God knows how she got to Downton in time. The call came in the middle of the night and there weren't any trains scheduled, so Bertie had to drive. Edith certainly couldn't. Her chaotic state of mind was reflected in her frantic fidgeting and twitching. Ever since she put down the phone, she had been in a constant state of agitation. She barely remembered getting dressed or saying goodbye to Mrs Pelham.
She wasn't crying. Bertie kept checking on her from the corner of his eye as he drove. She just sat there, staring straight ahead and fingers clenched in her skirt. Bertie reached out a hand and placed it comfortingly on her knee. She didn't respond to his touch and he removed it, sensing she needed to be left with her thoughts.
The hours in the car were spent in dead silence. By the time they reached Downton the sky was pink and lilac. Bertie had kept himself awake swigging coffee from the thermos, and upon reaching the driveway he gently shook her. Edith was surprised to find herself blinking awake, she did not even remember falling asleep.
"Are we there?" she asked him softly, her voice oddly strained.
Bertie nodded and stopped the car. Edith got out and walked with an urgency that was indecent for one who had just woken up. Bertie, stiff and sluggish, struggled to keep up. Edith bounced on her heels impatiently, knocking roughly on the door.
It wasn't Barrow or one of the Footmen who met her at the door, but Mary. Mary had clearly spent all night sitting up, and was not yet dressed. Her hair was mussed and she wore a mismatching night robe and slippers. They exchanged no words of greeting, instead Mary grabbed one of Edith's hands and tugged her into the Hall.
"She's been asking for you, come quickly,"
Edith practically raced Mary up the stairs and down the corridor, Bertie flagging behind with the luggage. Despite being quick to get the room, she faltered in the doorway. There they all were, dressed in their night things and all looking worse for wear. Granny was the only one dressed, but the clothes did not seem to fit her right. They were too big. Or perhaps it was just Granny, who appeared to have shrunk.
And there, on the bed, was her Aunt Rosamund.
Edith could remember the last time she had spoken to her Aunt.
"Oh, I'm only feeling a little under the weather dear! Nothing to worry about. I just thought some country air would do me good,"
And then they got that call. Informing them that Rosamund had taken a turn for the worse and she had better hurry. So she did.
A silence fell as all eyes turned towards Edith, who stood frozen at the doorway.
"How is she?" she whispered hoarsely, pointing towards her sleeping Aunt.
Papa stood and moved towards Edith, placing his broad hands comfortingly on her shoulders.
"Not good," he said gravely, "She is resting now. But she will want to talk to you now that you are here,"
Edith nodded and moved towards her Aunt's bedside. She dimly noted that one by one the rest of the family were leaving. Eventually, it was just her and her slumbering Aunt. Edith reached out to take one of Aunt Rosamund's hands into her only, and softly spoke her name.
Rosamund slowly blinked awake and looked up at Edith, smiling feebly. Feebly! Aunt Rosamund shouldn't have been smiling feebly. She never did anything feebly.
"Hello dear. How are you?"
"I am well, thank you Aunt. And yourself?"
The question came out instinctively. It was just good manners.
"Not so good I fear," Rosamund smiled ruefully, reaching out and giving Edith's hand a squeeze. "Good God! What are you wearing?"
Edith looked down at her clothes and immediately spotted the source of Rosamund's horror. She had dressed in a hurry, so it was no great surprise that her clothes did not match, but this combination was particularly unfortunate. Both her blouse and skirt had floral patterns, but one was red and yellow whilst the other was purple and green.
"You look like a flower bed of tulips," Rosamund chuckled.
Edith grinned. "Well, I didn't have time to buy flowers,"
"And to think, the last thing I will ever see is that hideous blouse,"
Edith could not think of anything to say to that. Eventually she said "I could go and get changed if you wish," although Edith was not sure what into. She could not remember what she had packed.
"No, no," Rosamund said quickly, "I want you stay with me,"
Edith's eyes stung, and she had to swallow back a lump in her throat before nodding. "Of course,"
Rosamund smiled again. "You're a good girl,"
Edith forced out a laugh, "You and I both know that it not true,"
"Well, you tried your best. Most of the time. More than I ever did. The stories I could tell you,"
"Oh do!" Edith pleaded.
Rosamund's eyes drifted over to the wall and fixed on it. "I suppose I could tell you," she murmured softly, "I might as well,"
Edith waited for her to continue, only to find Rosamund had drifted off again.
DA
The service was long and tedious. The children could not sit still and whined into Nanny's ear, begging to be allowed to go and play outside. The weather was too fine to spend it cooped up in the Church, especially with the cousins away. Eventually, Mama had nodded for Nanny to take them out.
Once the funeral was over, Edith found she could not bear to stay inside and make small talk with the guests. Instead she and Bertie decided to go for a walk.
"I was thinking we should go up to London after this," Bertie suggested, "You could check in at the Magazine,"
"And look at the house," Edith added.
Rosamund had left Edith pretty much everything, except for a few personal bits and bobs for the others. No one had been particularly surprised.
"You always were her favourite," Mary intoned dully.
The thought of looking round Rosamund's now empty house made Edith feel sick, but at least she was feeling something other than a detached numbness. She was also pleased to find herself thinking of going to the Magazine as not quite enjoyable, but preferable to her other options.
She and Bertie watched from through the trees as the last of the guests left. With the house finally empty of guests, they went to re-join the others. Mary, Tom and Henry had all gone to get changed for work, and so it was only her parents and Granny they found sitting in the Library. Neither Bertie nor Edith made a sound as they entered, the others deep in discussion.
"I do feel we ought to have told her," Cora sighed sadly. "She had the right to find out before she passed on. And still does,"
"What good will that do?" Violet hissed. "How could any good come from telling the truth now?"
"I agree with Mama, Edith is better of for now not knowing,"
"Not knowing what?" Edith cut in.
The three of them stiffened and turned to look at Bertie and Edith, looks of guilt and uneasiness etched on their faces.
"Nothing dear," Violet said quickly, "How are you feeling?"
"Fine. Not knowing what?" she repeated.
DA
The bags were packed, the children and Bertie were waiting and they were all set to go. Edith was certainly not waiting a moment longer to get out of that house.
"You can't just walk away from this Edith!" Robert called after her in frustration.
Edith held back a huff. Honestly, what an utterly ridiculous thing to say. Of course she could walk away from this. She was already, wasn't she? Her feet were moving one by one, and not in the direction of her family. Therefore, she was walking away. She certainly wasn't going to stay. Not when the only thing that had kept her with them turned out to be a lie.
Papa was in fact not her Papa. Nor was Mama her Mama. In fact, Mama was not even related to her. Granny was still Granny, but even she still played a part to play and had changed irreversibly before Edith's eyes.
Henry, Tom and Mary were not aware of what was going on and so watched curiously as Edith roughly shoved her things into the boot. None had any idea of what to make from the situation. Well, neither did Edith. All she felt was an urge to get away from Downton as soon as possible. A feeling not altogether new, but with a renewed desperation.
Edith slammed the door behind her and set off, heedless of Robert's calls. Forcing herself to sound calm for the childrens' sake she said "So we are going to London for a bit. How does that sound,"
Neither of the children responded.
"Donk was cross," Marigold said softly.
"Not cross Poppet," Bertie said gently, "He's just a bit wound up. Because he's so sad about Auntie Rosamund,"
"Oh," Marigold shrugged and returned to her rabbit. Little Peter didn't even care. He was too busy counting sheep in the field.
Eventually, both fell asleep. Bertie turned to Edith.
"How are you feeling?"
This time, Edith did not lie.
"Confused. Emotional. Sad, obviously. And distressingly un-surprised,"
It was frightening how much sense the revelation made. Everything that felt off about her life suddenly made sense. The colour of her hair, her position in the family.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Bertie offered.
"Not particularly,"
Bertie smiled and nodded understandingly. Should she ever be ready to talk, she knew he was there. That was enough for now.
DA
Going round Aunt Rosamund's house was worse than she thought it would be. Especially with the revelation that Aunt Rosamund was not in fact 'Aunt' Rosamund. Walking around those empty rooms, Edith was suddenly struck with the image of Rosamund. Rattling round that great big house. Husband dead, no children.
Except for one.
One child whom she could never be a mother to. Well, not in name. She wondered of Rosamund ever regretted not telling Edith the truth, not telling her what she truly meant to her.
She showed it though. At every opportunity. Her dear Aunt... Mother? Whatever she was to be called had never failed to do everything in her power to make Edith know and feel how precious she was to her. But still, she never had the chance to talk about it. To get the truth out in the open. Did she regret that?
Edith imagined Rosamund on her death bed, and thought of all the regrets she might have had lying there. How many did she have? How great were they? The image of her Mama's tear stained face as she stormed out of the Library appeared uninvited into Edith's head. Edith knew that when her own turn came she would have many regrets to think on, but maybe she could not have this one.
She returned to the hallway and slowly dialled the phone, waiting for someone on the other end to pick up.
"Hello?" came a male voice.
"Papa?" she said, steeling herself and slumping against the wall, "I want to talk,"