Two surprises had followed Edith's decision to trespass on Aunt Rosamund's kindness. One, was that along with the letter from Aunt Rosamund telling her that she will be most welcome, was another letter from one of the Ladies Magazines she had written to. They had written to inform her that two of her submissions would be published in one of their upcoming issues.

The second surprise came in the form of Cousin Matthew. Two days after Lord Hexham's departure, he took Edith aside in order to talk privately.

"Before I say anything else Cousin Edith, I must request you allow me the opportunity to apologise for Hexham's behaviour. It was a most dishonest thing for him to do, and I could never have thought him to be so cur like! I have ceased all correspondence with him,"

Edith was flattered by Cousin Matthew's concern. It was a far cry from complete dismissal of feelings and lack of sensitivity she had received from her family since, "I am afraid you will not be able to entirely escape the acquaintance. I overheard Mary ask Miss O'Brien to send a letter to Lord Hexham regarding his attachment for her. I daresay we will be forced to witness their union very soon,"

"Well, after that happy event Lord and Lady Hexham will be gone to Northumberland, and we shall be free of them. But until then, would you allow me the honour of escorting you to London,"

"What, you wish to go to Aunt Rosamund's with me?" she asked in surprise.

"Do you think I will be welcome?"

"Of course! Most welcome. I'm just rather surprised that you should wish to leave Downton so abruptly,"

Matthew's eyes drifted over towards Mary, who was sat by the window, languidly gazing outside. On her ring finger, the Burmese Ruby glinted in the sunlight. He regarded her sadly for a short moment, before sighing.

"There's nothing left for me at Downton now,"

DA

A change of scenery is always pleasant when one is feeling low. Upon reaching London, Edith rather felt as though she had torn off a particularly tight and itchy dress, and her skin was feeling soft cotton for the first time. Aunt Rosamund welcomed both Edith and Cousin Matthew with a great deal of pleasure and affection. The widowed and childless aunt was particularly pleased to see her favourite niece, and Edith rather suspected that Aunt Rosamund had heard of the situation with Lord Hexham, for she saw a great deal of sympathy in her Aunt's eyes. She shared the same look Cousin Matthew had worn. Pity, but in a way that suggested outrage and mortification on her behalf, rather than a look that said "Poor dear, to think she truly thought Lord Hexham had a genuine interest,".

Aunt Rosamund, delighted with the company, had planned to fill their time with amusements after amusements. She had devised dinners and balls, and planned shopping and theatre trips. Edith's rich and stylish aunt quickly had Edith's wardrobe bursting with the newest fashions. Gowns made in Paris, fans imported from Spain and shawls brought in Venice. She even managed to convince Cousin Matthew to buy a few new cravats as well as secretly discarding a custard and puce waist coat that both she and Edith felt the world could only be better of without.

The merry trio attended parties and concerts and strolls through the park, each determined to stave off any feelings of loneliness. After a while, it became noted by the ton that Mr Matthew Crawley, heir to the Earldom of Grantham, was seen often in the presence in Lady Edith Crawley, daughter to the current Earl. Caught up in the vibrancy of London and dressed fashionably, Edith cut an attractive figure and the proposed match was looked on with favour in the eyes of society. Especially as the two seemed to genuinely enjoy the other's company.

Edith's poems were published, as were several others. As she had suspected, the ones dealing with family life were the ones most readily snapped up. And, with their messages as clear as the poet's name, they raised one or two eyebrows in the ton. Both Cousin Matthew and Aunt Rosamund read her poems with a slight frown on their face, but praised Edith on her accomplishments readily, neither raising a word of protest.

Edith did not know if Mama or Papa or any of her family had seen her published works, as none of their letters (few and far in-between as they were), mentioned them. They were not the sort of periodicals her family read, although many of their peers did and it would be long until her activities were discovered. Edith was unsure as to how she felt on this. A trio of divided opinions waged war within her.

One part of her hoped that her parents never read the poems, so as to keep the peace and avoid hurting her parents. Another, darker side relished the idea of seeing Mama and Papa's face when they discovered that she had all but denounced them to the world. A third, admittedly small part; the part of her that wished for sunny days and fine friends, meekly suggested that perhaps her family would discover her poems and perhaps be impressed. Maybe even proud? The former two parts of her quickly poured scorn on this ideal, in a voice that was suspiciously close to Mary's.

Now in London, and away from her sisters, Edith's position had changed somewhat. She was the only young Lady in a fashionable household. She was relatively accomplished, and the new regard she was being shown was resulting in her growing more and more attractive, until one morning she awoke to find herself beautiful. A very fine morning that had been two.

Added to this, she was a published poet of a minor scandal, and rumours of her engagement had made her the focus of many bachelors. For although they may have disregarded her whilst she was still on the market, the suspicion that she may soon be snapped up had resulted in her having several admirers, one of two of whom may have been willing to court her seriously.

All in all, Edith was content with her London life. Until one rather stuffy night, she sought to open the window and seek the cool, night air. As she did so, she looked down on the street below and saw a carriage pull up outside a house opposite. Out of the carriage, a couple returning from a ball disembarked. First came the gentleman, who turned and assisted the following lady. Edith held up a candle and noted the soft look in the eyes of the gentleman. The care with which he helped her down from the carriage. And the way the lady lingered in his arms, for just a second. They were not a young couple, in fact they seemed to be reaching the gargantuan age of forty, yet they seemed very much like two youngsters feeling the first bloom of love.

Edith knew that the rumours about she and Cousin Matthew were all false, but with her newfound prominence and her substantial dowry, she suspected that she could be wed if she so wished. But it was no longer a good marriage she wished for, it was for someone who looked at her with the same devotion the couple on the street. The way Lord Hexham had looked at her. Even if all those tender looks had been nought but lies.

She wondered how it was that men could so easily replicate that look of tenderness, or indeed women. For she knew first hand that a woman could happily appear as those she was attached to a man, or indeed truly be so, only to cast him off when a better match offers. Poor Cousin Matthew. Oh, how it seemed they all flocked to London to fill their days with merriment and laughter, in the hopes that they could forget the loss and heartbreak they all felt so keenly.