Chapter 1

Sitting in Downton Church, Anthony Strallan is thinking: They are all looking at me, trying to guess what I'm feeling, whispering, gossiping, but none of them can guess how wretched I feel right now. At any moment, Edith is going to come in on her father's arm and walk up this aisle. And after that…I will never see her again. Of course I am right, everyone thinks I am too old and infirm for her, including me. The only person who didn't was Edith herself. Oh, but she's so kind and beautiful, why did I push her away? No, no, I was right. And his thoughts go round and round, the same as ever.

The organ begins to play, and everyone stands up. Edith, looking stunningly lovely, walks up the aisle and past Sir Anthony Strallan to meet her husband to be, The Hon. John Rivers. It is a year since Anthony, in a misguided fit of honour, left Edith at this very altar. He has seen nothing of her in that time. When the invitation to this wedding service arrived he knew it was a way of rubbing his nose in what he had lost. Well he thought that was her prerogative, and the least I deserve. But at least I get to see her again.

So here he was, watching her walk back down the aisle on the arm of a man he'd never seen or heard of before, but at least he was young with all his faculties. He looks only one or two years older than Edith. May God bless them, and may they be very happy, at least as happy as I am miserable.

The wedding breakfast is lavish. Mrs Patmore has outdone herself. Just as he had expected, no one talks to Anthony. That is, until Lady Edith Rivers herself comes over to him. Was it his imagination, or was the noise and conversation in the room suddenly evaporating? Finding herself listened to by everyone present, Edith says "Thank you for coming, Sir Anthony. I know it can't have been easy for you. It means a lot to me that we have no hard feelings." Drawing strength from her graciousness he replies "Thank you for inviting me. I wish you every happiness in the world. Your husband is a very lucky man." Conversation begins again. She gives him her hand, and, feeling very old and very old-fashioned, he bows over it and kisses it, just a touch too desperately. After a decent interval he slips away home.

Sitting in his library, four months later, Anthony catches himself staring into space again, thinking of Edith's eyes, when he should be looking at the estate ledgers. He tells himself that this sort of thing was unseemly behaviour, even when he was actually engaged to Edith, let alone now when she is married to someone else. The desolation of it still hurts him. Out there, right now, she is getting to know her husband, smiling at him in the same way that she used to smile at me, laughing with him in the same way that we used to share jokes.

"The post for you, Sir" says Davies, Anthony's butler. He'd entered without Anthony hearing. There's a letter from his cousin Lady Millicent and – his heart almost stops – something in Edith's hand. He waits until Davies has gone before opening it.

Dear Sir Anthony,

I would be delighted if you would come to dinner at Fawley House, Ripon on Tuesday next, 27th May, at 8pm. It would be so nice to see you.

Yours, with all good wishes, Lady Edith

He reads it again and again, firstly incredulously, then gratefully, he will see her again. And finally, he has to take himself in hand. This will not be as their relationship was. She is not pursuing him, and he is not trying to resist her for her own sake. Now, she is married, and he will have to curb – no, completely hide – his own desires. She had signed herself 'Lady Edith' rather than using her married name. That was typically thoughtful of her to think of his feelings like that. It would be torture to see her happy with her husband. It would make him happy to know that she was happy, happier than she could have been with him.

The dinner is not a big one: only six people. A local doctor and his wife, the Rector and his wife, Anthony, and Edith. "Is your husband not joining us, Lady Edith?" he asks. "No, he's away on business." And that's all she lets on. The evening is jolly and there are no awkward moments. No one refers to the aborted wedding, or, indeed, to Edith's husband.

Over the next few months, there are several dinners like that. The Hon. John Rivers does not make an appearance at any of them. One night Anthony can't help teasing Edith: "I believe you only invite me when your husband is away." She blushes her silent response. Each time, Anthony takes his leave in what is now his accustomed manner. It's a private joke between them: "My Lady" he says taking her hand and, bowing over it, kisses it for just a little too long, each time a little longer. She smiles indulgently at him and calls him 'My Lochinvar' or something similar. Her voice sings in his heart the entire journey home after these evenings, and the memory of kissing her hand sustains him between visits. Because she is so thoughtful, becoming friends with her again has been mercifully painless. He even takes rooms in Ripon so that he and Burroughs, his chauffeur, won't have to travel back to Locksley late at night.

One day, she invites him to tea. He is surprised to find that it is just the two of them. They talk of the last dinner, what's on at the theatre in York, the new tractor on the Home Farm at Locksley. He knows that he can't stop himself gazing adoringly at her, but she doesn't seem to mind. They smile a lot. He is invited to tea at least twice a week now, and, once things are set up, he invites her to tea in his rooms. Occasionally they go to a tea room instead. It feels really wonderful to Anthony that she is relaxed enough about their repaired friendship to be seen out in public with him. Now and then, Anthony tries to ask about her husband, what he's like, what his interests are, where he is, how their marriage is faring. She is always vague, pleasant but vague. After six months, Anthony is happier than he's ever been since Edith's wedding, her real wedding. He's her best friend. He doesn't tell her how much he adores her; she shouldn't know, doesn't need to know, would stop seeing him if she did know. If all this mock-flirting amuses her, so be it. They are doing nothing illicit. He'll love her with all his strength until the day he dies.