Damaged goods - that was what Bertie's mother had called Edith.
He knew when he heard it, that he had to leave the room. Or else...
If Mother had called Edith that to her face - then he would have to break with her. With Mother, that is. He couldn't have his mother insulting the woman he loved.
He knew his mother loved him, in her own rather brusque way. And he didn't want to lose her - he was her only son and her only child, and she was the only close relative he had left. But if she had insulted Edith like that, he had to break up with her nevertheless.
...
Edith had already told him about his mother's reaction when she told her about Marigold. Edith had said that Mother had asked her if she thought she was really worthy of marrying Bertie. Edith herself hadn't ever thought she was that - not even when he was only an estate agent - so that was fair enough, he guessed.
Although he didn't agree with it at all, of course. He considered it a great honour that Edith had agreed to marry him.
...
Bertie wished his mother could love Edith. He had a feeling that she would do that, once they got to know each other.
But if Mother had called Edith damaged goods to her face - there was no hope...
It was such an insult, how could anyone call a human being something like that? Like she looked at Edith as some piece of merchandise that Bertie could buy in a store. Pick it up and exchange it for another one if he found any flaws.
It seemed to him that women were crueler to each other than men. But then he thought about the terrors of war he had recently lived through. This was nothing compared to that, of course.
And that was definitely caused by men.
...
Bertie wondered if his mother understood how much Edith meant to him. She wasn't just a woman, any woman, someone who could be a good wife to him and possibly give him children. Someone who could easily be exchanged by someone else.
Goods. Damaged goods.
...
Bertie loved Edith. It wasn't just the strong physical attraction between them, although that was what had started it. That was what had made him dare to ask her to join him during that shoot, the very first time he saw her. When he knew she was probably a Lady, and he was only the agent.
Of course that attraction was an important part of their love, by he wasn't blinded by either love or lust, whatever his mother might think.
Edith was so much more than a beautiful woman to Bertie. She was his friend and his soulmate. She was the one he longed to turn to when he had problems. She was the one he wanted to talk to when something good had happened to him. She was his first thought every morning and his last thought every night.
There was a seriousness about her, about the way she did things. She wasn't playing games with him, she meant what she said. Just as much as he meant what he said to her. He had given her his heart, because he knew he had to. He had given it to her and it was hers forever. No matter what happened he would never get it back.
They were so very comfortable together. He felt they had so much in common, he had felt that from the very start. They belonged together. They had the same sense of humour, they could both laugh and be serious together.
He could discuss everything with her - that was what had made him so upset that she hadn't told him about Marigold. Well - that had been sorted out now, he had understood that it wasn't such an easy secret to tell. There would be no secrets between them in the future, no secrets like that at least.
He loved Edith because she was the person she was. Body and soul.
...
To Bertie Edith was life.
AN: Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment!
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I felt I needed some Edith-Bertie fluff. So I wrote this.