Robert Crawley stood in the entrance hall of Downton Abbey. He had his arms clasped behind his back and a content smile played on his lips as he watched several people run around, moving things here and there, bringing in new pieces of furniture and taking old ones away. It had been a while since the abbey had last been this busy. Well, since the film people left late in the summer, anyway.

Three days had already passed since their return from overseas and Cora's strength, although replenished slightly, still hadn't returned fully and he doubted it would in the days and weeks to come.

In order to make life a little easier for the Countess of Grantham, her husband had decided to take matters into his own hands and refurnish her sitting room, effectively making it a room for her to comfortably spend her days in and, most importantly, relax or have a quick lie-down without having to climb the flights of stairs every time she felt fatigued during the day.

The workers from the village were still idly going about their business when the Earl was joined by his eldest daughter, who, just like her father, simply watched the men at work for a little while.

"Papa, what are these people doing, exactly?" she asked curiously just when an old armchair was being carried out past them by two young helpers. It took her a while, but she recognised it to be from her mother's sitting room, which confused her a great deal.

"Oh, nothing, really. I just ordered some new furniture for your Mama's sitting room, to make it more comfortable for her, you see. And the people down in the village were very quick as it seems," Robert replied, sounding very pleased with himself and the current busy situation.

Mary nodded almost solemnly and kept on watching the furniture being moved around. When two young men, or rather boys — they couldn't be much older than 18 — struggled a good deal with carrying one of the new settees into the room, Mary half-turned to face her father and said: "Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you but it was never the right moment until now. Maybe this isn't either, but this is as good as it gets…"

The younger woman trailed off as she turned back and continued to watch her mother's new chaise longue be carried inside the sitting room by even more helpers.

Robert turned to look at her with raised eyebrows. But, much to his dismay, she did not elaborate further and simply kept on watching the helpers.

For a split second, as he was looking at her side profile, he was taken aback — he thought he saw a younger Cora standing next to him instead of his daughter. Sure, he had recognised that the older his daughter got, the more she looked like his darling wife, and he even recognised some of her movements to look exactly like Cora. But right then and there, the resemblance between mother and daughter was so uncanny, he'd never realised it as much before.

Mary, however, interpreted his stare with raised eyebrows as an invitation to go on, and so she did, or rather meant to, but not with all the people around.

Mary looked around the hall, searching for an open door leading to an unoccupied room. When she found none, she asked: "Can we go and talk somewhere more private?"

"Of course, come," Robert said, shaking his head slightly to rid himself of the thoughts in his head. His memories of days long gone had no place, not then. He guided her to another small room a bit further down the hall, a way off from the library. Originally, his father had intended this room to be turned into a study for him while he was still the Viscount, but they never got around to it before his father's early and untimely death. So now, this was just another unused room with simple furnishings — if it weren't for Mrs Hughes and the rest of the maids, they would be facing centimetres of dust that had accumulated on the tabletops and chairs, that's how insignificant it had become.

Looking around and eyeing everything inside vigilantly, Mary said: "I don't think I have ever been inside this room, curiously enough. I thought I had seen them all."

"When you were young, this room was closed off so you and your sisters wouldn't play in here. Your grandfather always wanted to turn this into an office for me when I was the Viscount, but we never finished before his death. He kept all the maps of the house, the estate, and the village in here; all the plans he had drawn up during his time as Earl of Grantham and even some from his father and grandfather. We couldn't have you come in here and wreak havoc on his order. Then, when you were older, I got called to the front to fight in South Africa, and after that, we had no need for all the old plans and had Jarvis put them in storage up in the attics. You were still far too young to be interested in all this, and quite frankly too much of a little lady," he explained, a twinkle in his eye as he said the last few words. Luckily for him, Mary did understand what he meant, and she knew that her father was right. "Upon my return from the war, your grandfather had already passed away and I was the Earl. There was no need for this to become an office any longer, I had the library after all. It stayed mostly vacant since then, only another insignificant and lifeless room. But maybe we can revisit my father's plans and have this room prepared for George when he is a little older," Robert said with raised eyebrows.

He took a few steps, tapping his fingers a few times on one of the tea tables as he looked around. Robert had since taken a seat on one of the three chairs standing close to the window, leaning back and looking expectantly at his daughter. "Now, what did you want to talk about?"

He had been relaxed, still in high spirits, just as he had been out in the hall. But when he heard what had been weighing on her mind, he closed his eyes tightly for a second.

"I was just wondering about Mama's health. I guess I just want to — no, need to — know how bad it truly is. You see, when you returned I was quite shocked with how much weight she had lost in just the four weeks you were gone, and how much she had seemed to have aged."

Mary watched him closely, almost like a hawk. His pained expression did not go unnoticed by the younger woman. She saw how his jaw clenched and his brows furrowed, just for a second, before he replied.

"It is bad, that much is certain. It must have come as quite a shock to see her after just four weeks, I imagine, although I have to say that I barely noticed it while we were there. What I did notice was her increasing lack of energy. When we were in America, she spent almost half our stay in bed, failing to do much more than to join us downstairs for the meals. I'm afraid she over-exerted herself during our first week, and I, being the fool I always am, let her. I shouldn't have allowed her to show me around Newport, all that walking around was too much. But I simply couldn't say no when she asked me if I wanted to see more of Newport and hear more about her youth. And then the wedding was a lot as we-"

"Wedding? What wedding?" Mary interrupted him rather inelegantly.

"Of course, you can't know," Robert mumbled, sitting back up in the chair he had been slouching in. "When we told your Grandmama and Uncle Harold about your mother's disease, your uncle reacted quite strongly — not in front of your Mama, though. I don't think I ever talked this much with him in all the years we've known each other and I was pleasantly surprised. He insisted we move up the wedding. It was quite impromptu, with just us and his bride's father in attendance… But he got married towards the end of our stay as a surprise for your Mama. He wanted her there for this special day," Robert explained calmly. He was not entirely sure how this could have lapsed his mind, he should have told them all earlier when they returned.

Mary looked at him wide-eyed. Apparently, this was a piece of information quite hard for her to comprehend, and Robert could see why, given Harold's rather turbulent past as a rich bachelor in the renowned circles of Newport and New York.

When she didn't reply instantly, he continued: "Your Mama is exhausted easily, but she told me that she wants to spend as much time with us as possible while she still can. Hence, that's why I decided to refurnish her sitting room and add further possibilities for her to have a lie-down downstairs as well. I wouldn't want to see her confined to only our bedroom, it is quite maddening to stay in there day in and day out. I speak from experience on that."

The last sentence was mumbled again. It seemed much more an afterthought for him than an actual statement, but his daughter caught it. Still, she chose to forego mentioning it.

"And she still refuses treatment? Even such that would lessen her ailments without necessarily trying to cure her?"

At this, her father's expression changed again, quite unexpectedly. She had anticipated his eyebrows to knit together again or that the pain in his eyes would become more apparent than she had seen the last weeks and months. She had already grown accustomed to her father's hopeless, defeated appearance and the change in his demeanour. Yet, there was none of that.

"Actually, there's news on that, too. We, your Mama and I, talked about this — at length — especially on our voyage home. We spent that extra day in London for a reason other than just relaxation. After much consideration, your mother has decided on our way back to England that she wanted to see Doctor Wallsom, a young specialist in London, and consult him concerning the treatment Doctor Clarkson mentioned when he was here. To put it short: the doctors are running the tests again to determine the disease's progress since her diagnosis. In all likelihood, and if they don't find anything changed too drastically, your Mama will start radiation treatment in London in the New Year."

"What?"

Robert did not reply, not in so many words. But he nodded in confirmation of what he just said, looking at Mary with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"Tell me that this is true, because if it isn't…" Mary said, looking at him with her brown eyes wide in shock. "Don't play such a cruel joke on me, Papa, please!"

"I would never joke about any of this, Mary, you know that. It took a few painful conversations, but she reconsidered after I told her about how I see things. Eventually, she must have realised that there was a reason to at least try the treatments they offered. But I want you to know that she refused the treatment to spare all of us from what she thought to be unnecessary heartbreak," Robert said, getting up from the chair. "Your Mama only ever wants what is best for you, for all of us, and that will never change. Now, I better go back out and watch if the people finish soon. I'd love to show her tonight instead of tomorrow."

His jovial expression when he said that rivalled that of a young child at Christmas upon seeing all the presents still left to unwrap, and Mary could have sworn she saw a spring in his step as he left her behind.