He looked at himself in the long mirror at the end of the changing room. For once in his life he was secretly quite pleased that he was so tall and broad because it suited these clothes. Patent leather shoes, pressed formal trousers with a length of silk up the side hiding the seam, starched waistcoat and shirt with sparkly stud buttons and a gorgeous gold half-hunter watch in the pocket and matching Albert chain swagged just above his waist, elegant tailcoat, and, of course, the eponymous white tie.
Well, what was the point of owning your own company and working all the hours God sent you, if you didn't allow yourself to splash a little of the resulting considerable income on something like this occasionally? Anthony then had to think very hard to remember the last time he had allowed himself to do just that. Going to the opera festival in Verona about ten years back, wasn't it?
Yes, he looked pretty darn good, but that still didn't prevent him feeling nervous and a bit silly. Especially after the man from the costume hire company had draped a flowing opera cape around his shoulders, linking the chain at his neck, and shown him how to place the top hat on his head correctly. He thought he looked like a villain straight out of some Edwardian melodrama.
"You look magnificent, Sir Anthony. I hope you have a very pleasant evening."
He thanked the man, hailed a taxi, ignored the cabbie's fatuous remarks, and thought What's the worst thing that could happen tonight? They're all going to be in fancy dress too, so no one's going to make fun of me. Even if no one takes any notice of me at all, that's normal for me. I'm used to it.
…
He had told himself it was a bit of fun, an excuse to dress up. He ignored any feeling of hope that ambushed his heart. But somewhere deep down he prayed that tonight might change his life. He didn't usually do this sort of thing, but when his sister had pointed the notice out to him, he just thought Why not? A Valentine's singles evening at the Victoria and Albert Museum in Edwardian fancy dress (historically accurate, of course) to echo the theme of their latest exhibition.
But now that the taxi was pulling up outside the imposing building in Exhibition Road, South Kensington, he felt his stomach fluttering with the familiar social anxiety he'd suffered from since childhood. He took a few deep breaths and repeated the mantra: Keep calm and everything will be fine.
And it was. He had been fascinated to look around the exhibition of Edwardian fashion (included in the ticket price). He had watched others around him while he drank Prosecco. Only a very few men had achieved the sort of polished correctness that he had done, which boosted his ego, but many ladies had really done extremely well. Anthony admired their efforts, thinking what an elegant age the well-to-do had enjoyed back then, certainly in comparison to the scruffiness de rigueur today. But of course his efforts came to nothing: none of the women there were really all that interested in what the men were wearing.
He began noticing those for whom tonight had already paid dividends: there was some speed dating going on, and some much slower, more romantic dating as well. That had made him feel melancholy once more, especially when it struck him that he was ten, or even twenty, years older than many of the attendees around him. There was one particular lady standing near the bar dressed in a fabulous turquoise gown with a slit on one side exposing just enough leg to convince any man looking that here was a goddess of loveliness. Yet she seemed to be beset by nerves even more than he. As he admired her, her shimmering blond hair, her dark eyes full of worry searching the crowd, a young man walked up to her from behind. She jumped, surprised, then gave an embarrassed little laugh. The man leaned forward to kiss her cheek. Dear god, you're a fool, Strallan; a sad, old fool. No woman as beautiful as her is going to look at you, ever.
He went to the bar to return his empty glass hoping to slip away, when something caught his eye: the man was dropping something into a flute of wine. What a little twerp! Even with the company of that gorgeous girl, he needs this. Young people today! Always drugging themselves into oblivion he thought. But as he continued to watch, the man took the glass and gave it to the young lady, smiling quite openly all the while.
"There you are, baby."
"You're very kind to me, Michael."
"Nonsense! Nothing's too good for my date!"
He was shocked and frozen by what was unfolding in front of him. Before Anthony could say or do anything, the young lady took a long gulp of the wine, glanced back at the man who nodded encouragement, and then swigged back the rest obviously in need of the Dutch courage.
No, no, no, no! I can't believe this is happening!
"You don't really want to stay here, amongst all this boring history stuff" the young man stated.
"Actually, I am interested in…" the girl tried to respond.
"There's much more interesting things to do back at my flat" he leered.
"Wait a minute! Please, miss, don't go with him! Don't trust him!" Anthony was so outraged at the little guttersnipe's actions that he spared no thought for himself. Sounding like an idiot and looking like a madman just didn't matter at that moment. Fortunately, being caught unexpectedly had caused the man to panic, giving himself away quite obviously.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do. I saw you. You put something in her drink, didn't you? Just before you gave it to her."
"That's not true is it, Michael?" Anthony could see she was frightened, disappointed, and half a dozen other emotions, yet she was trying so hard to be brave and composed. She was lovely and courageous and magnificent, and really didn't deserve a worm like him.
Michael opened and closed his mouth several times before clutching at straws.
"Oh, come on, Edith. That's not like you. I thought you could take a joke."
"But...but I thought…I thought you…" she stammered
Anthony had had enough. He took the lady's arm and steered her to the main reception desk. He explained what had happened to one of the stewards and demanded that an ambulance be called.
"How are you feeling now?" he gently asked the girl.
"Just very...let down. I don't feel odd at all; not physically."
"Good, but we must get you to a hospital before the drug kicks in."
The Steward called to them.
"Hello? I've spoken to A & E at University College Hospital. They say as long as she hasn't been attacked, and the perpetrator admits what they did, then the best thing she can do is go home and sleep it off as long as she's got someone with her."
"But I haven't. I'm single, that's why I'm at this party!"
"Sorry, miss, that's the best I can do."
She looked up at Anthony will large, sad, doe-like eyes.
"Well, I...oh dear. I suppose I'd better get back then. Thank you. Thank you so much for all you did, challenging him and everything."
She was so very sad, it made his chest ache.
"Please...please would you allow me to see you home? I'd worry so otherwise."
She hesitated. He couldn't really blame her.
"I don't know how to prove it to you, but I promise I am not a predator of any kind. I wouldn't even know how to begin."
"Of course you're not. I wasn't thinking that" she said with a tiny smile.
"What is it?"
"You've been so kind and done so much for me already, I'm not sure I should be trespassing any further on your evening."
He scoffed mildly.
"My evening ended when I realised I was being a silly old fool for even attending. Now, may I see you safely home?"
"I'd like that very much."
They left the Museum, and Anthony hailed a taxi. He invited the girl to give her address to the cabbie, then started tapping at his smartphone.
"I don't suppose you happen to know how long Rohypnol and stuff like that takes to start working, do you?"
"I haven't the foggiest I'm afraid. Do you think we can trust what the hospital said?"
She sounded even smaller than she was. Carefully, he took her hand.
"I know you're frightened. Good God, you have every reason to be terrified! But I do think their advice was in your best interests. Drugs like this are, essentially, very strong sleeping pills. If the doctors can't do much to stop it working, then don't you think it would be most comfortable enduring it in your own bed rather than a hospital?"
"Yes...I'd agree if I didn't live alone. I'm so scared." Tears kept in check for so long finally began to slip down her cheeks.
"I don't suppose you would…stay...would you?"
Anthony gave her a concerned look.
"I hardly think that would be sensible." She looked more upset than ever at that. "You've had a lucky escape with one stranger. I don't think you really want to invite another strange man into your home. Can I fetch a relative for you, once you're settled?"
"My relations all live in Yorkshire. And Michael wasn't a stranger. We went to the party together. He's my Boss."
She looked up and found her companion aghast.
"Really?!"
"Really. He's made no secret of the fact that he fancies me. The trouble is that he's married. I couldn't, wouldn't, do that, so I kept refusing him. But then he invited me to the do at the V&A, as an apology, he said. A fresh start! Now, thanks to you, I find that all he wanted was to drug me and...and have his wicked way with me."
Anthony kept a respectful silence for a moment.
"You're almost as old-fashioned as I am when it comes to words" he smiled at her.
"Oh, I am! Old-fashioned, I mean, in just about everything."
"Me too!"
They'd arrived outside of her building. Anthony insisted on paying, despite her pleas. Once the taxi had gone, they looked at each other awkwardly.
"Please stay. I know I can trust you. I don't know how I know it, but I just do."
"The lesser of two evils I suppose...and I swear to you on my life that you will come to no harm because of me."
She let out a shuddering sigh of relief.
"Thank you...I don't even know your name!"
He swept off his top hat and bowed with a flourish.
"Anthony Strallan at your service, my lady!"
She giggled as she replied.
"And I'm Edith Crawley, sir!"
She tried to curtsey, but wobbled a bit. Anthony wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her. He looked into her eyes, then coughed slightly and stepped back. A thought hit him belatedly.
"Not...not the Edith Crawley? Columnist for the Sentinel?"
She nodded shyly.
"Wow! I read your column every week, and I follow you on Twitter!"
She blushed and muttered "Thank you; you're very kind" softly as she found her key and went to put it into the lock. She missed three times before Anthony took it from her respectfully.
"That's probably the pill starting to work, impairing your judgement. You had better tell me which flat I'm taking you to, in case you're asleep by the time we get there."
That made her laugh a little ruefully.
"Number four. And...and...and you're not allowed to look at my browsing history or my smalls drawer. Oh, and could you feed Aslan?"
"You have a pet lion?"
"You'll see! What do you do, for a living I mean?"
"Something very boring in comparison to you."
"What?" she demanded, becoming more uninhibited by the minute now.
"I'm an Agricultural Management Consultant."
"A what?"
"A management consultant for farmers. You know the old adage that a management consultant is a man who borrows your watch and then charges you for telling you the time? Well, I do that, except the watches I borrow have cow muck on them."
"Don't grow that, grow this? Like 'Turnip' Townshend? That sort of thing?"
Anthony stopped walking up the stairs.
"That's...astounding. No one ever understands what I do, let alone know the history. I am seriously impressed!"
"Old 'Turnip' was an Earl. I'm related to him somehow, I think."
They'd arrived outside of number four.
"I'm sorry? You think you're related to an Earl?"
"No, I know I'm related to several Earls, of which my father is one. Most of the aristocracy are related to each other. I'm just not sure how I'm related to Old 'Turnip'"
"So you're Lady Edith!"
"Yeah. I just don't tell anyone!"
"Except when under the influence. I see."
Anthony had opened the door.
"Well, in that case, please enter your domain, my lady."
Edith gave him a mock supercilious smile, stepped forward...and lost her footing.
Anthony caught her, holding her steady, then gradually bringing her upright again.
"I hope you realise that I don't make a habit of catching drugged, beautiful, young ladies and carrying them home" he said as he lifted her as easily as a pillow.
"If I'm a Lady, you'll have to be a knight! Sir Anthony!"
"Actually I am a Sir Anthony, but a baronet, not a knight. I just don't tell anyone!"
"Unless they are under the influence and won't remember. Well, I'll be blowed! What are the chances, eh?"
"Of all the bars in all the museums in all the world, you had to walk into mine!" he growled in a very bad Humphrey Bogart accent.
She began to laugh, but it quickly turned to tears again.
"Did I say something wrong?" Anthony asked.
"I'm sorry. It's just...never mind."
"Please, go on, I'd like to hear it if it would help."
He'd found her bedroom and tenderly laid her down.
"I was just thinking that if I had gone to that party by myself without Michael, and met you there, I might be having such a lovely time now.
She'd said all sorts of things that had pleased him, soothed him, and smoothed his ego. But this really was too much to believe.
"Yes, just think, you could be bored to death by a middle aged farming manager. What a way to spend your Friday evening!"
"I wouldn't be bored; not by someone who calls me beautiful."
"Well, you are."
"I think you're the first person ever to tell me so."
"Then all the young men in London are idiots."
She closed her eyes as though she couldn't keep them open any longer, and he stared at her. He didn't seem to be able to stop himself. He was forcibly stopped by a very large marmalade cat jumping up on the bed, mewing loudly.
"Ah, Aslan I presume!"
"He's….hungry….food….kitchen" Edith yawned.
"How about I feed Aslan, and you change into your nightclothes? Deal?"
"Deal. I will keep awake and do that."
He nodded his admiration of her determination, and then picked up the still-complaining Aslan to carry him to the kitchen. Cat food was found in the the fourth cupboard he tried. Then, and only then, did Aslan decide that Anthony was an acceptable person. He refreshed the cat's water before returning to the bedroom. He knocked loudly on the door. There was no answer.
He looked round the room gingerly. He'd promised her that he wouldn't take liberties. Surely this counted as such? There was a pile of 1920s clothes on the floor next to the bed. Thankfully he saw the lady herself under the duvet and only just awake, regarding him closely.
"Feeling better?"
"Yes, thank you. How could I not with such a handsome man in my bedroom?"
He felt the blush travel up his neck to his cheeks.
"That's just the drug talking."
"Sir Anthony?"
"Just Anthony. Yes?"
"I'm glad you're here. I feel much safer with you here."
She closed her eyes again.
"I promise you that I will keep you safe. I will watch over you and call for help if you need it. In the morning, I'll still be here to make sure you're fine, and to get you anything you need. Because you are the most amazing woman. You're amazing, and lovely, and brave, and beautiful, and entrancing, and I think you're wonderful. I'm just so grateful that I could be the one to help you tonight."
There was no response. She had passed out.
