Chapter 2

Edith sat in the kitchen nursing a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. She had been sick that morning and was thankful that Michael had, so far, not observed her having morning sickness. Even when he stayed overnight he liked to have gone early to get to the Daily Sketch offices. Edith knew she would have to tell him soon before she started to show and she shivered for she dreaded his reaction.

She took a hot shower allowing the water to trickle over her creamy skin. She washed herself wishing for a moment she could wash Gregson and the baby out of her and remove his touch from her skin. She then dressed and ate breakfast although she was not hungry. This was not how she had imagined being pregnant. She had had daydreams about having a doting loving husband; a husband like Anthony Strallan, who would have looked after her and not chided her because the child was threatening his public image of a doting husband caring for a deranged wife. Not that Michael was exactly caring; as far as Edith was led to believe he had not visited her in months. In an ideal world she would have Anthony doting on her and all her female relatives giving her well meant advice for securing a safe healthy pregnancy. She felt so isolated. Instead of a doting husband she was a married man's mistress and he would not welcome the news. Edith did not know what to do; she knew that abortion was illegal and she knew desperate woman tried all kinds of methods to induce self abortion. All these methods seemed sordid to Edith; not to mention incredibly dangerous. She knew women had died in the past as a result of trying to induce abortion; either that or they had been scarred for life rendering motherhood in the future impossible.

She was deeply ashamed. Her family would cast her out for sure if they got but a hint of her current status and, even if she ever chanced to see Anthony again, he would not want to know her because she had thrown herself away on another man out of desperation to feel desirable and loved. At least Michael could not expose the scandal in The Sketch without causing himself personal harm and he was far too selfish to commit professional suicide.

As yet she did not know the desperate measures to which Michael had resorted to free himself from his unconventional marriage. All she wanted was to be in the library at Locksley with Anthony with his good arm around her and his beautiful blue eyes looking into her doe brown ones.

At first being with Michael had been fun; he had proved to be a compassionate and caring lover who had treated her like she mattered. But now she as beginning to see the existence of a temper and a calculating manipulative streak that left her cold inside. To begin with she had enjoyed feeling wanton and desirable but it had now become little more of a duty to allow him to make love to her knowing that she would never be more than a mistress and kept woman.

"You got yourself into this mess, Edith," she thought, "You're the only one who can get yourself out."

OO

Edith made her way through the London streets towards the offices of the Daily Sketch. She carried a folder containing drafts of her latest column; a piece about counting the true cost of the Great War, about the men who had come home injured and unable to integrate because their country had moved on without them and their injuries marked them different. She had written it aimed for the heart and conscience of just one man. But all that was soon to be put on the back-burner in light of overnight events.

She wasn't especially looking forward to seeing Michael after their set-to the previous evening. She froze suddenly. On the opposite of the street was her aunt, Lady Rosamund Painswicke. Edith darted into an alley and flattened herself against the brickwork thankful her shame was not quite showing yet. She loved Aunt Rosamund but she was not the most discreet of women. She probably didn't know Edith was working in London although she would have known about her column and Edith wanted things to stay that way else Rosamund would probably insist she live with her which would complicate things. It had been suggested she stay with Rosamund before Gregson had told her he would set her up in a flat but Edith had asserted her right to independence which was fast becoming an overrated commodity especially when it meant one had to hide from one's own relatives.

Rosamund walked on out of Edith's view and she breathed a huge sigh of relief.

She reached the newspaper offices without further mishap.

OO

Gregson was not at his desk which was not alarming in itself because he was always either out following up leads or chatting to the other reporters. But Edith was alarmed to sense that people were talking about her. She was among journalists so was it surprising that her personal connection with Gregson had been sniffed out. Thank god they didn't know about the baby yet although it would not be long before.

"Where's Mr Gregson?"

"He had to go out Lady Edith," Larry Maskell, the sports reporter, advised her, "He said to wait in his office."

Edith went into Gregson's office and his somewhat empty-headed secretary, Scots lass named Morag McKenzie, made her tea. Edith sat down to wait.

The hours passed and still there was no sign of Gregson. Edith began to worry slightly for it was not like him to keep her waiting. She knew her hormones were upset because of the baby but still she could not remember ever feeling quite as anxious as she did right now. She had been fuelled by nervous excitement on the day of her wedding but that had been positive nervous anxiety. This was different and she did not like it at all. She did care about Michael but she did not love him for she knew that she would never love another man while Sir Anthony Strallan drew breath.

She was aware that there was something going on that she was not privy to but she was used to that because at home no one had ever told her anything of importance unless she exerted persistence. She caught whispers and pitying looks which set her on edge even more. She had a feeling it would not be long before her secret was out and there would be no place to hide then.

The telephone on Morag's desk rang and she picked it up and spoke into it.

"Yes she is here Mr Gregson and yes I will tell her. I hope everything is alright. Yes, I understand. Goodbye for now."

She hung up and looked right at Edith without seeing her.

"Lady Edith, Mr Gregson wishes you to meet him at your flat."

"Alright," Edith swallowed.

Edith hastened home where she found Michael. He looked pale and dishevelled making her wonder where he had spent the previous night.

"What is it Michael?" she asked, her eyes demanding an explanation.

"I have been with the police for the last three hours," his expression was glazed, haunted even," My wife, Maureen, was found dead in her room late last night. She took an overdose of her medication and they want me to assist them with their enquiries. I don't see how I can help because she is only my wife in name and I have not seen her months, not that she knows who I am when I do visit. But they think I killed her or at least had something to do with her death."

A shiver ran down Edith's back.

"Don't you see Edith? If it comes out about us then I will be a prime suspect for her murder because I could not legally get a divorce. I think it would be best for you to return home to your family for a time until it all blows over for your father would not thank me for dragging your family name through the mire."

Edith was shocked to realise that, not for one moment did she believe in his innocence and this realisation spoke volumes to her heart and mind. She did not like to kick a man when he was down but she was not prepared to be cast aside again even for a man she had no hope of ever loving.

"So when are you planning to make an honest woman of me Michael?"

"How can I do that right now Edith?" his face was contorted with rage and grief but grief for his situation, not his dead wife, "It would look like I saw her off so I could marry you and it won't be kept quiet. After the enquiries are over and after a decent interval maybe we can get married but not right now. You will have to be patient Edith,"

"We don't have the luxury of patience Michael," she snapped, "I am nearly four months pregnant with your child."