Sometimes a story comes quite easily and sometimes getting it right is like banging one's head against the wall, it hurts. This one came to me out of nowhere, except perhaps the fact that I miss DA and Edith and Edith and Anthony in particular. And as there are fewer Andith stories afloat, I'm forced to think some up. Besides, life really stinks right now and I needed a place to hide away.
The characters are a bit OOC here. I can't imagine Anthony allowing things to happen as they do here. But gosh darn it, I had to get them together somehow. Also, it is late at night (the only time I seem to have for fanfic these days) and I think this makes sense and there aren't too many typos, but just in case- please pardon any errors.
No tomatoes please.
Lady Edith Pelham, Marchioness of Hexham, stood next to her husband's cousin, Lady Marian Bingham. The room was brightly lit and people were gathered in small groups, talking and gossiping, as was always the way at these gatherings. Their host and hostess, Lord and Lady Midbury, were celebrating their twenty fifth wedding anniversary in grand fashion with a party. Lady Midbury was a close friend of Edith's mother-in-law and so the Pelhams had been invited. Of course, Lady Midbury was also excited to have them because of Bertie Pelham's title. But Marian had proven to be a reliable companion for Edith at these social gatherings when Bertie disappeared with some of the men, off playing billiards or cards.
It wasn't that Edith was uncomfortable at such gatherings. She had lived her life among these people, or people like them. But at times it felt very shallow. Her life had so many facets to it now, her role as Lady Hexham, her role as mother, her role as the owner of a prosperous magazine, that gathering with other ladies in a corner to gossip just seemed... meaningless. And while she did enjoy visiting with a few, an entire night of the upper classes often felt endless. Tonight was one of those nights. And she'd only arrived a half hour ago. Marian sensed Edith's discomfort and tried to engage her in deeper conversation but Edith felt odd somehow, as if she were waiting for something, something big.
They mingled for a few minutes and had just concluded a conversation with one of the daughters of Viscount Chittum when Edith heard Marian gasp softly. Edith studied her shorter cousin and saw that she was gazing across the room. Edith couldn't remember ever seeing Bertie's forty something cousin blush and certainly not the way she was blushing now. Intrigued, she turned to see what had caused such a reaction in Marian and released a small gasp herself.
"Isn't he the most beautiful man you've ever seen?" Marian whispered.
Looking across the room, Edith could only think one thing...once I thought so... as she watched Sir Anthony Strallan step further into the room. His wavy blonde hair showed signs of gray now, there were a few more lines in his face, and he still carried his injured arm in a black silk sling. But as he stood there, tall and elegant, Edith fought for equilibrium.
Noticing Edith's reaction, Marian leaned in and asked, "do you know him?"
All Edith could do for a moment was nod that she did. Her eyes remained fixed on him, the man who she had loved for almost a decade and who walked away from her at the altar years before. Apparently sensing her stare, he turned and looked around until his eyes fixed on her, eliciting another small gasp. His eyes are as blue as ever, she thought as she met his gaze. Her heart clinched as she saw his expression change from casualness to pained surprise. Edith felt Marian's nudge and heard her repeat, "do you know him?"
Edith blinked and whispered, "I do... did. I haven't seen him in eight years though. He ... his estate is next to Downton. But he's been... away for some time."
"Might you introduce me to him?" Marian asked, unable to keep her eyes off him for long. But Edith seemed rooted to her spot as she watched him. His eyes held her captive, even as his face betrayed his distress. When Edith didn't answer Marian, she felt herself being nudged toward Anthony.
He looked around, almost panicked, she thought. But as the two women closed in on him, he settled in his place, a look of terrified resignation on his face.
Edith could feel Marian's admiration of Anthony as the two women came to a stop in front of him. She noticed that Anthony barely gave Marian a look though, as his eyes seemed firmly focused on her. "Sir Anthony," Edith said, her lifelong training giving her guidance.
He bowed his head slightly. "Lady Edith... er, I mean, Lady Hexham; I recall reading that you are married now." He looked at her imploringly. "Happily, I trust?"
"Yes. Lord Hexham is... well, one couldn't ask for a better man." She saw relief mix with the anguish in his face and was somehow relieved herself. "This is Lady Marian Bingham, my husband's cousin." Turning to Marian she finished the introductions. "Sir Anthony Strallan owns the estate next to Downton. His family and our family have been neighbors for centuries."
Anthony gave Marian a polite glace and a smile with a short greeting and then turned his attention back to Edith. "I've only just returned from my latest journey and just heard of your marriage a few days ago. May I offer my best wishes?"
Edith sighed. "Yes, thank you." She'd been reluctant to approach him, speak with him again, but now she found she wanted conversation to continue. "You are staying in London?"
"Ah... yes, for another week. I'll return to Locksley after I conclude my obligations here."
Obligations? What obligations could he have in London? And then it struck her. "You... you're not still working with...well, the department you were assigned to during the war?"
"No, not officially. But while I was travelling there were some things that I felt obliged to report. And your stay in London?"
Edith felt Marian leave her side. She'd have some explaining to do later but at the moment all she cared about was talking with Anthony. "Oh. Well, I come up to town regularly for my magazine and then of course, there was this party. Bertie felt obligated since we were in London anyway."
"Ah, yes. I'd heard that you own a magazine now. The Sketch, isn't it?" The anguish seemed to fade from his face and he looked at her now in the way he had years before, with genuine interest and respect.
Yes. It's a long story of how that came to be, but I do enjoy it. And I'm discovering I'm quite good at it, too," she said with a small amount of pride.
His eyes began to sparkle then as he looked at her with his wonderfully crooked smile. "I never imagined you wouldn't be good at anything once you'd decided on it. I've always found you quite intelligent and very determined, once you've set your mind on something."
Edith blushed. "Yes, well... probably a bit too determined at times." Like when I pursued you after you'd said I mustn't.
"Yes, well I... I, " He glanced around the room, obviously uncomfortable again.
"I'd like to see you again, Anthony. Somewhere quiet where we could really talk. When you... when things went awry, I lost my very good friend as well as my fiancé. And while I've moved on in one way, I still miss my friend very much."
A frown furrowed on his brow. "Really? I don't see how ... what I mean is, I've thought you must hate me all this time."
"I..." she thought back to the days following the fiasco. "I might have at first. Mostly, I just felt... abandoned. And sorry for myself. But I found some direction with my writing and well, I think I grew up in all of that too. I'm not the child you must've thought me to be then."
Another smile quirked at his lips. "Before the war, perhaps. But after, no. You might have been young but you were no child. And now, well... you are a very beautiful and accomplished woman. Easily the most interesting person in the room."
Edith beamed up at him. "You see, you have always been so very good for me. I was standing in the corner with Marian feeling very much a wallflower and now I'm positively glowing from your comments. You have always seen me differently than almost anyone else and encouraged me. I do miss you."
He swallowed and pressed his lips together. "Edith, I don't think it would be appropriate..."
"Meet me for lunch tomorrow and I'll tell you just how inappropriate I have been since we last saw one another."
"I... it wouldn't be... you can't be serious?"
"Where are you staying?" She asked frankly.
"Er... um... Havilland House. I keep rooms there."
"They have a nice tea room just around the corner. We'll meet there at 1:00." Her tone was firm.
"But... we can't... shouldn't..."
"And Anthony, if you aren't there, I shall look for you at your rooms. " She had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen in surprise. "Alright then," he agreed. "One o'clock."
The next day, on some flimsy excuse about The Sketch, Edith left Bertie and Marigold at their London flat and set out to meet Anthony. She was pleasantly surprised to find him waiting for her at the tea room, a few minutes early and very nervous.
The talked about the county and Anthony's travels over a light lunch and Edith enjoyed every moment of it. Once he relaxed, Anthony seemed to as well. As they finished the last bites, Anthony looked across at her. "You said you'd tell me ... well, about your life since... that day."
"Yes, I did," Edith replied. "But I'm not certain this is the place for it. Your rooms... is there a sitting room?"
Anthony frowned. "Yes. But we can't... your reputation."
"It's London, Anthony. No one cares. Let's go there so I can tell you without worrying about someone overhearing."
Still very uneasy with the idea, Anthony finally agreed, paid their tab, and walked with her around the corner. His rooms were every bit Anthony Strallan, from the worn comfortable furniture to the stacks of books on almost every surface. There was a large window at the front of his sitting room that sunlight poured through, casting even more warmth into the room.
She turned to looked up at him behind her and smiled. "Once I heard that you'd left Locksley, I always pictured you in a room like this somewhere."
"I... didn't leave Locksley, not for long. I've sort of popped in and out over the years. It... it reminded me of you."
Edith canted her head. "Of me?" But we never... I never lived there."
"No, that's right. But still, I'd picture you in the library like you were when you said you weren't going to give up on me... or the day you told me to stop pushing you away. And the other rooms, I'd remember the plans we had for them, your thoughts on bringing the old house back to life. And it... well, it hurt to remain too long with those thoughts."
The anguish was back in his eyes as she looked at him. "Oh Anthony, why did you leave me that day?"
"I told you then, it was what was best for you. And I was right, don't you see. Look at you now. You're so very accomplished."
Letting go a sigh, she turned and sat in one of the few chairs that wasn't already occupied by books. "Anthony, I might appear to be but it came at a price. I can't say I regret the price but... I haven't been happy for most of the years since... that day."
Settling on a chair facing her, he remained quiet, his eyes darkening with worry. Finally he asked in a small voice, "You're unhappy?"
Giving his question the thought it deserved, she nodded. "No, no unhappy now. Bertie is a good husband and he does seem to understand me generally. But he's changed since I first met him. He was the estate manager at Brancaster then. Now he's the Marquees of Hexham and it is a heavy burden. We work well together to fill our roles, but... as a married couple... I can't say exactly what it is, but something is missing. I love him, but..."
"You shouldn't be telling me these things, Edith."
"Then who should I tell them to? I look at my parents and I see what is between them, the spark. I thought it was there with Bertie but the more he grows into the role of Marquees, the less I feel it. I felt it with you, Anthony. And I felt it with Michael, although in a different way. And at first, I felt it with Bertie. But now..."
"Michael?"
Another sigh escaped her. "Yes, well... I suppose I should tell you the whole story." And so she did, starting with her writing letters to the editor and then writing for The Sketch, before moving on to the romance with Michael and then her story about Marigold. There was less to say about Bertie but she told him anyway and waited for his response once she'd concluded her tale.
Anthony stared at her, shocked at first and then pained, concluding with sadness. "Edith, that's not... it isn't..."
"I know. You wanted me to find some young man neared my own age and settle down to a very normal but happy life. You thought you'd drag me down." She chuckled then. "I find it ironic actually."
Shifting in his chair, Anthony was clearly feeling the weight of his decision all those years before. "Edith, I am sorry. I still believe that I was completely wrong for you but I managed things so miserably that it left you vulnerable and hurt."
Looking at him sadly, seeing the tears that had gathered in his eyes, Edith realized two things. First, Anthony had hurt himself as much as he'd hurt her and second, the reason why the spark was missing in her marriage. With that, an idea was born. "Anthony?"
"Yes, my dea... Edith?"
"There's something I need to know and it isn't something that can be explained in words."
"What?" he asked as he tilted his head, a confused frown on his forehead.
"I need to know how things would have been between us."
Still confused, Anthony shook his head. "I don't understand."
"I need you to take me to your bed."
Anthony shot up out of his chair, his eyes wide with panic. "What? You must be joking? It isn't... you're married! And not to me... and besides, I ... "
Moving more sedately than he had, Edith rose and stepped close to him, her hand reaching for his arm. "I'm not joking; I'm quite serious. I am married but... Things don't feel... complete. And I need to know if... if it would with you."
Anthony snorted derisively. "Not bloody likely to feel anything," he growled.
Tightened her fingers on his arm, she asked, "what do you mean?"
Tears began to slide from his eyes. "I... don't think I can."
Edith started to ask what it was he thought he couldn't do but understanding dawned before she spoke. "Oh." After a moment of quiet thought, she fished for more. "Is that why you... left that day?"
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded affirmatively. "I... I so enjoyed your company and I did... " Opening his eyes he looked into hers compellingly. "I loved you, Edith; I honestly did. You brought so much happiness to me. But I wasn't certain I'd be able to... to be a proper husband, at least not for long. After I left, I tried... well, there are women who will... do that for a price. I wanted to know for certain if I could... manage it."
"And you couldn't?"
"No.," he answered shamefully.
"Still, I'd like to try. Please Anthony? Could we just... try?"
He looked at her, embarrassment etched into his features. "I don't think it is a good idea. It would be too humiliating. I'm older and.. well, there's still this," he said as he indicated his dead arm.
"But you are capable of holding me and touching me, aren't you? You could do that. Please, Anthony?"
He looked down at her, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears and the light of the love that he still felt for her. "I... suppose I could manage that. But please Edith, don't expect more."
She took his hand and walked, really more like led him through to his bedroom. Everything in his demeanor was reluctant and Edith understood that she must proceed with care. Moving close to him, she ran her hand down the front of his coat, down the center of his chest. Then carefully, she moved her hand up the lapel and worked it under the fabric until she reached his shoulder. All the while, she kept her eyes fixed on his. Slowly she pushed his coat off his left shoulder and worked to slide it off his arm, then finally repeating the process on his right side, learning as she went just how dead that arm was.
Once she had his coat off, she laid it over a nearby chair and turned to him. "Your turn."
His brow knitted into a furrow. "Beg pardon?"
She smiled at his puzzlement. "What article of my clothing would you like to remove?"
His eyes widened as did his mouth. "Oh, I... " But words deserted him as he surveyed her standing before him, considering his choices. Stepping closer, he leaned over her and bent just enough to settle the gentlest of kisses on her lips. With a breathiness she remembered well, he whispered, "I've dreamed of this... you can't know how often I've dreamed of this."
"It isn't a dream, Anthony. I'm here and it is real. These hours belong to us, only us. For now, there's just the two of us."
His head lifted as his blue eyes searched hers for any sign that he should stop. What he found instead was permission, and even more, an invitation. "Oh god, Edith... I've longed for you, ached for you for so long. I only hope..."
"Whatever happens between us today, it will be good, Anthony. No regrets, no shame, no apologies. Whatever happens... I want you in every way possible but I am willing to take whatever I can get."
A tender smile formed as his eyes lit once again. "Then I want you... your clothes; I'd fumble. I'd rather you... well, remove them... slowly." His abashed expression warmed her and she returned it. "And your clothes?"
Oh, I wouldn't mind at all if you helped me," he said with a hint of cockiness.
And so Edith began to remove her clothes and his, one article at a time alternating between their bodies and kisses in between until they stood before one another in just their under things. "Bed?" she asked. With a nod, he took her hand and led her there, kissing her more deeply than he had. Then Anthony eased her down to the bed and under the covers before joining her there. She sensed his shyness and thought how awkward it must all feel to him. Beyond that, Anthony Strallan was an principled gentleman and she was married. This just didn't fit his sense of honor at all. But she also sensed that he wanted this closeness with her, even if he would suffer later. And she knew he would. But she thought it was worth it, the suffering they both might experience, for this afternoon of answered questions.
Scooting closer to him, afraid of making a wrong move but with building anticipation, Edith kissed him. It was a lingering kiss and she felt as much as she heard his small gasp when they parted. He looked into her eyes and then collapsed against her for more.
It was thrilling she thought, to have him against her like this. The few garments that remained between them were flimsy and hid none of the heat and desire that seemed to course through their veins. And suddenly, even those garments were too much for her. Slipping her hand under his vest, she slid her fingers up his torso, bringing the hem upwards in the motion. He tensed in response but then relaxed when her hand settled over his heart. The sure but accelerated beating of it gave her courage somehow and she pushed the vest up, exposing most of his chest. Again, he tensed. Ignoring his reaction for the moment, she gazed at the flat planes of his chest, admiring him. Gently she began to kiss and nuzzle at his navel and worked slowly upwards, finishing with a rather languid kiss at his heart before resting her head over it. Again, he relaxed.
She felt his left hand at her head, his long fingers combing through her hair until his fingertips found her scalp where he lovingly caressed her. "Edith," he whispered.
She lifted her head just enough to rest her chin on his chest and look up at his face. "Mmmm?"
"I ummm... do you thing we might, erm... remove your... um... " A smile eased onto her face as she caught his meaning. "Mmmm, sounds lovely. Think you still know how to unfasten a woman's garments?"
He smirked at her then, a sign he was becoming more reconciled with this. "My darling, the last time I undressed a woman, the garments were quite different. This is all very new to me."
She grinned back. "Time you caught up with modern ladies then," she quipped. "Just reach around back and find the clasps. You have an inquiring mind, you'll get the hang of it."
His brow quirked but he did as he was told and after a false start, he quickly understood the mechanics and had freed Edith from her confines. "And below?" He asked. "Even easier," she answered as she lifted herself off his chest and knelt on the bed next to him.
Anthony looked up at her fully exposed breasts and the response in his eyes boosted Edith's confidence. She watched as he battled with indecision and knew the inner debate he suffered. Should he continue with his quest to divest her of all her garments or did her breasts demand immediate attention? Evidently, he decided that he wanted to open the whole package because he shifted to make it easier for him to wrestle her knickers off her with is left hand. His shift revealed his own state to Edith, for below his vest, his own underpants were straining to contain Anthony's own very potent package.
After he'd pulled her knickers down, Edith kicked them to the side and settle over him again, strategically placing herself over that part of him that he feared was no longer up to the task. Saucily she commented, "feels as if things might be in working order."
Anthony grunted, his mind otherwise occupied as his eyes feasted on her breasts above him. His hand took possession of the right side, first holding her in his hand before applying more detailed appreciation. He grinned when he discovered how reactive she was to such special treatment. It only took a few small passes over her nipple to have it at full attention but he continued to play, evoking even more response from her. She in turn felt his own responses below her core where his manhood continued to harden and grow.
His mouth was next, attaching to her so far ignored side. Edith felt her bones melting into jelly as he caressed her. But even more than the physical stimulation, she was carried away by his reverence of her. Bertie admired her and expressed his appreciation and Michael had prized her as well, but Anthony... in just a few short moments he made her feel like a goddess. There was a shyness about him, just as there had been with Bertie. But where Bertie's had been fueled by the newness of it all, Anthony's was genuinely born of veneration. Anthony had the experience, though many years past, that Michael possessed. But where Michael was possessive and commanding, Anthony was driven by different forces.
As his adoration trailed down her torso, stopping to tease at her navel, Edith knew now what she had missed with both Bertie and Michael. She also understood how very happy she might have been with Anthony, whether they had begun a life together before the war when she was still so very young and in need of tutelage or eight years ago when she desperately wanted to be married and hoped he would be the one. She loved both Michael and Bertie, but this man... this man was the one capable of lifting her to heights she'd never dreamed of. And he hadn't even, well... shown her much yet.
Anthony was done worshipping her navel and shifted under her, rolling her to the side, so that she was lying next to him. He started to turn, to give her lower extremities his affection when she stopped him. Tugging at his vest, she smiled. "Oh no, not until things are even."
The glow in his eyes was extinguished and he refused to look at her. "I... I don't think..."
"It will be alright, Anthony. I promise. But I want to feel you, all of you."
He blinked and then sighed. "My... my shoulder..."
"Downton was a hospital during the war, remember? I've seen worse, I'm sure. And whether we like it or not, it is a part of you now. Whatever it is, it won't frighten me away."
He took a deep breath and gave a quick nod. "Alright." Carefully he lifted his vest, first working it over his left arm and head, then gingerly sliding it over and down his right. He trembled as he sat back, waiting for her reaction. Seeing his trepidation, Edith knew she needed to be careful. Slowly she leaned forward and gently touched his shoulder where the scar was. The place where the bullet entered wasn't too terrible, she thought and the surgical scar was a clean one. But the shoulder did not look normal. Easing around to the back, she bit her lip to fight back the cry that threatened when she saw the damage done by the bullet's exit and the tissue damage and scarring from further surgery. The skin was a mess, ugly and distended looking even after all these years. But it was Anthony and she knew he was waiting in apprehension of her response. Determined to give him a bit of peace, she leaned forward and caressed the skin with her lips, feeling the tension leave him as she nuzzled up his shoulder to his neck. "Edith," he whimpered.
"I love you, Anthony. I always will."
She felt his sob more that she heard it. Slipping around to face him again, she cradled his face with her hands. "We have this afternoon to give to one another. No more discomfort, only what we feel for the other, alright?".
He looked into her eyes, pools of his grief sitting just inside his lower lids but the light returning to his eyes, light and acceptance. "You do love me, don't you?" Where once his question might have sounded unsure, it now sounded awe filled.
"I do, Anthony. I think from that first day in your car together." She touched her lips to his and it seemed all he needed. Because her quiet, shy Anthony suddenly became a self-assured force, ready to convince her of his own feelings.
Their kisses grew more passionate and his hand wandered, exploring all of her, filled with a need to leave nothing undiscovered and mirroring her own exploration of him. What had become fairly routine with Bertie was a whole new experience with Anthony and certainly like no other.
Her need for him only grew, the fire that had burned bursting into flame, and then an inferno. She simply could not have enough of him, the feel of him, the sound of him... every sense was in tune with Anthony. She had enjoyed intimacy before but nothing had ever been like this. With Anthony, she transcended the physical as he took her to a whole new plane of existence. She thought she might faint from the headiness of him and as much as she wanted to concentrate on pleasing him, Anthony made it impossible to think of anything but how he made her feel.
Finally the moment came when their need would abate no longer and they were joined. As she felt his entry, Edith could only roll her head back and moan with the sheer joy of him. As he buried himself in her, she thought there could be nothing better on this earth than to be filled with this man. He gasped and she realized his arm was weakening as he held himself over her. Pushing against him, she rolled them, still joined, until she was able to be on top, relieving him of the burden. It was an advantage too, because now she could watch his face. With their height difference, her face had been at his chest with him on top but now she could see him. And what she saw as he looked up at her made her heart swell; such admiration, such love, such... trust.
He was buried to the hilt deep within her now and her insides twitched with desire. He reached up, slipping his hand behind her head and pulling her to his lips for a long, hungry kiss. And when they parted, when she saw the fire in his eyes, she lost control. It was frenzied and heated as she climbed and she could feel him with her, frantic as well. And then it came, the explosion, her body no longer her own as she sang his name in sweet release. She pounded on him as he pumped into her, his arm around her now in a frenetic hold. And even after the first bit of release, it kept happening, her inner walls clenching and convulsing, her motion nonstop. Somewhere in her mind, she understood that she would be very sore from this later as her muscles were being used in a manner they were unaccustomed to. But her body refused to stop, Edith had felt Anthony's explosion and could feel he was spent, yet he was trying to stay with her, to keep feeding her need. And he did, until finally her motion began to slow and her body began to relax into a more peaceful pace until she collapsed on him, entirely satiated and replete.
Anthony held her as he caught his breath and then began to place small pecks, tender little kisses where ever his lips could each. "Oh my darling Edith," he whispered reverently. "You have made me whole again. How do you do that?"
She slipped to his side and looked into his face. "We've made each other whole, Anthony; because I think there will always be a part of each of us that belongs to the other. No matter where we go or who we are with, I believe that is true."
The remained like that, soothing and stroking, whispering of their love until the fires had been stoked again and they joined once more. The second was as wondrous as the first, although at a slower pace. A few love filled minutes later, Edith looked up and realized that the afternoon was waning. "I have to go, Anthony. I don't want to, but I must."
The tenderness in his expression almost made her forget her duties, her obligations as a wife and a mother. And it was he who encouraged her to move. "You've made a new life, Edith. I... today has been a dream, an answered wish. But you must return to your life and I must let you. If ever you should need me, I will be nearby." And so she gathered her clothes, made use of his facilities, dressed and left.
A few days later, Edith received a letter from her mother that mentioned Sir Anthony had returned to Locksley. She had met up with him quite by accident in Ripon and they had exchanged pleasantries. He'd asked after Edith and seemed relieved to know she was happily married, her mother wrote. She added that he'd mentioned he probably wouldn't be travelling much anymore, that he felt it was time to settle in again at Locksley.
Edith returned to her duties, saving a few quite moments of her own each day to think about Anthony and remember. The knowledge of his love gave her courage and a new sense of peace. And two months later when she discovered she was pregnant, she was filled with a warmth far beyond anything she'd felt before. This was Anthony's baby; she just knew it.
Everyone marveled at the blue eyed tow headed baby that was born to the Marquees and Marchioness of Hexham some months later. When asked about the boy's coloring, Edith would smile and remind the questioner that her father had been light haired as a boy and both her parents had blue eyes. And secretly she would smile because while both were true, there was no doubt that the blue of her son's eyes were Anthony's brilliant blue.
When her son was just a few months old, Edith was at Downton with her children for a visit. Bertie had remained at Brancaster to manage some new improvements being installed but had encouraged Edith to visit her family. So she, Marigold and her son Phillip travelled to Yorkshire.
It was the third day of her visit when Tom told the family that one of Locksley's boars was being brought over to service a few of the Downton sows. The two estates had been trading the use of animals since soon after Anthony's return, improving both pig herds and helping to keep expenses down.
Robert, Edith's father looked at her uncomfortably and Mary groaned. But Edith smiled. "Really. Do you think Sir Anthony will accompany them?" she asked Tom.
"I'm not certain, but he usually does."
"Yes," groused Robert. "Anthony's quite proud of his pigs."
"Wonderful. I'd like to see him again."
Both Robert and Mary looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Edith surely you can't mean that," Robert said.
"But I do. What happened was a long time ago. And ... and he was very good to me, for me... except for that one thing. I'd like to see him, know how he is fairing."
Edith held her son, Phillip, in her arms and had Marigold next to her in the car as Tom drove them down to see the pigs. As predicted, Anthony was there with his pig man to oversee things. His look of astonishment when he turned and saw Edith walking toward him amused Edith. Tom took Marigold's hand and guided her to the pig pens, leaving Edith alone with Anthony, and their child.
"Edith," he whispered awestruck.
"Hello Anthony. Tom said you might be here today and I wanted to see you."
"Yes well," he sighed as he looked at the bundle in her arms. "You ummm... you have..."
"I brought my son to meet you Anthony." She pushed aside the blanket that covered his face so that Anthony might see his son. As the baronet looked at the small face, the two sets of identical blue eyes meeting, his face twisted into an odd mix of anguish and joy. Then looking up at Edith, he barely managed to ask, "is he... is it possible that..." his head canted as he continued. "Our afternoon in London?"
"He's your son, Anthony. No one knows, of course. Everyone thinks his coloring is down to my parents but we both know it is not. I wanted you to see him, to know what we created that day, you and I."
Anthony leaned toward her as if he might embrace her but then collected himself, looking around to remember their audience. "Oh my darling..."
"Anthony, I plan to be in London two weeks from now. If you are able to be there..."
"Edith, it isn't wise. I'll cherish our afternoon for the rest of my life... and the outcome gives me joy but we really couldn't..."
"I'll knock at your door on the 17th. If you aren't there, I'll understand. But I sincerely hope you are."
The next two weeks were long ones for Edith. And when she approached his door, she was fearful of being disappointed. But his door opened on her second knock and a pattern began in her life that continued for ten years until finally on one visit the door did not open.
A letter was hand delivered to her the following day at The Sketch by Anthony's trusted man. "Dearest Darling," it read. "I regret not seeing you yesterday but I've had a bit of unexpected news which I fear will come as a shock to you, as it did to me. It seems my darling that my days are finite. Dr. Clarkson assures me that I will not suffer long but I'll not see another harvest. Please don't cry my sweet one. I've had a full life and these past years have been my happiest. I told you once that you'd given me back my life, do you remember? Not only did you give me life again but you made it ever so sweet. My only regret is that I was blinded by my own insecurities when we stood at the altar together. I can only imagine how much more my life would have been if I hadn't surrendered to them. Please take care of yourself, my darling. And know that you are loved by this very foolish old man."
But cry she did. She remained in London another two days to give herself time to adjust to the idea of life without Anthony. And then she returned to Brancaster, to the life that she had taken on when she married Bertie Pelham. A few months later her mother wrote with news of Anthony's death and the subsequent funeral. Edith spent another few days in tears, her only comfort coming from the son he could have never claimed.
It really came as no surprise to Edith when on Phillip's twenty first birthday a solicitor arrived at Brancaster. Locksley, it seemed, had been held in trust since Anthony's death. Now it was to be Phillip's. A letter accompanied the bequest. Addressed to Phillip, it was written in Anthony's hand. "My dear young man, you have no idea of who I am, I'm sure. I haven't seen you since you were a baby in your mother's arms. But as I looked into your tiny face that day I realized how truly foolish I had been when I refused the love your mother had offered me some years before. As I have no children of my own, I am leaving my estate for you, the son that might have been mine had I been a wiser man. And when a charming young woman crosses your path, one who might love you despite your own misgivings, remember my mistake and please don't repeat it." It was signed by Anthony and dated just days before his death.
Bertie was appalled and Phillip wanted to know who this man was. So Edith told her story with Anthony, leaving out the last part of it. After a few quiet moments, Bertie smiled and said Anthony's foolishness was his very good luck. But Phillip, wearing an expression very reminiscent of Anthony, gave the matter much consideration. Finally he looked up at his mother and said softly, "he must have loved you very much, Mother."
Her eyes tearing, Edith nodded. "He did, Phillip; more than I truly realized at the time. Cousin Marian once said he was a beautiful man, and he was."
Phillip learned to love Locksley. When another Great War came, he opened it as a haven for misplaced families from the bombing further south. And after the war, he made it into his family's second home. When Lord Hexham died and Phillip ascended to the title and ownership of Brancaster, he asked his mother if she would prefer the Dowager wing at Brancaster or to live at Locksley, near her childhood home. Edith chose Locksley.
She lived happily there for many years, surrounded by memories of Anthony. And when her final days came, he whispered to her, caressing and soothing her with his voice so that when life slipped out of her, a smile graced her features, the smile of someone who was going home after a long time away.