In the nick of time

An AU fic. Anthony gets very depressed after 3.3 and plans to commit suicide. Edith gets a sudden intuition and rushes to Locksley but can she save the man she loves and can they make things right?

A/N: I haven't finished with the First Lady Strallan yet but this one came to my mind so I wanted to write it and get it out there.

Chapter 1

It was raining heavily outside; the skies were leaden. It could not have been less like that warm sunny day a few months before when he should have married.

He was convinced it had been the right thing to do; set that beautiful young lady free to find a husband who was not injured and nearer her age. It would not have been fair to tie her to him as a nursemaid. He loved her far too much for that and her family's lukewarm attitude towards him had clinched it. He, like Lord Grantham, had momentarily forgotten that any young eligible husband material was dead or worse maimed than he was.

He sighed deeply. The injury was hurting him today; it was ironic that he still could not use the damned limb yet it pained him.

He looked around the library; the well thumbed volumes which Edith loved to look at and from which he had read to her on countless occasions. The words had lost their beauty now she was not there. His soul was dark and he cried himself to sleep at night, glad no one was there to witness his pain. She was always his first thought on waking and his last before he fell into a tear induced sleep.

The fire was blazing but Anthony felt no warmth. He had lost weight and neglected himself; he seldom bothered to eat these days. The brightness in his blue eyes had faded and he felt a cold emptiness within him. His servants did their best; they had adored Lady Edith and really hoped that she would marry their master and make him happy but he invariably bit their heads off, snapping. They felt his pain at a level but knew they would never penetrate the depths of his gloom.

Tears streaked his face and his eyes had dark circles beneath them.

Now he went to the bureau drawer and took out his old service revolver. It was loaded. How easy it would be to put it to his head and pull the trigger. No more pain or sadness, no more torment over what he now knew was the wrong decision. He had wanted to write to or call on her but knew he would be turned away and no letter would ever reach her. She would get by without him; find someone better. The agony in his breast screamed at him. Why had he not said he loved her? He realised that she was everything he wanted or needed. She would have looked after him but for his inability to see that what he truly wanted was right in front of him. She had treated him like a man; not a cripple. She had lifted his spirits and made him feel good about himself. He had told her that she had given him back his life but then he had taken that life they could have had together away from them. He had no doubt she would have been left to cope alone; her family were relieved after all. She had no one to confide in and he knew that she would have cried too. She probably hated him and would never want to see him again which he was prepared to accept but right now no one hated Sir Anthony Strallan more than he hated himself.

He held the revolver in his good hand and looked at it. How easy it would be to blast his brains out. Only the fear of what that would do to Edith stopped him at that moment. His body shook with convulsive sobs so he laid the revolver down in case he accidentally fired it.

"Oh Edith, my darling," he wept, "I am so sorry. I love you so much and you were everything to me. I should have stood up for us but I didn't have the confidence. I failed and humiliated you so I don't deserve to live. I have tried to live without you but I simply can't. Even this beautiful room is cold and empty without you, the poetry we read is empty words without you; life is empty without you and I can't take it anymore. You were my last chance of happiness and my last chance of having an heir and I threw all that away out of a sense of duty, "the word tasted bitter and nasty in his mouth as bile rose into his throat.

The tears flowed unchecked down his ashen features and he wept bitterly. His servants could hear him and gave one another worried glances.

"Edith, I never deserved you and was never good enough for you. I was a coward so perhaps I will take the coward's way out. Oh god my darling, I wish you were here to stop me but I can't have that luxury. Please forgive me my beloved Edith; I hope that one day you will understand. You will hate me but no one hates me as much as I do right now."

Anthony Strallan poured himself a large glass of whisky and downed it in one mouthful. The strong spirits burnt his throat but he did not feel it. He felt nothing now; nothing but remorse and self loathing. Perhaps the revolver was the best option after all.

He lifted the revolver and pointed it at his left temple