Traditional Country Pursuits
Edith had to admit, he looked quite at home in the midst of a guffawing, hobnailed boots and twine tied sacking coated crowd of unshaven men. One could almost forget that the tall man in the immaculate tweeds was a Baronet as he clapped a tenant heartily on the shoulder and threw back his head to laugh. While her father enjoyed a rapport with his tenants, she'd never seen him being quite so easy and happy with them.
Of course, she'd never been to any of Downton's ferretings. It wouldn't have been considered quite proper for the young ladies to accompany the men on the frequent task of decreasing the rat populations in the barns and outbuildings -a task that fell to the farmers and their hands with nary a stirrup cup in sight.
Well, and to the ferrets, of course. And why shouldn't they make a day of it, showing off the prowess of their hunters and wagering small sums on the results. It ended with prize money, a pint and a pie, and a great deal of joshing. Quite a few of the gentry found it to be a fine day out and a chance to strengthen bonds with the people who worked their land.
Anthony certainly did, she thought as she watched him tip his head back and take a swallow from the jar someone had thrust into his hand. And she thought that was wonderful. Even though she was stood by the trestle table outside the Anderson's cottage, virtually ignored while Mrs. Anderson and several other wives and daughters hummed with activity and chat, she found herself quietly relishing the homey casualness of it all.
A huge gust of laughter rose from the group of men, as one man waved around a bag and seemed to be verbally defending himself. Edith blushed a bit at his somewhat blunt language and his allusions to another man's ferret's parentage and skills. One of the women noticed.
"Here now!" she hollered at the men. "Mind yer tongues! You ferget we've got a Lady here!"
A chorus of nearly sincere apologies rose from the crowd, and Anthony looked over at her with some concern. Edith smiled at him, hoping he understood that she wasn't really offended. The other women bustling around didn't bat an eye at it, and she was a bit embarrassed to be thought so delicate that a little rough language would lay her low.
The men took the scolding to heart, however, and lowered their voices enough that she couldn't hear them clearly. Anthony passed his jar off and excused himself, muttering something that made the men roar with laughter. He grinned sheepishly as he made his way over to Edith.
"I'm so sorry-" he began.
"Oh, please, don't worry about it," she hastened to assure him. "I've spent some time around the farms, you know. A bit of...earthy language won't bowl me over." She glanced back at the cluster of men as another raucous laugh rang out. "I hope I'm not spoiling their fun."
"They're a couple of pints past the point where anything could spoil their fun," Anthony replied with a chuckle.
"It's been a lovely morning," Edith enthused. "I've enjoyed watching..." You. I've enjoyed watching you VERY much. "Um...well, you seem to get on very well with them."
"They're good chaps," Anthony replied. "Most of their families have been a part of Locksley for generations." He looked shyly at her. "I think they care about the estate almost as much as I do."
"Alright you lot!" Mrs. Anderson bellowed, wiping her hands on her apron. "Tea's ready."
The men continued their good natured joshing as they hurried towards the groaning tables. Anthony turned to Edith hesitantly.
"Would...would you like us to join them?"
"Do you think we should? I wouldn't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable."
"They'd be delighted," Anthony assured her. "I always stay for the tea. Mrs. Anderson's pies are famous."
Edith smiled and was about to say that she'd love to stay when one of boys who had been tasked with holding several ferret sacks rushed over to them.
"Ma said...oh, m'sorry..." He touched the brim of his cap, fumbling the sacks. Anthony reached out on instinct and caught the sack with his good arm. "Sir Anthony...M'lady...Ma wants ya to know yer welcome to come have a bit of tea w'us."
Anthony smiled and assured the lad that they'd be happy to stay. With that, the boy touched his cap again and ran off grinning.
"Do you suppose he's made a present of that ferret to you?" Edith asked, watching the writhing sack with bemusement.
Anthony chuckled. "I rather doubt it." He looked around for the sack's owner, but no one came over to relieve him of it. "Could you hold this a moment?" he asked Edith, thrusting the sack at her. "I need to get the prize money out of the car."
Edith was too surprised to object and gingerly took hold of the bag. The vague, musky scent that had pervaded the whole day became much stronger as she loosened the top enough to take a quick peek into it. Several pairs of bright, beady eyes glinting at her from the darkness of the sack made her pinch the top sharply and hold it at arms length. She sneezed several time as Anthony returned and relieved her of the sack.
"Are you well, Edith?" he asked suddenly.
Edith looked at him through watery eyes, and sneezed again. Her throat was beginning to feel tight and her breath began to wheeze.
"You know, I'm not sure I am," she rasped.
Anthony watched in alarm as her face reddened. He dropped the sack and immediately escorted her to the car, calling apologies over his shoulder at his tenants, who'd stopped the revelry to watch the couple with concern.
"Tom! What did your bloody ferrets DO?" snapped Mr. Anderson to a confused neighbor. Tom shrugged and trotted over to pick up his ferret sack, grabbing for the animals attempting to make a break for it.
"Dunno, do I..."
The crowd watched as Anthony sped away towards Downton and the hospital.
"Poor lass," murmured one of the older women. "Took a turn, she did."
"He took the bloody prize money w'him," muttered Tom with a disgruntled frown.
Anthony paid little attention to the road, watching Edith as her breathing got more shallow and her eyes began to swell shut.
"We're almost there, Darling," he murmured.
Edith spent the rest of the brief ride basking in the endearment and trying not to think about the fact that she might die before any wedding might happen. As Anthony screeched to a halt outside the cottage hospital and began calling desperately for help, she lost consciousness.
She woke to a horrible headache and bruises on the inside of her elbow. Anthony's concerned face came into focus as she blinked painfully.
"Edith? Edith?"
She tried to answer him, but could only produce an unintelligible croak. Dr. Clarkson's gentle brogue mixed with her father's demanding bark from the other side of the room. Anthony leaned closer to her.
"Don't try to talk yet," he said soothingly.
"Wha-...what happened," she mumbled.
"Apparently, you've got a very bad allergy to ferrets. And I was the fool that gave you a sack of them to hold."
Edith squeezed his hand and tried to smile
"Didn't know I was...not your fault..."
Anthony leaned a bit closer and reached out to smooth her tangled, sweat soaked curls back from her forehead. When Dr. Clarkson cleared his throat loudly from the end of her bed, he jumped back.
"Well now, Lady Edith, you gave us quite a start. Lucky we had adrenalin on hand, or things could have ended very badly."
Edith grew pale and Anthony glared at the doctor, who took both their reactions in stride.
"We were lucky this time," the doctor continued a bit sternly, "but we might not be next time. So it's very important that you keep as far away from ferrets as you can."
"Never happened before," Edith whispered.
"Let's try to prevent it ever happening again, eh?"
Edith squeezed Anthony's hand and nodded. Lord Grantham watched sullenly from the door to her room as Anthony muttered something about never having a ferret on the estate ever again.
"Don't be silly," Edith scolded, holding back a smile. "Ruin their fun."
"Your well being is more important than their fun," Anthony replied quietly, aware that her father was less than thrilled at their proximity. He poured her a glass of water from the bedside jug and watched her drink slowly.
"Perhaps I'm just not cut out for traditional country pursuits," she mused, "but that doesn't mean you need banish them entirely."
Anthony opened his mouth to argue, but she reached up to put a silencing finger against his lips. Lord Grantham'e eyes narrowed and he huffed belligerently. Edith leaned up closer to Anthony.
"I'm sure we can work it out," she assured him. His lips smiled hesitantly under her finger. "We can work out anything."
"If you say so, Sweet One..."
Dr. Clarkson bustled both her father and Anthony out of the room, demanding that Edith get the rest she desperately needed. She watched through bleary eyes as they exited stiffly next to each, her father's stilted small talk tinged with hostility.
"Should have told you it could be as simple as you removing your clothes before coming near me…." she mumbled as she slipped into sleep.