When Sir Anthony Strallan told Lady Edith Crawley that she was beautiful, Lady Edith couldn't believe him.
No one had told her that before as far as she could remember. Not even her own parents or grandparents.
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She thought about a fairy tale that she had read as a child. When she was eight years old, in 1902, she got a new children's book as a christmas gift. It was called 'Five Children and It' and was written by a lady called Edith Nesbit. Edith knew before she started reading the book that she would like it, because it was written by another Edith. But she didn't know before she read it that it was to become one of her favourite books.
The story was about five children who happened to dig up an ancient sand-fairy, the Psammead. The Psammead could grant wishes, although it was very grumpy and reluctant to do so. The children had wished for things like money or wings or being very big, and all of their wishes had landed them into trouble. It was a very funny book at the same time as it was instructive. Getting ones wishes fullfilled was perhaps not such a blessing that one might think, after all.
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She thought about that book now, riding home together with Sir Anthony in the backseat of his car. He had his chauffeur driving them, so they could sit together and talk and also so someone else could take care of the parking problems in York. Edith and Sir Anthony had talked about many things on their way to the concert, and also after the concert on their way to Sir Anthony's friends. But Edith had been very quiet for a while now, sitting there beside Sir Anthony in the narrow backseat after having supper at the home of Sir Anthony's friends. His arm was against her arm, and she felt her heart flutter by the touch. But she knew he only sat so close to her because there was no other way to sit in that backseat, not because he wanted to be near her.
She was thinking about how very much she had enjoyed this evening. How good the music had been. How much she enjoyed being with Sir Anthony, who was such a considerate and friendly man. How much she had liked having all his attention. How much she had appreciated being introduced to Sir Anthony's friends and having supper with them.
And how very much she wished that he would lean closer to her now and kiss her.
She was sitting there imagining what it would feel like to have his lips against her own, when he suddenly blurted out: "Lady Edith! You are so beautiful! So very, very beautiful!"
It was then she thought about the Psammead and how he had granted the children's wishes. How one of the girls had wished that they would become 'beautiful as the day'. After that they hadn't been allowed into their home until the wish went away at sundown, because their servants didn't recognize them.
She thought about that, not knowing how to answer him. Maybe she had changed and become beautiful all of a sudden. She could only smile. She smiled and looked at him, and it seemed to be the only answer he needed. Because he smiled back at her and after that he kept smiling too.
But she still wished he would kiss her.
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At least the servants still recognized her when she came back to Downton.
She just couldn't stop smiling, she was so happy. She looked at herself in the mirror when she was alone back in her room. And suddenly she saw it - she really was beautiful like that, smiling and happy. She didn't look plain at all.
Maybe Sir Anthony was like the Psammead. Able to grant wishes...
Even though he hadn't granted her wish that he would kiss her...
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AN: Thank you for reading! Reviews are much appreciated.
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This is a tribute to Edith Nesbit. I read that story of the Psammead when I was around eight years old and I think it was the beginning of my love for things English. It was so lovely and so funny. I still have the book in my bookshelf, well read and almost falling apart. Translated into Swedish of course, since I am a Swede. It is called "Fem barn hittar ett troll" in Swedish. Very few other books have stimulated my imagination like that one did. I enjoyed the Psammead's grumpy behavior much more than I ever enjoyed any too-good-to-be-true fairy godmothers or too-beautiful-to-be-interesting princesses.
I originally planned to let Lady Elizabeth - Sir Anthony's mother in my story The Tangled Web of Life - read the book to her children. But when I looked it up I saw that the book was too modern for that. But I also happened to see that Lady Edith was about the same age when this book was new as I was many, many years later when I read it for the first time. So I decided to make a story about Edith reading it instead, and came up with this little bit of fluffiness.