AN: This story is inspired by the picture of Edith, Sybil and Mary taken on THAT day. I so want to write a happy Andith story, but it don't work at the moment. Nevertheless I really like this little one shot. Hope you like it, too. Enjoy reading! [updated because of typo correction]

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A Day Long Forgotten

„I've never seen this picture before", Laura said when she entered the room. "Is this you, mummy? And aunt Mary?"

Edith looked at the photograph in daughter's hand. She froze. "Put this away, Laura", she hurried to say.

"Why? Was it taken on your and daddy's wedding day?" Laura's curiosity was stirred up. The woman in the centre of the picture was definitely her mother, but she looked younger than on her other wedding photographs and the dress seemed to be a different one.

Edith sighed. "No it wasn't on our day." Her hand reached for the photograph. She looked down for a while and said then: "This picture was taken on a day long forgotten. It supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but it wasn't… And, yes, the woman on my left is your aunt Mary. The beautiful, lovely one on my other side is your aunt Sybil. She died not long after this photo was taken."

She couldn't hide completely the sad sigh that rose in her, while she spoke these words. Edith's thoughts wandered back to that day. She was able to hear the words spoken by her sisters and she remembered the words spoken by someone else not long after.

Laura wouldn't give up until her mother had told her the story. Edith knew this. Her youngest child was similar to darling Sybil in so many ways. The girl inherited her aunt's beauty and gentleness. She was as curios as her aunt used to be and toughed some things in the same way out.

"Long ago I fell in love with a man, a neighbour. It was before the war and I was young, very young. He was supposed to be a suitor for your aunt Mary, but she didn't want him. That was how I met him."

This was – of course – not the complete story and Laura's interest was just drawn. Edith could see this on the tip of her daughter's nose as well as on her prying eyes.

"He took me on rides with his fantastic car. We went to concerts. I was convinced that he would propose to me, but then… he went away because… because of the war…"

"What was his name?" Laura asked.

"What?" Edith was puzzled.

"His name", Laura insisted. "You didn't tell me his name.

It wasn't easy to speak these two words after so many years. "Anthony Strallan", Edith finally said and listened to the words' echo deep inside her.

It still hurt after such a long time. She couldn't believe it. She was married, happy with her husband, a proud mother, but there was still this pain she had felt for the first time on day that was manifested on the photograph in her hand.

She wouldn't cry, not this time. The last time she shed tears for Anthony Strallan had been when she had got the message about his death.

"Anthony Strallan?" Laura searched her memories. "I think George told us something about him, when we were kids. The weird old man living at some estate near Downton, hidden in his library… or something."

Edith chuckled. Anthony and his library, his books – it was always the first picture in her mind, when she thought of him.

The light smile on her mother's face challenged Laura. "So, he returned from war?"

"Yes, he did and we met again. I immediately fell in love with the idea that we would the perfect married couple. Anthony was very reluctant…"

"Was he?" Laura interrupted her mother. "Why?"

Edith smiled at her daughter indulgently. "He had been wounded during the war. His right arm had lost its use. He used to say that he would need rather a nurse than a wife. In addition, he felt ways too old for me. I couldn't see this and in the end I convinced him that I was right. He proposed and the date was set."

"But you didn't marry him?"

"No, I didn't." Edith knew that she had to tell Laura the complete story. This girl was far too persistent. "The date was set and a wonderful time started. Everything was about me and my wedding. For the first time in my life I felt that everyone's attention was concentrated on me and me only. I had the perfect dress, the tiara, everything. But I was too focused on these silly things. I didn't notice what happened to Anthony."

"He didn't die, did he?" Laura covered her mouth with her hands.

Edith shook her head. "No, he didn't die. He waited for me in front of the altar. After this picture was taken I entered the church and as I arrived on his side, he told me that he wasn't able to marry me."

"He jilted you in front of the altar?! How could he…" Laura's eyes were wide open. "How?!"

"He went away, yes. There I was in the little church, in front of the altar surrounded by my family, relatives, neighbours… surrounded by all of them, but alone. My heart broke into so many pieces and I wasn't able to understand what had happened."

Edith looked at Laura, still smiling. "Later I learned that Anthony had always felt turned down by my family. My father, your grandfather, and my granny carped about him still in church. He must have felt so unwanted by everyone that he gave up."

The expression on Laura's face turned into something between concernment and fascination. Edith was sure that none of her children ever expected such a sensational story in their mother's life.

"In the end it was my own fault."

Laura didn't understand. "How could it be your fault?"

"He always wanted me happy, being successful in life and married with a wealthy young man. I didn't listen to him because I lived in my own world. Anthony was part of it, but he wasn't involved. I was so much in love with the idea of us as couple. So, I did foolish things then as well as I did such things afterwards," Edith answered.

"And then?" Laura asked.

"Then I met your father." Edith stroked her daughter's hair. "I became a very happy wife and – not long after – an affectionate mother." She had forgiven Anthony a long time ago. Edith had met some men, before she finally found the one she was able to settle down with. In the end, the way had been worth it.

"You've given me back my life", Anthony's voice whispered. The sound faded away like the memory of his face. Somehow it was like the pale colours of this old photograph. It was only a memory now, the memory of a day long forgotten.