Prompt: Teatime

Sir Anthony Strallan rubbed his aching temples and groaned a little. He was sat down to a morning of accounting for the estate, something he did not like to leave to an agent, but not a task he relished either. He had been entirely business-minded for the past few years, finally giving up on a legacy of blood and focusing on leaving a thriving estate to his cousin-in-law. With his diligence Locksley had prospered, with momentum sure to carry it successfully into the new era. Its owner, however, seemed to be stagnating.

Suddenly, his butler came in and announced a guest. He barely had time to process his surprise when she bustled in, hot on his heels.

"Mrs. Crawley," he blurted, rising abruptly.

"Good morning, Sir Anthony. I hope I'm in time for tea," and with that, this redoubtable lady sat resolutely down on the sofa.

"Why, yes of course," Anthony uttered politely, pulling the bell cord and arranging some tea. All this while, his guest examined him closely, her keen, medically trained eyes noticing the signs of anxiety and insomnia. His proficiency with one arm, however, had improved greatly over the few short years, as she had known it would, to the point where it barely seemed to be a concern anymore.

When the footman who answered his summons had left, Anthony had recovered his shock enough to play the host.

"Mrs. Crawley, may I say what pleasure—"

"An intrusion you mean. I know I've barged in on your solitude. But I have something important to discuss, and I wanted to catch you when you are in. You are so often absent lately."

"I have several matters of business which—" Anthony began, but Mrs. Crawley made a gesture to quiet him.

"I know you have many concerns. And so do I. Which brings me to the reason for my visit."

He frowned, taking a seat, and fixing his tired blue eyes upon her.

"It's just this. I need to know. Are you still in love with my cousin?"

Anthony sucked in a sharp, sudden breath which made him cough.

"Mrs. Crawley, I don't quite understand—" he choked.

"It's very simple. Do you love Edith or don't you?" She pressed.

"Mrs. Crawley, while I appreciate your attachment to Lady Edith, it is far more complicated than that, as you well know," he said with resolve and a little sadness.

"I don't agree. Sir Anthony, my son is dead. His and Lady Mary's happiness was snatched away from them. Lady Sybil died also, and poor Tom is carrying on as best he can. But you are not dead. And I believe with you, Edith has a chance at happiness. That is, if you still love her enough to fight for her."

There was silence, prolonged by the entrance of the footman with the tea-tray, the pouring out and distribution of teacups. When both had taken an inaugural sip, Anthony finally spoke.

"Mrs. Crawley, is Edith unhappy?" He asked, his voice calm but his expression almost the mirror of what it had been that day in the church four years ago.

"I'd like to say she isn't, but that would be a lie. She tries to hide it, but something is bothering her. She enjoys writing her column, and seems to take great pleasure in her daily walk, but…sometimes I catch her, watching Mary and George or little Sybbie with Tom…and the look on her face is so wistful, so lonely…"

Sir Anthony 's frown deepened. He perfectly understood that loneliness and yearning. He sighed.

"So?" Mrs. Crawley challenged.

He met her resolute expression and exhaled wearily.

"Yes, I do love her." He said it as a fact, an irrefutable truth like the fact that the sky is blue or the world is round.

"And will you try—to patch things up with her? I'm not saying she'll have you—but at the very least talk to her. You owe her an apology, and more of an explanation than you gave her. And once that is done, I'll tell you the rest of it, and we'll consider how to proceed."

"The rest of it? Is Edith in trouble?"

"I'm not sure. But that's for another time. First things first, write to her."

"Mrs. Crawley, I know you have always been in favor of Edith and I, but the family, the Dowager in particular…"

"Let me worry about Lady Grantham," she said peevishly. "I have made rather a sport out of jousting with her. It's very hard for her to admit that she is wrong, but she will in the end, if everything works out."

"I really don't think I ought to do this. Of course I want Edith to be happy, but as a man of honor, I should not go against Robert, not go back on my word…"

"As a man of honor you should have married Edith in the first place," she said bluntly.

He winced, acknowledging the truth of her words.

She softened, rising to go. "Take courage, Sir Anthony. Do what must be done and it will all turn out for the best. You owe it to Edith to try."

He nodded and stood to walk her to the door.

"Oh, don't bother, I can see myself out. Thank you for the tea. And good luck."

And with that, she strode through the library door and was gone.

XXX

A/N: Outside readers may have figured out that I'm a total Andith shipper. I'm going to try not to make all of these prompts into Andith stories (I've got one about Thomas and SybilxTom coming up), but the next one is very Andith and so will be posted as Ch. 7 of Andith Anthology.

Thanks for you readership and support! Hope you enjoy! :D