The rest of the night was spent telling stories; some of days long gone and some more recent, but most of them involved Violet in some way. It was astonishing, even to Robert, just how involved his mother had been in everyone's lives, and how much influence she had had on the lives of all the people surrounding them. There was laughter, there were the occasional tears, but above all, there was love — a shared love for the matriarch who had shaped all their lives in a way. Rarely had so much love ever filled the abbey and brought everyone so close together, it was quite heart-warming.

Cora sat back, enjoying the buzz of her family talking in the drawing room and listening to everyone telling their stories, occasionally pitching in with one of her own. If this was part of what Robert promised her back in America, she would truly be cherished forever, never to be forgotten while there was still a Crawley living in this house. She was content with that, maybe even more than that. If remembering her would give them moments like this, she would almost be fine with having to leave them behind eventually.

It was already getting quite late and Cora looked as if she was about to fall asleep in her chair by the fireplace when Robert crouched down next to her.

"Darling, I think we should head to bed. It's been a long day for all of us, especially for you," he whispered as he gently covered one of her gloved hands with both of his.

She slowly turned her head to him, nodding almost in slow motion before he helped her up from her position in the armchair near the fireplace.

She leant on him, holding fast on to his arm, as they left the drawing room and went out into the great hall, heading to the staircase. Robert helped her up to her bedroom and settled her onto the chaise longue in her room, per her request — she knew that if she laid down on the bed, she would fall asleep almost instantly. Robert rang for Baxter to come and help get her dressed for bed before turning to leave the room again.

"Robert, where are you going?" Cora asked with a sleep-heavy voice. She had noticed he had not turned to leave the room through the door to his dressing room, but the real entryway of her bedroom leading back out into the hall — something he almost never did when he wanted to return soon after getting changed.

"Don't you worry, I will be back soon. I just feel like there is something I have to take care of, first."

She looked him up and down before cautiously replying: "Alright then, but promise me not to make matters worse, if you can?"

He was hesitant with his reply. It amazed him time and time again just how well his wife knew him, even in her drowsy state. Smiling, he nodded and said: "I'll try my best, my dear. Now, let Baxter help you get ready for bed and I'll join you again sooner than you think," before leaving and softly closing the door behind him.

Once out in the hallway, Robert almost walked into Miss Baxter but reacted quickly enough not to run her to the ground. He had to grab her arm to keep her from falling over. Her hands were full, holding onto his wife's nightclothes she must have taken from the closet to bring with her.

"Oh, I'm so sor-"

"No, don't apologise. I wasn't looking where I was going. Are you alright, Miss Baxter?" he asked, letting go of her arm when he saw she was standing steadily again.

When the maid nodded, so did he, and he turned around to walk down the bachelor's corridor, only to turn back when her hand was already on the doorknob to his wife's room.

"And, Miss Baxter? Could you please tell Bates to go home already? I still have a rather urgent matter to tend to, and I do not know how long that will take. I will get changed on my own tonight."

"I will, milord. Good night," the maid replied rather diffidently.

Satisfied with that smaller matter taken care of, he walked the length of the hallway, knocking confidently on the door at the very end of it. Anna truly had put him in the room furthest from Mary's room — or anyone else's for that matter.

After a while, the door opened hesitantly and Robert came face to face with his son-in-law. He looked quite worse for wear, his hair dishevelled and his face unshaven. It did seem like he was not taking care of himself at all, and it did not seem to bother him, either.

"Robert," he said matter-of-factly when he saw who had knocked on his door. Robert wouldn't swear to have seen and heard disappointment or even disdain, but he definitely thought there was some there somewhere in the simple uttering of his name.

"Henry, I wonder if I could come in and talk to you for a few minutes?"

The younger man slowly opened the door wider, letting Robert into the very scarcely lit room. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but eventually, he could make out the two armchairs in front of the cold fireplace. In two long strides, he walked over there and took a seat, waiting for Henry to do the same.

What followed were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence that felt like torturous hours to Robert, and possibly to Henry as well.

Sighing, Robert then started talking. He knew Henry well enough to know that he was not going to say anything for the time being, no matter how uncomfortable they both were in that situation.

"Henry, I had hoped it wouldn't have to come to this, but I see no way around it. I have to interfere with your marriage to Mary, something I never thought I'd have to do. I think that we can both agree that at this point, there is not much left of it that could be saved and pieced back together, restored to how it was before you left. All you can do, and I implore you to, is to salvage whatever is left, if not for Mary's sake, then at least for little Caroline's."

"So, she told you. I did not think she would, and at Christmas no less," Henry replied flatly, staring at the wall instead of Robert.

"She did tell Cora and me, but not today. She told us when we returned from America. I had waited and hoped you would take some action, or even just make yourself known, but you did not. Had Mary not told us that night, we would still be entirely unaware of your return to Downton. That is not what I want for any son-in-law of mine, nobody should have to hide and lurk in the shadows in this house."

"Of course, she would tell you first thing. I should have known she would try to get everyone on her side."

He sounded bitter, very much so. His eyes were dark, his jaw tightened.

Robert, who had tried his best to stay diplomatic, felt anger start to bubble inside him.

Dangerously low, he said: "I am not taking her side because she is my daughter or because she came crying to me. I am taking her side because she is right to ask this of you after you have been gone for so long, treating her this way. There is only one thing worse for a mother and wife than a dead husband — and that's an absent husband. Which is what you have been for the entirety of the past year. Mary has not tried to get anyone on her side, but we have all seen her suffer the last months, even though she tried her best to hide it."

Henry finally looked at Robert, trying to judge him and his words. He saw the anger within the older man, but he failed to find any malice in the man's demeanour sitting opposite him. And he couldn't have, for there was none.

Robert sensed he would not get much further than this that night, and so he got up. He vowed to himself to try again the next day, maybe at a more suitable time than half eleven at night.

His hand was already resting on the polished doorknob, about to twist it, when his head turned back around. Henry was still sitting there, staring at the far wall in the dimly lit room, when Robert decided to put everything on the table.

"What is her name?"

It was risky to ask this question with Henry's unpredictable mood, Robert knew that, but he couldn't help himself.

"Who?"

"The woman you met."

Henry closed his eyes. His entire body seemed to slump down instantly, his head rolling down and his chin came to rest on his chest — he looked defeated, but also strangely relieved. He stayed that way when he replied: "When did you find out? And how?"

Robert's hand let go of the cold metal knob, turning his back to the door he was about to open and walk through.

"I did not know for sure, but I knew that there must have been something, or rather someone, that kept you away for over a year. And you hiding away in here instead of taking action to save whatever's left of your marriage only cemented my suspicion. Have you told Mary?"

Henry still did not dare to look at him, but he shook his head no.

Robert's jaw clenched, anger at the younger man and his, as he found, despicable behaviour welling up again. But he suppressed it, along with the urge to shout at him and throw him out of the house for good. That would not help anyone, least of all Mary, George, and Caroline.

Then he remembered how easy it had seemingly been for him to almost lose his own way during the war when Cora was not giving him the attention he wanted and needed. That seemed to take some of his anger away at least. He should not be the one to cast the first stone, for he certainly was not without sin, but this was for his daughter and granddaughter. He had to try to make him see reason for them.

"You would not be the first husband to make that kind of mistake and leave it unspoken of. Tell Mary, agree to the divorce, listen to her conditions and we will find a way to keep this as private a matter as possible. Maybe that way you still get to see your daughter grow up and keep your face at least somewhat. If you don't, then I will tell her everything and we will file for the divorce — publicly. And I am sure that my lawyers could uncover enough to ruin you permanently. You know how easily rumours can stain one's reputation, and it is not at all only about yours. This is also about your aunt's good name and that of the rest of your family. You might have been able to get away with this sort of behaviour some twenty years ago, but women are finally obtaining their due rights, and that means that you have to take responsibility for your actions. Women do not have to follow our every whim and take everything we do to them in stride, it is time you learnt that lesson. I can freely admit that I was not entirely in favour of Mary deciding to get married again on such short notice, but I recognize that you made her happy, at least for a while. For that, I will thank you. I won't be glad to see the back of you either, though why I am not yet entirely sure. I just hope you handle things in a manner becoming of a man who is still a part of this family and who will always stay linked to us through your child. Do not go on burning all your bridges down, Henry, that is my advice to you."

"Thank you, Robert."

The two men looked at each other and the patriarch saw that Henry's thanks were genuine and he sensed that he had finally got through to him, that his daughter's husband had indeed listened to what he said. That was a whole lot more than he had done for Mary before.

Feeling a weird sense of accomplishment, he turned towards the door again. Once he had almost left the room, he said: "Oh, and Henry. Despite everything, I wish you a merry Christmas, or as merry as it can be. Good night."

"Good night, Robert. Happy Christmas."

Robert heard the hastily uttered response through the already-closing door. Once outside, he loosened the bow tie around his neck and already started undoing the buttons of his thick waistcoat before he walked back to his dressing room, very eager to finally join his wife in bed and get to sleep.