So many wonderful Andith stories floating out there right now! They inspire me. This one's focus is on Anthony, although as we know, Edith is never very far away...

There will be a few original characters along the way; one in particular will change Anthony's world. hopefully for the better?

As always, your comments and reviews are most welcome... like candy for my insatiable sweet tooth.

"Life is a journey, not a destination."
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Life is a journey. Anthony Strallan had heard that said many times in his lifetime. But often it had seemed to him that the ship of life left port, leaving him standing on the pier, watching as it disappeared over the horizon. He had never been quite in step with those around him. He thought himself to be a kind man, generous even. He worked hard for the good of his estate, caring for his tenants and ensuring they had what was required for success. He had loved his parents dutifully and his sister as well, although he had never felt any special bond with them. Again, he was never quite in step and his father often would end a conversation with a simple shake of his head as if he wondered from where Anthony had been spawned. His mother loved him well enough and encouraged him too but she was often caught between Anthony and his father, so as Anthony moved through adolescence he distanced himself from both parents at a time when he probably needed them the most.

At school, when his chums were all off chasing the young ladies, he had been content to remain behind reading a book or engaging in planning for the modernization of the estate. Occasionally he let himself be dragged to some party or ball by one of his friends, chafing in the required formal wear and feeling extremely uncomfortable in the company of the young ladies. They all seemed to think he was a terrific bore and he knew they laughed behind his back. And then he met Maude…

Maude Gordon was pretty but not a ravishing beauty. She was intelligent but not overly so. And for some reason that he never understood, she was drawn to him. After a few chance meetings at some gathering or another, he began to feel almost comfortable in her presence. And once he was able to relax, he realized how incredibly funny she was…and also that she was as much a fish out of water as he. It didn't require much thought for him to realize that this was the woman he would marry. It wasn't that he felt any storybook love or adulation for her; rather simply that she was the one woman he had ever met with whom he knew he could be comfortable enough to survive years of co-habitation. They shared many interests and she seemed content with the notion of a quiet country life. He thought they could get by happily enough.

They did get along well enough and after a few years he found himself preparing for fatherhood. It was both exciting and intimidating. He worried about Maude since she seemed to be ill for the entire pregnancy. In the end his worry was justified. She died giving him a son. But the child wasn't healthy either and he died a few short hours later. So on a dreary, rainy day he buried his wife and son, along with all hope of something of the life his friends seemed to enjoy.

The following years Anthony finally seemed to find his footing in society. No longer caring what others thought and having decided that others would just have to accept his shy awkwardness, he was free to attend gatherings without the pressures he'd felt as a younger man. But unless he was escorting one of the widows in his circle of friends, he usually attended alone.

Then a miracle happened. He met the second daughter of his neighbor and friend, Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham. That he had been invited to dinner as a possible suitor for the eldest daughter was plain. But it was the second daughter, Edith, with whom he seemed to have anything in common. Still, he attempted to fulfill his purpose and pay attention to Mary. He even called later in the week to see if she would like to take a ride in his new motor car. She obviously wasn't interested. But Edith was…and that afternoon began a journey for which Anthony had been completely unprepared. He fell in love with the young woman, hardly more than a child; hopelessly, intrinsically, and exquisitely in love. Never in his life had he known such emotions, such a connection with another human being, let alone a woman. To his complete astonishment, she seemed to care for him as well. They spent a lot of time together over the following months, Anthony wanting to give her the opportunity to meet other men, younger men. He wasn't foolish enough to think he would hold her attention for very long but he relished every moment that he did.

It had taken all of his nerve and a shot or two of liquid courage to work up to asking the all important question. He had warned her a few days before that he would be asking, looking for any sign that she might refuse him. Having detected nothing of the sort, he'd worked up his courage at the Downton garden party and gone looking for her. Unfortunately, her sister Mary found him first. In just a few casual words Lady Mary dashed his anticipation and courage and his old uncertainty returned. His hopes deflated and his heart broken, he'd fled the scene despite Edith's pleas for him to stay. What was it the American, Whittier, had written? "Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been." If only he'd paused to speak with her, truly speak with her….if only.

But Life was not finished with him, not done with his torture; he left for war and come back broken. Even with the age difference between them, it might have eventually worked out, except that war had left him wounded in so many ways. His arm was just an external sign of the injury he had suffered. Not only was he too old; he was no longer a whole man, broken both outwardly and inwardly. Still, Edith had given him hope and it had almost worked. But as he stood at the front of the church, nervous and unsure, over hearing the snide whisperings of others, his rational self—or was it his irrational self - took hold and he broke both their hearts.

He all but ran from the church, fighting the tears that insisted on falling. He ran past the car and down the road. And he kept running until he could run no longer. Finally he made his way back to Locksley, locking himself in his library, tearing off the coat and tie, ripping off his waistcoat, and drowning himself in whatever he could find in the decanters on the side table. "Funny," he thought to himself as he poured another drink, "the war and my injury didn't make me drink like this but she does… or at least, not having her does…"

When he finally awoke the next day, his mind fuzzy and his head pounding, he knew he had to leave. He couldn't stay here; not with so many memories of her…not now. But where to go? He had the tickets for what would have been their honeymoon but…no, not that. So what? By the following morning, he had his answer.

Stumbling around in his library, half drunk and completely miserable, he knocked a book off one of the tables. He heard it as it hit the floor, the pages falling open. Reaching for it, he saw that it was from his American collection…. Emerson. The author's words leapt from the page, mocking him. "Always do what you are afraid to do."

Sighing, he decided to go to that country, to visit the land of Emerson …Massachusetts. There he would visit Emerson's grave and tell him how foolish that notion was. Because in Anthony's clouded thinking that morning, he had done what he was afraid to do, he had walked away. Had he married his Edith, it would have done her a great disservice which they both would have grown to regret. But the joy that he would have had in the meantime…oh the joy! Fuzzily he wished the man, Emerson, were still alive so he could beat the man senseless. Then maybe Mr. Emerson would understand the pain Anthony now suffered. He had no idea where he would go after he shared his opinion with Emerson but it was a beginning to… something. Consequently, a week later he was on a ship bound for the new world.