Hi all! This is my contribution to the Cobert Holiday Fic Exchange! As always, I shall be dishing out multi-chaptered angst because it seems to be all I know. But, don't worry, I am planning on a happy ending at some point that will also feature some holiday cheer. A huge THANK YOU to anyone who has listened to my crazy ramblings about this piece. You're all awesome & I love ya! Anyway, I've uploaded the photo prompt as the photo for this story (it appears, just much later in the fic), and my word was "reveal," which happens a lot in many ways throughout the course of this thing. I intended to have this finished before publishing the first part but, that never happens, and it didn't happen here either haha. So here we go!

The house was already stirring with activity whenever she woke for the day. She heard footsteps and murmurings from below the gallery, however, Cora's eyes still blinked back sleep as she tried to fight back a large yawn that consumed her. It was rather unbecoming for a lady to make such a display, but she doubted very much anyone would be around these parts to notice. Or at least, they shouldn't be.

Her hand rustled against something coarse as she touched the banister, and her hand jerked back suddenly from the unexpected contact. She glanced down and saw that someone had already roped strings of garland around the entire railing. She then noticed the star shaped flowers of red and white strategically placed among the greenery.

Fingers stretching towards a white flower that rested nearby, Cora rubbed the soft petal in between her thumb and forefinger. It was alive beneath her touch. As was the garland that welcomed her awake with its piney scent she inhaled.

Her fingers traveled along the arrangement of flowers interspersed with pine needles, and she then discovered a tiny gold bow at the base of the flower, securing it nicely in place.

Practical yet elegant, she thought. She would have to give her compliments to housemaids who carried out her vision for the holiday decorations.

Releasing her hold on the flower, Cora then heard the shuffling of feet accompanied by the low booming voice of orders coming from below.

Curiosity outweighing any sense of propriety that might have been expected of her, she peeked over the bannister and watched as Andy, Molesley, and a few of the hall boys settled a gigantic tree into place in the main room downstairs. Their efforts were supervised and scrutinized by Carson, who made them aware of each pine needle that found its way to the carpet, and ensured one of them quickly swept it away.

She smiled at the familiarity of it all. Carson always hated the giant spruces that Robert and her had insisted upon. The pine needles sprinkling the carpet made for a maddening cleanup for the staff. And keeping the dogs away from the water had always been a task.

However, she watched Molesley eagerly sweep the debris away while Andy gently shooed Tiaa out of the room, and the rest of the boys wrapped the base of the tree with the usual red and green coverings. She supposed now they didn't mind the additional duties that came with the tree, what with there not being very many left to do these days.

Deciding that Carson had it all handled, she began her descent. As she rounded the corner on the first landing, Cora's eyes flickered up, catching a few of the younger maids continuing to tightly wind garland around the banister of the main stairs, their deft fingers expertly weaving red and white star shaped flowers through the open spaces and tying golden bows around them in a matter of seconds.

Continuing towards them, she merely smiled, waiting for them to pause in their efforts and step aside once she passed them on the stairs. Each girl bowed their heads and nervously mumbling some variation of, "Good Morning Milady."

She kept her smile and inclined her head in quiet response as she descended to the final landing. Turning on the spot, she allowed her eyes to lift upward, admiring their work from this angle. "It looks splendid, girls," She complimented with a wistful breath before nodding at both of them. "Keep it up."

Turning round again, she heard their faint responses of, "Thank you, Milady," and "We'll be sure to, Milady," fill the silent breaks that took place in between Carson barking orders in low tones and the hall boys scurrying about to comply.

They hurried out of sight just as she met Carson's eye. And she took several seconds to study the tree before looking back at him and offering lightly, "It's looking grand, Carson."

"Thank you, your Ladyship," He nodded appreciatively, his hands folding together behind his back. "We're not quite finished with it yet, but we hope to be soon."

"I have no doubts you'll ready it soon. Else Master George and Mistress' Sybbie and Marigold won't let you rest until they can help decorate it," She returned teasingly, to which he merely smiled.

Nodding in return, Cora continued on her way to the dining room where the faint scent of eggs and potatoes wafted through the open door. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation of the meal. But then she found herself tensing a bit from the loud conversation that drifted to her ears.

"A pony? Don't we already have one?" Robert balked suddenly.

His astonishment prompted her to smirk as she strode into the dining room. Surveying the table briefly, Cora caught Edith glancing down at her breakfast, her eyes widening out of disagreement. Clearly, there was something brewing aside from the tea this morning.

"We have two," She heard Tom chime in from the other side of the table.

"Two?" Robert echoed in disbelief, "When on Earth did this happen?"

There was a brief pause while Cora spooned some eggs on her plate. When she slowly turned to face them, she saw Edith and Tom exchanging looks with one another, their mouths opening and closing as they searched for an answer that might assuage Robert's shock.

Letting out a breath, Cora explained as calmly as she possibly could on her way to the other end of the table, "Oh for heaven's sake, Mary wanted George to start learning to ride, so I told her to fit him with the proper equipment."

She set down her plate, and smiled sweetly up at him while gracefully draping her napkin across her lap.

"When did this happen?" Robert frowned, his brow pinching together out of confusion.

"Oh..." She trailed off, scrunching her face as if she was trying remember herself before settling her gaze back on Robert, "...a little before his birthday, I'd say."

"Why didn't I know about this?" He seemed rather perplexed by this whole thing, and she wasn't terribly surprised.

He had been convalescing when the decision was made. No one wanted to bother him with the knowledge of just how expensive another pony could be, so they remained mum on the subject. She hadn't thought it would pose a problem. Apparently, she misjudged the situation.

Nobody answered his question directly. They only exchanged knowing looks among the three of them. But it didn't matter. Robert was already huffing again about the subject.

"So...we already have two ponies that neither of the children make much use of. And we're talking about getting a third?"

"Well," Cora intoned, spreading some jam across her toast, her mouth twitching out of slight amusement as she reminded him, "there are three children."

"But do they really need to have their own?" He insisted, casting a look at Edith, "Can't Marigold just share-"

"We each had our own, didn't we Papa?" Edith interrupted swiftly, arching a questioning brow.

"You most certainly not!" He shook his head before returning to his newspaper, folding it open on the other side of his plate.

Cora's brow furrowed in his direction as she took a sip of tea.

"Mama?" Edith questioned, noticing her mother's look of disbelief.

Robert's head snapped up, his eyes fixing on his wife, "Cora?"

Setting down her cup, she exhaled softly, accepting her role as the mediator in this debate.

"Well, we would have. If you had expressed interest in one, Edith. But if you remember dear," She went on calmly, shifting her focus to Robert's baffled expression, "we did allow Mary and Sybil to have their own. Whenever they asked."

"Yes, but Mary was much older than Sybil," He reasoned, tilting his head off to one side. "Sybbie, George, and Marigold-"

"Oh for pity sake Robert," Cora scoffed, growing tired of his lame argument, "what's the harm in Edith wanting to give her daughter what she wants for Christmas?"

"Well where will we put it?" He countered, his eyes widening. Gesturing with his hands, he tried, "The stables are cramped as it is..."

Cora rolled her eyes at this and chuckled lightly, prompting his words to die away. "I'm sure we will manage just fine." She turned her gaze to Edith, "Go on with searching for a pony, darling. There's no need for Marigold to suffer because Donk's decided to be a Scrooge this year."

She took a bite of her toast, her lips curving into a crooked grin.

"I am not being a Scrooge!" He countered a bit indignantly, his eyes widening.

There were a light murmur of laughter that sounded in response to Robert's defensive remark.

Realizing he was fighting a losing battle with the three of them sniggering behind tightly pursed smiles, he looked back down at his paper, explaining with a heavy sigh, "I am just being practical. There are a lot of expenses that come with a pony."

"There's a lot of expenses that come with Christmas," Tom remarked neutrally, scooping more eggs into his mouth.

"Yes, Papa," Edith set her cutlery down, smiling gratefully at Tom. "How much did that spruce cost you this year?" She wondered lightly, trying to disguise the glee that crept its way into her voice. Fusing her lips tightly together she added slowly, "And we'll only get use out of it until when? The start of the New Year? Surely a pony will last far longer."

Robert glanced further down the table, hearing her words, but making no comment. Eventually his eyes worked their way up to discover Cora's. She saw the defeat slowly creeping across his face, much to his own chagrin.

She smiled meekly and shrugged, "It does seem a more practical investment."

He made a low grunting noise and shook his head, "Alright, fine. Since you're all against me on this one, I suppose I have no choice but to allow it."

"Mary and I can work it all out," Tom assured, showing some effort to maintain solidarity, "if it's the money you're worried about."

"I'm sure," He muttered tersely, taking a sip of tea.

Cora cocked her head to one side, her mouth gaping in astonishment. What had him so grumpy this morning? It was unlike him not to dote upon the children. She supposed there must be a reason behind this sudden shift in his demeanor. She'd make a point to ask him later.

Edith chimed in sweetly, "Marigold will be so pleased, Papa."

"Well..." He managed a slight smile, clearly making an effort to swallow his pride, "...as long as she's happy I'm happy." Reaching for Edith's hand, he patted it gingerly.

He then returned to his newspaper, and Cora was looking to Tom and asking, "What does Sybbie want for Christmas this year?"

"Aside from her own aeroplane," He mused with a ripple of laughter, "I don't rightly know."

"Well I don't know how we can manage to convince Robert to get her an aeroplane," Cora teased. Tilting her head to one side, she added with a wink, "We already a devil of a time with the pony."

He immediately shot back, "Oh don't pretend you would approve of an aeroplane!"

She laughed a bit at this, forcing a wry half grin out of him, before she directed a suggestion at Tom, "How about a new coat? We're already getting one for George. Perhaps, we should do the same for Sybbie and for Marigold as well?" She glanced between Edith and Tom, awaiting an answer from them both.

"Fine idea, Mama."

"Yes, and very practical as well," Robert intoned smartly, not lifting his gaze from his newspaper.

Cora, Edith, and Tom all exchanged looks of various degrees of amusement with one another. But before anyone could comment, Carson was bustling into the dining room, prompting Cora and Edith to look up at him.

"Carson?" Cora wondered, feeling a flutter inside herself at the overly excited expression he wore.

"I beg your pardon, my Lady, my Lord," Carson nodded at both of them curtly before explaining, "Mr. Levinson is on the phone in the hall. He says it is urgent that he speak to Lady Grantham."

Cora felt the bit of toast in her mouth go dry, and she swallowed hard to force it down. Her stomach tightened as she briefly assessed Carson's tone and the words he selected to make his announcement.

She hadn't heard from Harold in months and now he was calling her, of all ways to get in touch with her. Her insides felt jumbled just thinking of whatever the news he deemed urgent enough to make a transatlantic phone call might be. No doubt they had differing opinions of what urgent news entailed.

"Golly that must be costing him a fortune!" Robert exclaimed, shooting his wife a curious look from the opposite end of the table.

"Don't worry," She managed a smile, in spite of how the news made her feel. "I'm sure this won't take long," She wiped the corners of her mouth with her serviette, hoping her words were true.

She really didn't have the time or the patience to hear about Harold's latest scheme gone wrong, and try to draw up a plan to save him. She had quite a lot to do here in preparation for the holidays here at Downton.

Rose and Atticus were arriving tomorrow. Dickie Merton was coming next week as were dozens of other guests who looked forward to the annual Crawley Christmas fete. There was still items to finalize for that. And then there was the hospital charity ball. A last minute fundraising effort she had agreed to oversee. Not to mention, the last minute gifts she hadn't purchased, wrapped, and marked for the family.

Yes, Harold's call and whatever tidings it might promise came at a most inconvenient time for her. And as far as she was concerned, Robert and her had done more than enough over the years to help her hopeless brother. It was high time he learned to take ownership of his dubious actions once and for all.

When she found herself in the main hall, Cora glanced over her shoulder to ensure she was alone. Staring down at the receiver, she took in a long breath, mustering up whatever sliver of patience remained and picked up the phone.

"Hello? Harold?" Her questioning tone sounded a bit silly, but Harold didn't seem to notice.

In fact, Harold sounded as though he had been holding his breath for several minutes. The relief that flooded his words, surprised her a bit.

"Cora? Oh thank god. I wasn't sure if this would work."

"It works, but it must be costing you a small fortune," She told him flatly.

"I'll handle the bill later," He waved off her concern indifferently.

Just like he did with everything else, she thought to herself.

"Besides, I didn't think there was another way for me to tell you."

His tone sounded grave. She frowned and felt her brow crease together, "Tell me what, Harold?"

"It's..." He started and then stopped, "Cora it's...it's Mother."

Her eyes widened a bit at his shift in tone and in subject matter. Suddenly, her irritation faded away and was replaced with concern, "Mother? Has...has something happened?"

"Yes," He drew the word out slowly, as if buying himself some more time. But then she realized whenever he stammered out the last part of this statement, it was much more than that. He was trying to disguise the tremor in his voice. "I-I'm afraid...I'm afraid so."

"Oh heavens," Cora breathed, feeling hot as her heart pumped faster from the anticipation of the dire news he had to tell. "I'm afraid you better tell me quickly," She swallowed, already mentally preparing herself for the worst possible thing he could say.

"She's...Cora...Mother...she's..."

"Harold, please," She urged impatiently. "Just say it," She clenched her jaw in preparation, her hand tightening around the receiver. When the silence stretched on for several seconds longer, she knew what the words were, but she was afraid to hear what they would sound like. She whispered hoarsely, "You have to say it. Else I won't believe it's true."

"She's dead," He blurted out suddenly.

For a moment, everything stopped. Her heart, her breathing, the somersaulting sensation of her stomach.

Her mother was dead. And with that knowledge, Cora felt a numbing wave crash over her. She couldn't quite wrap her mind around the idea. It felt so distant, so far away and untouchable. Just as the feelings that should have filled her were. Just as Harold was. And Mother too.

She should have felt broken. She should have felt sad. But she supposed it was the shock that wouldn't allow room for either emotion. She supposed this was why her next words were, "Have you started the funeral arrangements?" And not something more comforting.

"I uh, I haven't decided yet," Harold admitted quietly. "I was hoping-"

"You were just hoping that I would handle them?" She retorted back swiftly, feeling that scratch of irritability creeping through her.

"Well no..." He conceded hesitantly, "...not entirely but..."

"Have you met with the estate lawyers?" She wondered, feeling her heart beat faster as thoughts of what needed to be done started swirling through her head.

"They're coming this afternoon," He informed her flatly, his voice losing its softness that she picked up on earlier.

She felt a stab of guilt inside her chest at this, and decided he deserved some recognition for at least thinking that far ahead, "Well that's good. See if there's anything in Mother's will that states-"

"That was the plan, sis," He remarked abruptly, setting her nerves on edge again.

"And Aunt Clara?" She heard her tone lifting to shrill octaves as she continued to drill him with her insistent questions. "Have you called her yet?"

He exhaled heavily, "Uh, no. No I haven't."

"Well...you ought to," She informed him.

"I will," He responded tersely.

"And the papers, have you had anything drawn up?"

"No," He drew the word out slowly as if to keep his composure as well.

But this just wouldn't do. Did he expect her to come up with all the arrangements? Did he really think she possibly could? She was halfway around the world for goodness sake. And he, he was there. He had always been there. Always physically present, but never there to lend a hand. And she needed him to do something. She needed him to grow up, and take some semblance of adult responsibility.

"Harold!" Her face contorted, her words spewing out in exasperated tones, "You have to do something! People need to know so they can plan..."

"For God's sake Cora, she just died last night!" He snapped, prompting a stunned silence to descend upon them.

After a few moment's of quiet, she heard him intone shakily, "Can't I have a single moment to..."

His voice cut out, and she realized, perhaps all of this was harder on him than he was willing to admit. Perhaps his lack of thought regarding the funeral plans had less to do with his desire to unburden himself and lay the load on her, and more to do with his inability to cope with the loss. Another pang of guilt shot through her, and she fused her lips tightly together.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." She winced, letting out another heavy breath, "I'm sorry, Harold."

He seemed to accept her apology with his tentative observation, "I know you and her weren't...as close as we were but..."

"I know," She replied softly, lowering her gaze to the table in the hall. "And I'm sorry. I just...it's going to take me some time to get there and I-I want to make sure I...know what's happening."

"How long do you think? Until you can get here?"

Cora heard the stress in his questions, and felt her insides tighten. "Uhm...I-I don't know. Four...maybe five days?" She cringed at this realization, hoping he could manage until then. "It will depend on how fast the ship is," She explained evenly.

"Hmmm..." He thought for a few seconds and then decided, "...ok well...I'm meeting with the lawyers this afternoon. I'll uh, do everything I can in the meantime." He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than he was her.

She opened her mouth, trying to come up with a reassuring response, but Harold continued on in a rather dejected tone of voice, "I'm just...I'm not really very good at...this sort of thing. Not like you."

Cora smiled before trying to add comfortingly, "I don't think anyone is really good at planning a funeral, Harold. And no one expects you to be."

"Not even you?" He quipped lightly, and for a split second he sounded like his old self, and her heart felt lighter because of it.

She chuckled softly, "No, not even me."

Harold broke another brief moment of silence, and stammered, "Well...I will...I'll do my best until you can get here, sis."

"Thank you," She replied, trying to sound appreciative. "Well I...I suppose should go," She sighed, "I have travel arrangements to make and you have things to do as well."

"Yeah," He agreed. "Uh, you'll ring with a date?"

"Of course. And if...if there's anything...anything you need until then...please just ring us again and let me know? Or let someone else know, and they can..."

"Will do," He resounded appreciatively. "Oh and uh, sis?" He wondered suddenly, hoping to catch her before she set down the phone.

Hanging onto his final words, Cora returned, "Yes Harold?"

"I love ya," He admitted.

She felt the corners of her eyes prickle at the unexpectedness of this sentiment. Smiling to herself, she replied gratefully, "I love you too. Take care now."

Cora hung up the phone, and let out a slow breath as she set it back on the table.

Her hands pressed into the smooth wood, and she shut her eyes, trying to process everything. The news, the travel arrangements that needed to be booked, and all the work she was to leave behind at Downton and at the hospital. It was utterly overwhelming to think about.

And yet she thought about it all anyway.

She wondered if Harold knew what to write in their mother's obituary. What details to give the newspapers, the ones that friends and the few family they had left would read and reflect on. She thought of him trying to pick out the coffin, what flowers to get, when and where the viewings should take place, the music for the funeral ceremony, the passages from scripture, the luncheon to follow, and she could hear the blood pounding in her ears.

He was right in saying, he wasn't as good as planning such things as her. But he was wrong to assume she expected perfection from him. She knew he would try, and that's all she could ask for. She would have to figure out a way to sort out the rest of what Harold couldn't do later.

But now she had arrangements to make. She'd ask the girls to stay behind and look after their guests. Mary would play perfect hostess to the holiday party. Isobel and Violet could battle for control over the hospital charity event. Edith could manage their gifts for the children. and Tom would be more than willing to help in anyway.

Those weren't the things she was worried about. Those matters would be sorted out rather neatly. Everyone else's Christmas would remain intact, and she took some comfort in knowing that much.

Cora didn't know how much time had passed between her hanging up the phone with Harold and her realizing that she was no longer alone. She jumped, slightly startled out of her own mind by Tiaa's high pitched whining.

The Labrador puppy sat dutifully at her feet, staring up at Cora rather curiously. Her brow arched high across her forehead, and her usually warm brown eyes filled with a sort of knowing melancholy. It was a look that pierced straight through Cora's heart.

She slowly bent down, and scratched the dog between her ears. Tiaa immediately responded by setting her head atop Cora's knee, exhaling deeply before letting out a tiny whimper.

Cora felt her eyes prickle, and she fought back the urge to burst into tears from the dog's behavior. Lightly scratching her head a few times, Cora then leaned forward and pressed several kisses across the top of Tiaa's head, drawing comfort from the dog's presence.

After a few moments of being petted and doted upon, Tiaa bounded away towards the dining room and continued prancing out into the hallway as Robert appeared.

"Oh my darling, hello!" He greeted his beloved dog with such joyous enthusiasm. He didn't even think before he squatted on the floor beside her, running his hands up and down her back while he crooned, "Did my sweet girl sleep well? Did she? Oh, who is a good, pretty girl? Who is? That's right, that's you, oh yes, my girl, oh yes..." She jumped up and began giving kisses anywhere she could on his face and neck.

Cora watched the exchange, feeling a sort of heaviness inside her heart. She hated to spoil his momentary happiness with the news. But it had to be done. Rising slowly back to full height, she folded her hands at the front of her waist and looked down at them.

"Robert?" She intoned softly, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Oh Cora!" He caught her eye, and instantly released Tiaa, gesturing for her to settle down somewhere quietly. "I'm sorry darling, I didn't realize you were still out here. I suppose we owe Harold a small fortune for our share of the phone bill?" He teased with a grin.

She lowered her eyes to the floor, and pressed her lips together.

"Cora?" His gaiety had dissipated along with the smile on his face, and she felt her insides twist whenever he continued to probe softly, "What is it? What's wrong?" And then there was an added edge of irritation that pervaded his next question whenever she didn't answer, "What's Harold done this time?"

She saw his feet drawing nearer, and she looked up and around to make sure they were alone. Unable to look everywhere else but directly into his worried gaze, she murmured hurriedly, "It's uh, it's not Harold. It's-it's Mother."

"What-what's happened?" He tilted his head to one side, forcing their eyes to meet.

She saw the worry clouding his eyes, his face etched with strained lines as he awaited her final words. Her hands tightened together, and she squeaked out sadly, "She died."

"Oh Cora..." He exhaled softly, and she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself not to completely forget herself. His hand reached for hers, and she felt the soft touch of his hands in hers, his thumbs tracing soothing patterns against the back of her palms, "Oh I am sorry..."

"Yes..." She interjected swiftly, her head snapping up to look at him. Nodding, she blinked hard a few times, and managed stiffly, "Yes...as am I."

Robert's hands ran up her arms, and he tried bringing her closer, but she held onto his forearms, keeping some distance between them still. She couldn't allow him to hold her now. She would lose all semblance of reason and succumb to her feelings if she let herself be taken in his strong arms.

And she wouldn't have that, not here, not now. She wouldn't allow the staff to talk about how fragile Lady Grantham appeared to be at the news of her mother's passing. They would talk about it as it was, and she couldn't help that. But she could help how she reacted under the circumstances.

He must have sensed this for he didn't incite a struggle. Instead, he stood there with her, his forearms pressed against hers, allowing for as much space as she silently requested to remain between them.

Glancing up at him, she saw his heart reflected in his pale blue eyes, eyes that were desperately searching hers for what ought to come next. She was always the beacon of hope. The light of assurance on how to act whenever things like this happened.

Cora opened and closed her mouth, trying to tell him that she had no hope. She had nothing to offer him in terms of reassurance. And she found herself blinking several times, head wilting forward in defeat at this realization.

"What-what can I do, darling?" He probed, his hands squeezing her arms until her gaze found his once more. His head tilted to one side, and he asked uncertainly, "What can I do...to help?"

"Uhm...I uh," She ran her teeth across her bottom lip, and slowly shook her head as if the emotions could be shaken off with this motion. "I-I need to...go...to Newport."

"Of course," He nodded. "Of course you do. I will-I will make all the travel arrangements," He declared softly.

Her brow arched gratefully and she exhaled, "Thank you." Releasing her hold on his arms, she moved towards the stairs, something catching her attention from the corner of her eye.

She suddenly noticed Carson hovering nearby, trying to remain stoic and indifferent towards their brief exchange in the middle of the main room.

"Carson," She caught his eye and instructed plainly, "might you fetch Baxter for me? Tell her I need to pack a trunk for Newport at once. And please...tell the staff that I am sorry I won't see them at the holiday party. Mrs. Levinson has passed, and I must be off to handle that."

He inclined his head in compliance with her request, "Of course Milady. And if I might, offer my deepest sympathies."

"Yes, thank you," She murmured hoarsely before turning sharply on her heel and starting towards the stairs.

Robert already had the phone in his hands, but he managed to cast a glance over his shoulder and add, "And Carson...do fetch Bates as well. I'll be going with her Ladyship."

She shot him a quizzical look, her lips parting in silent protest. But he shook his head and shrugged in response, before turning his attention to the operator on the phone.

Deciding it was best to leave that conversation for later, Cora straightened her spine. Her hand swept over the garland wrapped bannister, unknowingly disturbing one of the white flowers from its secure location. She retreated solemnly up the stairs, unaware as it slowly drifted towards the floor, and Carson knelt down to retrieve it.

She didn't want him there. He saw the silent protest work its way across her face prior to the operator's voice jabbering in his ear, forcing his focus away from his wife's retreating figure. He saw it, but he made the passage for two anyway.

He decided she wasn't thinking clearly. It was her grief and some sort of misplaced guilt that made her want him to remain here at Downton, instead of making the journey to Newport with her. It had to be that, he convinced himself, all the while silently worrying perhaps her emotions weren't the root of this problem.

Perhaps it was him, or even worse, them. Perhaps normalcy hadn't been altogether restored since Simon Bricker gained access into their private lives. Perhaps...

No, he thought as he settled in one of the armchairs in the smoking room. No, now you're not thinking clearly, he reasoned, swirling the brandy in his short glass, the ice clinking against the sides.

It's not that, you old fool. It has nothing to do with that. Robert swirled the contents of his glass again before taking a slow sip. Her mother's died. And she's grieving. He set the glass on a nearby table, staring off into empty space. This isn't about you. It's about her, he reminded himself, feeling himself cringing from his own selfish thoughts that seized him.

"Here you are," Mary broke through the bit of quiet he found, sounding a bit pleased in spite of her otherwise somber voice.

He heard her shoes thumping methodically against the carpet. Then she came into view, hovering in front of his chair. Her fingers curling into her palms as they usually did whenever she felt a bit out of place.

And he must admit, he felt a bit odd seeing his eldest daughter standing here in front of him. The smoking room was typically reserved for gentlemen who indulged in the habit. However, he hadn't smoked since the incident, so it felt a bit hypocritical to point this out.

"I expected you'd be upstairs packing," She remarked lightly.

"Bates is nearly finished," Robert explained briefly, lifting his glass to his lips again. As he set it back down, he finished, "I didn't see a need for me to oversee the last of it."

Mary's brow creased and she posited, "You're not planning on taking him with you, are you? Not with Anna so close to her time." Her words were edged with genuine interest.

"No, your Mother wouldn't hear of it," Robert shook his head casting another glance at his nearly drained glass of brandy.

There was a distinct pause in their exchange before Mary was asking softly, "How is she?"

His eyes shot up to find hers, widened out of concern. Robert's lips twitched at the corners and he remarked sullenly, "As well as we can expect her to be."

Mary nodded, looking down, her hands closed into fists at present. "I tried looking in just now," Her jaw clenched and mouth turned to one side with this brief explanation.

He sensed her defeat, and shared in it. Cora wouldn't be comforted. The realization pained him, but there was nothing to be done about it.

The fact of the matter was, she'd rather take on her grief on her own than allow anyone else to share in it. That was what made moving past Sybil's death so terribly hard for the both of them. Well, one of the things. He thought this would be different. He hoped it would once the shock of it all wore off.

Exhaling deeply, Robert explained rather simply, "She wanted to rest this afternoon. We'll arrive in Liverpool rather late tonight, and we're boarding quite early the next morning."

It was partially true. But it was all he needed. Mary wouldn't press the matter further. It wasn't in her nature to pry on such subjects.

"Of course," Was her response.

Robert watched her look off to the side, studying the fireplace for several seconds. Her fingers flexed a few more times, stroking the underside of her hands. She looked thoughtful, and so he wondered perhaps if there was a reason for her seeking him out.

Cocking his head to one side, he probed softly, "Did you need something, darling?"

"Well...no, not exactly. It's just..." Mary inhaled a deep breath before releasing it and then looking back to him. "Papa, are you sure Edith and I shouldn't come? It hardly seems right us making merry here while you and Mama go to Newport for Grandmama's funeral." She frowned at this, folding her hands together at her waist.

He sighed, looking back to his glass sitting on top of the nearby table. Tracing his finger around the circumference of the top edge, he stated plainly, "It's what your Mother wants, and I wouldn't argue it."

"But are you sure Mama is thinking it through?" Mary tried again. "I mean, it being just the two of you and Uncle Harold seems so wrong."

"Oh it won't just be us," Robert assured with a shrug. He found her conflicted gaze once more before continuing, "Your Grandmama has a great deal of friends in Newport. And a sister from what I gather."

"Yes..." She paused, scrunching her brow together in quizzical manner, "why is it we've never met Mama's Aunt Clara?"

He lifted his shoulders, "I don't rightly know." That was the whole truth.

"It's curious," Mary commented neutrally.

Nodding he replied, "It certainly is. But I expect there's a reason we don't know her."

He hoped that was the end of her inquisition concerning Aunt Clara. When he broached the subject with Cora, he wasn't met with anything more than cryptic answers.

"Perhaps," Mary's mouth twisted to one side, and she paused another moment. Shaking her head a bit, signaling the change in subject, she went on, "But in any event, I just wanted to be sure Mama hadn't changed her mind. Edith and I have talked it through."

He hummed amusedly, her and Edith finding some common ground to provoke a meaningful discussion.

"We really wouldn't mind coming along. Tom and Henry will be glad to manage the children. And Rose would no doubt charm all the guests and see that they're adequately cared for."

It seemed an inviting prospect. It would certainly ensure that Cora had support from many avenues and not just from him. Perhaps she'd be more receptive to the girls than she'd been to him. Or perhaps it would merely intensify her feelings of mismanaged guilt.

No, it was better this way.

So he told her in a deflated tone, "Mary, I can't ask you to spend Christmas away from your family."

"Well you don't have to ask," She squared her shoulders, her voice growing bolder as she went on. "I'd be more than happy to come of my own free will. And so would Edith."

Robert smiled a bit, showing his appreciation at her insistence, but he knew it would end there. "You might be happy to come, but your Mother wouldn't be happy about it. Stay here. It's where she needs you most."

"It won't feel like Christmas without the two of you here," Mary confessed with a saddened curl to her lips.

He inclined his head once more in agreement before adding, "I'm not sure it will feel like Chistmas with us being away from Downton and all you children either." He lifted his glass in her direction, telling her with as much encouragement as he could muster, "But we must make do with what we have this year."

"Yes," She lowered her gaze muttering, "yes, of course." She turned to one side, and it looked as though she was considering leaving the room right then and there.

However, he kept her in the room with his hopeful pleas of, "Will you see that Marigold gets her pony?" This produced a bit of a snort from her, and he felt himself smiling a bit in silent reply.

Everyone had heard about the 'disagreement,' over breakfast. Now the mention of the pony didn't bring irritation, but some sort of comic relief, given the turn the days events had taken.

"And that all the children get their coats?" He went on a bit more seriously before deciding, "It will do your Mother glad to see them properly outfitted upon our return."

"Have you set a return date?" She glanced in his direction again.

"No, not yet," He went on in a tired voice. "Your Mother's not quite sure of the funeral arrangements what with Harold being in charge and Christmas being so close. I thought it more prudent to wait until we knew what we were doing exactly before booking a return passage."

"Well, we will be sure to keep everything up until then," Mary promised with an air of hopefulness flooding her words. Her eyes lit up a bit as she suggested, "And we can exchange gifts and have a little Christmas of our own. Just us Crawleys. Mama would undoubtedly enjoy that, wouldn't she?"

He smiled, feeling the corners of his eyes crinkling. It was a sweet notion, one that he thought would make Cora feel better about the way things were. "I daresay she would," Robert offered his warm approval of the suggestion. "A fine idea that is, Mary."

She beamed back at him in return and nodded, "Well, I won't keep you. I'm sure you'd like to rest a bit before your journey as well."

He set his glass back down, knowing better than the refill it while Mary was still present. "You'll see us off at five?" It was more of a request than a suggestion.

"We all will," Mary confirmed with a bob of her head before leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Robert cast a glance outside the tall window that ran from floor to ceiling, watching the grey clouds gather overhead. He silently wished they carried promises of snow, and not some ominous foreboding as he downed the remnants of his drink and set it on the side table. At least with snow, there was some feeling of Christmas in the air.

Are you guys sick of me writing Cora grieving over lost loved ones yet? Don't worry, I intend to stick with this one. ;)