smiled in triumph as he saw a small tear in the seam and surprised her by grabbing both sides and ripping it in two.

"Robert!" Cora protested. "What are you d-" Her voice was broken by cold air hitting her most intimate place and she quickly realised that her husband had removed her undergarments. She was about to scream in protest again when his lips caused her to scream in an entirely different way. He had kissed her thigh.

Robert continued to trail his large palms over her smooth legs and place light kisses over her tightly locked thighs. He felt her begin to relax and could smell her arousal clearly. He took advantage of her ungaurded postion and lighty grabbed her right leg to bring it over his left shoulder.

"You might want to hold onto something," he muttered huskily against her skin and she didnt have time to gasp or ask what she could she possibly hold onto before his mouth descended on her.

With one of her legs thrown over his shoulder, her hips were elevated in such a way that he had unique access to her; and he took complete advantage of that fact. His lips lightly kissed and suckled each of her inner folds before moving up and roughly sucking the red bundle of nerves into his mouth. Her cry of arousal sent a throb to his already half erect member but he ignored it resolutely and moved his hand from its place on her leg to her inner thigh.

The back of Cora's head hit the tree again when he stopped sucking on her throbbing clitoris and licked her completely with the flat of his tongue. There was nothing to hold onto. No branch or neighbouring tree and she decided that this obscure form of torture really was punishment. She couldn't even grasp his hair as he moved beneath her dress. So she did the next best thing; when his hand moved from her leg and his fingers started to trace ever so lightly along the outside of her centre, she arched beneath his touch and dragged his body even closer using the leg over his shoulder. She had to go on tiptoes with her left foot and nearly went off balance but it was worth it to feel his index finger move slightly inside her for a second.

"Minx." His muffled voice came from beneath her dress but her sense of victory was short lived as he began to suck and lick her with more tenacity than before.

She tasted hot and sweet like warm honey with a trace of salt; and it made Robert wild. He soon forgot about teasing her began to piston his fingers in and out of her while swilring the the rough pad of his tongue around her inner labia, but avoided the little ball of nerves that he knew would be throbbing for attention by now. She tensed and pulled him in again, using her leg once more, crying out with his name falling from her lips like a prayer.

He decided to put her out of her misery; and his because he was no longer merely half erect but starining against the closure in his trousers. He curled his fingers inside her, caressing her pulsing walls and took her into his mouth, licking the small bundle of nerves with his tongue. He felt her her tense again and gasp with pleasure before coming undone beneath his tongue and sceaming his name.

"Robert!" Pleasure and relief crashed into her, suddenly the world was brighter and smells were clearer. She was fully aware that she was in the middle of a wood with her husband, the Viscount Downton, cleaning her spilled juices with his tongue. However, she couldn't bring herself to care. Her slip was ruined and she was dreading having to come up with an excuse to say to Donovan about the wrecked material, but she really didn't care about that either.

Robert stood up from the floor after fixing her undergarments for her and placed her trembling leg back on solid ground. Her body was slumped against the rough bark of the tree behind her and her eyes were closed. His arousal was still throbbing and the perfect panting vision in front him with swollen, parted lips wasn't helping it.

"We should go back to the house," he breathed as he watched her recover.

Cora took in one more heavy breath before opening her eyes with a satisfied expression and taking in his aroused form. He was panting and his cravat had somehow become loose to be turned at an angle on his collar. He was watching her with hooded eyes and she noticed that his trousers had a rather lare bump.

She smirked and grabbed his coat by the lapels, pulling him toward her. Their lips met in a clash of teeth and tongue, the taste of her own essence lingered in his mouth but she didn't care. It only served to make her even more aroused but suddenly he was hollding her by the elbows and tearing his mouth away from hers.

"Not. Here." He panted.

She laughed at his pained expression and wiped his face with her unnecessarily long sleeve. His eyes closed shut in response to ther tender touch and he leaned his forehead down onto hers. She accepted his embrace and leaned back against the tree while he breathed heavily, willing his erection to dwindle.

"I refuse to take you that way so close to a dirt road where any Tom, Dick and Harry could walk by," he muttered while recovering.

Cora luaghed loudly and shook her head against his own, "you are unbelieveable, Robert Crawley!"

"What do you mean?" He asked quizzically.

"What if any Tom, Dick or Harry walked by five minutes ago!?" She laughed at his stubborn face when he muttered, "that's different."

"Different how?"

He smirked and leaned against her whispering silently, "I didn't have to take off my pants for what we were doing five minutes ago."

She scoffed and playfully smacked his arm, feeling happy and weightless all at once. "How far is Downton?" She asked while he smiled at her.

"If we walk fast... about ten minutes."

She grinned and kissed his cheek before grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the road, "then let's walk very fast."

"Why?" he teased, "do you have somewhere to be, Miss Levinson?"

"We both do, Mr Crawley." She replied with a grin and his laughter rang through the deserted road as he followed his wife home.

Robert suddenly took Cora's hand and placed it properly within the crook of his elbow before turning and glancing at her appearance. He reached up to her face and brushed a lock of her hair that had come loose behind her ear but it bounced back again.

"I'm afraid your coiffure isn't as neat as it was," he grimaced.

"It's alright, I'll just get Donovan to fix it later."

"Your maid?"

"Who else?"

"I never knew her name before," he admitted shamefully. Their eyes met and he continued slowly, "I just saw my father coming out of the woods to the left of the grounds with two men."

Cora nodded and subtely looked past him to the right, where she saw three faint figures emerging from the thick canopy of trees. Two of them were familiar.

"I know that man!" She said and clenched Robert's arm. "I met him in the village, his name's Henry Willis."

"The grocere's son?" He asked incredulously.

"The newly trained police man." She corrected.

Robert's surprise didn't show as he calmly led his wife up the path that was taking them gradually closer to the three individuals but inside his soul was screaming. His mind was filling with scenarios of his father being taken away in the back of the constable's carriage. His heart was producing scenes of violence and murder and somewhere, somehow, his father was the cause of it all.

"Do you have any idea what this is all about?" Cora asked when she felt his grip tighten around her arm and noticed that his jaw was tight.

"None," he said through gritted teeth.

They were almost upon the trio when Officer Willis called out, "Lady Downton! How wonderful to see you again."

"You two know each other?" Lord Grantham asked, alarmed.

"We met briefley in the village," Cora supplied politely. "Officer Willis was very kind."

"You flatter me Lady Downton." Willis maintained eye contact with Cora for a few seconds before looking away bashfully. Jealousy rose in Robert as he saw the man blush. He stepped closer to his wife's body and brought his other hand up to hers that was already placed in the crook of his arm. The only thing that stopped him from lashing out was the lingering taste of her essence in his mouth and knowing that the kind Officer will never taste her.

"So this is Lady Downton," said the man standing beside Patrick. He was the shortest man there but still taller than Cora and had a small gut which caused his charcoal waistcoat to protrude slightly. His grey hair was thinning and he had dull brown eyes that were narrowed in suspicion as he looked Cora up and down.

"Yes, and of course, you know my son, Lord Downton." Patrick said while Robert was glaring at the Sergeant.

"Of course." The Sergeant agreed with the same ammount of suspicion and distaste that he showed Cora. "Lord Downton," he nodded.

"Sergeant Garner," Robert replied icily.

Silence descended on the group as Robert and the Sergeant continued their staring match while the otherrs did anything but look at each other. Cora was looking at Robert and Willis was looking at Garner in amusement, but Patrick was looking at the sky, trees and ground while shifting from foot to foot.

"Are you alright, Papa?" Robert asked wile still looking at Garner. "You appear quite nervous."

"Nervous?" Patrick squeaked, "why on Earth would I be nervous?"

Before Robert could reply, Patrick spoke again. "Sergeant Garner and Officer Willis are busy men, Robert. We really must be getting on." Lord Grantham pushed past the couple and the Sergeant quickly followed, but Officer Willis stayed behind.

"Feel free to stop by the shop anytime and test the terrors of those apples again." He smiled at Cora but Robert sensed her discomfort.

"What were you discussing with my father, Mr Willis?" He asked stonily.

"Just a routine check up m'Lord." He smiled, "and it's Officer now, m'Lord."

"Oh, really. Your father must be very proud." Robert replied as if he didn't know of Henry's elevated position in society. "Anyway, it's nearly time for luncheon and we really must be getting on." Robert turned and steered Cora towards the house. "Good day to you, Mr Willis!"

Henry's quiet reply of 'it's officer, m'Lord' was lost to the wind as Robert strode forwards with Cora in tow.

"There was no need to be rude, Robert," she scolded.

"I didn't like the way he looked at you," he snapped

"You don't like the way any man looks at me," she corrected lightly.

Robert smirked and admitted to himself that she was probably right. However, he couldn't help the tidal wave of immature jealousy that rose in him whenever another man even looked at his wife. Evans opened the door for them and took their coats.

"Lady Grantham is in the library with Lady Rosamund, my Lord. Luncheon will be served in 25 minutes," Evan said.

"Thank you, Evans." Robert replied while walking towards the library.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Cora's voice rang through the foyer.

Robert turned and noticed that Evans had gone and was no where to be seen. "To the library," he replied hesitantly. He had assumed that their earlier plans were cancelled due to his being rude to her new friend.

"Pity. Well, I'm going to bed and have luncheon in my room. You're welcome to join me, Mr Crawley." She replied cheekily before flashing him a grin and swaying up the stairs.

Robert watched her as she ascended, looking at her buttocks as she moved. It only took the memory of her coming apart under his tongue in the woods to convince him to run up the stairs in a very ungentlemanly way and he chased her the rest of the way into her room.

Laughter and shrieking permeated through the door of the library and Rosamund smirked in response to her mother breaking the handle off one of the china cups, while she muttered muted obsenities about Americans.

"Let them have their fun, Mama. I haven't heard Robert's laugh for too long."

"It's not the fun I am opposed to, Rosamund," Violet replied tersely. "It's the abundance and spontaneity of it which I have such a problem with."

Rosamund laughed again and went back to her tea as Evans came into the room. "The afternoon post has arrived my Lady."

"Thank you, Evans. Anything for me?" Violet asked whie placing the broken cup on a small table.

"One." He replied, handing her the letter and opener.

"Who is it from?" Rosamund asked.

"A man named Cecil Rhodes, a friend of your father, apparently. Do you know him?" Violet asked while reading the rest of the letter and frowning in confusion.

"I know of him. He's an American who came to England to expand his jewellery buisness with his wife. Last I heard they had gotten premises for a store in London."

"Hmmm. He has invited us to a ball this weekend." Violet trailed off thinking that his name sounded familiar.

"Us?"

"Your Papa and I, Robert, the American and yourself, It's being held at his house in London. I suppose we could take the train on Friday and stay for the weekend in Grantham house."

"Really Mama, you should call her Cora, she is your daughter in law after all."

"I shall call her whatever I please, regardless of her status." Violet folded the letter and remembered a conversatioin with Lady Shackleton from a few days ago. If she remembered correctly, then an American named Rhodes had cancelled a ball of a similiar nature just last week. Violet shrugged off her uncomfortable feeling and wondered what had made them change their minds.

Bricker walked into Rookwood's drawing-room and stood silently, waiting for the other man to acknowledge him. He was sitting in the plush armchair, drinking again. Rookwood continued to ignore him and Simon hid his clenched fists behind his back, "it's done." He said sharply.

"Good," Rookwood said absently. "How did it go?"

"Well." Simon replied briskly.

"Was it messy?" He asked amusedly.

"No."

"There's no need to get so defen-" Rookwood was cut off by his glass being shoved out of his hand and the last of his brandy felll to the floor with a resounding splash. He didn't even have time to protest before Bricker's fist connected with his nose with sickening 'crunch' sound and blood erupted from his face.

Bricker reached down with rage blazing in his eyes and yanked Rookwood out of his chair by the collar. "When I agreed to do this, you said that my talents would be niether needed nor called upon," he spat leaning closer to Rookwood's bloody face.

"That is twice you have lied to me now." He suddenly dropped the man to the floor carelessly and looked down at him, indifferent, rather than angry. "Don't make it a third, Paul." He looked at the bloody mess on the floor before walking out the door and slamming it shut behind him.

Paul was left curled on the floor with blood flowing from his face at a steady pace. He cursed and made to get up when a shrill cry from upstairs pierced the air.

"Shut up!" He screamed at the ceiling with infinite agony rather than anger. "SHUT UP!"

Memories of another broken nose flooded him with staggering emotion and he remembered another little blonde girl from years ago. In his mind, a small hand reached up to wipe the blood from his face in a far more gentler way than his mother ever could.

"Please," he pleaded quietly to the empty room, "please don't cry."

The ghost of his little sister deserted his mind as he struggled to get up from the floor and Rookwood knew what he had to do. Ignoring the ever flowing river of blood, he climbed the old, wooden stairs that led to Alex's room. Each step sent a tinge of pain up his body and the cries of the little girl sent an even more acute shot of pain to his heart.

He paused at the old door in the before opening it silently and looking into the cold, stone room. Alex was sitting on the edge of an old mattress, staring at the wall and seemed not to notice Rookwood. The older man cleared his throat and watched as Alex jumed in fright.

"Follow me," he grunted and left the room.

"No," Alex replied weakly.

"I won't say it again." Rookwood turned on his heel, leaving the door open and walked slowly back down the staircase. It wasn't long before he heard heavy footsteps following reluctantly.

The spiral staricase was wooden and used mainly by the servants. There was a series of dim candles on the wall with a door in between each one that led to a different floor of the house.

Alex's heart was beating wildly in his chest as the child's cries gradually grew louder and gruesome scenes of violence filled his imagination. He wondered why Rookwood was bringing down a creepy stairwell and why there was blood on his face. He was so busy with imaginings of gore and crime that he nearly walked into his captor when Rookwood unexpectedly stopped next to a large, sturdy-looking door.

"This door will take you onto the second floor. Go to the third bedroom on the right." Rookwood held open the door for the sceptical young man and avoided all eye contact with him.

Alex eyed him up and down, not trusting him to walk through an unknown door. "What happened to you?" he asked while looking at the blood on Rookwood's face and shirt. Paul ignored him and gestured through the door with his red chin.

Alex narrowed his eyes but the wails of his baby sister had reached a crescendo and his instincts told him to go to her. He edged closer to the doorway, still wary of Rookwood who was still refusing to look anywhere near Alex.

By the time Alex had reached the doorway Rookwood had lost his patience and pushed him fully into the hallway. He slammed the door shut on the boy's face and said: "don't say I never did anything for you, Champ."

The door closed with a bang and suddenly Alex's heart was beating even faster. The hallway was dark but elegant, covered in themes of blue and dark green. He took one cautious step forward and when nothing happened; he broke into a run. His sister's cries were getting louder and Alex didn't need Rookwood's instructions as he burst through the door of the third bedroom on the right.

She was standing upright in a cot that was too small for a three year old and looked more like a cage as she clutched the bars in her tiny hands. Her face was red and puffy, with strands of her dirty blonde hair sticking to it and Alex let out a sigh of relief as he saw her in a white cotton nightdress, unharmed. She had no signs of abuse. No marks, bruises or even accidental scratches.

The crying turned to sobs as the little girl's pale blue eyes rested on a familiar figure.

"Ala?" She asked through hiccups, mispronouncing his name, as always.

"Oh, Anna!" He cried and rushed into the room, closing the door behind him. He ran towards the cot and lifted his little sister out of it, hugging her in his arms. She clutched to him with her tiny fists and her sobsinstantly lessened. Alex continued to hold her well into the night, looking at the lavish room that even had a rocking horse and wondered if there was another side to Rookwood.

However, the ammount of bad deeds on his captor's list heavily outweighed this one good and Alex wasn't going to leave his guard down. "Now, we just got to get out of here," he murmered to the sleeping bundle in his arms.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter (I know it's a bit long) and the last one. Please leave a review and tell me what you think! x