With many apologies for my tardiness. Better late than never.

And on that subject, has anyone else, apart from me and Lady Kmby noticed some stories disappearing? I just want to go public to state that I think that's such a shame. Leave FFnet if you must, but please let us continue reading the rather magnificent canon of stories the Andith Community has built up. We only have each other and this body of work, after all.


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When the invitation to dine at Downton arrived, Anthony was thrilled. He began planning how to phrase the question, the big question, in his head, just as he had the day before that garden party in 1914. He started pacing the corridors of Locksley, at one point walking in on Stewart as he was checking that his master's white tie and tails were still perfect after some time in the wardrobe. That formal dinner wear reminded him of other formalities. Anthony began wondering how he was going to broach the subject with Robert if Edith accepted him…if Edith accepted him, which she still might not. How could you convince a man that that you loved his daughter with all your heart when that heart was in an old and broken body? Or that you could make her happy, when you didn't really believe that yourself? In fact, what, precisely, was it going to take to convince him, once and for all, that age didn't matter as long as you were made for each other and happy? Edith certainly believed that and that was what mattered most. How could he persuade himself that a crippled arm was not such an awful hurdle to overcome in a marriage compared to wounds endured by many of his comrades from France? After all, it was even easier if one had a house, a title, land, money, and servants?


He'd almost convinced himself by the time he was in his car being driven towards dinner at Downton. Then, as he walked through the magnificent Great Hall and into the Drawing Room, the nerves were beginning to fight back. A footman announced his arrival, another offered him a drink, some sort of cocktail, which he felt he needed, and then he caught sight of her. All other sounds and everyone else faded away, as his courage skyrocketed, fuelled by her. Dressed in dusky peach with a neckline only just the right side of acceptable, and smiling at him, shyly, joyfully, seductively (all at once; however did she do that?), he knew he would give anything, fight anybody to be with her and make her happy.

But someone was talking to him, he realised. Mrs Crawley had been complimenting him on how well he was coping. He couldn't recall the details. He was struggling for something polite to say, when Edith rescued him, the darling girl.

"He doesn't need help at all, do you? He won't let me do anything!"

He smiled.

"Mustn't be a nuisance, you know." He looked from Mrs Crawley back to Edith thinking how very domestic this exchange had become, like a lady enquiring after her cousin and her cousin's…husband. His breath hitched. It was frightening how natural it all seemed, despite the years apart.

"Are you coming to the wedding?" Mrs Crawley asked.

It depends whether I am engaged to Edith at that point, or if she's come to her senses and sent me packing.

He went to answer Mrs Crawley, but Edith beat him to it.

"Of course." Edith was looking at him, her eyes expressing two things about her that he loved: vulnerability and defiance.

He gazed back, not really caring what the older lady was thinking of him.

"Well...if you really want me" he whispered, longing for her answer and fearing it.

She smiled, suddenly confident.

"I do. I really do."

Isobel looked between the two of them, and it suddenly dawned on her what she was witnessing. She quietly stepped back a little giving them space, but not so much that anyone else would feel justified in butting into their conversation. Matthew and Mary's courtship had hardly gone smoothly, but at least no one was actively working against them. These two would need as much help as they could muster to get past Robert…and Violet.

"You look very nice. Have you done something jolly with your hair?"

He was rewarded with one of her shy but dazzling smiles as her fervent wish that he would notice was granted, and he wanted to bask in that smile forever. So it was almost a miracle that he saw Larry Grey's furtive manoeuvre with the glasses behind Edith's back, although he didn't see exactly what it was that Larry had done.

"I say, what the devil?"

But right then Carson announced that dinner was served, and Edith took his good arm, choosing to walk into the dining room with him, and the incident was pushed to the back of his mind.

Edith's sweet smiles from the other end of a packed table distracted him further until the raised voices of Mr Branson and Mr Crawley contending with the clumsy apologies of Lord Merton were such that they could not be ignored. Anthony heard Robert and his mother making insulting comments about the young Irishman, which he found distasteful and offensive considering that he was now related to them. Could they not see that Tom needed support and acceptance from his wife's family? But it was Larry's smirk that enabled Anthony to put all the pieces together.

"Well, wait a minute. This was down to you, wasn't it?

Anthony's anger stopped him from realising that he was challenging a Viscount, a man ranking much higher in the aristocracy than him…and also much younger should he choose to accept the challenge. But like all bullies, Larry was also a coward.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. I saw you. You put something in his drink, didn't you? Just before we came in."

Sybil immediately challenged Larry herself, with her usual bravery.

"That's not true, is it, Larry?"

Without giving Larry a chance to deny it, Edith added "What a beastly thing to do."

Fortunately, Larry's reaction was as clear as any admission of guilt.

"Oh, come on, Edith. That's not like you. You could always take a joke."

There were some more heated words from around the table, but Anthony watched Edith's face then. She had known what she was doing. She knew Larry well enough to know he would walk into her trap and prove his guilt, exonerating Anthony.

When Larry topped his insults by calling Tom a "grubby little chauffeur chap", Lord Merton made a brave and gracious apology for his son. Mr Crawley appointed Mr Branson as his Best Man, and Sybil took her husband upstairs to recover.

And all the while, Edith and Anthony were looking into each other's eyes, seriously and steadily.

The ladies hastened to go through to the Drawing Room, and the remaining men kept to safe topics until Larry, with rare embarrassment, excused himself and went home. Conversation directly turned to the events of the evening with considerable praise for Matthew who was firm that they thank Sir Anthony too.

Anthony shied from it, but Matthew proposed a toast to him and Anthony was surprised to see all the company raise their glasses, even Robert.

Anthony thanked them with modesty, but he was thinking that perhaps, tonight, thanks to what had happened, Robert might consider him deserving of Edith.

He excused himself from the third round of brandies, scribbled a note and asked one of the footmen to take it to Lady Edith, and stood in the shadows of the Great Hall, waiting…waiting.

Would she come?

The door to the Drawing Room opened and Carson came out to refill the coffee pot.

Waiting…waiting.

The door clicked open again, and it was her.

She let the door close behind her, scanning the room.

"Edith!" he whispered loudly, "here!"

Her frown was replaced by a beaming smile as she hurried over to him.

"That was rather marvellous of you...to expose Larry Grey like that. You saved the day, really."

How delicious it was to be praised by her!

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. Matthew saved the day."

"No, it was you."

He smiled modestly at her as he basked in her approval, and her own heart leapt. She knew he was clever, and kind, and honourable, and now she had seen him be brave, risking his reputation to defend Tom, and untitled commoner, against a Viscount and the son of a peer. How could she ever deserve such a man?

"I think what you did tonight was wonderful…brave and virtuous and…and right!" She bowed her head.

"I'm sorry my family is so prone to scandal. My brothers-in-law are both a bit…unconventional."

He raised her chin gently with one finger, to look at him.

"I think they are both good-hearted and extraordinary in their own ways."

She smiled in relief at his reaction.

"Yes, Tom's very passionate about Irish Independence."

"He has every right to be. It is when political protest spills over into violence that the line between right and wrong becomes blurred."

Good grief! He had had the full intention of proposing to her, and now he found himself discussing Home Rule with her instead.

He took a step nearer to her.

"If you are trying to put me off with your…idiosyncratic relatives, I'm afraid nothing you can mention will make me think less of you."

"Not even Granny?" he suggested cheekily.

He pretended to frown.

"A tall order…but one I will lay into with all my courage!"

He became serious again and went down on one knee.

"I hope you know that I would do anything for you, my sweet darling. Would you consider taking me for your husband?"

She put her hand to her mouth. He'd asked! After all these years, he'd finally asked!

"Yes, of course! It would make me so very, very happy!"

"And me, my love. Oh heavens, yes!"

He rose and pulled a small box from his tail coat.

"This was the ring I had made for you in 1914. It may not be quite right now, but…"

He gave her the box and motioned her to open it. Inside was a gold band set with one large diamond with smaller diamonds and emeralds alternating down the shoulders.

"Oh, Anthony!"

He took the ring from its box, asked her to rest her left hand on his right in its sling. He then placed the ring delicately on her finger.

"It's so beautiful!"

"Not as lovely as its wearer."

She blushed charmingly at that, she was so devastatingly enchanting.

When he proudly offered her his good arm to take her through to the Drawing Room, she placed her hand on it and looked up at him with that nervous but brave look that he so loved.

"Anthony, do it properly…please."

At his confused look, she clarified, "Kiss me again, just once, please."

And since he could refuse her nothing he gently caressed her cheek with his good hand and made all his dreams of the last six years reality once more. His last coherent thought was that his now fiancée really must have cast a spell on him to convince him to abandon proper standards of behaviour as easily as she did. Her lips were so delicious, her hands on his chest made him feel as powerful as a giant…more…he needed more…

"What in God's name?" shouted Robert behind them.