Chapter 2. Getting ready
The next Wednesday Sir Anthony had surprised his valet by asking to have a bath tapped up in the morning and not in the evening, as he usually did.
Every single item of clothing he was wearing that day was clean from the laundry as if he was on his way to his own wedding. On top of that he had that bath before getting dressed to be quite sure he would smell of nothing but soap and detergent.
Things could get rather stuffy in a closed car like the one Lady Edith had been driving last time she was there. And he didn't want to smell bad for her. Not that they would get any closer than in the front-seat of that car.
His valet probably would have a few laughs at his expense this afternoon, together with the rest of his staff, but just let them. They would keep a straight face in front of him and Lady Edith, which was the important thing. Besides, how could he deny them a good laugh when he was laughing at himself?
I rather be laughed at than hated by my staff, Sir Anthony thought with a good-natured smile.
Right now this gentleman, whose age was nearer to fifty than forty, was standing by the mirror trying out facial expressions, like a débutante preparing for her first ball. He scrutinised his reflection and couldn't for the life of him understand what it was she saw in him. He looked rather friendly, perhaps, but definitely quite worn and wrinkled. And on top of that it was the problem with his arm.
He wondered why he had agreed to this drive at all, but of course he knew why. Because she had looked at him pleadingly with those big, brown, fawn-like eyes of hers, and he just wasn't able to say no.
He couldn't bear to see her unhappy. He couldn't bear to make her unhappy.
He wondered what she was like as a driver. He hoped he wouldn't have to fear for his life.
A war hero, she had called him, well nothing could be more wrong than that! He hadn't been brave at all when he enlisted, he had only felt that his life was no longer worth living. It is easy to risk something you don't want.
Come to think about it he had lied about his age to be able to enlist, telling them he was 38 when in reality he was 40. Maybe that was brave. But he knew it wasn't, he only went to war because he couldn't face ever seeing Edith again. Besides he was very fit for his age, and had no problem getting through the physical tests and examinations, so it wasn't such a big lie. He wondered why no one ever found out, though.
And when he finally did see Edith again, it was more lovely than anything else, and nothing at all to be afraid of. He had worried so about meeting her again, worried about telling her about his injury, worried about what she might think about him after that proposal that never happened. But it had all gone down very well, she had been sweet and understanding and sympathetic. They had been talking together like they had never been apart. And she was so beautiful, more beautiful than ever.
He had gone home from that meeting quite elated. It had all suddenly seemed so very possible again.
But after thinking through the whole thing thoroughly for some days he had decided that he must not take up with her again. Not ever. He really couldn't do that to her, him being as old as he was and his arm being the way it was. Even if he loved her. Or maybe just because he loved her.
He thought about that evening many years ago when he made an unannounced call at Downton to ask Lady Edith out for a concert. That had been quite a dilemma for him. Once more he was invited to a dinner by Lady Grantham. He feared he would be placed by Lady Mary again, as some kind of compensation for her declining his invitation for a drive earlier on. But it would have been a waste of everybody's time. He was as little interested in Lady Mary as she was in him. Lady Edith, on the other hand, that was something very different. He had been quite charmed by her during their car-spin, and he would love to have a chance to get to know her a little better.
His friend Lady Jarvis had come up with the idea when he told her of his predicament. She said he should invite Lady Edith out while all the family was present. Maybe to that concert in York? If Lady Edith accepted they were both welcome to some supper after the concert with her and her husband, Jarvis Hall being close by the road from York to Downton Abbey.
It had all paid off very neatly. On the Grantham's dinner two days later he was seated by Lady Edith. Lady Mary was seated by Matthew Crawley, the future heir, and seemed very happy about that arrangement. And Lady Edith was wearing that wonderful green dress! He hardly dared look at her. It had all in all been a wonderful evening, and the trip to the concert some time later had been even better. Lady Jarvis had been teasing him afterwards about how infatuated he seemed to be with the girl, but he could take that. After all it was true.
He had got a little worried when he first saw Edith on the evening that he made that invitation. She seemed quite unhappy, looking down at the floor, when he started talking about those tickets, so he was afraid she would say no. But he soon understood why, the whole family seemed to presume he was inviting Lady Mary out. When he said it was Lady Edith he wanted to ask, she brightened up in the most wonderful way. He had never seen her so beautiful. He had never seen anything so beautiful. And he was very pleased with himself because he had managed to make her so happy.
He was almost sure it was that evening he started to fall in love with her. And, truth be told, he had never really fallen out of it since. Not even when he thought she regarded him as a ghastly old bore, as her sister had told him on that garden party.
That sight of her, with her bright, happy smile all over her face and her breasts heaving in that wonderful green dress, was what had got him through that horrible war, through the injury and the long months at the hospital.
And a sudden flash of what she had looked like on that evening was what had suddenly made him quite certain that he had wronged her, on that day at the garden party. But by then it was to late, he was already on his way to the front. But it had made him value his life again, being a little more careful, not that it had in the long run kept him from being wounded.
Now he was sitting in his library, tea-tray on the little round table, reading a book and awaiting her arrival. The room was in better order than last time. Most of the books were put back in the shelves, he was almost finished with that work.
She had told him she wouldn't give up on him. There was something alluring in being sought after by a woman, he had to admit. Playing hard to get, wasn't that what women were supposed to do? Well, Edith was outspoken enough about what she wanted, he must admit. Wearing her heart on her sleeve, so to speak. Which didn't make him think any less of her, quite the contrary. He wasn't much in favour of games and pretence.
But still he had to stop this now, he just had to.
He decided to tell her after their drive that this was the last time he would see her alone. But he was quite sure she wouldn't accept that.
All through these unhappy thoughts he had a flutter of butterflies in his stomach. He wanted her to give up on him, of course he did. Well, didn't he? And he definitely wouldn't pursue her, because he knew he had no right to. But how would he manage to let her go when every fibre in his body, including most of his brain, told him he wanted nothing better than to be together with her every single day for the rest of his life? And when he couldn't manage to think straight whenever they were closer than five yards from each other.
He wished things were easier, for her sake. He wished he could do the right thing without hurting Edith. He wished she could see that she deserved someone who was so much better than him. Someone younger, someone who wasn't a cripple. But the most important reason he had for letting her go he hardly dared even think of. He was scared. He was so scared of disappointing her.
Someone had to give up. Only time would tell who was the strongest of them.
And with a feeling that was more like relief than sorrow he realised that it was very unlikely that it would be himself.
