"Edith, what time's your train tomorrow?" Richard asked casually over dinner. It was her last night in London, and Edith, whilst on tenterhooks to be back in Yorkshire, was also surprised to find she felt a faint twinge of regret that she would be leaving her family.

"A quarter past ten from King's Cross," she smiled, and felt her mother squeeze her elbow.

"I wish we had you for longer, darling," she sighed. "You still look so pale."

"Nonsense, Mama!" said Sybil definitely. "You look very well, Edith."

"Thank you, I'm sure," Edith replied, but there was no malice in her voice. Things had settled down somewhat with Sybil over the last few days; perhaps they had all been worrying too much, and this was just delayed adolescent pettiness.

"How lucky," Richard intervened. "I have a meeting at eleven o'clock - I'll go in early, and we can share the car."

"Are you sure it won't be too much trouble?" Mary asked, her nose wrinkling a little. Richard lifted her hand and kissed it.

"Perfectly. That's if Edith's agreeable?"

"It's very kind of you, Richard. Thank you."

"You didn't need to see me onto the platform, you know," Edith sighed. "I would have been perfectly safe in the Ladies' Waiting Room."

"Would you?" Richard asked absently, checking his pocket watch against the big station clock on the platform. Edith's train was just pulling in, and he was almost spectral amidst the steam that was wreathing the crowd.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Edith asked, surprised. "I'm - I'm not ill any more, Richard." Not physically, at least.

"I wish I could be sure that that were the case." Richard looked at her searchingly. "Because you and I both know that you haven't had the influenza."

"Don't be ridiculous!" She gave a faint, nervous chuckle of laughter. "What else could it possibly have been?"

Richard shook his head slowly. "I don't appreciate being lied to, Edith."

His sister-in-law's spine was suddenly ramrod-straight as she drew herself up in indignation. "And I don't appreciate being accused of lying!"

"Then don't tell untruths." He shrugged. "I'm not going to pry any further - I don't need you to confirm my suspicions…" He broke off and the harsh lines of his face softened considerably. "…But I wish I could be sure that you were all right, my dear."

Edith blinked up at him, swallowing away sudden tears. There was silence for a moment, and then her shoulders sank in defeat. "What gave me away?" she whispered quietly.

Richard lifted wry eyebrows. "Well… it was all very sudden, wasn't it? And you were very close to Michael Gregson and there have been… murmurings, shall we say?"

"You spied on him."

"Only after you came home. I asked around about your Sir Anthony Strallan too, but there was nothing apparently wrong with him. So it had to be Gregson."

"Will you tell Mary?" Edith asked. "Because she would lord it over me until Kingdom come, Richard, and - "

Her brother-in-law shook his head. "No. Mary and I are… more than aware of each other's faults. She doesn't need to know about this."

Edith exhaled noisily in relief. "Thank you. I - I'd prefer it if Mama didn't know, either."

"Very well. On one condition."

"Oh? And - and what would that be?"

Richard's fingers tightened on her arm. "That if you are ever in any sort of trouble again, you will send for me, immediately."

"Richard - "

He shook her a little, not ungently. "Immediately, Edith. For God's sake," he sighed, exasperated, "I feel responsible for you - for you and for Sybil."

"There isn't anything you could have done to prevent this, Richard. Michael… was my choice. And the - " She lowered her voice. "The m-miscarriage… nobody could have stopped that."

"Perhaps not. But you will, if you please, give this note to Sir Anthony when you return to Locksley." He pressed the small, pale blue envelope into her gloved hand. Edith stared stupidly at it for a moment, and then murmured, "What does it say?"

Richard gave her an old-fashioned look. "I presume a doctor was called? The last time I looked, they weren't free. I'd as soon pay your bills myself."

"I'll reimburse you," Edith promised. "Tell me how much it costs and - "

"I don't need repaying," he interrupted quietly. "But… you could write to Sybil more often. She's at an awkward age, and she'd confide more to you than to any of us at home, I think."

Impulsively, Edith reached up and kissed his cheek. "You're going soft, Richard Carlisle." She blinked back water in her eyes. "Carry on like that, and we'll start to think you care."

Edith had barely climbed out of the car before a body slammed into her with only slightly less force than a tonne of bricks might have, two long thin arms wrapped around her waist and squeezed tightly - and a familiar joyful voice cried, "Mrs Crawley! You're home!"

"Master Pip!" she laughed, half-indignantly. "Let me go! You're cutting off my circulation!"

"Don't care," he retorted, but his grip did lessen fractionally so that Edith could wriggle free and hook his arm through hers as they turned to go in. "Are you better?" he asked, and then without waiting for a reply, added, "I hope you are, because Papa's been muddling all the papers in the study again and he can't find anything. Oh, and Granny's come to visit and I told her how super you were and she can't wait to meet you and - "

"Pip?" Sir Anthony's absent-minded voice called from the study as they entered the hall. "Who are you - ?" His head appeared around the door and he caught sight of Edith.

"Mrs Crawley!" He negotiated the door at surprising speed and came to shake hands with her with what seemed to be genuine pleasure. "Welcome - welcome back!" As Pip hurried off, calling for his grandmother, Sir Anthony asked, "How are you?" A smile crossed his face. "You look… frightfully well. Better than I th- " He broke off, his smile becoming a little embarrassed.

"I feel it," Edith replied warmly, surprising herself by how honest an answer it was. The week at home had apparently done some good, and although she was still rather weary in the evenings, and aching in her heart still, she knew herself to be in much finer fettle than she had been when she had left. "I hope I haven't arrived at an awkward moment, sir - Master Pip says that Lady Strallan is here - "

"Not at all," he hastened to reassure her. "Here she comes now, in fact. Have you the strength for an introduction, do you think?"

It seemed there was not be an option - before Edith had done more than open her mouth, a sprightly lady of middling height, her blonde hair just going grey, appeared at the top of the stairs, along with Pip. She descended with quick grace and a smile for her son, who hastened to make the necessary introductions. "Mrs Crawley, my mother - Anne, Lady Strallan. Mama, Mrs Crawley, my secretary."

Edith managed a slight curtsey, before her hand was seized and shaken with firm warmth. "My dear, it's lovely to meet you." With a twinkle in her eye, Lady Strallan confided, "Pip tells me you have quite saved Sir Anthony from drowning under paperwork."

Edith could feel herself going red. "Master Phillip is exaggerating, my lady. But… I hope I have been useful." Looking up, she caught Sir Anthony's eye, and there was something in his expression - something steady and reassuring and faintly admiring - that made her flush all the deeper.

"Well, Mrs Crawley, I shall look forward to getting better acquainted with you at dinner," smiled Lady Strallan. "Pip and I are just off for a walk."

As they departed, Edith looked half-anxiously at her employer. "I'm sure your mother would prefer it if I dined elsewhere this evening, sir…"

Sir Anthony opened the door to the study and almost unconsciously Edith passed before him into the room. "Absolutely not! My mother's overriding characteristic is her utterly brutal honesty. She always tells the absolute truth. And besides, Mrs Cox is pulling out all of the stops in honour of your homecoming, so let's just do as we're told this evening, hmm?"

Edith could feel a small laugh bubbling up inside her. "If you insist, sir."

"I absolutely do." Turning away to his desk, he added, "My mother brought some documentation relating to my great-grandfather up from the London house with her - perhaps tomorrow we could sort it into the archive?"

As they left the dining room that evening, Edith thought she might burst, she was so full. 'Pulling out all the stops', in Mrs Cox's book, was apparently code for cooking anything and everything that Edith had expressed a liking for over the last month. "Goodness, what a feast!" Lady Strallan had exclaimed with delight as they had entered, she on her son's arm, Edith on Pip's.

"When I spoke to Mrs Cox about the menus," Sir Anthony explained half-apologetically, "she said that London cooks didn't know a thing about food, or about feeding young women. Mrs Crawley, I rather think she worries you've been starving."

The aroma of a hearty stew and fresh bannocks had met Edith's nose at that moment; her stomach growled faintly. "Looking at this, sir," Edith replied quietly as he pulled out her chair for her, "I rather think that I have."