Edith went downstairs shortly before 8 pm.
Rosamund was sitting in the lounge.
"Are you alright dear?"
"I'm not sure, Aunt Rosamund," Edith swallowed hard, "I've never broken things off with a man before."
"My plan was to be normal during dinner, then we come in here for coffee and I will ask him about his intentions towards you. We'll see how frank he's prepared to be about his plans. Obviously he won't be expecting you to have told me."
"That sounds like as good a plan as any." Edith said.
The doorbell rang. Edith jumped, trying not to show how much she was shaking. She was indeed worrying about how to let Michael down gently. She was fond of him, despite not being in love with him, and it was not in her nature to hurt anyone. This would be harder than she realised, but she kept thinking about Anthony.
Rosamund shot her niece an "Everything will be alright" look.
The maid came in.
"Mr Michael Gregson is here my lady, Lady Edith."
Michael walked in and kissed Edith's hand. Edith could see Rosamund pulling faces in the mirror. Edith knew she thought Gregson was oily.
"It's good to see you Edith," Michael said.
"Her correct title is Lady Edith," Rosamund said tersely.
Both Edith and Michael ignored this. He was gazing intently into her brown eyes. Edith caught herself wishing she was looking into Sir Anthony Strallan's blue eyes instead. If Rosamund's plan worked hopefully she might soon have that wish come true.
They went into dinner. Rosamund sat between them, which seemed to irk Gregson although he was too polite to say anything in Rosamund's own home, to which he had been invited under duress, he was sure. He looked like he was wearing his best suit although it was far less well cut than the suits worn by her father and the gentlemen with whom she had been acquainted since her youth. She remembered her grandmother's comment about Tom Branson looking like the Man from the Prudential, when he had come to Matthew's wedding without a morning suit. Both Violet and Edith knew that Tom did not feel comfortable in their world, but he had done his best for Sybil's sake and both Mary and Edith had done their best to be kind to him since Sybil had died. Now Mary was preoccupied with her own grief. Edith wondered if Lord Gillingham was still pursuing Mary.
Dinner progressed well enough. They remained on neutral subjects of conversation. Rosamund kept surreptitiously glancing at Edith and Edith sensed that she was tiring of the company. Michael kept holding Edith's hand across the table. Edith pretended it was Anthony holding her hand.
They went into the lounge and the maid brought them coffee.
"Do you mind if I smoke, Lady Painswick?" Gregson asked.
"Not at all, make yourself comfortable." She rang for the maid and asked for an ashtray to be brought. Michael lit a cigarette.
He held and stroked Edith's hand while he smoked.
"So Mr Gregson"
"Please Lady Painswick, call me Michael."
"I'll stick to formalities if you don't mind, Mr Gregson. I barely know you."
"Very well."
He sighed deeply.
"Mr Gregson, I have asked you here because I want to know what your intentions are towards my niece."
"I'm sorry for keeping her out until the early hours, Lady Painswick, but we had a lot to discuss and I swear to God that nothing untoward happened."
"I should hope not!" Rosamund said, "Edith has been taught morals."
"Unlike her sister then," Gregson said, "Don't think I didn't hear the gossip before the war, about Lady Mary Crawley and the late Kamal Pamuk."
Neither Edith nor Rosalind had expected this.
"Mary made a mistake," Rosamund said, "But she made good."
"Yes, i was very sorry about Matthew. We got on rather well when we were in Scotland. He was a rather splendid chap!"
"Yes he was." Rosamund said.
"And Lady Sybil didn't exactly cover herself in glory, eloping with the chauffeur."
"You're not fit to speak her name." Rosamund spat.
"So that's it," Michael's eyes narrowed, "You don't think I'm good enough for Edith."
"You said it!" Rosamund smiled.
"Edith doesn't care what people think." Gregson said.
"If you think so highly of my niece surely, after all this time. there ought to be at least an engagement ring on her finger?"
"We're taking our time." Michael said his tone almost acidic, "But I can assure you, I do love Edith very much, as she loves me."
"But I'm not in love with you, Michael." Edith said gently, trying to blink away the threatening tears, "I'm sorry, but I feel pressured and I really don't think it would work between us. The situation is far from easy."
"Edith," Michael looked like someone had kicked him in the stomach, "Please tell me I'm not hearing this." He clasped both her hands in his and looked into her eyes.
"I'm sorry Michael, I don't love you enough and we're from different worlds. Those kinds of matches rarely work. You have to be in love with someone to make it work against the odds and I am not in love with you. You're a dear man, very kind and sweet but it isn't enough. When you hold my hand I don't feel passion. That's why I have resisted you on that score. It's a big deal for woman in my social position and I don't want to make the same mistake Mary did."
"Isn't my love enough?"
"No man who loves a niece of mine can surely want to trap her by going through some charade to become a member of the most hated nation in the world." Rosamund said, "You do realise that you would remain married under English law so any marriage you entered into in England would be bigamous. I won't let you ruin Edith's reputation in that way."
"You told her?" he said incredulously as he let go of Edith's hand, "That was meant to be a private matter."
"You should have enquired into your wife's family," Rosamund snapped, "Any trace of insanity can skip generations."
"Well unfortunately she's the daughter of a vicar, not exactly Burke's peerage material." Gregson snapped back, "She didn't exhibit any signs when we married."
"Some women do go mad for love," Rosamund said, "Although I quite fail to see how any woman would go mad for love of you."
"That's a bit harsh, Aunt Rosamund." Edith said.
"Maybe, but it's how I feel."
"Edith, do you love someone else?" He looked into her eyes, "If you are casting me adrift then surely I at least have the right to know?"
"Yes," Edith swallowed, "You remember I told you I had been jilted? Well, even though it appears he doesn't want me, although it was more due to family pressure that made things turn out as they did, I will always love him. When he touched my hand I felt real passion. I've really tried so hard, Michael but I can't feel that for you. I'm so sorry."
She was really fighting hard to stop the tears now. At that point in time she hated Rosamund for making her put them both through this, but it was Sir Anthony she had loved since the day he had asked her to that concert and she only realised at that moment how much.
"What was his name?"
"Sir Anthony Strallan," Edith breathed.
"I hope you'll be very happy," Gregson's lip curled into a derisory sneer, "You have not heard the last of this though, Edith. At the moment when you are happiest and have completely banished me from your thoughts, I will be there. Between you and everything that matters. No one gets the better of me."
He was on his feet now and the look he shot Edith chilled her to the bone and she shivered involuntarily.
"I'll see myself out." He swept from the room into the hallway and they heard the door slam shut behind him.
Edith collapsed on the sofa, her body tensed rigid with heaving sobs.
