AN: This idea is in my head for some time, hopping around in different variations. In the end, I liked this one the most. So, here we go. Enjoy reading!

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A Book to Remember

The Northumberland landscapes laid heavily under the dark grey clouds of the November sky. It was not far from Christmas. Christmas, the time of lights, of warmth, and of comforts. But not far wasn't now.

Edith Pelham, as she was known now for quite a while, sat in a cosy chair in the library of Brancaster Castle, waiting of her husband to return from London. Bertie had promised to bring her lots of staff; papers from her newspaper office, all the latest gossip from London as well as books, many books, tons of books.

Not that Edith didn't love their home. She adored Brancaster Castle since it had become the home of her very own family. But she missed Bertie deeply. In addition, Marigold and the boys were with their grandparents at Downton. They wouldn't return before Christmas Eve. Without the children, even the busiest house felt empty.

Without the kids wasn't completely true. Edith smiled.

Upstairs in the nursery, Laura, their youngest child and her second daughter, slept. The girl had been born three weeks ago. It had been a difficult labour and Edith still felt a bit weak, which had been the reason that she didn't accompany Bertie to London this time.

Laura looked like an angel. With her strawberry blond curls and her eyes, blue likes her fathers, she was the image of their marriage. Bertie had fallen in love with her from the very first second.

Although she was more a winter child, born at the beginning of November, Laura was constantly giggling and smiling. Edith couldn't wait to have all her children at home, so that they could welcome their baby sister. Marigold loved Patrick and little Peter dearly, but her mother was quite sure that the girl would be over the moon about finally having a sister.

Edith's back ached. She would love to go upstairs to lie down for some minutes, but she didn't want to miss Bertie's arrival. He had written that he would take the early afternoon train to be home in time for tea.

So, any minute now.

The tea was served and cleared, but Bertie didn't come. Perhaps he had missed the train. Edith sighed.

The greyish day had faded away. It grew dark outside.

Still no sign of Bertie.

Just as Edith was thinking about cancelling dinner and retiring to the bedroom, the butler opened the door. He couldn't announce the lord of the house properly as Bertie rushed past him; still in his outdoor boots, the coat left on some chair in the hall.

"I'm so sorry, darling", Bertie told his wife. "The train was delayed for hours due to an incident near Newcastle."

He kissed her not caring about the butler, who still stand on the doorstep waiting for instructions.

"Tea and some sandwiches for his Lordship, please, Stapleton", Edith hurried to say. She tried to stand up from her chair, but she slightly groaned and collapsed back into it.

Bertie panicked immediately. "What is wrong, darling?" He kneeled next to the chair, stroking her back.

"All is fine." Edith bravely smiled. "I missed my daily walk and now I feel a bit stiff. That's all." She tried to ignore the burning pain.

"How was London?" she asked instead.

"London was quite good", Bertie replied. "Interesting, I would say. Your newspaper is running well as is our woodland business. But tell me, how are you and our little angel?"

It hadn't changed much during the three days Bertie had been away, but Edith decided to make something up for him.

"You won't believe it, but I think she's grown again," she told him with a smile. Even if she would tell him that Laura cold already walk and talk, he would believe it. For sure.

"I will go upstairs and look after her any minute," he replied. "But first..." Bertie went to the grand piano where he had left his briefcase. He took a package out and handed it over to Edith.

Her finger carefully touched the brown paper. "What is it?" she asked but guessed it immediately. "A book."

"Not only a book." Bertie beamed. "It's a special book. A book with a secret."

"A secret?" Edith became curious. "How this?"

"I saw it in the window of a bookstore at Oxford Street," Bertie began. "The owner of the shop told me that it is one of his best sells at the moment, although it is a historical biography, and nobody knows the author."

Something else was coming. Knowing Bertie very well, Edith waited patiently.

"It's the dedication that drives everyone mad." A dramatic pause followed. "It only says: I am sorry."

"I am sorry?"

"Yes, nothing more than that."

"And the man in the bookstore couldn't say any more about this book?"

Bertie shook his head. "No, he couldn't, and a lot of people are puzzling about dedication and authorship."

Edith looked at Bertie still full of curiosity. She loosened the strap around the package and opened the paper.

"But I'm sure that you, my smart and beauty wife, will reveal the mystery," Bertie said full of pride and confidence.

Edith didn't answer. She couldn't help but stare at the book. Her eyes clung on its title.

"A Poet in Need of an Empire"

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TBC