A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS Spottedhorse (and everyone)! Tis I, your Secret Santa! You've been such a good shipper this year, that you get your gift in SIX parts! (It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that I'm bad with deadlines.) Enjoy Part I below, and have a very happy holiday!

(P.S. Expect the second when the clock strikes one…er, that is, in the next few days.)


I - A Pear Tree

$402.87.

Edith read the figure glaring at her from the bill in her hand.

$402.87 for the ultrasound and the special labs. Marigold hadn't shown any symptoms for over a month now, but the last of the bills were still arriving. And the table before her held three unpaid bills for things like the car repair her brother-in-law was being generously patient about, the electric bill that spiked in the winter when she had to crank space heaters to warm the corners of her drafty little cottage, oh, and of course her rent. She looked at the paper again. $402.87. And next week was Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and cry. So Edith did.

She felt the hot tears against her palms as she thought about Marigold's dismal Christmas. There would be no cheerfully filled stocking, no elegant Christmas dinner—they didn't even have a Christmas tree. Edith just couldn't justify the expense. The cottage was as it always was, save for the red and green paper chain she and Marigold had fashioned from construction paper and hung above the living room windows; a few paper snowflakes, and assorted hand-drawn Christmas pictures tacked here and there. Hardly the magic a little girl deserved for Christmas.

Especially when that little girl might have—the thought brought on a fresh choke of sobs—mightn't have made it to Christmas. Somehow in August the six year old had contracted a potentially crippling intestinal infection. Fortunately they'd caught it in time and the (expensive) antibiotics had worked. It had been a slow and anxious process, but Marigold's body was absorbing nutrients normally again, and could sleep through the night without the aid of a diaper. A few weeks ago, they'd begun gradually reintroducing different dairies into her diet and her body seemed to be coping well. Edith sniffed and wiped her eyes. That was the most important thing, she reminded herself. That Marigold was here with her for Christmas. They would just have to make their own magic.

But the thought clanged in the pit of her stomach. If only she could siphon off a little money… But when she started to think about where to draw from, her head began to ache and she was right back where she began. She couldn't help feeling this would all be easier with a partner, a companion to share the load both financially and emotionally. Making it through the terror and trial of Marigold's illness, nights of convulsive weeping after her daughter had finally drifted to sleep, anxious hours in clammy hospital chairs, carefully planned bland meals coaxed down the girl's throat; had taken all her fortitude, and she wouldn't have minded a knight in shining armor to come lift the weight of the world from her shoulders. But more than that, though far from age six, her heart had its own Christmas longings…

Edith went to the kitchen to draw a glass of water from the tap. She sighed and leaned against the counter, sipping slowly. A glittering red Christmas card winked at her from the front of the fridge; her sister Mary's seasonal offering. That was another thing Marigold wouldn't have this Christmas, Edith thought glumly; a big family gathering with cousins to romp and play. Last year her father's antiquated attitudes about children out of wedlock had exploded into a screaming match that had resulted in a year of icy avoidance. Her mother reached out from time to time, and she and her siblings meant to set up more playdates than they did, but ultimately life intervened. And though it only took one look at Edith's paneled walls and nonexistent square footage to know that she wasn't as well off as they were, Edith would never let them know how bad things had gotten.

Which meant she'd have to find a way to make Marigold's Christmas special all by herself.

X

X

X

Anthony Strallan frowned down at the list of figures displayed on his computer screen. Edith Crawley was behind on her rent. Here it was almost Christmas and her balance for November still sat empty.

It wasn't like her to be careless. He knew that from his years of acquaintance with her family. She wasn't the type to party away her rent or spend it on frivolities. If she was this far behind, she must be in dire financial straits.

His frown deepened. He didn't like to think of the bright, impassioned Edith he once knew struggling to make ends meet. He'd known her through her college years, when she'd been ambitiously pursuing a journalism degree, solemnly committed to telling the truth through investigative reporting. One corner of his mouth quirked up at the thought of her describing her plans, eyes shining with the excitement of the unknown future. His memories blurred and flowed from one to another; holiday house parties with chess bouts and frosty strolls; occasional rambles when he could make the excuse to get to Sheffield; laughing in some dive at midnight on a break from exam-cramming (he'd paid for that one the next day); all accompanied by a nonspecific thrill of discovery and connection. The comfortable contentment between them was utterly irresistible and defied the difference in their ages. Or it had, once.

Edith's studies had ended, and she'd gone off to London to a smashing career and a dashing coworker. They'd fallen out of touch, months stretching into years. Then her daughter had come along. Soon after she'd moved back to Yorkshire and, unbeknownst to her, begun renting one of the many tiny cottages on his now noncontiguous ancestral holdings. As all his real estate dealings went through an agency run by Mr. Barrow, she was spared the potential embarrassment of knowing that the man she had once danced with beneath regal buttresses and glittering chandeliers was now intimately acquainted with her rental accounts.

His eyes wandered back to the 'overdue balance' on his screen. He felt suddenly restless. His hands curled around the arms of his chair, and he thrust out of it. For several seconds he stood, poised, though he didn't know just what he was going to do. He began to walk towards the entryway…then to his coat closet…then out the door…

The benefit, he thought as he strode through the bright crisp morning, of being one's own boss was that one could occasionally work from home. And, should one feel the rather mad urge to take a causal stroll halfway across the county before lunch on a Wednesday, one could. And should that walk take him past Edith Crawley's door…

Anthony stood in the drive, examining the modest cottage before him. He wasn't sure what he'd thought to do; it wasn't as if knocking on the front door was going to make Edith's financial woes disappear or mitigate the awkwardness of the situation when she discovered he'd been collecting her rent for years. Thankfully, Edith and her little girl were out at present. No car sat in the drive, and the house looked…bereft, cold, dreary. He couldn't quite out his finger on just what was missing… Until he realized. There were no Christmas decorations. No lights or red bows, no wreath, not so much as a single brass jingle bell. Impulsively, he moved forward to look through the window. As he suspected, there was no Christmas tree either. Unless she was hiding it in her bedroom in the back of the cottage. Which thought made him realize that he was peering through someone else's window like some kind of Peeping Tom. He backed away from the window, brushing dust from his fingers. It seemed to him profoundly sad that anyone, let alone a child, should go through Christmas without at least a tree. And then the roiling dissatisfaction he'd felt since he'd opened Edith's rental report stilled at an idea. A grin spread over his face as his thoughts unwound and he fairly sprinted back down the lane from whence he had come. What were the odds he could get a taxi to come all the way out here…?

X

X

X

Anthony inhaled the spicy sweet perfume of fresh douglas fir and grinned, instantly awash in festive cheer. He stooped to search through one of the three shopping bags near his feet, filled with brightly colored balls, shiny red beads roped in a garland, a spangled star topper, and a strand of multicolored, pear-shaped Christmas lights, whose whimsy Anthony had been unable to resist. He stood back, examining the graceful evergreen boughs as a sculptor might a block of marble. It was only six feet, so he'd have to be deliberate with his decorations. He'd wanted to go with a larger tree, but he'd known it wouldn't fit in her cottage. He imagined the excited exclamations of mother and child when they spied a fully decorated tree on their doorstep, and rubbed his hands together meaningfully.

"What's this?" Thomas Barrow drawled, coming into the garage sometime later. The tree glowed with its pear lights and was half covered in shining balls.

Anthony looked over his shoulder at the tall dark figure, his fingers still working on a sparkling silver orb.

Anthony smiled. "A Christmas present," he explained merrily.

"That's awfully kind of you," Thomas said, genuine approval breaking through his usual dry sarcasm. Besides being his real estate manager Thomas was also a friend. "Who's the lucky winner?"

"Edith Crawley," Anthony said casually as he continued to work, though he was aware of the slightest of blushes heating his cheeks. "I was walking by her house today and I didn't see a tree in the window so I thought it might be nice for her and her little girl."

"You've gone to a lot of trouble," Thomas fingered the fruit-shaped lights, "Where's the partridge?"

Anthony examined the tree and gave a small laugh.

"I gave it time off for the holiday."

Thomas grunted.

"So, how do you plan to get this grand gift to fair lady's door?"

Anthony directed his gaze upon his young friend, his blue eyes glittering.

"Funny you should ask."


A/N: Merry Christmas as well to all other shippers and readers! You make this ship great! And thank you to everyone who participated in the first Andith Secret Santa Exchange! I've had fun, and I hope you have too!