The First Lady Strallan

A/N: This is my first crossover. In this story Edith is not an earl's daughter but an orphaned girl raised by her paternal grandmother, Violet, after the death of her family. Although this is set in 1920 Anthony is not injured for the purpose of this story.

Chapter 1

Last night I dreamt I went to Locksley again. I remember the gravel drive which Anthony & I walked along so many times but as I drew nearer I saw the fence was rusty and almost covered with weeds and ivy. Beyond that I could see the charred remains of the house we loved; the burnt ruins clawing the sky like blackened talons and I cried. Anthony loved the house too but his memories were very different from mine. Much more painful although I suspect he travels here in his mind often; unknown to me. But I am way ahead of myself so I suppose I should start at the beginning and tell you how it all began and ended.

It was a cool mild climate in the south of France but the doctor had recommended a mild climate to my grandmother, Violet. We both understood that it was medical shorthand for the fact there was little more they could do for her and she accepted it with more grace than I had expected because Granny Violet could be difficult at times.

"I suppose we ought to look for a husband for you, Edith," she said, "then at least you will be looked after when I'm gone. Since you are not yet of age you will have to have my consent as your father is no longer able to give his,"

I hated it when she reminded me of my orphaned status but I supposed I could not get away from it because it was true. My parents, Robert and Cora, my American mother, had been killed in a motorcar accident five years before when I was but fourteen and I had had no siblings so, other than Granny Violet, I was quite alone in the world. I was nineteen; gangly and socially inept due to my shyness. I could not imagine that any man would ever look at me for any reason other than to pity me so I was far from confident. I had pale skin and auburn hair. I had never been courted and never been a debutante because that was for girls far above our humble station in life. Of course I dreamt about finding a handsome man to sweep me off my feet. He would be dark and brooding; a bit like Heathcliff only considerably kinder and more civilised. How was I to know that the man who would rescue me would be a tall blonde baronet with the most beautiful blue eyes in the world? But I knew nothing beyond the theories of what a man expected from a wife and it frightened me a little. I knew about sex of course, and babies but the idea terrified me so I suspected I would be as inadequate as a wife as I was in all other aspects of my life.

I cringed that evening in the dining room of the pension where we were held up to wait out the autumn. Granny Violet allowed me a small glass of wine and we sat while she tried to ingratiate herself with one or two people who were clearly more well to do than us. I wished I had been allowed to remain in my room and read but Granny Violet forbade it saying "Edith, you will never find a husband if you don't at least talk to some of the young men."

"But most of them probably have wives already," I protested.

"A little practise never harmed anyone," she snapped.

OO

After dinner we moved on into the lounge bar. Granny was wearing a peacock blue dress with sequins which, in my view, made her look like mutton dressed as lamb but she wasn't long for this world so I didn't begrudge her a bit of flirtatious behaviour. Maybe if I studied her I might even learn something.

OO

A tall blonde man walked into the room and I thought my heart had stopped. He was tall, blonde and gorgeous and his eyes; god I had never seen eyes so blue.

But there was sadness behind those eyes and his brow was furrowed by a frown. I wondered what dark secrets this so far enigmatic man was hiding from the world for he pushed away various persons who approached him. He looked right at me then and a half smile spread across his face. I cast my eyes down; sure he pitied me for my plain dress and features. I was thankful that Granny Violet had not appeared to notice him.

Later that evening, when we had retired to our adjoining rooms and I went to give her medication I asked.

"Granny, who was that tall blonde man with blue eyes,"

"Why, surely you have heard of Sir Anthony Strallan?" Violet gasped, "They say he's here trying to get over the death of his wife."