A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating; I've been working six out of seven days lately, and putting in lots of late nights—plus being a mom of a cranky teething boy! I hope the next chapters will be up before long.

This chapter is dedicated to anyone who, like me, may be busy, stressed, or "fagged to death" (tired) and anyone who may be suffering "a fit of the blue-devils" (sad, miserable, or depressed), and particularly Baron Munchausen, whose lovely prose and great kindness are one of the things that make the Andith fandom so wonderful, and who is, most assuredly, "a bang-up cove" (a good-natured, splendid fellow).

Chapter: The Second

At breakfast, despite the dowager's insistence that Mr. Crawley and Mr. Napier would likely very much enjoy exploring the grounds in Edith's company, her cousin seemed to have his own agenda. Edith was relieved at the prospect of several hours freedom from her charade which had been made all the more difficult to maintain by the fashionable dress she was now wearing at the behest of her grandmother, who had given her headstrong granddaughter such a scold over her combs that Edith had nearly decided to drop her pretense altogether. Thankfully, at breakfast, Mr. Crawley was far more fixated upon talk of a pair of sweetgoers he was to purchase from Mr. Napier than in attending his tedious cousin, so Edith was able to behave just civilly enough to spare her grandmother's wrath without disabusing her cousin of his prejudice. That gentleman set off to Ripon in the company of Mr. Napier shortly after breakfast to "attend to some business" (including posting a conciliatory missive to Lord Grantham), and Edith was able to escape into the temple, conveniently removed from the house by both a generous distance and a grove of trees, making it a favorite hideaway.

It was here that Sir Anthony came upon her, adding Downton to his morning stroll, emboldened by Lady Grantham's assurance that their grounds were so connected that they need not stand on ceremony over boundaries. Edith did not hear him approach, and he couldn't resist taking a few clandestine moments to observe her. She was dressed to advantage this morning, with a flowered bonnet making an alluring frame for her face, her legs crossed indelicately beneath her as she bent over her sketchpad, her face furrowed in concentration. He was able to glimpse a number of other books scattered around her, and among them more than one marble cover.

Enchanting as it was to watch her eyes glint as her hand moved around the page, his sense of propriety soon got the better of him, and he stepped forward and bid her good morning.

"I trust you are well," he added kindly.

Edith jumped a little at his greeting, unfolding her legs and straightening her skirt as she answered "Yes, I thank you."

She hastily snapped her sketchpad closed, but not before Sir Anthony caught a glimpse of a man's face, which he could not be certain was not his own.

He smiled kindly down upon her. "You are looking much better this morning. And, if I may say so, quite charming," he complimented without flourish.

"Oh, I—Thank you," Edith stuttered amid her blushes. "Though I assure you I care little for such fripperies," she added, unable to meet his eyes with her blatant lie.

"Indeed," he agreed soberly. "There are far more worthy things in life than the pursuit of a pretty muslin. How tiresome that someone of your inclination for the scholastic must be burdened down with the demands of fashion."

Edith caught the hint of amusement in his tone and she turned flashing eyes to his, but said nothing.

"I have come to ask you a favor, Miss Crawley."

"A favor?" Edith asked warily.

"My horses stand in great need of exercise. I would be most grateful if you would join me for a short drive to allow the poor creatures to stretch their legs. What do you say?"

Sir Anthony had come upon the scheme of taking Lady Edith driving the previous evening, when he had so keenly observed that she was a young woman in need of far more excitement and affection than she was afforded at the Abbey. He had been strengthened in this determination by the pleasure he had discovered in the company of her bright eyes and quick mind.

Edith blushed again. "Oh, sir!" she exclaimed inadvertently.

The image of herself seated in a smart carriage clipping along at a brisk pace could not fail to appeal to her. Yet even as she anticipated the treat a cautionary voice told her she would have to refuse. She could hardly convince her cousin that she was a dull spinster-to-be if she were seen driving out with a gentleman.

"I—do not think…that is, I do not drive…I…I fear the sun will be too much for me, sir," she protested.

Sir Anthony nodded solicitously, though his blue eyes sparkled with amusement.

"I do sympathize, but perhaps if you were to bring a parasol? I believe this is a time when such fripperies as a fetching bonnet become most beneficial."

"Yes," Edith conceded, rising with an armful of books, and blushing again at his backhanded compliment, "but I fear I feel rather unwell, I had better go inside and lie down."

He examined her under a slightly furrowed brow.

"Ah, then surely the fresh air would do you good. I am certain I have read a treatise to that effect by Dr. Clarkson," he remarked kindly.

"Who is Dr. Clarkson?" Edith asked, interested in spite of herself.

Sir Anthony feigned shock. "Have you not heard of Dr. Clarkson? So well read as you are I should have thought… He is one of the foremost doctors in London, you know. An expert on the health of delicate young ladies such as yourself. I assure you he would most certainly proscribe fresh air in this circumstance."

Edith sighed, defeated. Then, a final excuse struck her. "Sir Anthony, I feel sure my grandmother would disapprove. Surely, even in London, society would deem it improper for a single young lady to go out driving unchaperoned with a gentleman." Edith smiled sweetly up at him; sure she had finally found an escape.

"Indeed this is so. However, in London, ladies avoid the disdain of society by having their maid accompany them."

"Ah yes, how silly of me. Well…I will have to put away my things…"

"That will give me just the time I need to get my team ready. I shall meet you on your front steps in five minutes."

With that he gave her a bow and strode away.

Edith gave a short huff and resigned herself to her fate. Though as she mounted the steps to her room to stow her things and fetch a parasol, her indignation at being out maneuvered gave way to a light fluttery feeling in her stomach natural to any young woman who has been finally given the honor of going driving with a gentleman. And the more she thought about Sir Anthony's gentle jousting, how keenly he seemed to see through her excuses with those sympathetic, blue eyes…she couldn't feel annoyed with him, and even found herself grinning into her mirror as she smoothed down her dress and tucked a wayward curl out of sight.

When she peeked through the front windows of the Abbey minutes later, there was Sir Anthony, true to his word. His team consisted of two beautiful bays, lashed to a Prussian blue curricle that could not fail to inspire passionate admiration in Edith. She hurried through the door and climbed up beside him, taking his proffered hand and noting how strong and capable it seemed.

"I must pass on the thanks of Boreas and Zephyrus, they are very glad to be out and about," he gestured to his horses as he named them.

Edith smiled. "Winds. How very appropriate," she approved. "And wasn't Boreas supposed to have fathered a group of horses?"

"Indeed. Though I cannot like his temper. I do not wish it on Bor here, only the swiftness of his namesake. Shall we see what he can do?"

Edith nodded, and Anthony skillfully twitched his whip and the curricle shot forward down the drive. Edith gave an involuntary yelp of delight. She had never driven so fast in her life, having only driven out with her staid grandmother. In a few moments, she was able to stop clutching her seat and relax.

"I see you did not bring your maid after all," he remarked, as the mansion disappeared from view behind them.

"No, she was busy. I do not have much occasion to go driving, and so Anna is used to a certain freedom in her agenda during the morning," Edith explained, "I thought it silly to take her from her work. I did, however, think that you would have your groom with you." Her face clouded.

"Forgive me for the oversight. I find I like to rely upon myself. A habit I acquired in India. However, I assure you, you are in no danger in my company."

Edith looked at his kind expression and she found she believed him.

They drove on in silence for several moments. Then, Edith said,

"You have beautiful grounds."

He gave a small laugh. "I thank you. I take it you have been enjoying them in my long absence."

Edith smiled sheepishly. "Well I, I wandered onto them when I was a girl and...I didn't mean to, it's just that they join with ours and...I guess I just never stopped. But I will; now you are returned."

He smiled kindly at her. "By all means, continue to enjoy them. I am glad you have made use of them while I have been away. I daresay my flowers and trees were very lonely without me."

"Sir Anthony, I believe you are teasing me."

"I most certainly am not. I hope you may come explore Loxley House before long. It is, I confess, somewhat neglected and shockingly out of date, but it has its charms. Though I find that my library has spilled out into most every room; there are books everywhere."

"It sounds very cozy," Edith said sincerely.

He looked sideways at her. "I used to think so. But after India it seems…quiet." Even as he said it he realized that it was not just quiet that made Loxley feel unwelcome, it was emptiness. He lacked a companion to share it with him.

Edith nodded. "Of course for someone like me who has never travelled, quietude is not so taxing."

"You shall have to see the world someday."

She sighed. "I hope I get the chance. I have not even been to London since mama died, and before that I spent all my time in the nursery-I was too young to do all the things one does in London-to see the sights and museums, to go to Vauxhall… I read an account last week of a balloon rising. Have you ever seen one?"

"I have not."

"Oh I would very much like to see one," Edith sighed.

"In India I once had the chance to see a man fly," he told her, delighting in the look of fascination that crossed her face.

"Fly! How?!"

"He flew for several hundred yards with the aid of an enormous kite and a good wind. Sadly, he ended in a tree with a broken foot."

"Oh, I cannot imagine why you should want to leave such a place for boring old Yorkshire."

His face became serious. "Well, it is not all exotic curiosities. There is great unhappiness there."

"Oh, forgive me. I did not—"

"There is no need to apologize. I merely meant to say that there are things to be enjoyed here in England as well as in the Orient. For instance, in India I could not enjoy the company of a lady of such superior mind as yourself," he stated simply.

She smiled and blushed suitably, and Anthony felt a surge of satisfaction. He knew she too seldom received praise. A moment later she ventured to ask,

"Sir Anthony, what happened? I mean, with your arm. Was it—a duel?" She asked meekly.

He gave a chuckle. "No, it was not. Though it could've been, in my younger days. No, this was one of the slaves in India. Poor devils get treated horribly by some of the masters there. There was one particularly nasty Company official who attacked a young girl in his service and killed her. So a group of the fellows got a hold of some guns and attacked the English section of town."

"How dreadful!" Edith cried. "What put a stop to it?"

"Well, they, or someone else, got the brute who attacked the girl and the Company was able to restore order, but not before bullet came through the window of the restaurant where I was dining."

Edith gasped. "It's a wonder you didn't bleed to death!"

"I had an exceptional surgeon. Hurt like the devil at first, but now it doesn't give me any trouble, and besides, I'm told the sling is terribly dashing." He gave her a lopsided grin.

She laughed. "It's a wonder Brummel doesn't have one. Though I daresay you have been quite put off dining out."

This time it was he who laughed, surprised. "I do dine at my club sometimes, but always with the protection of a cuirass."

They shared a chuckle at this, imagining Sir Anthony with a breastplate fitted over his evening clothes.

"So you will stay Yorkshire?" Edith asked, though the last of her giggles.

"Yes. It is time I try life in England again." He fixed her with his gentle gaze and Edith found she was glad he would not be leaving for India any time soon.

Edith hadn't asked where they were bound, but she was enjoying their conversation so much that she didn't realize that they were headed towards town. Just as they reached its outskirts, Edith looked up to see Mr. Crawley coming towards them driving a stylish phaeton, which could not precisely be called high-sprung, and drawn by a pair of sleek black horses.

He pulled up alongside them, and he and Mr. Napier doffed their hats.

"I say, cousin, if I had known you liked a drive I should have taken you with me," Mr. Crawley said by way of a greeting.

Edith pinched her face and knit her brows into a strained look. "Oh, Sir Anthony was merely taking me to the post office to pick up my subscriptions. I felt too weak to walk there myself."

Sir Anthony said nothing, but brought his hand respectfully to his brim.

"Oh. Well now I've retrieved my phaeton, let me take you. No need to trouble Strallan."

Edith hesitated. "Oh well I'm not sure-you see, that is I-"

"It is no trouble, Mr. Crawley. I will see Lady Edith home safely. She is helping me exercise my horses," Sir Anthony said genially.

"Nonsense, surely you have better things to do. Besides, Mr. Napier and I were heading back to the Abbey ourselves."

Edith, who had been having a perfectly enjoyable time with Sir Anthony, did not relish changing driving partners.

"I believe Lady Edith might find riding with you a little trying for her constitution," Sir Anthony commented.

Mr. Crawley looked affronted. "Now see here, Strallan, if you're implying my cattle ain't up to snuff, it's no such thing. Won these off of a fellow who got 'em from Peyton himself."

"I was merely pointing out that Lady Edith's health seems to have improved since we departed," Sir Anthony gave Edith a conspiratorial smile which she found herself unable to refrain from returning.

"If it's my hand you're insulting then let me tell you—"Mr. Crawley was working himself into a state, but then stopped, as an idea hit him. He smiled amiably. "I believe you are right, Sir Anthony, she does look a might better. Grateful to you. But as to who would provide the better ride, care to put it to the test?"

Sir Anthony perfectly perceived the frenzied greed gleaming behind Mr. Crawley's smile. Mr. Napier sensed it too, and began trying to capture Mr. Crawley's attention.

"Do you propose a race?" Sir Anthony offered.

"Exactly, so! Knew you'd catch my meaning. What about it? Thousand pounds make it more sporting? What do you say, Sir Anthony?"

Mr. Napier's attempts became more insistent. "I say, Pat, not a good idea. Don't need to get any further under the hatches," he said under his breath.

"Nonsense. He ain't the man he used to be, and look at that clunker of a curricle," Mr. Crawley returned in kind.

Sir Anthony had taken the few moments to consider the challenge. He put out a hand. "A thousand pounds it is, Mr. Crawley. I'll trust you to set the route."

It was decided that while Mr. Crawley and Mr. Napier established a route, Edith ought to be taken to the Grantham Arms and be given some luncheon, as the hour was much farther advanced than any of them had realized. A messenger was sent to Downton Abbey to inform the household that Mr. Crawley, Mr. Napier, and Miss Crawley were dining in town, information that was met with satisfaction by the Dowager.

As they pulled away from Mr. Crawley's carriage, Edith gave voice to the concerns that had been troubling her ever since talk of the race began.

"Sir Anthony, are you sure this race is quite wise? I've heard that races can be dangerous. And this does not appear to be a racing curricle, though of course I know nothing of such things. But truly, do not let my cousin bully you into anything foolish."

He grinned down at her concern. "I assure you I would never do so."

Had Edith ever been to town, or indeed had the privilege of society gossip, she would have had no reason to fret. For she would know, as the rest of the fashionable world knew, that Sir Anthony Strallan was noted to be a capital whip—or at least he was, before he disappeared to India. He had taught himself to handle the reigns one-handed long before it had become necessary, could drive to an inch, and was known to have an impeccable eye for horseflesh. He'd given up racing after he married, though as a husband he could still be seen negotiating London streets with skill in a handsome barouche, and then once Lady Strallan had died he'd gone to India and no one had heard of any feats of horsemanship since. But those who still remembered knew he was at home to a peg, and had he not settled down upon marriage, it was widely believed he would have become one of the leading members of the Four Horse Club.

But Edith did not know this, and so it was with considerable anxiety that she waited at the appointed finish to learn the outcome of the race, imagining Sir Anthony being overturned, or breaking his other arm, or worse still, riding into town in the back of a wagon rather than perched atop his box.

The route that had been decided took Sir Anthony and Mr. Crawley through town, along the river, past Grantham Church, and finished in the inn yard of the Grantham Arms.

The sight of two gentlemen in smart equipage would have aroused interest on any day in the town, but when they were lining up with the clear intention of racing, it brought a modest crowd. Edith pushed herself to the front so that she was able to bestow a last fretful look on Sir Anthony before he turned to his horses and the curricle lurched forward. The watchers then returned to the inn, and Edith was soon held in conversation with her grandmother's lawyer. Amid the bustle, Edith lost track of Mr. Napier, and so was left to her own devices to pass the thirty or so minutes it took the gentlemen to return, trying in vain to repress thoughts of disaster. This was hard to do as two gentlemen near her were loudly recounting a series of gruesome racing incidents they had witnessed—including one where a racer was pitched from his seat and trampled to death by his own horse.

At long last, Edith heard the thundering of hooves and clicking of wheels that meant the race was nearly over. She rushed outside along with the rest of the onlookers to see Sir Anthony and Mr. Crawley bowling into to town, Sir Anthony so close to the phaeton's tiger seat that his horses could have bitten it. Edith almost had to close her eyes as, at the last moment, Sir Anthony expertly turned his horses and shot past the phaeton with only inches to spare, taking the lead just as he pulled into the inn yard. A cheer erupted as he brought his curricle to a halt and a greatly displeased Mr. Crawley reigned in beside him.

Edith hurried to where Sir Anthony was alighting and shaking the hands of his many admirers.

"Oh I thought you had been overturned!" she cried breathlessly.

"Never."

"Well, Strallan, it appears I owe you a thousand," Mr. Crawley, fairly purple, said as he joined them. "Thing is, I don't have it at the moment. Don't suppose you'd accept my vowels?"

Sir Anthony waved him off. "Don't trouble yourself, Mr. Crawley. We'll consider it settled."

"But sir—"

"I'm obliged to you for the chance to put my horses through their paces. I trust I will see you at the ball tonight?"

"Yes." He bowed curtly. "Your servant, Strallan." And with that, he hastened to his phaeton and drove off, leaving the absent Mr. Napier to find his own way home.

Sir Anthony turned to Edith. "Now then, after I have had some refreshment and given Bor and Zeph a chance to rest, what do you say we finish our drive?"

Regency Expressions Used in this Chapter and their Meanings:

A sweetgoer: a horse with an easy action

Marble cover: romantic novels at the time were published serially, and often with marble covers

Curricle: stylish and speedy (in the right hands it could reach speeds of 16mph!), the curricle was a two-wheeled carriage which required skill and perfectly matched horses to drive. There were recreational models and racing models; I imagine Sir Anthony's is somewhere between the two.

Boreas and Zephyrus: Greek gods of the north wind and west wind, respectively

Vauxhall: Vauxhall Gardens, the leading pleasure garden in London, site of amusements (including a reenactment of the battle of Waterloo), concerts, and romantic assignations

Brummel: George Byron 'Beau' Brummel; a paragon of fashion who espoused cleanliness and well-tailored simplicity and who was slavishly imitated by scores of gentlemen in the dandy set

Phaeton: the height of fashionable carriages, a light, four-wheeled, often high-sprung carriage with seating for two. The Prince Regent himself drove a high perch phaeton and six—a considerable feat.

Cattle: horses

Peyton: Sir Henry Peyton, prominent member of the Bensington Driving Club, a capital whip

Under the hatches: in debt

A capital whip: a renowned driver

Drive to an inch: having the skill to negotiate one's carriage deftly through crowded London streets

Barouche: an elegant, four-wheeled town carriage, usually driven by a groom but occasionally by oneself (as I imagine Sir Anthony would prefer), which sported a cover which could be raised from the rear in case of inclement weather

At home to a peg: a driver who was skilled enough to be able to manage unfamiliar or difficult horses, including teams of six

Four Horse Club: established in 1808, this driving club featured those coaching enthusiasts who had proved their skill driving a four-wheeled carriage with a team of four horses, which were far more manageable with a team of two

Tiger seat: a tiger was a young boy who served as groom and counterweight on the backs of light and high sprung carriages like curricles and phaetons, there was a small seat or stand just above the rear wheels for them

Vowels: IOU

Other Historical Curiosities:

As far back as medieval times in China there were kites designed to lift a man for military reconnaissance purposes. These types of kites would continue to be developed, mostly for entertainment, through the Victorian era.

Sir Anthony's winning maneuver is similar to a pastime of sporting gentlemen called, hunting the squirrel. To hunt the squirrel meant one would ride close to the rear of a carriage and then pass sp closely to the wheel they might brush it. This took great skill to accomplish, but was also very dangerous, which usually ended in the victim's carriage overturning.