Chapter 1. Tea with Sir Anthony
"I know you are going to say no," she started her invitation for a drive in her car.
What a way to start an invitation! And of course he did say no, what had she expected, putting the word in his mouth like that!
Edith was sadly aware that she had done this man wrong. He had always been kind and considerate, to her and to everyone else, and she had let him be caught in the fire between herself and Mary. Making a silly bet on him, and then letting one thing lead to another in her anger and frustration. She blushed to think she could have been so foolish. He had lost some of his self-assurance there, she was sure, and now she was desperate to give it back to him.
Today he had looked surprised and not very pleased when his butler announced her arrival. When she entered the room she caught a glimpse of that fading look before he greeted her with a forced smile. Maybe this was not such a good idea after all, Edith had thought. But it was too late to change her mind.
At least he didn't look scared. She could still remember that first look of panic in his face when they met in her grannie's parlour. It was the first time they saw each other since that disastrous time at the garden party the day the war broke out and all her dreams were shattered. Obviously he had feared meeting her again just as much as she had feared meeting him. But perhaps he hadn't also longed for it, as she had.
The rest of that afternoon had been very agreeable though. He had said it was a pleasant surprise to see her. They had been chatting away about this and that and everything, just as they used to. He was interested in so many things, they always seemed to have a lot to talk about. The presence of her grandmother had made their conversation a little restrained, or at least Edith thought so. But it was still wonderful to see him and speak to him again.
During the days that went by after that meeting she had thought of him almost constantly. He was so sweet and kind and handsome and intelligent. He had the bluest eyes and the warmest smile. She had hoped to meet him soon again, maybe bump into him by chance in the village or in Ripon. Or better still, to have him come knocking at their door to invite her out, like he used to, all that long time ago, before the war.
After almost two weeks of futile waiting, Edith knew that wasn't going to happen. She finally decided she must go and look for him herself. And here she was, standing just inside the door to his library, not knowing what to do with herself now that he had turned down her invitation.
She took in the room, books and writing material all over the place. He was obviously working hard on some of his many projects. So he really seemed to be busy, she noted with relief, it wasn't just a pretence.
She loved this room, even more than she loved the grander library at Downton. She had been here before, having tea with him, talking and laughing, having him going around to fetch books he wanted to show her. And teaching her how to do calculations on a slide rule.
He was very proud of his collection of books. He had books of science and mechanics and mathematics and books about different aspects of farming, beside the usual books of history, biology and geography. And a big collection of novels of course, both new and older, both English and foreign, both translated ones and quite a lot in German and French as well.
At last he seemed to notice how embarrassed she was. He offered her a cup of tea and a seat. She was happy to accept that, much more happy than such a small thing really motivated. At least he wasn't trying to get rid of her as fast as possible.
She took a closer look at him now, while she sat down on the sofa. He looked a bit older than before the war, she had to admit. He was thinner and his shoulders slightly bent. He had a quiet ache in his face that she knew hadn't been there before the war. And his rich blond hair had turned partly grey. But apart from that he was still the same man. The man who had lighted up her miserable youth during those few, enchanted months before the war when he had been courting her and she had led herself to believe that it was not only possible but quite natural for someone to love her.
He told her he was glad to have her for himself for a moment. That made her heart flutter with expectation, but just for a few seconds. After that he told her she shouldn't expect them to 'take out together' again.
At least that gave her the chance to tell him that what Mary had said that time wasn't true. She hadn't been able to talk about that last time, when her granny was present.
He surprised her with his reaction to that. More than five years of remorse and trepidation, and he just brushed it aside. "If you say it wasn't true I'm sure it wasn't." Just like that. So full of trust in her! She was more relieved than she had ever expected to be. And dangerously on her way to fall in love with him all over again.
Edith hadn't known at the time what exactly Mary had said to him. But some days after the garden party she had finally found the courage to go and apology for it, whatever it was. But then it was already too late. She only saw his butler who told her Sir Anthony had left, volunteering for the war. It was the same butler that had let her in today, and Edith got a feeling he resented her. Probably he thought she had caused Sir Anthony to leave by turning down his proposal. That was not strictly true of course, but still true enough to hammer on Edith's conscience.
The first year or two of the war she had thought of Anthony almost constantly. He was in her thoughts and fears during the day and in her dreams and night-mares during the night. She had worried he would get hurt or even killed. She had resented seeing young, healthy men still not in uniform, when he, who was almost as old as her father, was risking his life out there.
She never got any news of him, and gradually the memory of him faded away, and she realised she couldn't even remember what he looked like any more. Very tall, very blond, very blue-eyed of course, but his face was all a blur to her. She was sad then, and felt like she had betrayed him. But it made it possible for her to move on, which in a way was a relief.
It was then she decided to learn how to drive. She was fed up with just sitting at home doing nothing. There wasn't even any guests to dinner any more, only Granny and sometimes cousin Isobel. Driving had been fun but difficult, and when she had finally mastered it she had been extremely proud of herself. She also learned some engine mechanics, which she enjoyed even more and seemed to have more talent for than the actual driving.
Now she heard Antony talking about how wrong he was for her. Too old, and a cripple. Needing a nurse and not a wife. And that he couldn't do that to someone "as young and as lovely" as her.
She hated to hear him say all that. And she wouldn't let it go unchallenged. Especially since he had ended his little speech with a sweet and loving smile.
"If you think I'm going to give up on someone who calls me lovely..."
Edith could have bitten her tongue. That didn't come out at all like she had meant it. More like she was starved of compliments. Which in a way was true of course, but not what she wanted to tell him. And it sounded like she would throw herself at any man who said something remotely nice to her. Which was definitely not true, not any longer at least. That thing with farmer Drake was an exception that would never happen again and still made her blush. She had regretted it the very same evening. The man was married with children for heavens sake, and Edith wasn't even the slightest bit in love with him. She was just flattered and curious. It had cost her a job she had enjoyed a great deal more than that kiss. She was lucky it hadn't caused more scandal than that, everyone involved had kept their mouths shut.
No, what Edith had meant to say to Sir Anthony was more like: "You can't be expecting me to give up on you when you call me lovely". It was him she wouldn't give up on. She wanted him to know that she didn't think of him as old or a cripple, whatever he himself might think. She wanted to get him out of this miserable, self-deprecatory mood he seemed to be in.
When the butler had poured the tea and left the room Sir Anthony took his teacup and came over to sit down at the other side of the small table. He offered her a scone and then took one himself. She watched with fascination as he took a knife, put the scone on a plate, cut it in halves and then spread the two pieces with butter and jam, all with his left hand. He seemed to be used to doing that, and did it now without any hesitation.
"How good you are at doing things with only one hand!"
Maybe that was a stupid thing to say, remarking on his injury, but she was so impressed.
He didn't seem to mind though.
"Well, I have had a lot of training by now. And I am really left-handed to begin with. They made me change when I learned to write at school. I hated it so!"
A floating vision of a very young Sir Anthony flashed through Edith's mind. Blue eyed and skinny, with grazed knees and his blond hair all in a tousle, coming to school and being told he was using the wrong hand. So sweet! She wished she had known that little boy, she hardly met any boys except Patrick when she was little. But she couldn't have known Anthony then of course, her parents being just a few years older than him.
"Well, I guess no-one will ever tell me again that I have to use my right hand," he added with a short, bitter laugh.
They had their tea, talking about neutral but interesting things. How the farming was getting on. Some new equipment he was planning to buy. The latest news from the morning papers. Things like that. It felt so good to be with him again, so very comfortable.
Oh, if things had just been slightly different that time! Then she would have been married to this sweet and thoughtful man by now. Happily married, for more than five years. This would be her home now as well as his. They would be running the estate together. They would have one or two children playing on the lawn outside the windows. And maybe another one growing inside her. She would have loved that!
"Were you really going to propose to me at that garden party?" she suddenly blurted out.
He nearly choked on his tea. He had obviously never expected her to ask such a question.
"Or were you just leading me down the garden path?" she continued with a shy little smile.
That shook him up a bit.
"Oh well I... I mean...I" he stuttered, before he calmed down again. "Well... of course I was going to propose to you. I had told you so, hadn't I?" He was lost in thought for a moment.
"But you know what happened. I should never have believed what she said about you. I should have trusted you. I'm so sorry if I hurt you." he continued.
"Well, the only thing is that I don't understand why you think you are too old for me now, when you didn't think so before the war, that's all," she said, trying very hard not to sound accusing. "I was just a girl then, only nineteen and you were forty."
He didn't comment on that, just looked at her carefully.
"I think we are much closer in age now, at least you are not twice my age any longer. And I am really grown up by now. If you are older, then so am I."
She sensed he wanted to say something about that, but was holding it back. She was a little scared of what it might be.
Because his attempts to scare her off had had quite the opposite effect. She longed to be with him more than ever.
However she decided that the wisest thing to do now was not to outstay her welcome. Better try to come back another time, if he would only let her.
"Well, I'd better leave then, since you are busy. But I really want to show you that I can drive now. Maybe I can take you for a drive some other time, when you haven't got quite as much to do? What about next week? Would next Wednesday be all right for you? Or Thursday? Please, it would be such fun!" She gave him a shy smile, not knowing what to do if he said no again.
But to her relief he accepted after some long moments of thought.
"Wednesday around two will be fine. We can have tea here first and then you can drive me around for an hour or two if you like. I'd be delighted."
"All right then, see you next Wednesday. Thank you so much for the tea!" Now that she knew she would be allowed to come back, she found it best to take her leave at once. So she got up and went for the door. But just before she closed it behind her she turned around. He was standing by his chair watching her with a longing in his face that he tried to hide once he saw her looking back at him.
And that small, unintended encouragement made her finally find the words she needed to brush aside yet another of his objections. She wished she had said them to every badly wounded soldier she had ever met.
"You are not a cripple, you are a war hero! I'm ever so proud of you!" She gave him a bright smile. Then she closed the door behind her and was gone before he had a chance to answer.
A moment later he couldn't help laughing as he watched her through the window. She was half skipping from the front door to her car, then jumping into the car in the most unladylike fashion. And there was a broad smile all over her face. She was obviously very pleased with something.
He was rather looking forward to next Wednesday, although he knew he had no right to do that. And when he settled down to his calculations again, he had quite some problems concentrating.
