AN: I'm utterly overwhelmed by all the lovely, long reviews for the last chapter. Three-quarters of the fun of writing in this fandom is receiving the intelligent, thoughtful, constructive and wonderfully supportive comments of the other Andith shippers who are kind enough to read my efforts. Thanks all! And now - our pair have some talking to do...

For a long moment there was silence, with just the ticking of the mantlepiece clock to reassure them that time was not standing still in the face of Anthony's extraordinary proposal. "I don't think you understand what you're offering," she croaked finally.

"I'm offering you a solution to a problem," he replied reasonably. She raised an eloquent eyebrow; he flushed and coughed a little. "I wouldn't… I wouldn't expect anything from you," he added hastily. "You could live where you chose. Love, romance - I would place no constraints of that sort on your life. As my wife, I'd make sure you had an independent income and my support in any future literary endeavours." There, it was out, and to his relief it didn't sound as ridiculous as he had feared it would. Marriages had been made for less pure motives than this, after all. If he could only help Edith, atone for what he had done to her, to her life…

Edith had listened to this speech in silence, but now her eyes widened in understanding. "You're quite serious," she breathed.

Anthony nodded. "I don't believe I'm a difficult man, Edith. Not.. not unpleasant, or cruel. I don't have any vices - apart from the odd whisky after dinner - and we get along together, don't we? At least, I hope we do." He gave a half-smile, inviting her to share his joke, but she was too distracted.

Edith reached for his hand and held it in both of hers, frowning. "Wait," she murmured. "Let me think." She tried to imagine what it would be like - to be Lady Strallan, as she had once dreamed. She and Elinor would live in London at Anthony's townhouse. Anthony would not want to 'make a nuisance of himself', she supposed; most of his time would be spent at Locksley. Perhaps he would come down to see her every few weeks, for afternoon tea, or dinner at the Savoy. They would spend Christmas and Easter together for appearances' sake. There would be a comfortable, even generous income - she would be free to focus on Elinor, and her writing. Anthony would be a good, if distant, husband. He would make sure that she and Elinor wanted for nothing. He would be a safe port in a storm - a steady, unwavering friend and limitless source of excellent advice. Many women would not have hesitated.

But Edith did. Because to be married to Anthony had been the dream of her young life, before everything had changed on a sunny May day seven years ago. To be married to Anthony and to live at Locksley and bear and raise his children and enjoy all the advantages of being the wife of a good, honourable, kind man - these had been her wishes. To marry him now, and know that it was all a facade, a front, a pretence… Edith did not know how she would bear it. And there were Anthony's freedoms and wishes to consider, too - not to mention how to explain it all to Elinor!

Tentatively, he added, "I might not be exactly what you once wished for yourself, but I believe we might do well together, given the chance. Let me help you, Edith. No court would ever suggest taking Elinor from you when you have just wed a baronet, even an old, obscure one like me."

Her refusal caught in her throat. Losing Elinor would be terrible. She would be utterly broken, she knew that. And would it be so bad, to be Lady Strallan? Anthony was right; he was not cruel, or even mildly unpleasant. All the things that had made her accept his first proposal were still true; he was kind, honourable, courteous… She could not believe she was considering a marriage made only for her own convenience, but she was. Many parents had done worse things for their children.

At last, she looked up at him, almost blindly, and nodded. "All… all right. I will. Anthony, I will marry you."

He breathed a deep sigh, almost of relief. "Good, good." He coughed. "Well… we ought to arrange some things. Where would you like… like to…?"

"A registry office, I suppose," she murmured. "I haven't been very devout over the past few years. But… I rather think we should do it sooner rather than later. I don't know how quickly Michael intends to make his claim."

Anthony nodded. "Of course. Whatever you wish. I'll arrange for a special licence tomorrow. Ought I to put a notice in the Times?"

Edith ran her hands through her hair, letting out a somewhat hysterical laugh. "A notice in the Times? Oh, Anthony - " And then the tears were running down her cheeks, uncontrollably. Suddenly he was next to her, rubbing his hand across her back in soothing motions. "My dear, whatever is it?"

Edith let out a choked sob. "To hear you speak as if this is a normal arrangement… it reminds me of what we're doing and… It's just - I always promised myself that this wouldn't happen to me. That was always more Mary's style. I used to look at her and think that she would marry any man as long as he had a decent fortune, a few acres of land and a tolerably handsome face. Sybil always wanted someone who'd indulge her freedoms. And I… I just wanted someone who would pay attention to me for more than five minutes after either of them had walked into a room."

Anthony didn't know what to say. He himself had been guilty of being drawn to Mary's beauty, he knew - at least for the first evening or so of his acquaintance with the Crawley girls. Edith shrugged at last. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I never expected myself to be so calculating when it came to something like this. I never expected to have the chance." She looked up at him, and pointed out, self-deprecatingly, "I never was over-burdened with marriage proposals, you know."

Anthony bit his lip. "Edith… if this isn't what you want… if carrying on with this will make you hate yourself, then call it all off now. We'll find a different way to keep Elinor, together. I'll do all I can to help you."

Her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you. It's sweet of you to say so. But we both know that this is my best chance - our best chance. I would do anything for Elinor, Anthony. Anything." The set expression on her face, despite the tears, convinced him and his heart swelled with admiration for the forthright, clear-sighted woman she had become.

"Very well. I'm entirely at your service." He smiled tentatively, and was relieved when Edith responded in kind.

By the time the clock struck one, Edith and Anthony had stumbled their way through the preliminary arrangements. Anthony had, as Edith had predicted, offered to decamp to Locksley after the wedding; Edith, on reflection, had put her foot down. "Really, Anthony, I can't turn you out of your own home. I'm - I'm sure we can manage." He had silently conceded, but it was with some reservations; how difficult would it be to keep his earlier promises, living under the same room as Edith? Oddly enough, he decided, maintaining a chaste relationship was going to be the easy part; Anthony had never been the type of man who pursued unwilling women. No, he had given his word to Edith on that score, that she would be left entirely to her own devices. She required safety, stability and a sense of security, and for that, she had to trust him implicitly in these matters.

What would be far more difficult to keep would be his vow of non-interference in the rest of her personal life. If she met another man, would he be able to stop himself from envying the lucky young fellow? Would he be able to pretend that he had no interest in the possibility of Edith - Edith, who would be his wife - giving herself to another, heart, soul and quite possibly body, too?

"Anthony?" Edith asked softly, drawing him back to the present.

He forced a smile. "I'm sorry, my dear, I was quite somewhere else for a moment. What were you saying?"

Her face had fallen. "You're having second thoughts." She swallowed. "Of course, I quite understand - "

Anthony squeezed her hand firmly. "No. What a cad I'd be if I jilted you!" And then his eyes widened as he realised what he had said. "Edith - " But too late - Edith had realised as well. For a moment, there was silence, while Anthony desperately tried to think of something, anything, that he could say to make it better - and then Edith's mouth crinkled deeply at the corners and she exploded into laughter. Her shoulders shook, her mouth opened wide. It was a true, tear-inducing, uncontrollable fit of giggles, and Anthony drew back slightly, startled.

At last, Edith managed to recover herself and wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. "Thank you for that," she smiled. "Do you know the problem with people like us, Anthony? Too often, we forget to laugh at ourselves. And, when you think about it, it's all terribly funny. You jilt me at the altar, and then seven years later propose to me again to protect me from the odd advances of my daughter's father."

Anthony smiled somewhat uncertainly. "Perhaps you're right. Still, it was in extremely bad taste, I think. The last thing I would wish to do is to hurt you, my dear - "

Edith held up a hand. "Please, don't worry about that. I have a remarkably thick skin, Anthony. If we are to marry, and live together, then we really cannot be forever treading on eggshells. We've been such good friends recently - I don't want that to change."

There was the sound of a key in the door - Tom was back with Sybbie and Elinor. Edith got up and went into the hall to greet them, leaving Anthony alone in the sitting room. "Nor do I, sweet one," he murmured to himself. "Nor do I."

The rest of the afternoon passed off surprisingly well. Perhaps Edith was a little quiet, but the noise of the children, and Anthony's easy conversation about nothing in particular prevented it from becoming too obvious. At about five o'clock, he excused himself - he was dining with his sister and brother-in-law, and required time to prepare for the ordeal. Edith saw him to the front door. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. "Goodbye, Edith. I'll begin to make the arrangements."

She smiled. "Yes. I'll see you tomorrow?"

He nodded and released her hand. "Of course."

He inclined his head and jogged down the steps. At the bottom, he turned, raised his hand to her in farewell and strode off down the street. Edith watched him out of sight and then slowly closed the door. Tom looked up at her from his game of marbles with Sybbie on the floor, and gave her an odd look. Edith ignored him.

It wasn't until a little while later, when the girls had gone to Elinor's room to play with the dolls' house, that Edith discovered exactly what Tom's looks had meant. She got up to make a cup of tea and he followed her into the kitchen. "Are you alright?" he asked, leaning against the dresser.

"Yes, of course, why shouldn't I be?" she asked him, filling the kettle with water.

Tom shrugged. "You look a bit distracted." Edith set the kettle on to boil. He frowned suddenly, as if a sudden thought had hit him. "Has Strallan said anything? If he has, I'll - "

Edith was quick to reassure him; Tom was hot-tempered still, especially where her feelings were concerned. "It isn't Anthony. I…" She sighed, and then admitted, "Michael visited me this morning."

"Michael? Michael Gregson?"

"No, Michael Collins," she snapped sarcastically. "And for Heavens' sake, keep your voice down." She jerked her head towards the wall, through which it was possible to hear the girls' voices as they played. "He wants to have Elinor."

"He's got a bloody nerve!" Tom exclaimed in an angry undertone. "Has he got a chance?"

"I don't know. Perhaps. His wife died six months ago and he's getting married in America."

Tom banged teaspoons down on the tray with unnecessary force. "And now he wants to play happy families with our lass? What can we do?"

"Speak to a solicitor, I suppose. Sir Anthony has offered to put me in touch with his man. And…" She took a deep breath. Here was the difficult part. She could almost hear Tom's inevitable explosion already. "And we discussed the matter, and we think, under the circumstances, that it mightn't be a bad idea if we married." Tom had gone white - with shock or anger, she wasn't sure - and seemed incapable of forming words. Edith took her chance, and rushed on. "Before you say anything, please don't scold me. And don't shout, either - I haven't said anything to Elinor yet. Just think."

Surprisingly, Tom followed her advice, although with difficulty. He took several deep breaths and then turned, hands on hips, to pace the tiny kitchen. Edith braced her hands on the counter behind her and watched him anxiously, biting her lip.

At last, he turned to face her. "All right. All right. Will being married help?"

Edith nodded silently. "Anthony seems to think so - and quite frankly I agree with him. It's an awful state of affairs, and if it were anyone else asking - if I were facing the loss of anyone else - "

Tom pursed his lips. "I don't like it," he stated. "You and Anthony Strallan - "

"When Anthony was courting me the first time, you liked him!" she protested heatedly. "You said he was different from all the other gentlemen you'd met!"

Tom's eyebrow quirked almost viciously. "When he was courting you the first time? Edith, you make it sound like he's courting you now! But he's not, is he? He's proposed for Elinor's sake. You know what you're doing, don't you? You're marrying a man for simple security - it's no different from marrying someone for their money!"

Edith pressed a hand to her forehead. "I know," she whispered at last, in her most conciliatory tone. "That's what it sounded like to me at first. But then I thought of what it would be like to lose Elinor, and I couldn't do it, Tom. It would break me. Next to that, what's a little discomfort?"

"Discomfort? Discomfort? Edie - we're talking about marriage! Joined together before man and God, to love, honour and obey for the rest of your lives! And Anthony Strallan, for God's sake!" He was almost squawking now, albeit in an undertone, and Edith winced. She had expected fireworks, of course, but not such a spectacular display as she was getting at the present moment.

"There are other ways of doing this, Edie," he said firmly, and she suddenly realised what he was about to do. She stepped back, but Tom had already seized her hand and was preparing to kneel on her kitchen floor. "Because I'd marry you - I'd marry you like a shot if it meant we could keep our girl here."

Gently, she made him get up. "Tom. It's terribly sweet of you, but I can't marry you. You know I can't, my dear."

"And why not?" he demanded.

"Because… oh, for a hundred reasons! We'd tear each other apart within a week, Tom, and you know it. We're too alike - both too stubborn, both with tempers. And you used to be married to my sister!"

"Sybil wouldn't mind!" Tom hastened to reassure her.

Edith let out an exasperated little laugh. "Oh, my darling, it isn't about her minding! It's about the fact that you were very much in love with her, and still are. You couldn't live in a marriage of convenience, Tom, not after what you had with my sister. I… I don't have anything to compare Anthony to - well, nothing except Michael, anyway, and I can assure you that Anthony is a vast improvement on that score."

Tom was pacing again. He ran a hand through his brown hair; really, Edith thought, he was beginning to look quite demented. He turned on her, and jabbed a finger into the air. "And another thing - has he forgotten what happened the last time he stood up in a church with you?"

"No," she replied solemnly. "I don't believe he ever will. But he has a reason for going through with it this time."

Tom's lip curled with disapproval. "You can't marry him!" he enunciated emphatically.

"Oh, so it's alright for me to marry you for convenience, but not Anthony Strallan?" Edith snorted.

He cast a dark look at the boiling kettle and folded his arms. "It wouldn't matter to you if I had other women," Tom reminded her enigmatically.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Edith asked, indignantly.

"You're not in love with me," Tom replied dryly. "Any eejit can see that you are in love with Strallan, and if you married him and he carried on with someone else… you wouldn't like it much."

Edith drew herself up to her full height. "Anthony's an honourable man! When he marries me, he'll be faithful!"

Tom shrugged. "You know him better than I do. But could you bear it if he did decide to have a mistress?"

Edith stared at him for a while in silence. A lump had developed in her throat, and she remembered Anthony's words as he had made his offer. Love, romance - I would place no constraints of that sort on your life. It wouldn't be unreasonable for him to expect the same considerations from her. A sudden sense of desolation swept through her. She had no right to dictate to Anthony what company he could and could not keep. But it didn't stop her heart from constricting painfully when she imagined Anthony kissing, embracing, perhaps making love to, another woman. "I - I - that's besides the point! It isn't any of my business!"

Tom's eyes were filled with doubt.