January 1920

All eyes were on them, as they had been on many occasions before. Matthew and Mary sat beside each other on the settee, at a reasonable distance apart so as not to cause offense to some of the more conservative occupants of the room, yet they sat close enough as if to say 'we are a couple'.

"Have you any idea when you would like the wedding to be held?" Isobel, Matthew's mother asked. She was happy at the news, though was able to contain her happiness more than the bride-to-be's parents. Robert was pleased that he was finally able to call the man he thought of as a son his son-in-law, while Cora was delighted that the match she had hoped would come about between the two was finally happening.

"We were thinking May or June," Mary said. She had a genuine smile upon her face, rather than the fake one she wore often when in the company of her previous fiancé, Sir Richard Carlisle. "However, with Sybil and the baby, it would probably be best for us to move it forward a couple of months. Perhaps March."

"March?" Violet Crawley asked, raising her eyebrows. "Do you plan for us all to freeze?"

Matthew glanced towards his fiancé upon hearing her grandmother's question. One quickly learnt it was sensible not to double cross the formidable Dowager Countess. Her wit was as sharp as a steak knife and it was wise to consider a response before saying it.

"Last March was rather fine weather," Matthew put in with a small smile upon his face. "We would like to be married sooner rather than later after all."

"What I meant to say was May or June at the latest," Mary added.

"I suppose we'll just have to get our furs on," said Violet.

"I'm sure that bad weather won't dampen Matthew and Mary's special day," Isobel said with a smile towards Violet. "I remember on my own wedding day. It rained and rained, yet it was still one of the best days of my life."

"Our wedding day was in the summer and it was almost too hot. Do you remember your Great-Aunt Hester fainting?" Cora chuckled as she turned to Robert.

"I'm sure the woman was being overly dramatic."

"Hester was dramatic at my own wedding," Violet said. "Intolerable woman. My wedding day had perfect weather. It wasn't too hot, wasn't too cold. That's why September time is a good time for weddings."

Edith watched the scene with envy. She wagered that if there was a chance that she would ever be married, such a fuss would not be made over her. The changes of her ever finding a husband seemed slim. She wasn't seen as the beautiful sister or the exciting one, like Mary and Sybil were. She was just seen as the 'other' one. Many men who may have taken her had been killed in the war and the men available would surely pursue the prettier girls and never even glance towards Edith. There was Sir Anthony, though after the conversation between him and Mary at the garden party in 1914, he had hardly spoken a word towards her since. She didn't blame him. No man, not even a man such as Sir Anthony would want a spiteful toad like her.

Edith looked around, searching for an excuse for her to leave the room. She could hardly say she had business, for someone, particularly her grandmother would be likely to inquire what the business involved. Neither could she just walk out, declaring how she was bored of the conversation and wished that it was here in Mary's place, with a handsome, kind young man of her choosing in Matthew's. Instead she spotted Anna out of the corner of her eye, arranging a bouquet of flowers in the hall.

"Please excuse me," she said as she stood up. They all turned towards her with expressions which seemed to convey surprise, as if they had only just noticed she was there. "I have just spotted Anna. I forgot to ask her earlier about repairing one of my hats, so I'll just go and do that now."

Edith quickly exited the room, heading towards Anna's direction. Anna, hearing footsteps turned and bobbed into a curtsey.

"Morning Anna," Edith said as she briskly walked by.

"Moring My Lady," Anna replied before she turned back to the flower arrangement once Edith had walked past.

It was difficult being the middle Crawley sister. She was always overlooked, though she had heard that the middle child seemed to have some sort of 'curse'. It certainly seemed like that at times. She also found it difficult to make friends. Mixing with the men who were convalescing during the war seemed to help boost her confidence slightly, though she would never been as confident as either of her sisters. She was always one to be hiding in the shadows at parties, never wanting to step too far away from her parents or grandmother. It seemed to Edith that whenever she desired attention she never received it and whenever she didn't desire attention it was thrown upon her to the extent that Mary and other ladies would giggle at her flushed cheeks.

When she thought back to her early teens, she realised that she was never like this. She was in the company of Patrick then, however. He would always stand by her side and chat with her. He too, was rather shy, yet knew how to talk to people without his face turning the colour of a ripe beetroot. She missed him immensely and the pain was still ragged and raw in her heart after the Canadian pretender. Patrick had been dead for nearly eight years. It was time she stopped living in the past. She supposed that besides Anthony Strallan, he was the closest she had ever been to having a husband, or a man who enjoyed her company. Had the Canadian pretender actually been the real Patrick Crawley, perhaps she would have been married by now.

She recalled the time when Matthew first arrived at Downton. He was a handsome stranger from Manchester. Matthew was clever and kind and he too, like Edith struggled to find a place here. He was, in time accepted under the wing of her father and know felt a great sense of belonging. Edith had never felt that before in her life. She had enjoyed taking him around the churches of the area and how he seemed to hang onto her every word when she discussed all the features and details. But soon enough the conversation had turned to Mary. It was obvious from the beginning that he had taken a fancy to her, even if she was cruel and rather rude to him. Edith couldn't fathom why a man would be attracted to her elder sister. Yes, Mary was beautiful and charming in some senses, though she could also be very cruel and spiteful, as Edith knew from many years of being on the receiving end of her snide remarks.

She hoped that when the Pamuk scandal had come to light, thanks to the help of the kitchen hand, Daisy, that Mary would be knocked off her high horse. It was something that would destroy her father, she knew that, yet she still felt that it was unfair to those who knew Pamuk. She tried to imagine if the manner in which Patrick had died had been lied about and knew she would be devastated. Not only would she be doing what was fair, she would also be ruining her sister. Mary didn't seem to care for family loyalties, so why should she?

That was a long time ago now and the four years of war stood between knowing what seemed to be important and what really was important. She regretted, in a way, sending the letter to the Turkish Embassy. It had stained Anthony's affection for her. Mary would be married to Matthew by now, Sybil to Branson, or Tom as she was now to call him, and she to Anthony. It would be more or less exactly the way her parents had wanted it to happen. Their three daughters would be married off, perhaps with children and everyone would be merry. Sometimes she liked to ponder about fate and if something had or hadn't happened in the past, then perhaps something more recent would or wouldn't have happened too. Maybe if she had married Anthony then the war would never have happened. It was a foolish thought to have, but it made her feel a little better about herself. Edith realised that she should feel happy for her sisters. She felt happy for Sybil more than Mary; though that was probably just the childish feelings of dislike she had towards her elder sister. Sybil was married and expecting a baby. She had the man she wanted and had managed to convince, or almost convince, the family of his worth. She had to feel happy for Mary and Matthew in a way. She was fond of Matthew, even though they hardly ever talked. He was kind to her and polite and could strike up an interesting and intelligent conversation. Even though she disliked her sister, she didn't hate her. She could never bring herself to hate Mary. Edith would have to smile and put on a happy face, for if she did not, it was probable she would be accused of being envious and she would risk being branded as the 'ugly sister' who stood no chance at finding a husband due to being so bitter.

"Edith," called a voice from behind her. She turned and saw Mary striding towards her, a look of discontent on her face.

"Yes Mary?" Edith raised her eyebrows as she turned and gave her sister a small smile. "You didn't have to call off the visit on my account. It was all about you after all."

"You don't have to act like a jealous little toad all the time," Mary snapped at her. Her dark eyes shone with anger, yet there was also a hint of smugness in her voice.

"I would not be jealous Mary. I would be envious. Jealously is fear of losing something you had in your possession before. I never had Matthew in my possession and neither has there been any certain confirmation of my engagement. Besides, I am not envious. I merely had to rush to tell Anne to repair my hat because I'd probably have forgotten by later on."

Mary rolled her eyes and shook her head. Edith could tell that she was annoyed by being corrected. "That's funny. When I saw you talk to Anna it was merely a quick, curt acknowledgement and then you walked off. Your conversation was all over in a matter of seconds. Surely you could never have passed on your request in such a short amount of time?"

Edith opened her mouth to respond and then hesitated. "You know what Mary? It really is none of your business."

"It was rude. Come now, you're twenty five. Surely you should know your manners?"

"I…" Edith was cut off at the sight of Isobel walking towards them both. They both turned and smiled towards the older woman, any hint of their argument wiped from their features.

"I just thought I'd come to say goodbye to you both. I'm going back home. I'm organising some donations to go towards the families who lost men during the war. It's the least we can do. It's a while off at the moment, but I thought we could perhaps do something on Shrove Tuesday."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Edith said. "A tombola perhaps?"

"That sounds good to me," Isobel replied with a fond smile. "Perhaps you'd be interested in getting involved?"

"I'd love to lend a hand." Isobel was always kind to Edith. She knew more than Matthew what it was like to be an outsider in the family. Edith always enjoyed the time spent with her and she found that she wasn't as judgemental as her mother or grandmother.

"Perfect!" Isobel turned to Mary and Edith noticed the smile waver a little from her lips. "You'll be busy planning the wedding no doubt?"

"I will be, I'm afraid. It's a shame because I'd love to help out in some way. Perhaps I can find a few prizes for you?"

"Thank you Mary. Just small things. Maybe little stuffed toys for the children, a tipple for the adults. Perhaps a cake as well."

"I'll ask Mrs Patmore," Edith said.

"Mrs Bird will want to have a hand in trying to best her rival," Isobel joked.

"That's true. We mustn't let them both be unhappy. The more prizes the better. Even if everyone ends up winning something the money raised all goes towards a good cause."

"That's true," Isobel said as Carson helped her into her coat. "You and I can meet up soon Edith to make plans." She was about to turn away before stopping and catching sight of her daughter-in-law-to-be. "And if you need any help with making plans for the wedding, just let me know."

The two young women watched as Isobel left through the large, front doors. Carson closed the doors behind her and bowed respectfully to the two sisters before walking into the library to attend on Robert, Cora, Violet and Matthew, who was staying until the evening to discuss what he called 'estate matters' with Robert.

"It's nice to see that my future mother-in-law is fonder of you than she is me," Mary observed, once Carson was out of earshot.

"Oh, now who is getting worked up?" Edith asked with a sarcastic chuckle. "I saw nothing in her manner which may suggest or confirm your suspicions anyway. She and I are good friends. That is how good friends should speak to one another, is it not?"

"She's one of your few friends. I wouldn't say she's a good one," Mary replied coldly.

"Why do you always have to speak to me like that?"

"Like what?"

"You always have to try and put me down. I cannot remember the last nice thing you ever said about me or to me."

"It was probably before 1914, let's put it that way."

"If you are referring to the Pamuk incident?"

Mary's eyes grew wide and she put a finger over her lip. Edith had brought up a touchy subject. Mary always reacted like this whenever the Turkish man's name was mentioned. She could never give back what she had given to him. She was seen as tarnished and everyone knew it.

"You know I am. I suspect that many other people will be referring to it soon. Sir Richard Carlisle isn't too pleased with you. There is nothing stopping him from publishing the scandal."

"All the people I care about already know. It doesn't seem to shock them."

Edith chuckled. "Oh, Mary. I thought you knew this family. We Crawleys are like gardeners. We can dig and dig to bury our problems, yet when someone mentions it, the problem is just as big as it was before. No doubt Granny is disgusted by you. Mama had something to do with it, though I imagine at the time she wasn't too pleased. Papa, well, he was jolly well annoyed about Sybil and Branson. I can't imagine how annoyed he is with you."

"Stop!"

"And what about your future husband?"

"He doesn't care."

"Did he tell you that?"

"He implied it. I doubt he would have asked me to marry him if he found me repulsive."

"Remember, he's just as much a Crawley as you and I. Have you ever thought he's burying his true feelings?"

"It really isn't anything to do with you Edith."

"Oh but it is," Edith said with a smile which did not reach her eyes. "If one of us does something which isn't considered acceptable they drag the entire family down with them."

"Allow me to remind you that it was you who informed the Turkish embassy," Mary sighed before a small smirk came to her lips. "I really do not know why you keep on going on about this Edith. It's all in the past. If Richard publishes it in his newspapers so be it. I'll still have the love of my family and my husband. You only possess one of those, don't you?"

The smile quickly left Edith's face. It was very difficult to better Mary in an argument. She had a sharp wit and could easily outsmart her younger sister. Mary's remark had hit an old wound. She was constantly trying to bury the problem, yet Mary had dug it up again.

"Now that's shut you up," Mary said before turning back towards the library.

Edith stood still for a moment. She often wondered about the origin of the sister's mutual dislike to one another. It started in childhood, though she couldn't remember a time when the two weren't at each other's throats. She supposed that something must have started it off, yet however hard she tried to remember, she could not think of a legitimate reason. Thinking that she should perhaps head toward her bedroom upon thinking that she may be questions why she is still in the hall, she turned on her heel and ascended the stairs.

The maids had been in and made her bedroom look neat and tidy. She did not always like it that way. She enjoyed a little organised clutter, as it gave the room a slightly quaint feel. However she had not told the maids to leave the room slightly messy, due to them perhaps leaving any mess which she may have wanted to be removed. Edith paced the room slowly, kicking off her shoes due to her being in her own company. She unbuttoned the first two buttons of her blouse and untucked it from her skirt. Nobody was around to see her looking like this. In her own room she deserved to be comfortable and had the right to relax. She came to a halt when seeing the letter upon her desk. It was from Sybil in response to her receiving her Christmas present.

Dear Edith,

Thank you for your Christmas gift, it's quite beautiful. One thing I never thought to buy was a nice, woollen scarf to keep me warm. It's quite cold in the city. Not the country cold we are used to, but a different kind. It's very difficult to explain and you probably think I'm quite mad! Tom also sends his thanks for his scarf too and I always tell him to wrap up warm before stepping out in the streets to go to work. Most of the times he listens and does as he's told!

The house is coming along nicely. We've hung some pictures and photographs in the lounge and dining room, including one of you and I together. I'm not quite sure when it was taken, though I believe it was before the war. You probably have a copy of it too. It was quite amusing deciding on where to hang the pictures. I wanted to cover the wall with beautiful artwork though Tom disagreed. He wanted to leave some space for photographs of the baby. I told him that he'd make all the photographers in the city rich due to his frequent patronage, though he replied that he intends to purchase his own camera. It is a lovely thought, though cameras are rather expensive and require special training to learn to use one. We will have to see how things work out.

Tom's job at the newspaper is going well. He reports on a variety of issues, such as cultural events in the city to the situation with the English. It worries me sometimes though. I know that there are other English people living in Dublin, just not many of them are the daughter of an Earl. The Irish aren't too fond of English aristocrats. However, I'm not sure whether you know that Mama has asked for Tom and I to return to England and live on a cottage on the estate? I would be lovely to be closer to home and to you all, especially when the baby arrives and he or she can be close to you. It's just Tom's work. He's set on working in Dublin and isn't too keen on returning to England, though he said he will if it's what I really want. I don't want to pressure him into doing something he does not want to do as that wouldn't be fair. There are rumours though that it may not be safe in Ireland for the English, due to some of the trouble which happened here over the past couple of years. We will just have to see. We are hoping that Tom may be able to get a transfer or acquire a suitable reference for him to be able to work for one of the big London or Yorkshire newspapers, though we all know who owns a majority of them, and we Crawleys aren't in his good books at the moment.

I will let you know soon about our decision. It's not the easiest of ones to make, though believe me, it's a darn sight easier than the one I had to make before I left for Ireland with Tom.

Your loving sister,

Sybil.

Edith sighed as she finished reading the letter. She missed her sister immensely, but she knew that she was happy. She had everything Edith could ever wish for. Granted, she may be living in conditions considered to be poor by the Crawley family, yet she was comfortable and enjoying married life with her husband, the man she loved dearly. She was having a baby too. Edith never thought that her younger sister would have a baby before her. She was happier for Sybil than she was for Mary though. It was difficult, near impossible to ever wish unhappiness on Sybil. Edith was sad that her sister was so far away, yet happy that she had the life she wanted. Edith sat down at the table and started to consider her own reply.

Dear Sybil,

I'm so glad that you liked the scarf. I hope that it's keeping you nice and warm. It's been rather chilly over here the past few weeks and I have had to wrap up warm. Your new home sounds nice and cosy and it would be sad for you to move, yet we would all like you to return to England.

I do not want you to think I'm pressuring you into doing anything you might not want to do, though we have heard stories of what's going on in England and the general Irish attitude towards the English and we just do not think that it's safe for you over there. Please consider returning to England soon. I would gladly help you make your new home on the estate lovely and cosy and you will never ben in want of anything while you are here.

We are all looking forward to meeting your little boy or girl and we miss you at lot. If you are worrying what we all think of Tom, just know that I'm happy to accept him as my brother-in-law and so long as he's always good and true to you, he will always have a friend in me. Papa and Granny still won't be convinced I'm afraid, at least not for a while, but you know what they both are like. They do miss you though and they are looking forward to the new arrival.

I hope that you will reply as soon as you've received this, or at least buy a telephone, because I fear I'm going to lose my sanity without regular correspondence with you.

Your loving sister,

Edith.

She placed the lid upon her fountain pen, placed it in its mahogany case and dabbed the page with blotting paper to prevent the ink from smudging. Edith then wrote Sybil's address on an envelope and put the letter inside.

Relaxing back in her seat, she realised what Sybil had meant by there being nothing to do at Downton Abbey. It was a beautiful place to live and she knew that she was very fortunate to have been born into such an affluent family, particularly when some of the people who worked for the Crawleys hadn't been half as lucky, there was just hardly anything entertaining to do. She enjoyed reading books, though it seemed she had been through all the novels in the library and she didn't have any interest in the non-fiction titles. The grounds were enjoyable to take a stroll in, though it would be nice to have some company from time to time. In a way she yearned for the war to be back, for at least it gave her something to do.