I do not own Downton Abbey and if I did, the final Cobert kiss wouldn't have been cut ;) Am I right?

She wanted to watch his car leave to be sure of his departure. She watched, rigid at the window as Molesley helped him into the car and her stomach nervously flipped when he unexpectedly looked up to where she stood. She didn't react. For one, she didn't know how to react because she didn't know exactly how she felt about the previous night's events. It was entirely inappropriate, of course, but she had so enjoyed his company up until that point. She never thought he would dare to enter her bedroom - her marital bedroom. And now, it all felt so surreal – like it hadn't happened at all.

But it had happened. The cold left side of her bed confirmed the reality of her situation as did the absence of his visit to her bedroom after his breakfast to visit while she ate hers. That morning she sat with her tray in an all too quiet bedroom as she ate very little. Staring across the room, the only sound keeping her company was the replay in her ear of Robert's forceful backhand across Mr. Bricker's face followed by her shouts at them to stop, which were not heard over their grunting as they fought – fought about her.

She didn't want to wave at Mr. Bricker then, afraid it might send the wrong message. Because she was certain of one thing: she wanted him gone. Once he was gone for good everything between Robert and her could return to normal; or to some version of normal. Mr. Bricker had been right that Robert had been blind to her lately; something which he foolishly proclaimed to Robert's face. Bricker accused Robert of choosing to ignore her. She knew Robert wasn't fully aware of his behaviour, he was lost, he was jealous and yes, she did feel passed over but she knew he cherished her. He was just suffering from temporary blindness – something he was prone to do but he never had a man confront him about it to him in his own bedroom of all places. No wonder he had punched him. But Bricker hadn't been entirely wrong and if it had taken his impertinence for Robert to open his eyes then maybe some good would come from last night.

Cora knew Bricker was interested in her but tried to tell herself he was just a shameless flirt. She was married – married! She told him time and time again that he mustn't call her beautiful and she told him to behave but when it came down to it, she found him flattering and enjoyed his attentions. She received his compliments. She would smile, blush – neither of which discouraged him. She told him to stop but he did not listen. She did nothing to suggest she wanted him in her bedroom but she knew, compared to any other male guest they received, that she looked forward to his arrivals more. But, it was never inappropriate and she had no desire for an affair – however common they may be among the married aristocracy. She loved Robert.

Did he really think something would have happened? That's what hurt her. He slept in his small, cold dressing room bed rather than with her when clearly, he had been eager to see her. She remembered him saying, "I'm glad you're still awake," before his eyes widened when they fell on Bricker.

Something had broken between them at some point, she thought sadly as Bricker's car disappeared from view. Or maybe, it hadn't broken – she hoped, as her throat prickled, threatening tears. They weren't broken but she knew that they were bending dangerously close to it and if things continued, they would break apart.

Robert would need time, she knew. She didn't expect to see him until he was obligated to greet people with her at his deputy lieutenant bash that evening. He was stubbornly hiding from her and she didn't even know where to find him if she wanted to. She would give him space for the time being.

Cora still stared out the window, realizing she had a full day ahead of her and she didn't know what to do. She planned to oversee the photographer with Mr. Bricker as they took pictures of the painting, offering him luncheon and then catching up with Robert when he returned from Sheffield to discuss his meeting and the upcoming cocktail party bash. None of that would happen now, except the photographer was still bound to arrive soon she realized. And she would have to oversee that.

Just as she realized this, another car pulled up the drive and not long after, Carson's booming voice introduced a, "Miss. Florence Haywood, milady." A woman – who looked a couple years older than Mary entered. She was dressed professionally; her clothing certainly matched the newest fashions of London.

"Thank, you Carson."

He gave a singular deep nod and left. Cora knew he must find it peculiar that Bricker had left before her arrival. As did this photographer as she glanced around the room, a confused expression at only meeting with Cora.

"Lady Grantham," she said politely. "It's a pleasure although I was expecting a Mr. Bricker. Simon Bricker," she said curiously. "The picture is for his book."

"Yes. He had some unexpected news back in London and had to catch the first train," Cora said trying to sound regretful. "I can show you to the painting. There's no reason not to proceed without him."

"Absolutely. He's already paid in full so I really must. It seems a straightforward task, as far as photographs go," she smiled.

Cora watched as the photographer took her last photo of the painting and began packing up. She thought of how Robert took such pride in the Della Francesca as Miss. Haywood complimented it.

"Are you interested in art history, Miss. Haywood?"

"I've been an admirer of Piero della Francesca's work for as long as I can remember but that's about all I can claim. I'm certainly no expert like Mr. Bricker," she said as she packed up her equipment. "This painting may be a study for a larger work, Mr. Bricker told me when he asked me to take the pictures and so I jumped at the opportunity to take the pictures. Normally, I enjoy taking pictures of events, or family portraits. I do hope he is right about your painting though."

"It would certainly be interesting," Cora smiled. "Your pictures will help with the investigation, no doubt. Would you like some tea before you go?"

"That is so kind, Lady Grantham. I would, thank you."

They sat in the drawing room, discussing life in London and how there are so many wonderful art galleries to see there. Miss. Haywood complimented the art displayed around the drawing room. Cora studied the woman – she thought she seemed a kind, open minded and – if she were not in the presence of a countess – Cora suspected she would have quite the sense of humour. It was something about her mannerisms and the way she spoke. She was polite and professional but Cora had long accepted that being a Countess in her position, that people must first present this way to her.

"Miss. Haywood?" Cora began, fidgeting with her skirt with the hand that wasn't holding a tea cup. "You said earlier that you normally take pictures of people. Or you prefer to?"

"Yes, your ladyship. I prefer to focus on people and capture who they are on film. I try to make a still moment feel as lively and truthful as I can. That's why taking a photograph of a painting was different for me but Mr. Bricker paid so well and he needed someone last minute so I took this job."

Cora didn't allow herself to dwell on how it was a last minute booking to get the photographer. Had Mr. Bricker spontaneously decided he wanted to come back and pulled everything together? Or did he really want to photograph the painting for his book? She didn't care. She had an idea in mind and she needed to ask this young woman or she knew she would likely never find the opportunity again.

"Do you by chance," Cora coughed. "I mean, would you take a picture of me? What I mean to say, is I hear of Ladies in London getting personal pictures taken and I wondered…" her voice waned.

"You want a 'personal' picture taken," Miss Haywood encouraged her to elaborate, not wanting to say anything out of place. The glint in her eye suggested that she knew what Cora was trying to work up the courage to ask for.

"Yes, for my husband," Cora said more steadily, authority reappearing in her tone.

"A personal picture for your husband, milady?" she clarified.

"Yes," she hoped her pinks weren't turning pink but she knew they must be.

Miss. Haywood set down her tea. "I do hope I haven't presumed incorrectly but," she reached for a briefcase and pulled out a small book. "I carry examples of my work when I travel and may these be the types of photograph you are interested in?" She flipped to a page at the back of the book.

She stood from her chair and handed Cora the open book cautiously.

Cora was sure her face was red by now. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and said quietly, "Thank you, Miss Haywood," and set the book closed on her lap. "That is precisely what I am interested in."

"Boudoir photography," she responded graciously. "And you are quite right. It is especially common in London."

"And you could do this today?" Cora asked hopefully, handing the book back, knowing that Robert's avoidance of her may work in her advantage.

"It would not be a problem at all, Lady Grantham. As luck happens, this was my only booking today and I don't need to be back in London until late this evening."

"Wonderful," Cora answered – a little bit of her embarrassment lifting; though she could still feel the tightness in her cheeks. "Then, I suppose, I should show you upstairs?"

"If you are certain."

"I am," Cora responded. She wanted to do this for Robert. She had thought of it before, in passing, never thinking she would book a photographer herself for the job. This opportunity just seemed too perfect to pass by and something about this woman put Cora at ease. She wasn't sure just when she would give Robert the photographs but the thought of his face when she did thrilled her, and prompted her to help Florence Haywood carry her equipment to her bedroom. She couldn't very well ask Carson to assist them without embarrassment, after all.

The reason Cora doesn't know when she'll give the photos to Robert, aside from her wanting to wait until he stopped being an asshat, is I don't know how long it would take for her to get the photographs developed (#1924 problems) and I would need to come up with a romantic and realistic way for Robert to receive them. So, once I figure that out - chapter two will be coming :)