A/N: Edith makes a stand and Anthony and Edith share memories over a copy of Jane Eyre. Shorter chapter, unfortunately, but this one's a precursor to a very big development in Anthony and Edith's story. And I'm writing this at eleven o' clock at night and I still have to do my Astronomy homework.
Disclaimer: I don't look like Julian Fellowes, and therefore, I am not Julian Fellowes. I'm much nicer, too.
"Anthony Strallan? Here, at Downton? I knew he'd volunteered, but I didn't know he was on the front lines!" Robert's surprised expression, were it evoked in any other circumstance, might have caused Edith to smile, but as it was, Edith simply nodded in acknowledgement. Edith pushed her food around, her stomach fluttering wildly as she avoided the gazes of her sisters. Mary, she was sure, could care less, but Sybil's compassion might be too much to bear.
"Yes," Edith began carefully, "He is here, and he is a guest in our house. He is recovering, and it will take some time for him to recover— four of his ribs are broken and his arm is— it is doubtful therapy will help very much." Edith shut her eyes.
She sounded ridiculous.
She listened to the clink of cutlery against the china plates and suddenly wished she could be back to work, handing out letters to the soldiers and taking orders for books— if only she were anywhere but here.
"Surely he can recover at Locksley?" Papa's voice was hushed, as if he were speaking only to Edith, and she lifted her gaze to counter her Papa's sharp glance.
"No, Papa, he cannot. The nurses are few and far between, most of them are in Paris, and you cannot expect him to stay alone in a great house with no one to care for him when his injuries are so severe he is limited to a few steps a day!" Edith swallowed, and suddenly fell silent, preferring to stare at her eggs as her cheeks pinked.
Papa had clearly been startled, and Mary raised her eyebrow in surprise while Sybil remained silent, drawing her fork to her lips before chewing contemplatively.
"Will you be alright, though? After all, he was going to—"
Edith had had enough. Dropping her fork with a loud clatter, Edith pushed her chair away from the table with a grating scrape.
"I'm not a child, Papa! Stop treating me as though I am a china doll! And for your information, he graciously offered to leave and convalesce elsewhere, but I made him stay." Edith was only dimly aware of Mary's audible gasp of surprise as she stormed from the room, eager to leave the stifling pressure of her father's questioning.
When she was sure her father wouldn't follow her, she stopped and sank against the wall. The corridor was nearly empty, save for a few stragglers here and there, but as Edith sighed shakily, she didn't care. Edith was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hardly heard Sybil's arrival, but instead sank gratefully into her sister's embrace.
"Are you alright?" Sybil asked, and after a great silence, the only interruptions the clack of billiards in the next room and the loud cheers of soldiers, she spoke again, "It was foolish of Papa to be so abrupt, but you know he means best."
Tearing herself away, Edith looked at her sister. Ever wise and eager to spare a kind word, Sybil had been the one to comfort her after Anthony's departure and the announcement of the war, and now, in her nurse's uniform, she looked even more compassionate than Edith thought possible.
"Of course, you're right, Sybil, but he doesn't need to treat me like a child. I'm perfectly capable of determining what— or whom— I can and cannot face." Edith took a breath, proud that she was finally standing up for herself, even if it was only Sybil, who knew all of these things already, "I have seen so much these past months— if anything, seeing Anthony again is a blessing. I'm glad he's alright. All of the news from the front has been so awful and for once, I'm glad to see a familiar face, because at least Anthony is alive. Your chauffer is lucky. He didn't need to go…" Sybil blushed at this, and Edith placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"I won't tell, you know. I'm a good secret-keeper, really, when I need to be." With a light smile and a nod, Edith excused herself, feeling a little lighter than she had since the arrival of Anthony that morning.
For the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon, Edith managed to busy herself with the soldiers, more than happy to chat with them and read through their mail with them. Many of the men had minimal schooling, and as such, their letters proved difficult to read. Others had injuries that made reading impossible or very labor intensive— many of the men here at Downton were victims of trench warfare, where gases had been used extensively, sometimes blinding the men altogether. It was these men that Edith was most eager to work with.
While the nurses bustled about, doing their rounds, Edith would sit with one or two of the men and write their replies personally. It was nearly seven in the evening when Edith saw Anthony next. The green drawing room was nearly empty, reserved for the higher in command, and Edith knew she would see him here. She had avoided him all day long, but it was only right to face him here. She tucked the short list of library requests into her book and went in. A few officers greeted her upon her arrival, but her eyes found him automatically. Dressed in the standard striped pajamas issued to all soldiers here, he looked smaller than usual in the wicker wheelchair and it was with a pang that Edith realized he had lost quite a lot weight for someone so tall and broad.
His face was turned to the window, and she felt her heart constrict as she watched the oranges and pinks of the sunset streak across his tired face. He looked exhausted, his hair mussed slightly, and his hand folded neatly in his lap as he watched the sun drop below the horizon. Edith picked her way through the maze of beds and stopped short of him, the book heavy in her hand.
"How are you settling in?" Edith asked, unsure of what to say to get his attention.
Startled blue eyes flickered to hers and Anthony stuttered for a moment before saying, "Oh, I'm sorry, Lady Edith, I'm afraid I was far too distracted for my own good. I'm fine, thank you. I was just admiring the sunset— I'd forgotten how much I missed Yorkshire. All the mud and grey in France, one forgets the attributes of home quickly, you know." Anthony smiled nervously, turning his face back to the grounds.
"Well, someone must find a way of bottling the essence of home then, hm?" Edith smiled as Anthony chuckled lightly in agreement.
After a brief moment of silence, Anthony spoke.
"Can I help you, Lady Edith?"
"Oh, yes, I came to give you this, really. I know you hadn't finished it quite yet. I remember from our last conversation. I would dearly love to know what becomes of Jane and her dear Mister Rochester." Edith shifted slightly, offering him the book, and he took it quickly, a flash of shame flaring in his eyes at the mention of their last conversation.
Nearly four years ago, they had sat in his Rolls, sputtering down the lane on their way to Downton for luncheon and afterwards, a garden party that Papa had insisted upon to cheer up Mama, passionately discussing the themes and tones of Charlotte Bronte's greatest work and laughing at the idea of being so utterly impassioned about the subject that they'd actually ended up in quite the argument over it. Edith smiled reassuringly, hoping she hadn't upset him terribly. Anthony returned the gesture before wheeling towards the clean, neatly made bed.
Sheepishly, Anthony turned to Edith. "You must think me a fool, but could you—?" Edith knew what he was asking, and in two quick movements, she had lifted his good arm carefully and braced herself to help him move onto the bed. With a groan and a slight grimace, Anthony settled back onto the pillow and retrieved the copy of Jane Eyre, which he had deposited on the edge of the bed.
"No more moving about tonight, Sir Anthony— your ribs are in a delicate condition, and I'll not have you endangering your full recovery." Edith scolded him playfully and cracked a smile for good measure. "If you do, Sybil will have my head for certain."
Anthony drew the covers up about him and with a cursory nod, bade Edith goodnight as she left, her steps echoing down the hall as she went.
A/N: Not very dramatic, I know, but as I said before, the next chapter is bound to be a big one. Leave a review!
