A/N : Anthony and Edith never met or knew each other before the war. However, their paths have been winding towards each other. What would happen if they met on the threshold of 1920. Are life decisions any different in 1920 than they are in 2012. What happens to a modern woman when she falls in love and tries to have it all.

This is an AU story. All Downton characters are the same, but a few new ones thrown in to make it flow. As always, I do not own any of these characters. They belong to Julian Fellowes and ITV. Thank you for reading.

Lady Edith Crawley left Downton Abbey, her home of 25 years, in January 1919. Downton had been a rehabilitation facility during the war, and Edith had done her part in helping with the wounded men who were sent there. But when the war ended, and the last ambulance left with the last patient, Edith knew that she had to leave too. Her work and life as she knew it there, was done.

Edith had always been a talented artist so gathering up her portfolio of drawings she headed to London to stay with her aunt Rosamund. Her aunt had many friends and acquaintances, and because of Rosamund's connections Edith found employment with a small publishing firm, Benson and Warner. While the family connections certainly helped to get her an interview, she knew it was her talent that got her the job.

While her father and grandmother were appalled that she would want to work for a living, like the middle class did, her mother was proud of her; after all she was ½ American.

Edith's grandfather had left a tidy sum of money in a trust fund for each of his three granddaughters, Edith contacted the family solicitor and was able to secure enough money from her trust to buy a small flat near Kensington Park. Hers was one of six in the building, and because it was on the main floor, she had a small patio that opened off the main drawing room. While not grand, it suited her perfectly.

Her aunt helped her gather furnishings and before long Edith was tucked away in a cozy, eclectic little place that was all her own. She made friends with the other neighbors in the building and enjoyed her new life away from the confines of Downton Abbey. For the first time in her life she was free to do as she pleased.

She learned to care for herself. She didn't have a ladies maid so she learned to do her own hair and take care of her own clothes. She took cooking classes on Saturday , did her own washing, cleaned her own flat. Her neighbor, Deborah Miller taught her some basic sewing skills and Edith was so enthused she bought herself a sewing machine. Learning to work the treadle took some time, but she had learned to drive a car during the war, so she attacked this machine with as much gusto. The first item she actually made was an apron; she wore it all the time when she cooked.

While Mr. Benson knew of her title, at work she was just plain Edith Crawley; no Lady Edith for her. She did her share keeping the workspaces clean and enjoyed the friendship of the other editors and illustrators who worked there.

She wrote regularly to her mother and grandmother. Her mother always wrote back expressing how happy she was with what Edith was doing, but her grandmother's letters were full of lectures about propriety and how unseemly it was for an Earl's to work for a living and how hard it was to not tell people what she was doing. Edith always laughed and shook her head. Her grandmother lived in another time and would never understand.

All in all it was wonderful. She lived where everything new and exciting was happening. She enjoyed a social life with the people she worked with as well as some of the neighbors in her building. She had met some young men and went out with some, but marriage wasn't something she was interested in and told them as much when they brought up the subject of why someone as pretty as she was wasn't married. Her answer was always the same, "I don't want to be married!" and she felt lucky if they never asked to see her again. She didn't like men her own age she decided. They were vain and full of themselves, and didn't have anything in common with her. She much preferred talking to older men. She went to many dinner parties at her aunt Rosamund's house and the people there were interesting and stimulating; and they were interested in what she had to say. She wasn't stupid. She read and was up on current events so she could hold her own at these gatherings.

Her life was playing out exactly as she wanted. She was contented and fulfilled – or so she thought.

So for eleven months her life was happy, blissful and routine. She worked Monday thru Friday, spent Saturdays shopping or going to museums. She especially enjoyed the British Museum, spending large amounts of time in the old book section looking at the drawings that monks had done centuries earlier. She envisioned them hunched over their wooden tables, sitting on hard benches for hours on end doing the work of the church. It must have been excruciating, hour after hour, day after day, only stopping for prayers, food and sleep. She thought that they probably never thought that someone six or seven hundred years in the future would look upon their work in awe.

And on Sundays she went to church with her Aunt and had luncheon with her afterward. It was her Aunt she knew that kept the family really informed about what she was doing at work, and she suspected that Rosamund gleaned that information from Mr. Benson. Edith suspected that Rosamund and Mr. Benson were more than casual friends and that thought made her smile. Her aunt had been a widow a long time, so why shouldn't she have a companion. And while Mr. Benson would be considered middle class by her grandmother and family, Edith liked him. He was smart, kind, wealthy, and nice looking. He was tall with grey hair, nice hazel colored eyes, and a nice smile – very distinguished. The perfect man for her aunt.

She had only gone home once, and that was for the annual Garden Party that Downton put on each June. She dreaded it, but consoled herself in the knowledge she would only be there for two days. She knew she had to do these home trips because her father sent her a stipend each month. She hadn't wanted the money, but he insisted that it was to offset her salary. So she took the money, put it in the bank and kept it as backup. For this garden party, she had bought a new dress with the money. It was cut in the new shorter style, it might even turn some heads. She laughed when she thought about that; Edith Crawly, turning heads.

She walked around the gardens bored to death. It was always the same. There was a string quartet playing, servants walking around serving, and tedious conversations. Lucky for her that everyone thought her boring, so she didn't have to partake. She enjoyed walking around and doing what she liked to do best – people watch.

She noticed her sister Mary's fiancé Richard Carlisle standing off by himself. He and Mary had been engaged for about two years, and watching the two of them together was interesting. He was a self- made man, a millionaire who had made his money from newspapers that printed gossip. But he was good looking and for some unknown reason Mary had found him suitable. She always thought that odd; especially since Mary and their cousin Matthew had some kind of unspoken affection for each other. Carlisle must have said something that annoyed Mary because she suddenly turned and walked away leaving him standing there by himself.

Edith sensed his embarrassment so she walked in his direction.

"Sir Richard, how nice to see you again", she said smiling at him.

"Lady Edith, I hardly recognized you. You have changed your hair. One of the new styles?" he asked with sincerity in his voice.

Edith blushed. She had changed her hairstyle so she could do it herself. Also, the dress she had purchased was a beautiful shade of green that just set off her copper colored hair.

They talked briefly about business, what she was doing, did she like living in London and if she ever got tired of working for Benson and Warner she could come to work for him on one of his newspapers. But she noticed that during their conversation he kept looking at Mary. Finally Edith said putting her hand on his arm.

"Sir Richard, just be yourself. Don't try so hard to fit in. You have nothing to prove. Mary has always been snobbish and rolling her eyes is just part of her personality. "

"If you only knew," he said under his breath, but Edith had heard him.

"So, what kind of illustrating do you do?" he asked her.

"Well right now I am finishing up illustrating a small children's book. I think that it is to be published in time for Christmas. I never knew how much was involved in something like that." I spent a lot of time at the British Museum looking at old manuscripts researching styles of drawing."

They continued talking until Edith saw Mary heading back their way. She made her excuses to Carlisle and left. But before she got too far, he said, "Thank you for your kindness, Lady Edith."

She nodded her head as she headed in the opposite direction of Mary. As she was walking toward one of the refreshment tents, she noticed a group of six people talking. She had no idea who they were, probably neighbors or business associates of her father. One man in particular caught her eye. He was taller than the rest of them. The one thing she noticed about him was his light colored hair and how well he carried himself. He turned briefly and looked at he, but it was just a fleeting glance .

She shrugged her shoulders and continued walking, but turned around to look again. He had left the group and was talking to her mother. Then he headed toward the front of the house; most likely leaving she thought. Something I wish I could do.

/

So now here she was again sitting in a first class compartment on the train heading back to Downton. It was December 1919, time for the annual Christmas festivities. She hadn't wanted to come, but knew if she didn't she would never hear the end of it; reprimanding letters from her mother and grandmother was something she didn't want to have in the New Year. She had arranged to be gone from work for two weeks. She had worked hard on the children's book, even coming in on Saturdays, so when she asked Mr. Benson if she could go home for the holidays, he graciously allowed her the time off.

She leaned her head back and watched the landscape as it flew by. She didn't miss Yorkshire at all and was glad she would never have to live here again. London was her home now. Her life was there. She was happy there.

As the train pulled into the Downton station, she noticed how many people were milling around. Probably going to Ripon or York for Christmas shopping, she thought. As it came to a stop, she picked up her cases, and stepped out of the carriage onto the platform. It was colder than she thought. It felt like snow in the air.

She found Mr. Hutchison the station master and asked him if he would mind sending her luggage up to the Abbey as she wanted to do some shopping in the village before it got too late.

"It would be my pleasure, Lady Edith", he said with his slight Scottish brogue. "I will have Davey take them up as soon as the train pulls out. It's nice to see you again. You don't get home much anymore do you?"

"No, I live in London now," she said as she handed him some coins for his trouble.

He put his hand to his hat as a form of courtesy, picked up her cases and walked toward the back of the station.

Edith smiled to herself. As the daughter of the Earl of Grantham she still commanded respect from the people of the village. Somehow, it made her uncomfortable – she really wasn't that person anymore.

She headed down the street from the station toward the center of the village. Grantham had a quaintness about it – like it was plucked out of some old Jane Austin novel. The main street was long with the shops aligned along each side, and the Grantham Inn at the end of the street.

She noticed people looking at her as she passed. Living in London she wore the latest fashions and today was no exception. Her grey coat with black collar, her matching hat in the new style with a black velvet brim, and her new shoes with the higher heel made her stand out.

At the end of the street on the opposite end from the Grantham Inn and down from the railway depot was the town square. A lovely grassy area with trees and benches. It was a nice place for people to sit when the weather was warm, but not today; the wind was blowing and it was cold.

It was then that Edith saw her – a small little girl standing in the middle of the square crying. No one seemed to notice her except Edith. Walking toward her Edith realized that she couldn't be much older than four. She looked around but didn't see anyone who looked like they might franticly be looking for a small child.

Walking slowly up to her so as not to scare her Edith said, "Hello darling, who are you? Did your ma'ma or nanny get lost?"

The little girl was shivering so Edith put her arm around her and led her to the nearest bench. Wiping her eyes and pulling her close to keep her warm, the little girl nestled against Edith and grabbed her hand.

Good God, thought Edith, who would let a small child like this out of their sight? She is cold and scared to death.

Suddenly Edith heard "Madeline, Madeline" and turned to see another little girl followed by a man running up the street toward them.

Edith continued to sit on the bench holding onto she guessed Madeline, as the man and other little girl approached them.

"Madeline, where did you go? Pa'pa and I looked all over for you, her sister said as she hugged her little sister.

Madeline continued to hold onto Edith's hand and nestle against her.

Their father approached them and bent down and hugged his little daughter.

"Oh, Madeline, You scared me to death. I was so afraid I had lost you," he said with deep concern in his voice.

Madeline continued to hold Edith's hand.

Looking at Edith he said, "Thank you so much. We were in the sweet shop and I turned around and suddenly she was gone."

Edith smiled and said, "Well, I am glad that I saw her and was able to help. Sometimes we girls get distracted."

"Pardon me for being rude," he said in a deep baritone voice although somewhat out of breath. " My name is Anthony Strallan, and these are my daughters Margaret and Madeline."

"How do you do, I'm Edith Crawley", she said as she put out her hand and looked into the bluest eyes and handsomest face she had ever seen.