After a long soak in steaming water, Cora had been dressed in her warmest nightgown and had climbed into bed, where she was examined by Dr. Edwards, who had just arrived. She was running a slight fever and was told that she had the beginnings of a cold. ("And I'm not surprised," the doctor said. "I don't know what you must have been thinking, Lady Downton, to have stayed outside all afternoon in this weather.") Yet he told her she would need nothing more than a couple days' rest.

Cora could tell she was feverish, and her throat felt rather raw, but she was warm and she was dry and she didn't think she'd ever fail to appreciate either of those sensations ever again. After her ordeal in the woods, it was quite simply heaven to curl up in a feather bed under mountains of blankets, a fire roaring nearby and a tray across her lap with a bowl of hot soup for dinner.

She was, however, at something of a loss over her husband. She was still partly annoyed with Robert over the earlier incident and the argument in her bedroom, but she was not sure how angry she could be after he'd rescued her, nor did she understand why'd he come for her himself in the first place and then been so tender afterwards.

The door opened to reveal the object of her thoughts, worry etched on his face.

"How are you feeling?" he asked solemnly, taking a seat on the bed next to her legs. "I spoke with Edwards."

"He told me I only have a cold," she said hesitantly, troubled at his expression and his tone. Had the doctor told Robert something else?

He nodded. "Yes, I'm sure he gave you the same report. But I don't like to think that you're ill at all."

"I'm all right," she said. "I'm glad to be warm, finally."

"I'm sorry for what happened," he said softly, and she was silent for a moment in surprise. Robert had never seemed the type to apologize easily.

"It wasn't your fault," she said. "You didn't make me run off and get myself lost. And you did tell me it was going to rain."

He chuckled. "I did tell you that, didn't I?"

She nodded shyly. In truth she felt quite foolish over the whole incident.

"Have you finished with your dinner?" he asked after a moment's silence, and she nodded again. He stood, took the tray and set it outside the door, and then returned to his seat on the bed. "I wanted to talk to you about what you said earlier."

"Oh Robert," she began. "I don't want to talk about that now." She was still irritated with him, but she did not feel like fighting tonight, and she felt rather ashamed of how harshly she'd spoken.

He ignored her protest. "I have to tell you…I don't think the way you think I do. I don't find you unsuitable at all. None of that's true—"

"I know," she said softly. She did not truly think Robert agreed with his mother; it was only that she'd been upset earlier, and—

"No, you don't know," he said firmly. "You don't know that I find you flawless and perfect and beautiful and wonderful, and better suited to be my wife than anyone on earth."

She opened her mouth but closed it when she could not find any words. No, she hadn't known that. She'd known he thought her beautiful, but none of the rest of it. Certainly not that last part. And there was a clearness in his eyes that left no room to doubt his sincerity.

"You were quite right to rebuke me for not defending you. Please know that I have not been silent out of agreement with my mother. It was only that I didn't…I didn't understand that it mattered to you…"

"You're used to her," Cora said, suddenly understanding. "But it's different for me."

"Yes, and it's going to be different from now on." He reached for her hand, and after a moment's hesitation, she let him take it. "Because…because what troubled me most was how you told me I should stand up for you because we were married, and I was obligated. And Cora…that isn't why I want to do it. That isn't why I came looking for you myself today, or why I've been worried about you. Obligation doesn't come into it."

"What is it, Robert?" she said when he did not continue.

"I love you," he said. "I love you, Cora."

It was so unexpected that for a moment she did not breathe, and then she felt tears fill her eyes. "Robert, I…do you really?"

"Of course I do. I think I've loved you for months, I just didn't know how to say it. But I do love you, Cora. And I was so frightened for you tonight…"

"But I'm here, and I'm safe," she said, squeezing his hand. "Thanks to you."

He moved so that he was sitting right in front of her, took her face in his hands, and leaned forward to kiss her, but she pulled back. "Don't. I've got a cold, remember?"

"Oh, bother about the cold," he said, kissing her forehead and the end of her nose and then her lips. She let him kiss her twice more, enjoying the soft movement of his lips against hers, but she kept her mouth firmly shut, mindful of the germs. When he pulled away for the third time, she sighed, and he leaned his forehead against hers, both of them closing their eyes. Cora wondered, briefly, if this was a dream and if she'd awake to find herself back in the familiar world where Robert was polite and distant and she was desperately lonely.

But then he said something so surprising she knew her subconscious would never have dreamed it up.

"May I spend the night here tonight? May I sleep next to you?"

Her eyes flew open, and she pulled back. "What?"

Robert had turned a deep shade of pink. "That is…I want to be sure you're all right."

No, he didn't. He knew she was all right. He merely wanted to be near her, she realized, and the thought warmed her more than any bath or blankets or soup ever could. "Please," she said softly. "I'd like that very much."

And then a fit of coughing overtook her, causing Robert to fix her with a grave, worried stare. "You should get to sleep right away," he said, and she did not argue. She thought she would have been exhausted enough by the events of the day alone, even if she had not had a fever. "I'll go and change and be back immediately. I won't even call for Carson."

Robert returned in a matter of minutes, extinguished the lights, and slipped into bed next to her. He drew her immediately into his arms, and she sighed, prompting him to kiss her forehead again. He'll surely catch this, she thought guiltily, but she was enjoying being held far too much to push him away. She was also vaguely aware that her fever seemed to be pushing upwards, and she knew she would likely feel much worse in the morning, but she was so very comfortable in his arms that she didn't care. "Good night," she murmured sleepily.

"Good night, love," he replied, and she let the wonderful word echo over and over in her mind as she drifted off.


1925

"But yes, I'm probably thinking of the same night you are." Cora remembered perfectly the first night she'd spent in Robert's arms—a night of sweet bliss, in spite of her fever, after an afternoon of pure misery. She didn't think she'd ever forget how it had felt after so very many months to hear him tell her he loved her.

She sighed, wishing she could breathe more easily, and she felt Robert press another kiss to her shoulder. "Can I get you anything, darling?"

"No, it's fine…and I thought we agreed nursing wasn't your strong suit?"

He laughed, and she smiled, feeling the vibrations in his chest.

"I think that was the first night I slept in here," he said after a pause.

"Yes, and I'm still a little surprised I let you do it," she joked.

"I think you were too tired to fight about the germs."

"That's not what I meant," she said. "I meant, you really had been such a clod to me earlier that day." He said nothing for a moment, and she began to laugh, realizing he wasn't sure if she were serious.

"Oh, hush and go to sleep," he said good-naturedly. "Before I decide this isn't worth the risk."

She snuggled back against him as he rubbed up and down her arm. "Robert?" she said, beginning to feel the haze of the last medicine she'd been given start to slip over her.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're here." She found his arms just as comforting now as she had thirty-plus years ago.

"Thought you would be," she heard him say as she drifted off to sleep.