Robert Crawley couldn't sleep. He had been having trouble doing so these past few nights. He had been assured that there was no safer investment than that of the Canadian Railways, and so had he invested heavily, putting every pound he owned into it. But then World War I had ended, and nothing had gone according to plan. The investment had proved catastrophic. The company had bankrupted itself and, in turn, Robert had bankrupted his family. And now the weight of his ill-advised decision was plaguing his every waking moment, banishing even the thought of sleep from his mind.

As he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, he thought about how to rectify the situation, but nothing would come. He hadn't the faintest idea what he could do, to whom he could turn. Frustrated and utterly exhausted, Robert brought his hands over his eyes, closing out the world and its never-ending woes for just a moment. He needed sleep, he knew, in order to arrive at a coherent solution, but also knew that sleep would evade him as long as Cora was in his line of vision. He dropped his hands and turned his head to look at his sleeping wife.

The guilt he felt for throwing away every last cent of his wife's fortune-albeit unintentionally-was unbearable and all-consuming, and he felt guiltier still because he had been distant toward her of late-almost cold, it seemed. But he simply couldn't stand the thought of Cora finding out that he was a failure and an incompetent. She would resent him for his folly and eventually grow to despise him for making her near destitute. After all, he had married her for her fortune, and now that that was gone, she would have no reason to stay, no reason not to pack up and sail back to America and her family.

Of course, this was a preposterous notion for Robert even to entertain, as Cora loved him more than life itself and had the utmost respect and admiration for him, as he did for her. She had devoted her life to making him happy, and for over twenty years, through thick and thin, had stood by him.

But Robert was incapable of forming a coherent thought, had been since he found out that all the money was gone. 'No,' he thought, 'I mustn't let anyone find out about this-especially Cora.' He refused to be the earl who dropped the torch and let the flame go out. That was simply not an option he was willing to consider.

Giving up on sleep for the night, Robert lifted the down comforter and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, slipping on his bed shoes. For a moment, he just sat there, breathing deeply, resting his aching head in his hands. He sighed and and stood up from the bed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Not knowing exactly what he should do next, Robert glanced about his wife's boudoir, taking in her various possessions and the ornate furniture located about the room.

As he paced the room, he noticed how beautifully the moon shone through the window and landed directly upon his sleeping, carefree wife. He stopped pacing and gazed at her. 'How gorgeous she is; so peaceful, so lovely...' he thought to himself. He walked 'round to the other side of the bed where she lay and knelt down beside her. Overcome with a tenderness he seldom troubled to hide when they were alone together, he reached up and gently stroked Cora's silky brown hair that had fallen loose from her braid.

"My dear," he whispered softly, not wishing to disrupt her slumber, "My dear, I-I am so dreadfully sorry. I never meant for this to happen." He felt tears sting the back of his eyes. "I do love you, you know." and with that the tears fell freely down his cheeks as he pressed the lightest of kisses to her forehead.

Robert moved from his kneeling position into a standing one, about to make way for the door, when Cora stirred ever so slightly. "Shh..." he whispered, attempting to lull her back to sleep. The last thing he wanted at that moment was for her to wake and find him sneaking off in the night. He really didn't have the energy to concoct a feasible explanation tonight. "Shh...go to sleep, darling." he soothed. It was no use. Instead of going back to sleep, Cora fidgeted and slowly opened her eyes. Robert silently cursed himself, knowing full well how light a sleeper she was, had known for over twenty years.

"Robert...?" questioned a groggy-eyed Cora, locating her husband's face in the dark. The moon at his back had created a silhouette effect as he stood over her. "What-what are you doing up at this hour?" She didn't actually have a clue how late it was, but knew he shouldn't be up, all the same.

"Oh, I..." Robert struggled to find an excuse. "I..." he tried again.

"Couldn't sleep?" Cora offered with a small smile, noticing his apparent difficulty. How he loved that smile. How he loved her.He couldn't help but smile in return.

"No." he replied quietly. "I couldn't."

Cora raised her eyebrows and made her mouth into a mock frown, her eyes still smiling. "Oh, my dear," she said as she sat up against her pillow, "come here." She reached out for his hand and he acquiesced, sitting next to her on the bed. "You haven't been able to sleep for the past three nights, Robert." Cora continued, the tone of her voice light and playful, betraying the actual concern she felt, "Now, what's the matter? What is troubling you?"

"Nothing, my dear." Robert replied, hardly looking at her. "Just a little mid-life insomnia, I'm afraid." He squeezed her hand in reassurance. "I'm sorry to have woken you." Finally meeting her gaze, he forced a smile in an attempt at concealing his true emotions from her.

It didn't work. Robert should have known it wouldn't. Cora had always been able to tell when he was lying. She reached up and cupped the side of his face, brushing her thumb across his cheek. "If nothing is wrong," she began, "then why have you been crying?"

'Crying?' he thought, his surprise clearly written on his visage. "How did you-" he started to ask when Cora cut him off.

"Your cheek is still wet, Robert." she lowered her hand from his face and replaced it in his again. "Now, tell me what is the matter." she ordered once more.

Robert cursed himself for the second time that night. He knew better than this. Cora was the most observant person he knew and he had provided her with so much ammunition tonight. Knowing he was caught, Robert sighed and averted his gaze to their entwined fingers, thinking of how to tell her that life as they knew it was at the beginning of the end. 'After all,' he tried to reason, 'If this is the end, she has the right to know.'

"Alright," he began, meeting her eyes. She smiled at him. Oh, how he really did love that smile. He couldn't help but think that this was the last time he would ever see it. At this thought, Robert felt a lump growing in his throat and felt the sting of tears at the back of his eyes again.

Cora noticed this change in demeanor immediately and her smile vanished. "My goodness, Robert!" She squeezed his hands tightly. "What on earth has happened?"

The tears now cascaded down Robert's face. He didn't care about propriety or that a wife should never see her husband in such a state of distress. Damn propriety. He simply couldn't hold them in any longer. He couldn't hold this in any longer. And Cora had the right to know.

Regaining enough composure to speak, Robert choked out, "Oh, my dear. I'm so sorry."

"...Sorry? What-what for?" asked Cora, her voice fearful. She had never seen her husband like this before.

Robert stood abruptly, dropping her hands and turning his back to her. He sighed deeply before continuing. "I-It's gone. All of it. It's all gone." he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Cora furrowed her brows. "What is? What's gone?" she asked, perplexed. The thought of her fortune didn't even flutter across her mind. She had never cared about her money, never cared about anyone's money. She didn't need it to be happy. She was born into it, yes, but always thought it a bit of a burden, not knowing whether people liked her for her grand inheritance or for herself. She often wondered what it would be like to the live in a simpler way.

"The money." Robert's voice brought her back to the present. "Your fortune. All gone." he answered. The room fell silent for a moment before he continued. "I-I know you're angry and shocked, and I understand that. I'm not asking for you to forgive me. I could never expect-"

"How did it happen?" Cora cut him off.

"I made a poor investment in a Canadian Railway company." he stated simply, not wishing to elongate this torturous humiliation of his inadequacy any no longer than necessary. "And now it's all gone. Every damn cent of it." For the third time that night, he felt hot tears roll down his cheeks, this time silently. He closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Cora. I have failed this family. Most of all, I've failed you. I will never forgive myself for what I've brought on you." Again the room fell silent. Robert interpreted this silence as Cora's unspoken agreement that he was, indeed, a failure as a husband and as a man. He made up his mind that now was the appropriate time to leave, and as he was about to exit the room, he heard a soft chuckle behind him. He turned to see his wife reclined against the headboard of the bed, smiling at him. Confusedly, he took a step toward her. "Cora...?"

"Robert." She held out her hands to him, and hesitantly, he took them in his own. "Sit." she ordered. He obeyed. She gently caressed the back of his hands with her thumbs. "Robert," she began again, "really, darling, you needn't be so dramatic." Her eyes were locked on his. "You haven't failed anyone, least of all me. You know as well as I that I never needed all this luxury; all this superfluous money." She waved a hand in the air, gesturing to her belongings about the room. "All I need," she continued, "all I have ever needed is you, Robert." she sighed contentedly and smiled at him.

"You mean..." Robert began softly, "You mean you don't despise me for..." he trailed off, looking rather like a little boy who has lost his puppy. "...for everything that I've...for ruining..."

"Stop it." Cora interrupted sternly before he could go on. "Really, Robert, you make it seem as though you want me to despise you." She raised a hand to his cheek and made him meet her gaze. "Well, I'm sorry, darling. I just can't."

He smiled as he covered her hand with his. "You truly are the most remarkable woman I have ever known." The light that had gone from his eyes three days ago was now slowly returning. Cora was glad of it. She had so missed seeing his eyes dance when they looked at each other, sending cryptic messages back and forth, telling each other what was in store for later.

"I know, dear. You tend to forget that I'm an American."

Robert wasn't quite following her train of thought. What had her American roots to do with this? It must have been the Englishman in him, a cultural barrier, he decided, that left him confused. He cocked his head to the side, giving her a questioning grin.

Cora giggled. "Have gun, will travel." she supplied.

"Ah, yes." Robert sighed, and with that he leaned in and kissed his wife fully on the lips, letting her know just how much he loved and needed her, how grateful he was to have her so completely. She responded by kissing him and lacing fingers through his hair, playing with the curls on the nape of his neck. She knew how much he liked it when she did that.

Robert pulled back slightly, hugging Cora against his chest and whispered into her ear, "Thank God for you, at least." He kissed her temple, began trailing kisses down her neck. She moaned and leaned back to grant him better access. Soon his lips had traveled the entire length of her neck and were met by the soft fabric of her nightgown.

In no time at all, his fingers were hurriedly undoing the buttons and the thin material was sliding up over her head. In a matter of moments, Robert and Cora's nightclothes were strewn about the dark room, their limbs entangled in their bed sheets, and all their previous worries of the night miles away.

A few hours later, Robert and Cora were laying in bed again, thoroughly exhausted. Cora was sound asleep, her head resting on Robert's chest while he ran his fingers through her disheveled hair, which was no longer in its braid. He couldn't sleep. He hadn't been able to for the past few nights. But this time it wasn't because his mind was ill at ease. No, it was because he couldn't help but marvel at what life had given him: a loving, compassionate, and darling wife-who, by some stroke of dumb luck, just so happened to be as insatiable as he. He marvelled at the life they had been so blessed to share with one another. Somehow, he came to realize, somehow all the money in the world didn't matter, so long as he had her by his side.

Robert remembered something his father had told him when he was a boy. "It is better," Patrick had said, "to have a short life that is full of what you like doing than a long life spent in a miserable way." Robert was now beginning to understand what his father meant all those years ago. He realized that he was too busy worrying about material things and keeping up appearances to fully appreciate the value of life. He vowed to himself that after tonight these things would own his life no more.

He bent his head down and kissed the top of his wife's head, thinking of all the things in life he would soon be enjoying-namely Cora-and smiled. "Yes, thank God for you." he whispered into her hair before sleep finally claimed him.