Disclaimer: Characters belong to Julian Fellowes, Carnival Films, ITV, et al and are used here strictly for non-profit entertainment purposes.
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance
Spoilers: Everything up to and including the Season 2 Christmas special
Summary: The fireplace crackled, flickering light dancing on the walls and the sleeping form of her husband. (Written for the Cobert Holiday Exchange 2016.)
Prompt: "Could you be happy here with me?"

January 1920

Cora stood at the window and narrowed her eyes, looking through the frosted glass. Only the thin pane separated her from the cold dark night, where snow and ice covered everything. She gasped as a chill went through her.

It wasn't just the cold.

Her mouth tightened, her lips disappearing into a line. It was Robert. Robert's face. Robert's resigned face when he learned Sybil was with child. Robert's betrayed face when she told him the truth of Mary and Carlisle's engagement. Robert's devastated face when he returned from York after Bates' sentencing.

The memory of how broken he was in those moments would never leave her. Of that, she was sure.

"What a horrendous start to 1920," she murmured aloud, drawing her shawl tighter around her. But, was it? Was it truly? A small grin came to her face, washing away the grave expression. 1920 would bring them a grandchild. She was to become Granny. Despite his initial resignation, she hoped Robert would come to be as excited for the child as she was.

She turned away from the window and slowly wandered around the bedroom. Change never came easy for him, but he always rose to the occasion. Eventually. He came to love her, after all. He embraced Matthew as his new heir. He lived through the war. He survived her bout with Spanish influenza. He would come to love his Irish grandchild.

He would.

She gasped, her hand coming to her mouth, as she stifled a yawn. It was late. It had been a long day. It was well after dark when Robert returned from York with Mary, his brow deeply furrowed. He barely spoke during supper. He retreated to the library shortly after, but only Mary had ventured in to sit with him.

Cora toyed with the end of her plait as she crossed the room and pulled open the door. She had thought it best to leave him be after supper, to give him the solitude he needed to work through his thoughts. But, their headstrong daughter was not to be deterred from pulling him out of his self-imposed exile. Mary had left the library with red-rimmed eyes and had only shaken her head when she questioned her on the stairs. So. Robert finally told her he knew about the dead Turkish diplomat.

With a sigh, she gripped the banister as she walked down the stairs. The house was still, the cold taking on a life of its own and transforming the estate. Winter in Yorkshire was nothing like it was when she was a girl in Cincinnati. After thirty years, she still found herself unprepared for the deafening presence which came as the bone-chilling cold settled over the land. For the frightful quiet of the snowfall. For the way her rings spun loose on her suddenly shrunken fingers. For the way she could never find warmth under a small mountain of quilts.

She pushed open the door to the library, ignoring the creak which rippled through the silence. The fireplace crackled, flickering flames casting light on the walls and the sleeping form of her husband. She tilted her head as she neared him, the hem of her nightgown dancing around her slippers. He was slumped over, wedged in the corner as his head fell back into the plump cushion. With a silent carefulness, she fell to her knees. Her hand hovered for a moment before she gently pried the glass from his. He startled and his head jerked, blinking sleepy eyes at her. "What time is it?" he mumbled

"Late," she whispered, pushing the glass beneath the sofa as she slipped her hand into his. His fingers tightened around hers as he nodded, his eyes heavy. "Come to bed, darling." She tugged his hand and began to stand when he squeezed her hand.

"No." She looked up, the firelight catching on his glazed eyes. "Sit with me."

She shook her head and touched his knee. He stubbornness always became more unbearable when he was tired. "Rob-"

"Please."

With a sigh, she stood slowly. It was freezing. She was sleepy. He moved his legs, making room for her next to him. As she sat, his arm came up around her slight frame. She leaned against him, settled in the crook of his shoulder as his heavy arm draped around her. A moment later, as her head rested against his shoulder, she felt his chin rest atop her head. "Mary knows," he murmured.

She nodded slowly and turned her face into his chest. He had held true to her promise: he didn't fly off the handle. But, it had taken days for him to be calm enough to broach the topic with their eldest daughter. "Yes."

He sighed deeply, one which went through his entire body. "She said she's damaged goods."

She opened her eyes slowly. Her own words sounded harsh coming out of his mouth. But, he didn't understand. He had never been a woman and seen his future hinge on the decision of men. Her arm stretched across his chest as she asked, "What did you tell her, Robert?"

He chuckled quietly, a sound which resonated in his chest, giving her the chance to hear and feel it. Above all, it was a sound which surprised her. After today, she thought it would be weeks before she heard him laugh again. "I told her to find a cowboy in the Middle West."

She pushed herself up slightly, resting her arms on his chest. He gazed back at her, a deliriously exhausted grin on his face. "Robert?"

"I told her to shake things up."

His face was flushed, no doubt influenced by who-knew-how-many glasses of whisky. But, it wasn't just the whisky. Something had changed with him today. Bates' sentence had shaken him to his core. Instantly, she knew their daughter would not marry Carlisle. She felt a lazy smile come to her lips as his hand came up to cup her chin. "One American wasn't enough?"

"A cowboy, Cora. We've never had one in the family." Now it was her turn to chuckle as she leaned back to his chest. 1920 was going to see happiness for two of their daughters. "Could you be happy here with me?"

She angled her head, looking up at him. "Darling, I've always been happy with you."

"But, here? Now?"

She frowned, confused. "Robert, I-"

"Despite all the sadness of today, I find myself impossibly happy right now. Mary will part from Carlisle. She deserves far better than him."

"Yes." His hand rubbed a path on her arm as their eyes met.

"Be happy with me," he murmured and she nodded. He drew her back in with a contented sigh.

"Always."

THE END.