An elderly man sat watching the Christmas festivities in the small town. There were carol singers, and people scurrying after final bits of shopping, and he smiled happily watching a young boy licking a peppermint walking stick. A light began to pulse slowly from inside his jacket pocket. He took out the source of the light, a small crystal, and got to his feet, walking with surprising speed behind the nearest building where he vanished.

He reappeared in his place of work.

"You sent for me, Joseph, sir?"

"Yes, Clarence. A man on earth needs our help."

"Splendid! Is he sick?" asked the old man.

"No, worse. He's discouraged and in despair. Tonight, that man will be thinking seriously of throwing away God's greatest gift."

"Oh, dear, dear! His life! Then I've only got a few hours."

"You will spend that time getting acquainted with Sir Anthony Strallan."

The old man looked down modestly.

"Sir…if I should accomplish this mission…I mean…might I perhaps win my wings? I've been waiting for over two hundred years now, sir…and people are beginning to talk."

"Clarence, you do a good job with Anthony Strallan, and you'll get your wings."

"Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you."

"Poor Anthony…sit down, Clarence. If you're going to help a man, you want to know something about him, don't you? Well, keep your eyes open. See here?"

"Where? I don't see a thing."

"Oh, I forgot. You haven't got your wings yet. Now look, I'll help you out. Concentrate. Begin to see something?"

"Why, yes" said Clarence. "This is amazing."

"If you ever get your wings, you'll see all by yourself. This is Cambrai, 2nd December 1917."

"Who's that?" Clarence asked, indicating an officer standing tall in the trench.

"That's your problem, Anthony Strallan".

"A soldier?"

"Not any more. This is him when he was serving in the Great War, as a volunteer. He was over the age limit for conscription. Something happens here you'll have to remember later on.

As Clarence watched, Anthony addressed his men.

"We've been ordered to attack, lads. I won't lie to you: it's a dangerous one. If you're scared, don't be ashamed: we all are, even me. Just do your best and look out for your friends. That counts as courage and patriotism in my book. Good luck!"

The men nodded in agreement and recognition of the wisdom of Anthony's words. The officers' whistles sounded and Anthony's joined the wail. He went over the top first, leading his troops into battle. As they closed in on the German lines, a hitherto silent machinegun post stuttered into life, cutting down several of the soldiers. Anthony rushed it taking several hits himself, but he quickly had the Germans fleeing and installed a couple of his own men to provide cover fire. Then he knelt down by a private, only a young boy, screaming in agony. The lad's wounds were not life-threatening, but he needed to get taken back to the lines and to hospital as soon as possible. Anthony picked the boy, no more than seventeen years of age, up in his arms and ran back to the trenches. Then he returned to the others, finding some of them had died of their wounds before he could do anything. He was organising some stretcher-bearers when he was spun around by a bullet hitting him in the shoulder. He fell to the ground and the vision faded away from Clarence's sight.

"Anthony saved many lives that day, at the cost of his arm" said Joseph.

"He's a brave man. But many men came back from that awful War with wounds."

"Indeed, they did, Clarence, and some managed fine, and others could not cope at all. Sir Anthony is somewhere in between. He didn't feel sorry for himself until he met again a young lady he had known before the War. He thought that the loss of the use of his arm meant that he would constrict the young lady's life, ruined it even, if they had married. So on their wedding day he gave her up in a most terrible way: he left her at the altar. He hoped that she would forget him and find another, younger, whole man with whom she could build a fuller life for herself."

"But that was unselfish, wasn't it, sir?" asked Clarence.

"Sir Anthony thought it was the best for the young lady, yes. Unfortunately, she managed to get tangled up with an unscrupulous man who promised her marriage, took her innocence, and left her bearing his child. Lady Edith, that's her name, is going to try to protect her reputation, and that of her child, by leaving for the continent for her confinement. But somehow, despite all her best efforts, the secret of her illegitimate pregnancy has got out among the servants, who have told Sir Anthony's staff, and he has been told. Tonight, he will consider the consequences of his actions and how it led to Lady Edith's ruin. He will blame himself, Clarence. He will feel responsible, and the shame of it will lead to his suicidal wish."

"Then perhaps I should try to convince him that it isn't his fault? Is that the best course of action, sir?"

"I'm not sure that you will be able to convince him, Clarence. It might be better to try to find a way for him to forgive himself. But you must decide for yourself when you get there. Good luck, Clarence!"

.

"It can't be true, Stewart! I don't believe that it could be true!"

Anthony's face was creased in disbelief and hurt.

"I'm afraid it is quite true, sir. She is travelling to London the day after tomorrow, and then on to France the week after" replied Anthony's faithful man.

Anthony shook his head.

"I hope I was right to tell you, sir? I know you never forgive me if I had news about her and didn't tell you" Stewart was more and more worried by the second.

"You were quite right, Stewart. Thank you. I think that will be all this evening. Do tell the rest of the staff they can go to bed. Good night, Stewart. Oh, and merry Christmas."

"Thank you, sir. Merry Christmas."

When Stewart had left the library and closed the door, Anthony threw himself into his favourite armchair and put his head in his hands. His sobs rent the silence; he cried for nearly an hour, thinking about all the ways that he could have prevented this. He could have gone through with the wedding. He could have made contact with Edith after the failed wedding to explain his actions. He could have found a way, through his agent perhaps, to provide Edith with money and introductions so that she could support herself in London in her chosen profession. He could have kept a closer eye on her to protect her, from the sidelines if necessary. These had all crossed his mind in the last two years, but he had always dissuaded himself from pursuing any of them by considering what Edith would say if she found out.

But that paled into insignificance now that he knew that her loneliness and vulnerability had driven her into the arms of a man heartless enough to ruin her and abandon her.

He should have done something!

He was to blame!

All his good intentions toward the woman he loved had condemned her to this.

If anyone was the blackguard here, it was Anthony Strallan.

He fell into a pit of despair, a dreadful panic seizing his soul. He began to wonder if it would be easier to bear on the other side. There he might find a measure of forgiveness and a little peace.

He walked outside to the large garage housing his Rolls. The same car in which he used to drive Edith before the War. The same car she had driven after the War. He scrambled through some of the equipment lying under a bench until he'd found a rope long enough. Tying a noose in it with one hand proved tricky, but not impossible.

"Do you want some help with that?"

The unfamiliar voice from the back of an empty garage caused Anthony a serious shock.

"Who's there?"

"Only me, sir, old Clarence. You seem to be having some difficulty with that rope. Can I help?"

The old man walked towards Anthony and into the light. He was unkempt, but his eyes were bright. A tramp, perhaps, using the outbuildings as a place to sleep and shelter out of the winter's night.

"No, no. It doesn't matter now, thank you. Do feel free to sleep here tonight if you want. But, please, for your own safety as much as anything, don't touch any of the machinery. Good night." Anthony turned to return to the house. He would find another way…without an audience.

"Death isn't the way, Sir Anthony. It won't give you what you seek."

Anthony turned quickly to look into the tramp's eyes again.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You were tying a noose. You are not attended by any servants. You were considering suicide. Am I right?"

"If you are trying to blackmail me, I tell you straight, you cannot ruin me any more than I have already ruined myself." Anthony's voice was level and held no malice or threat.

"I am not trying to blackmail you, Sir Anthony. I'm trying to help you" said Clarence.

"No one can help me, least of all a homeless old man, no offence."

"I wouldn't be so sure. It's Christmas, miracles happen."

"Not for me. I don't deserve them" whispered Anthony.

"A man who willingly sacrifices himself for the good of others? I beg to differ."

"I've done nothing but ruin others' lives" Anthony spat the words out with venom.

"That's rather an overstatement. You were a good commanding officer. You cared for your men. You risked your life for them. You gave your arm for them."

"And threw away any chance of my own happiness."

"She loved you despite your arm."

Anthony stiffened. "What? Who are you? How dare you even speak of her?!"

"Because I know how she felt…and how she feels. Will you let me tell you? Or even better, show you?" said Clarence.

"She said she loved me not despite my need to be looked after, but because of it. That isn't love. That's the declaration of a naïve young girl trying to keep up with her sisters. She didn't love me. She was marrying me for the wrong reasons. And I was being selfish in marrying her." Giving in to this strange conversation, Anthony sat down on a wooden box. Clarence soon followed by sitting on some baled hay.

"But you loved her, didn't you? Really loved her."

"Yes." The word was only just audible.

"You broke her heart. She may have been marrying you for the wrong reasons, but when you didn't marry her, she realised that she wanted you for the right reasons. That's the truth. She hoped you would contact her and explain, but of course she knew you wouldn't, because it would have given her a chance to try to talk you into it again. But that's what she wanted."

"So if I'd married her she wouldn't be…" Anthony quickly stopped himself. But Clarence finished his thought for him.

"…pregnant and unwed? Well, no obviously, because she'd be married to you."

"Married to an old, crippled man and very unhappy."

"Married to the man she had loved since she was nineteen years of age, and very happy."

Anthony paused before saying "It was my fault."

"If you put it like that, then…er…yes, I suppose it was." Clarence thought of what Joseph had said, and noticed the tears gather in Anthony's eyes.

"But you can still help her…if you want to, Sir Anthony."

"How?" He breathed, looking up at Clarence incredulously.

"Firstly, you have to be alive to be able to help her, so no looking for carving knives or shotguns. Do you promise?" Clarence tried to look stern.

"I promise" Anthony replied, not truly meaning it.

"Hmm" said Clarence, dubiously. "But you really do want to help Lady Edith?"

"Yes. More than anything. But surely…"

"In that case" Clarence stood up and held out his arm "take my arm. I'd like to show you something."

"My arm was knocked out. The rest of me is quite fit, I assure you" said Anthony standing without assistance.

"Nevertheless, indulge me?" Clarence urged.

"As you wish…" and the moment Anthony's good hand touch the sleeve of Clarence's rather old-fashioned coat the Locksley garage whirled away into the distance and was replaced by the grand library and Downton.

"But…but…" Anthony stammered as he looked around, panicked for more than one reason.

"You'll get used to it. It's a little trick of mine" said Clarence, quite proud of his angelic powers.

"But Edith…Robert…they'll throw me out if they see me!"

"They can't see you, Sir Anthony. Certainly Robert won't see you because he's been dead fifteen years. This is the year 1947. Lady Edith is fifty-two years old. She has never left Downton Abbey, because this is what would have happened if she had never met you." Clarence ushered Anthony over to the sofa where he saw Edith, older, greyer, but still beautiful in his eyes.

"If she had never met you, she would have remained in her sister's shadow for all of her life. She would never have found any self-confidence, she would never have married. She would never have taken up writing. She would have continued living here until she died. What kind of a life is that?"

Anthony stared at Edith, his heart aching.

"You gave her so much even in the few months in 1914 and 1920 when you knew each other well, Sir Anthony. How much more could you have given her if you'd married her? How much more can you still give her, when we return to 1922? Look at her, and consider that" said Clarence with perhaps a little more firmness than he intended.

Anthony was still looking at Edith, so he took Anthony's arm and again, the scene spiralled out of sight.

When Anthony opened his eyes again, they were standing in a room in a townhouse.

"Where are we now, spirit?" asked Anthony.

"You are not Scrooge, and I'm no ghost. We are in Lady Painswick's London townhouse. This is Lady Edith's bedroom. It is winter 1923…next winter. This is what will happen next winter if you continue just as you were going when I found you in your garage."

Clarence and Anthony turned as the door opened and Edith entered. She looked exhausted, as though all the fight had been beaten out of her. She glanced out of the window briefly and then sat on her bed and began to weep.

"Why? Why Anthony? Why did you have to do it? I don't want your money. I…I just wanted you. I have nothing left…no baby, no Michael, and no you."

Anthony bowed his head and let his tears fall. Edith was grieving for him. He was ashamed to say that it lit something in his heart, it was so marvellous to think that she felt anything for him any more. But he didn't want her to grieve. He didn't want to cause her any more pain than he already had. If this was the consequence of his suicide, it would not happen, he would not be tempted by it. He would struggle on, somehow.

Clarence recognised the change in Anthony's thoughts and gently placed his hand on his arm once more.

The scene changed and they were once again back at Locksley. Anthony turned to Clarence, not entirely sure what to say.

"Well! Unless I am losing my wits completely, that…that all was…very…humbling."

"You're not out of it yet, Sir Anthony. We may be back at Locksley, but not at the time from when I took you. This is 1932. This is the future that awaits you if you take my advice. Go on, look!"

Anthony could see through the windows of his own house. The bright electric light illuminated the library and hall, decorated with swags and garlands and a large tree bedecked with baubles and tinsel. Underneath were what looked like hundreds of presents. Stewart was busy readying the house for Christmas with a cheery smile on his face. From behind them, Anthony and Clarence heard carols being sung rather raucously accompanied by plenty of laughter. The biggest surprise of the night greeted Anthony when he turned around.

Walking up the drive were four young children of varying sizes and ages, in front of their parents. All six of them were interrupting the carol singing with impromptu snowball fights and general joyful play. They arrived at the front door just as Stewart opened it.

"How was Midnight Mass, sir?"

"A lovely service, as always, thank you for asking, Stewart. What did you think, my sweet one?"

"Yes, I agree. He did very well, but I will always be nostalgic for Mr Travis."

"Who was Mr Travis, Mama?"

"He was the vicar before Mr Welby, Matthew. He was the priest at Mama and Papa's wedding."

"Both of them" said the tall gentleman under his breath, earning a dig in the ribs from his wife. The children ran off up to their bedrooms, and before following them the husband embraced his wife with his good arm.

"Merry Christmas, my dearest darling. I thank God every day, but especially today, for this wonderful life you have given me."

Before she could answer, he kissed her, reverently and adoringly.

Clarence touched Anthony's sleeve and they were back in the garage.

Anthony yelped "No! Oh…I wanted…it to…to see more…"

Clarence smiled. Yes, he had done a good job. Perhaps he might get those wings after all.

"You will see that and much more, from within so to speak, if you will take my advice."

For the first time, Anthony looked at Clarence with determination and strength.

"With all my heart."

.

They had decided on a midsummer wedding. After all, it had been midwinter when Anthony had turned up on the doorstep at Downton, bold as brass. He had faced Carson down, and that was a feat in itself. He had asked for Lady Edith.

Edith had agreed to see him in one of the smaller rooms hoping that the meeting could be finished with quickly, whatever Anthony wanted. She had not thought that Anthony was the sort to gloat, but she was always so wrong about men, wasn't she?

Anthony came to the point quickly enough.

"Lady Edith, I am unreliably informed that you might be in some trouble. I am concerned that you don't have anyone to fight for your corner. If I am misinformed, please just tell me to go away and I will. But if there is anything I can do to help, I would be honoured if you would let me, despite everything, despite the fact that I deserve to have my offer thrown back in my face. It would be a kindness to me, really, to help me feel that I've done something to make me feel better. I know it won't make up for what I've done but…"

She cut him off.

"Anthony…you don't have to try to convince me that you feel ashamed about our wedding and how it ended. I've done things, worse things to feel ashamed of since then. The rumours are true. I am unmarried, expecting a child, and the baby's father has abandoned me. He's just vanished and no one knows where he is. I only hope that you will keep this secret, for the baby's sake. I don't deserve it."

"Of course you do. How do you plan to raise the child?"

"Aunt Rosamund and Granny want me to give it away to some French or Swiss family. We're travelling there for the birth, and I'll return once my shame is not obvious."

"Is that what you want?"

"No…no! I want to keep the baby, but I can't!" She began sobbing. "I don't want to lose this baby, Anthony. I love her or him. Even if they never know their father, I want them to know their mother and that I love them."

"Edith – if you need a marriage of convenience…" He left the question hanging, unspoken.

"Would you do that for me?" she whispered.

"Of course."

"Without…well, without running away?"

Anthony winced.

"You are entitled to that fear. But before I needed you so much more than you needed me. I couldn't ruin your life like that."

"And now I've ruined it for myself…"

"No! That's not what I meant. I think now we are more equal partners. It makes me feel that I'm not just taking advantage of you."

"But your title, Locksley…"

"Edith! I will worry about that. I want to know if this sort of arrangement is what you want. You can bring up your baby, retain your reputation and standing in society, continue writing, you will have an income, of course. You don't even have to live at Locksley if you don't want to."

"Yes. I want to bring up my baby as mine, Anthony. Thank you."

Her tears were enough thanks for now. If he believed Clarence and his amazingly vivid visions, the future would contain the safe delivery of Edith's baby, a reawakening of their tender feelings towards each other, and a walk back to Locksley after Midnight Mass 1923 after weeks of shy glances and stolen looks following the birth.

"Look! A shooting star!" Edith's excited whisper touched his very soul.

"I believe one should make a wish" he answered. She looked up at him.

"What did you wish for, Anthony?"

"It's bad luck to tell!"

"I expect you wish you were a carefree bachelor again without a neurotic woman and a screaming baby in your house!"

"I will be very happy when Olivia manages to sleep through the night, but that's just as much for her and your sake as well as mine."

"You are a perfect father, Anthony Strallan!" Edith laughed.

"You are just perfect, Edith Strallan. I thank God for you every day, and for the life you have given me."

Suddenly serious, Anthony watched and prayed for some sign. When Edith looked up at him with a light in her eyes that made the stars look dull, and saw her lips part, he knew he had it.

In the snow, on the driveway of Locksley, he reached forward and kissed his wife with ten years' worth of pent up passion and love, as she wrapped her arms around him as if never to let him go.

When they finally parted, Anthony heard the church bells and murmured "Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings. Attaboy, Clarence!"

.

This is just a bit of seasonal fluff. Merry Christmas everyone. May all your wishes come true.