AN: Last week we had Fluffy Cobert...this week we have Terrific Fun Cobert (as well as an extra-long chapter). Consider this my thanks to my readers for their patience with my slower-than-usual updates here. I've been working on some other fics on the side ("The Ways They Said It," the one-shot I published Tuesday, and the unpublished-but-coming-soon "To See Wonderful Things"), which has slowed my progress on "Far More." But I promise not to abandon you, and I'll continue updating this at least weekly. In the meantime, enjoy! :-)

"I had a letter today from Evelyn Napier," Cora said as she pushed the needle through her embroidery once again. It was a few days before Christmas, and Downton was preparing for its usual rush of holiday visitors.

"Oh?" Robert said from across the drawing room, not raising his eyes from his book. She smiled at what she knew was a show of indifference.

"Well?" Robert asked, in a tone that was another demonstration of nonchalance.

"Well what?" she said, determined to match his casual air.

"Cora!" Robert snapped the book shut. "What did the man say?"

She laughed. "You're a great deal more interested than you seemed."

"You know I agree with you that he's about to propose," he said, fidgeting sheepishly. "Even if I don't care for speculation."

"Even if you say you don't care," she said, still chuckling. "Mostly, he says he's coming for New Year's, and that he's happy to see us again."

"So he will be here. Good, good. Anything about…?"

"Not to any great extent. He did say he was looking forward to seeing her."

"But nothing about hopes, plans for the future, hints that he might…"

"No, but of course you don't know what he's writing to her."

"She gets rather a lot of letters at breakfast," Robert mused.

"His?"

"I like to think so."

"Do you have any sense of what Charlotte thinks?" For as glad as Cora was at the thought of Eleanor becoming engaged to Evelyn, she was equally troubled at the obvious fact that he could not marry both her daughters, and then what would her eldest do? She could not imagine, even as accepted as Charlotte and Eleanor were socially, that any other member of the aristocracy would be willing to marry one of them, tying his family to a foundling with no bloodline.

Robert sighed. "To be honest, I think she finds it all rather silly. I think she always finds Eleanor rather silly, and she's got no interest of her own in Evelyn. She's certainly not jealous, if that's what's worrying you."

"Not exactly. I'm worried she thinks what you think she thinks. I'm worried that she's not overly concerned with her own marriage prospects. And she ought to be; it's not going to happen for her otherwise." She'd been toying for months with the idea of sending Charlotte to New York for a season in hopes that she'd bring back an American fiancé.

"Do you think so, that she'll really be that difficult to settle? She does have your fortune."

"And an estate. The money won't stretch to support Downton and her husband's estate. As much as you know I love impoverished earls—" they shared a smile— "that won't be an attractive prospect to a fortune hunter who wants to save his own house."

"I'd rather she didn't get a fortune hunter, regardless," Robert said, his tone serious now. "We could probably find one with no land of his own who'd be glad to take both the estate and the money, but I don't want that for her. I don't want either of our girls in a loveless marriage."

"Sometimes those turn out very well," she teased, but he did not share her smile this time.

"I hate to think of what the beginning of our marriage was like for you," he said

"The last twenty-two years have more than made up for that," she told him. "I don't think I know anyone who's been quite as well loved as I have been." She sighed, imagining herself getting up to sit on his lap and stretching out her hand. "You're so far away over there. I wish my legs worked!"

"But I'm your legs, darling," he said with a smile. It was a sentence she'd heard countless times, but it never failed to warm her. Robert set his closed book on a side table and moved to join her on the couch, taking her in his arms with a kiss to her cheek. "Now, is this what you wanted, Lady Grantham?"

"Perfect," she murmured as she nestled against his chest.

"So do you have a plan for Charlotte?" he asked, returning to the subject as he ran his hand over her hair. She could tell that he was longing to remove the pins.

"Not really," she said with a sigh. Sending Charlotte abroad seemed like just as much of a recipe for fortune hunters as keeping her here, and Cora was under no illusions that her own business-deal-turned-love-match was typical. "I wonder if we haven't created a bit of a liability for her in leaving her the house."

"Well, what else are we to do with it?"

"Nothing," she said, feeling herself smile. She had been afraid to fully form the thought until now, but her pleasure at his response told her she had been more frightened than she cared to admit that Robert would take a liking to Matthew, and there would go her daughter's inheritance. "Nothing at all."

Matthew. He had once been her plan for Charlotte, months ago. Before her daughter had so immediately looked at him with such distaste.

"Robert, would you mind taking me up?" Cora asked on Christmas Eve. Most of the guests had not yet retired, but she didn't think she could wait one more second to get started on the surprise she meant to announce tonight.

"Of course, of course…are you tired, darling?"

She shook her head. "Not terribly. But I want to have time to give you your present."

"Present?" Robert's eyebrows shot up, and she smiled. He really was such a little boy at times.

Cora shook her head, indicating that she would tell him nothing more, and she murmured good night's to those nearest her as Robert scooped her up out of her chair.

"I don't usually get a present until Christmas morning," he said once they were in the hall. "This is rather new territory."

"I thought you might want to enjoy tonight, and then again tomorrow, too."

"It's something I can use right away, then," he said, his tone indicating eagerness for more hints.

"Well, I certainly hope you will."

"How big is it?"

She laughed as she considered the question in light of what, in fact, it was. "The surprise will be big. I'm not sure the…thing is. I don't like to think it is."

"What color is it?"

"I'm not sure it really has a particular color."

"And I'm not sure I'll go back downstairs. You've piqued my curiosity. I may just call for Bates and retire with you."

"No," she said firmly. She could not have him bursting in on her before she was ready. "It isn't…wrapped yet. You'll have to give me some time. Go back to the party for a bit."

He sighed. "Must I?"

"Yes, darling. Be a grown-up and go and entertain the guests while I get your present ready," she said, leaning up to kiss his chin.

Half an hour later, she was stretched out on her bed in a new negligee she'd ordered from Paris, listening to the fire crackle, the room lit only by candles. She had blushed at having O'Brien and a nurse dress her this way and place her on the bed—her plans for the evening now perfectly clear to two of the staff—but it was not as though she could manage on her own, and she certainly could not ask either of her daughters. Yet her embarrassment had been quickly replaced by her excitement. She and Robert had waited years for tonight, and then she had breathlessly waited throughout the fall for time to confirm that her and Dr. Clarkson's suspicions were correct, and at last she had waited the long, painful weeks until Christmas, saving the surprise for tonight. And now…what on earth was Robert doing down there? Surely her clock was broken—the minutes shouldn't be ticking by so slowly.

At last, she heard him enter his dressing room and listened as Bates arrived. There was a low hum of conversation as Robert undressed, and then, at last, there was a knock at the dividing door.

"Yes?" she called, amused at his reluctance to interrupt if his present wasn't ready.

"Are you…have you finished with your wrapping? May I come in?"

"Yes, of course."

The door opened, and her husband stepped inside in his dressing gown. "Cora!" He grinned immediately at the sight of her on the bed. "You look beautiful."

Robert quickly crossed the room and sat down next to her. "If this is my Christmas present, I think it may be my best one ever." He slowly ran his fingers through her hair—she'd had O'Brien leave it loose on purpose, knowing how he loved it this way—and bent to kiss her. She kissed him back, lingering for a moment before gently pulling away.

"There's more to it than you think," she said.

"You mean, this lovely garment?" He stroked his hand over the negligee, tracing over her right breast—she gave a small gasp at the touch—and down her stomach before letting his fingers rest at its edge, just above her knee. "It's quite breathtaking, although I must say that chief among its virtues is that it's diaphanous." Robert leaned close again to whisper in her ear: "Gowns that can't be seen through are highly overrated."

"Yes, it is new, but—"

"Then I should hate for you to wear it out. Perhaps I could help you take it off."

"That's exactly what I had in mind," she said, matching his grin. "But once you've got it off…" She paused, feeling a new lightness in her heart, and reached out to brush her fingers to his cheek. "Robert, Clarkson says we can do this for real now."

For a moment, he did not seem to register that her words had been anything more than a continuation of their seductive banter, and then he froze. "What? Clarkson what?"

"Clarkson says we can do this for real."

"What do you…do you mean we…"

"Yes, Robert," she said, stroking his hair. "I mean you can actually make love to me. Really make love to me. The real kind."

He reached up and caught her hand in his, then brought it to his lips for a kiss. "Cora, everything we've done for the past twenty years has been real. There's been nothing lacking in the love we've shown each other. Not in my eyes, at least."

She squeezed his hand, thankful for the thousandth time that Robert had loved her enough to be satisfied with the limited intimacy they'd been able to have. "Yes, but we can actually…experience it together now." For she thought something had very much been lacking in the way that she and Robert had been forced into separate climaxes, that they could not give and receive pleasure at the same time, that they weren't truly a couple making love together.

"What did Clarkson say, exactly?"

She sighed, suddenly impatient. She'd expected him to take her immediately. "I haven't bled since early in the summer," she said. "I mentioned it to him in September, and we thought perhaps I…was changing. I'd had other symptoms too, of course." Robert nodded quickly, and she hid a smile at the realization that he was quite terrified at the prospect of hearing them listed out. "But he thought I should wait a bit longer," she continued, "and make sure things had really stopped, and not just slowed. But they have stopped, Robert, and when I talked it over with Clarkson a few weeks ago, he said he was sure I couldn't conceive a child any longer."

Robert's brow furrowed, and a shiver of doubt slipped through her. "I…Cora, I'm not sure I…suppose Clarkson's wrong. Oughtn't we to wait just a few more months to see if you…you know…"

Did he not want to sleep with her? Had seeing her as a cripple for two decades taken its toll? Perhaps hands and mouths were one thing, but actual sex with half a woman was quite another.

"We don't have to," she said quietly, pulling her hand away from his. "We don't have to at all. We can just…continue as we were, if you'd rather. I don't want you to feel you've got to do anything else, not if you don't want to." She could not roll over on her own and thus settled for lowering her eyes so that he wouldn't see the tears swimming in them.

"Oh, darling." She felt the bed shift as he lay down next to her, and he wrapped her in his arms. "You misunderstand. I want you with every fiber of my being. I want you so badly some days that I think I'll burst. But…forgive me—I'm so very frightened that I'll hurt you." He kissed her forehead fiercely. "I love you too much to risk anything happening to you. I'd rather want you and not be able to take you than take you and lose you."

"Nothing's going to happen," she said, looking up to meet his eyes now. "I'm past my childbearing years. I know it, and Clarkson has confirmed it. Your wife is an old woman, Robert."

He kissed her lips this time. "I very much doubt that bit."

"You'll never know if you don't get this nightgown off of me."

"But are you really sure…"

"Robert," she began, her patience growing thin, "forgive my bluntness, but I ama woman. Clarkson has medical training. You, on the other hand, know nothing whatsoever about a woman's monthly cycle."

"I won't argue on that point."

"Please," she whispered, stroking her fingers lightly across his cheek. "I want you inside of me. Not your fingers—you."

"Oh, my darling, you have no idea how much I want to be inside of you." Before she could respond, his mouth was covering hers, his tongue plunging inside, and she gasped at the suddenness. She felt him pause, ever so slightly, at what he must have read as hesitation, but she pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around him tightly in encouragement, and he continued his exploration of her mouth before he pulled back to press kisses down her throat, lingering only briefly in the hollow of her collarbone. He pushed the strap of her negligee aside, pulling at the fabric, trying to get rid of the obstruction between his hands and her body, and she sat up, trying to help him pull it back over her head, but in his frantic frustration the fabric ripped, and he tossed it to the floor. Her own hands made quick work of his dressing gown, and he helped yank his pajamas out of the way before crushing his body to hers. He seemed to have six hands, and she could not catch her breath as they ran over her breasts and her sides and her back and her hair.

"Please, Robert," she whispered as she tightened her own arms around his neck. Yet nothing seemed to happen, and for a second she could not understand why he had paused, until she realized that her deadened legs were tangled up in his, and he was struggling to get her thighs separated.

"I need you on your back," he said, quickly laying her down, her head against her pillow, and she watched as he gently spread her legs. Then he climbed on top of her, but, just as she thought it was time, he paused, gazing down into her face.

"What?" she breathed. She didn't think she could bear it if he stopped now.

"I'm sorry," he said, resting his forehead against hers. "I didn't mean…I shouldn't take you in a frenzy like this."

"No, this is exactly what I want, Robert. The two of us in a frenzy, together." She reached up to cup the back of his head in her hand, gently tugging his face down for a kiss.

"I love you," he whispered breathlessly. "I love you so much, my darling."

She arched her back, pushing her breasts up against his chest. "Now, Robert."

"Yes, now," she heard him say, and then she saw his body shift slightly and his eyes widen. "Can you feel me?" he whispered hoarsely.

"I…" She didn't, at first, and then, suddenly, there it was. The overpowering sensation of Robert inside of her, moving, thrusting against her. It was nothing like the feeling of his fingers—had that ever seemed pleasurable, compared to this?—and she began to weep as she frantically nodded. She felt her body tighten around him—"my God, Cora," she heard him mutter, his voice strained—and then her chest seemed to explode. His must have, too, for she was dimly aware that he was clasping her harder and sobbing her name.

At the same time, she thought, kissing him slowly as she felt herself return to earth. "We've finally been together," she whispered. He responded by kissing the tears that continued to leak from her eyes. "How was it?" she asked hesitantly. It had been truly awesome for her, and so longed-for and welcome and full of love that she could not begin to compare it to the dull, dutiful sex she'd had as an able-bodied young woman…but was it different for him? Did her body feel as good as it once had? Was she…damaged in some way?

"It was marvelous," he said, pausing to kiss her hungrily. "You were marvelous. You felt…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "I don't know how I ever lived without that."

"Was it worth it?" she asked, thinking for the thousandth time how easy it would have been to set her aside and remarry, or even to simply take a mistress. "Was it worth a twenty-year wait?"

"It would have been worth a thousand-year wait," he said fervently. And then he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so that she was on top of him this time, and took her again.