Fleeing like a thief in the night. How very apt. And maybe she was a thief. After all, she had taken all her gowns and jewels with her. Off to be pawned or sold to get a bit of quick cash. The plan was to pawn her cumbersome gowns first of all, before finding someone honest to give her the price of her jewels. And then some cheap, respectable lodgings and then some work. Simple.
She hoped that what she would get for her jewellery would provide her with a little nest egg. After all, she had diamonds and emeralds and sapphires. That should be enough to tide her over whilst she looked for a job. She wondered how she would get them valued without raising an eyebrow or two. She would have to think up a good story as to why she had all these priceless jewels that she had to be rid off immediately. And she had to think of a way to make any story she came up with sound believable, or else she'd be in chains quicker than she could say 'Bob's your uncle'. So, she needed to find a trustworthy and honest jeweller who had no questions as to why a random woman would turn up with a veritable treasure chest of gems. Perhaps less simple.
As for work, she thought perhaps teaching. She could sew and play piano moderately well. There must be one or two social climbing Mamas who want to get their daughters good marriages but can't afford a governess to teach them the proper accomplishments. And if push came to shove, she could try teaching a few French lessons.
Her French was abysmal, but her accent was passable. She would just make up a bunch of words and try to make them sound French. No one would be able to tell. In fact, her French had turned out to be utterly useless. She had not spoken a word of French ever since her own Governess had left. Except for when ordering off a Menu. So yes. She could most certainly bluff a few French lessons and no one would be the wiser.
Definitely a thief. Stealing the family jewels and planning to con people out of their money by trying to teach French. Oh well. She will just repent on her death bed.
It was actually all rather exciting. It was pitch black outside, five o'clock on a cold January morning, and yet she was fully dressed and her bags were packed. The rest of her family slumbered like sleeping lions as she rushed to gather the last of her things.
She had written a letter. She had written several letters. But none seemed quite right. Some of them were long, rambling explanations of why she was leaving. Others were confessions of how she had felt these past years. A few lasted pages and pages. Others were short. Half were apologetic whilst the rest were angry and bitter. Each one was different, but they all ended the same way. Tossed onto the fire. The one that was left on her desk was short and to the point. It had been already drafted once, but she re-wrote it after having instinctively put 'Love' at the end. As this letter was to be the cessation of their relationship, it did not feel right to finish it with 'Love'. If love was still here at the end, it would not be the end. But it was the end. And she told them so in black and white.
She was leaving and she wished for them not to try to contact her. Outside a taxi waited, ready to race her off to the train station where she would take the six o'clock into the London and then to... Well, that was it. Where to next?
Anywhere. Absolutely anywhere. She had the whole of London at her feet. The museums and galleries, many of which were free to enter. And the other places. Places of ill repute, that were open only to the lower classes . Or two incredibly wealthy male upper class who could happily go slumming, without raising an eyebrow or losing an invitation. She could go to a pub. Or even a Tavern!
Her heart somersaulted at the thought. But first, she needed to get out of the house. Collecting her bags, she quietly made her way down the corridor. She tip-toed past her mother and father and sisters' rooms and kept her ears strained for passing scullery maids. She reached the Grand Staircase and halted in horror as she heard Daisy's footsteps behind her. She quickly hid herself amongst the shadows and held her breath until the maid was quite gone, her footsteps growing quieter and quieter. Then, before she lost her nerve, she darted down the steps and to the door. She yanked it open before letting it slam shut behind her.
The sky was as black as ink, except for the thousand tiny stars that twinkled their admiration for her daring escape and the crescent moon that smiled down at her benevolently. The moon and the stars were all further away than any horse could ever gallop or eagle could ever fly and yet still they celebrated her break for freedom. The swaying branches waved her on and the long road ahead beckoned.
She breathed in the cold air as though she were a prisoner allowed out from her cell for the first time, before making her way to the taxi that had been waiting ten minutes. She murmured her apologies to the driver and leant against the seat. She shut her eyes and listened as the car jumped to life, quickly gaining speed as it fled away from the house.
As they finally passed the gate, she opened her eyes and pressed against the frozen window, cherishing the feel of the cold glass against her flustered cheek. Edith watched as Downton Abbey grew smaller and smaller, then smiled as it disappeared altogether.