Cousin Matthew was dressed for walking when he came down to breakfast. Not only dressed for walking, but also to impress Edith suspected.
"Going out?" she inquired, buttering her muffin.
"Just a quick jaunt with some friends. You would be most welcome to join us if you wish," he offered.
"I thank you, but no. I think I will stay in this morning. With whom are you out jaunting with?"
"Miss Swire," he answered promptly, before quickly returning to his paper.
"Are you planning on jilting me two?" Edith teased him gently, a smile tugging at her lips.
Cousin Matthew just grinned back, "And Miss Lane Fox and her fiance, Mr Blake,"
Edith, remembering Lord Gillingham's behaviour during the house party, had not been surprised to hear of Miss Lane Fox's change in fiance. She only hoped she found more happiness in this engagement than the last one.
Having spent two months in London, Edith was rather suspicious as to the lack of engagement between Mary and Lord Hexham. She did not try to dwell upon it too much, it was pleasant to put off fully having to come to terms with Hexham's betrayal. She just relished the opportunity to avoid the inevitable. Then, one morning a letter arrived from Downton, sent yesterday. One that would surely put an end to the engagement between Lord Hexham and Mary, or any engagement at all for that matter, for Mary or Edith. Not Sybil though. It was Sybil's engagement that reduced her sisters to almost certain sisterhood.
The letter was from her mother, informing Edith of the elopement and pleading her to return home and be of some comfort to her.
My dearest child,
My heart grieves for the most unpleasant news I must relate to you. This morning your father and sister Mary attended breakfast, only to find that Sybil was not there. Assuming she must not yet be up, or somewhere else in the house, they thought little of it and continued their breakfast. It was then that Carson, who they was not present on their awaking, arrived. He informed then that when Anna had gone to attend on Sybil, she was no there. Her bed was also unslept in. Anne had gone straight to Mrs Hughes and questioned the other maids if any were aware of Sybil's presence. It was thereupon discovered that none had seen her last night. She had gone to bed early and requested to be allowed to go unattended.
With her whereabouts unknown, your father and the male staff began searches on the grounds, whilst we searched the house. A letter, previously unfound, was discovered by Mary on Sybil's dressing table. It informed us that she had fallen in love with Branson, our coachman, and has gone to (it is here that the writing became somewhat shaky and smudges appeared on the page,) Gretna Green, where the two will be wed on arrival. After this message was discovered; and Branson's absence confirmed, your father immediately set off for Gretna Green. I do not know what he plans to do with them. I do know that before he went, he took his pistol.
My dear girl, your poor mother begs you to come home. Your father is gone, and Mama and Mary are of no comfort. I long to see you, and to hold you in my arms. I fear that one daughter is lost to me, and I loathe to have my remaining two out of sight.
With the deepest love,
Your most affectionate Mama.
Edith's face turned pale. She tried to inform her aunt and cousin of the letter's contents, but the word jammed in her throat like a hunk of beef that had not been properly chewed. Seeing Edith's distress, Cousin Matthew gently prised the letter from her lily white hand. He managed to catch her eye, and at her nod read the letter out loud.
Stunned silence followed Cousin Matthew's reading. He waited gravely for Aunt Rosamund or Edith to speak first, but on seeing them both in such violent states of shock, he took charge.
"Lady Rosamund," he said calmly, "Would you be so good as to lend us your carriage? I should hate to be of an inconvenience to you, but I rather believe that the sooner we set off the better,"
"Of course my dear," Aunt Rosamund sad calmly, efficiently taking back control, "I will speak to the staff and have them pack your luggage forthwith. I daresay you will be ready to leave after lunch," having said this, Aunt Rosamund turned back to Edith and squeezed her hand gently. "This is an utterly terrible state of affairs my dear and I am sure you would wish to be home soon,"
Edith could not respond. She simply stared numbly at Aunt Rosamund's concerned face. Belatedly, she noticed that her hands were shaking, and a horrified voice that was not her own began to say "oh God, oh God," repeatedly. Rosamund quickly had a blanket fetched, which she tenderly wrapped round her shoulders. The sudden shiver and shakes that had engulfed her body would not cease.
"Dear Cousin, is there anything I can do for you?" Cousin Matthew pleaded, alarmed by Edith's unresponsive state, "Perhaps I can ring for some tea?"
"I think a hot brandy is more appropriate, given the circumstances," Aunt Rosamund informed him, and went to ring for one, as well as a glass for herself and Matthew. Heaven knows, they all needed one.
Still, having regained her senses, Edith quickly refused the offer. "I do not want brandy, or tea. I shall go for a walk," She abruptly stood, and headed for the door where she was waylaid by Cousin Matthew.
"Are you quite sure that is wise, dear cuz? Perhaps I should go with you?" he offered.
"No. Thank you. I wish to be quite alone at present,"
At that, Edith hastily quitted the room. Forgoing her new green pelisse or red velvet spencer, she yanked on a drab cloak and completely forgot her bonnet before rushing out of the house. The rooms seemed to be swiftly closing in on her, so that it was with a great deal of relief that she stepped into the streets and breathed in the cool air.
She took of at a brisk pace down the streets of Belgrave square, directly heading to the nearby gardens. Emotions which she could not quite place roared within her, and upon reaching Belgrave Gardens she slowed her pace somewhat, in order to gather her thoughts.
In truth, she did not quite know what to feel. In regards to Sybil and Branson, she knew enough of Sybil's character; as well as some of Branson's, to not feel too concerned on Sybil's behalf. Unless Papa made use of his pistol. Indeed, most of her feelings were for Mama and Papa, and herself.
She could not imagine the turmoil they must be feeling now, especially as there was little chance of intercepting Sybil and Branson before they reached Gretna Green. It was clear from the letter that her mother was in a great deal of distress.
That said, one particular sentence stuck in Edith's head. "My Dearest child," Since when was Edith Cora's dearest child? Now that Sybil had ruined the families name, she may have been raised in her family's esteem somewhat. Maybe. But she has never been their "Dearest,". Knowing this made deciding her next course of action a difficult task. The conflicting parts of her that had waged war over her poems had once more took up their swords and banners. For she could not deny, she was tempted to respond to her mother informing her that she could not be dragged from London at this current time, and to instead seek comfort in Mary.
One part of her protested vehemently against this. It pleaded with her to consider the look on her mother's face on reading such a letter. Intriguingly, the part of her urging to send the letter pleaded the exact same thing.
So caught up in these thoughts was she, that she did not notice the young man in front of her until she walked to straight into him. Looking up in order to apologise, she found herself staring into the cold face of Lord Hexham. He coolly made his apologies, which were returned with equal indifference.
"Lord Hexham," she muttered, dropping a shallow curtsey, "Pray excuse me,"
She went to move forwards, only to halt when she heard Lord Hexham order her to "Wait!" She turned back round to see him glaring down at her. Although she saw the fury in his eyes, she was unmoved by it. For she knew full well that she had done naught to deserve it. Why, how was it that he felt entitled to look at her with such distaste, when it was he who treated her feelings so callously? That said, she could not help but be conscious of her shabby appearance.
He took a few steps towards her, and regarded her with a jittery sort of anger before finally spitting out "I pray you excuse me for my lack of manners, but I must speak!"
"Oh yes?" Edith asked with an impressive raise of her eyebrow.
"Why is it," he began, "That you have not responded to one of my letters?"
Edith did not quite know how to respond to that! Unaware of Edith's shock, Lord Hexham carried on. "If you wished to end your acquaintance with me, then you could have at least written your rejection instead of ignoring me completely and leave me wallowing in hope,"
"Pardon me, sir, but I believe you are quite mistaken. I have not received a single letter from you since your departure. Any letters you may have sent to Downton would immediately be forwarded to my Aunt's address in London. And yet, as you see I am quite letterless," she responded tartly.
"What? I beg your pardon, my Lady, but I assure you that I have written to you thrice weekly, sheet after sheet! And yet I have not once had any response from you. The first I heard of you in weeks was that you were to be engaged to Mr Crawley, when I heard it from some Ladies my mother made acquaintance with whilst in Bath. And fair enough, you may marry whom you please. But the least you owe me is a letter informing me of your lack of attachment to me, instead of letting me find out by hearsay!"
It was at this point, Edith suspected a lapse of communication had occurred.
"Lord Hexham," she said calmly, "Did you, or did you not inform my mother's Lady's maid on your departure to pass on your most esteemed affection for my sister Mary?"
"To be sure, I asked Miss O'Brien to pass on my affection. But it was too you, not the Lady Mary," cooling somewhat, he added "I made it quite clear that I had intended the message for you. Is it possible that Lady Grantham's Lady's maid is hard of hearing?"
Edith considered her mother's waspish Lady's maid for a moment. "Hard of hearing, no. Hard of heart, certainly. She insisted it was Mary to whom you meant your affections. We all assumed that the affection you showed me was a mere game,"
Shaking, his hands reached out to take hers, which two were trembling. "Oh my darling, did you really think me so ungentlemanly? That I could treat you so abominably ill?"
Edith shook her head, grinning ruefully. "I always thought you to be the very best of men. Only myself to be unworthy of such a man,"
From beneath his hat, Lord Hexham's face softened and broke out into a hopeful grin. "Then, does this mean that you are not engaged to your Cousin?"
On her own face, Edith felt a smile spreading and stretching out her cheeks. "No," she replied, "I am not engaged,"
Lord Hexham let out a delighted bark of laughter, and Edith's chest swelled with a disbelieving sense of pure joy.
"Then my Lady Edith, I have a request to make of you-" he began, before Edith quickly cut him off.
"My Lord, before you say anything I fear that I must inform you that my sister has caused a scandal that will no doubt be the talk of society for time to come. It has not yet reached the public's ears, but Lady Sybil has eloped with our coachman,"
"Ah," Lord Hexham paused to take this into account, before making a carless gesture with his hands as though this could dismiss the scandal entirely, "You forget my Darling, that I am the Marquess of Hexham. High pockets and high birth,"
"Pray, what is your meaning my Lord?"
"I mean that I'm rich and important. I can damned well do what I like! Be that marry a coachman's sister in law, or kiss her in full view... with her consent of course,"
Edith could not quite believe what was happening. Instead of trying to, she simply laughed and assured Lord Hexham that he had her consent. With that, he bent down and gently pulled her towards him. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, and she rested a hand on his shoulder, waiting for the proffered kiss. When it came, an overwhelming feeling of complete joy welled within her. Lord Hexham pulled away and rested his lips on top of her hair.
"Oh, my darling Edith," he murmured.
Edith's heart leapt at hearing her first name on his lips, and remained firm in his embrace, regardless of the scandal it would cause if they were seen. After all, Sybil had already quite destroyed their family's reputation. And let her! Who was Edith to deny her sister and Branson the happiness and comfort she felt in that moment? That feeling of complete and utter delight with the world, safely tucked away in her darling Bertie's arms.