Edith got past a maid who was sitting in the foyer of the suit she shared with Sybil and went straight into her sister's room, then closed the door behind her. She desperately wanted to tell someone about the events of that morning before they all went to lunch.

"Sybil, you need to…"

Sybil was sitting on her bed, with her back to the door. When she turned around to face her sister, Edith saw she had been crying. Her eyes were puffy and somewhat blurry, her features swollen. Even in her distressed state, Edith noticed with a sigh, she looked stunning. Desperation suited her.

"…Oh." She stood there for a moment, then she went to sit on the bed next to Sybil. "Is it about that boy you met?" She placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Mama and Papa have forbidden me from seeing Tom again" Sybil angrily wiped the tears from her face and sniffled.

"Well, of course they did. What did you expect, Mama crying from happiness and Papa giving his blessing to the union?" She shook her head. "I still don't understand why on Earth you felt the need to tell Granny."

Sybil turned to her. Her tear-filled blue eyes sparkled. "I need to stand up for what I believe in."

"And you believe in a boy you just met?"

"More than anything." she gave her a sad smile.

Edith suppressed the impulse to laugh. Poor Sybil, she was such a child! She though she was in love with a man she just met... but then again, who was she to sit in judgment, when she herself was beginning to feel something for a certain tall, handsome baronet? Of course, there was no comparison between their situation: Sybil's was nothing more than a temporary fling, Edith was sure of it, while hers...

"Besides, I hate to do things in secret, you know." Sybil added.

Edith sighed. "Yes, you've always been like that. I wonder how you, Mary and I can possibly be related."

Sybil smiled weakly. "Also, have you seen the look on Granny's face when I told her? You have to admit, it was almost worth it."

They both giggled, then quickly sobered up.

"What are you planning to do now?"

Sybil shrugged. "I don't know. They watch me like hawks, Mama and Papa, and Granny of course. Have you seen the maid outside the door? Granny told the poor thing to sit there and prevent me from going anywhere without Mama and Papa knowing."

Edith looked at her sister. She looked really miserable, while she was so happy.

"Listen, Syb, I don't approve of what you're doing, either. But I've been in third class, this morning, and -"

"You did what?" Sybil looked surprised. She was the nonconformist one, the rebel, not Edith. Edith was the most traditional of the trio.

Edith looked uncomfortable. "You see, Sir Anthony and I were outside on the bridge and he happened to recognize an old comrade in arms from the war. A Mr Miller, travelling in steerage. He is not allowed to come up to our deck, so we went down to meet him."

Sybil looked at her inquiringly. "You like this Sir Anthony, don't you?"

Edith blushed. "He's a fine, kind man. Why shouldn't I like him?"

"That's not what I meant." Sybil had stopped crying. "Isn't he too old for you? He must be at least fifty."

"Forty-six." Edith retorted. "He told me he's one year younger than Papa. They were in the same rowing team in Eton."

Sybil looked at her for a moment. "It's still a lot, Edie." she said, eventually. "You're half his age."

Edith felt uncomfortable. She had gone in her sister's room to confide in her about her blooming feelings, but now she wasn't so sure it was a good idea. She was suddenly afraid that, in telling someone else, the subtle magic of it could somehow fade. What if her sister laughed about it? What if she, like Granny, thought she was pathetic in pursuing him? She decided to steer the subject away from Sir Anthony.

"Anyway, you didn't let me finish what I was saying. I went down in third class and I have to say… it's not that terrible, you know?"

Sybil raised her eyebrows. "I don't understand what you're saying."

Edith smiled. "I'm saying, if you and I went to get some fresh air on the bridge, after lunch, and we just so happened to end up in third class for a quick goodbye to your Tom, it wouldn't be that bad... wouldn't it?"

Sybil's eyes lit up, but she was still hesitant. "But how? I told you Mama and Papa watch my every move!"

"Mama and Papa will go to their rooms to lay down after lunch, and if I assure them I will be there to supervise you and prevent you from doing anything scandalous, I don't see how they could stop you from taking a little walk…"

Sybil's eyes widened. "Would you do this for me?"

"Well, of course, for it to work, you need to be on your best behavior at lunch and act like you had forgotten about the boy already. Now, wipe those tears and let's ask Anna to dress you up."

She squeezed Sybil's shoulder, then got up from the bed. "Send her to me when you're finished, all right?"

Sybil looked up at her. "Why are you being so kind to me?"

Edith smiled. She knew she hadn't always been nice to her sisters, but the truth was, she was happy for once, and wanted others to partake in her happiness. It was a new thing for her. "Well, let's just say this ship inspires people to do wild things."

…

At lunch, taking advantage of the fact that the Dowager Countess had her meal served in her room, Edith dropped the news about the invitation to dinner. Everyone seemed quite surprised; Lady Grantham blinked, as if the idea of her middle daughter being asked out was absolutely bewildering; Lord Grantham put down her fork and stared at her. Sybil and Matthew smiled, and Mary, being Mary, rolled her eyes and pursed her lips in a sneer of contempt.

"He's leading you on." she said. "The A La Carte restaurant needs to be booked days in advance. Matthew tried to have a table reserved for us and he couldn't."

Edith frowned. Mary was just trying to upset her, but what if she was right? "Maybe Sir Anthony has some high-level contacts. He's friends with Lord Pirrie, after all." she answered, feebly. She had been so happy just moments before, and now doubt crept again in her mind: but that was no news - Mary had always been ready to put a damper on her every success.

"I'm sure Sir Anthony wouldn't ask Edith for dinner if he wasn't sure about it, Mary" Lady Grantham reproached her. "Careful, dear." she added, under her breath. "People will think you're jealous."

She then turned and smiled to Edith. "I think it's a lovely idea, Edith dear. You must thank Sir Anthony for his kind invitation, and of course you have to accept."

Edith couldn't help but smile.

Lord Grantham, still dubious, leaned in on his wife. "Are you absolutely sure it's a good idea, my dear?" he frowned. "Sir Anthony is a good fellow, but he's at least my age. People will talk..."

"Oh, Papa…" Edith started, but her mother raised a hand to stop her.

"Nonsense, Robert dear." she looked at him with a meaningful expression in her eyes. "It would be a pity if Edith missed the opportunity to dine out and have a good time, for once, wouldn't it? The girls won't have many occasions to have fun, back at home."

Robert moved uncomfortably on his chair. "Well, I…"

"Then it's settled." Lady Grantham cut short her husband's objections. She smiled again at Edith.

"I'll ask my maid to do your updo, this evening. She has very good hands for doing people's hair. She was trained in France, you know."

"Really? Oh, Mama!" Edith leaned in and kissed her mother on the cheek.

Edith smiled contentedly. She almost didn't notice Mary's scoffing and the look her parents exchanged. This was her day, and nothing could ruin it.

…

After lunch, she and Sybil announced they were going to "take a bit of fresh air" on the deck promenade. Lady Grantham gave her youngest daughter an inquisitive look, but Edith was quick to reassure her.

"We're just going for a little walk. I'll watch over Sybil."

"I'm not sure."

"Oh, Mama, you can't lock us up!" Edith looked sullen. "The sun's shining, everyone's out and about, and it's not like we sail on the grandest ship known to man every day!"

Lady Grantham still looked doubtful but, eventually, she gave in. "All right" she said, then raised a warning finger. "But no more raids in third class. And no more tales of handsome Irish mechanics, or you two will be in serious trouble, girls."

Edith managed to look positively disgusted. "Mama! We'll keep well clear of that. I don't want to be crawling with lice when Sir Anthony picks me up for dinner. Besides, I'm sure Sybil had forgotten about that boy already. Don't you, Syb?" Sybil was quick to nod her agreement.

Lady Grantham sighed another "All right, then" and let the two of them go.

With a dignified look on her face, Edith turned to her sister. "Shall we go, Syb?"

Sybil got up from her chair and they strolled out of the dining room, arm in arm, as serious and dignified as statues. They barely managed to close the door before they fell into a giggling fit.

"Crawling with lice?" squealed Sybil, half choked with laughter.

"It's the first thing I could think about." Edith wiped a tear from her eyes. They pulled themselves together while a couple in elegant clothes and a parasol brushed past them, then resumed their laughter.

"I think we should go" Sybil said, eventually, and they both walked down the bridge. They waited until nobody was around, then reached the gate to the third class.

"Remember: you find the boy, say your goodbyes, and up we go" Edith unlatched the gate, like she had seen Sir Anthony do that morning, and they went down; the steerage men on the deck stopped what they were doing and stared at them.

Edith felt self-conscious. That morning, the mere fact Sir Anthony was with her had made her feel safe and confident, but now she didn't know what to do, where to go.

"Where do you think we could find your Tom?" she whispered to Sybil.

"The third class general room, I hope. If he's not in his bunk."

Edith stared at her. "Well, I won't let you go into a man's bunk, but we can try the general room and hope he's here."

…

The third class general room was the most boisterous place Edith had ever seen. There were kids running between the benches, women yelling. People of all ages were dancing, drinking beer and wine, smoking, laughing, and some boys, shrieking and shouting, were scrambling around chasing a rat.

"Now the idea of getting head lice doesn't sound so far-fetched, does it" Edith whispered.

When the two sisters got inside, the activity in the room stopped; everything fell silent.

Edith felt self-conscious again, as the steerage passengers stared openly at her and Sybil: their clothes – through they were wearing simple afternoon frocks: white cotton and embroidered French net, nothing too fancy – looked out of place and almost ridiculous there, where steerage women wore faded calico skirts, plain blouses and shawls. Even their hairdos looked too elaborate and extravagant. Edith was suddenly, acutely aware of the weight of her garnet earrings and necklace.

Sybil spotted Tom, sitting on a bench; he was staring at her, bewildered: Sybil gave him a little smile.

Edith looked at him, trying to understand why Sybil was so fascinated by him. She thought he was handsome, in a rugged, sturdy way: blue eyes, dark hair, stubbly chin; but, most importantly, he looked young and hot-blooded, just like her sister.

"Is it him?" Edith whispered, but Sybil was no longer paying attention to her; she was walking straight to Tom. "Hello" she simply said.

He rised to meet her, half smiling, half surprised. "Hello again" he managed to say. He was still staring at her. "I did not know you were…" he waved a hand at her dress, her hair, her jewels.

"… Rich?" Sybil smiled.

"Yes" Tom chuckled. "It's quite a surprise, to be honest."

Sybil shuffled on her feet. "Could I speak to you?"

"Uh, yes. Sure." he seemed unable to take his eyes out of her.

"…in private."

"Oh. Of course. After you."

He motioned her ahead and followed her outside; as they walked out, the room was left in a stunned silence.

Again, Edith felt out of place and anxious. Should I get back to the promenade deck? She thought, smiling nervously at the steerage passengers. But what if Sybil needs me... She clutched her hands and she tried to slip away from the crowd.

"Lady Edith?" she heard a familiar voice calling her name. Suddenly, Mr Miller was there, with his hat in his hand, smiling at her and his large, plain face was a welcome sight in a sea of foreign, hostile (or so Edith thought) people. "What a lovely surprise. What are you doing down here, M'lady?"

Edith smiled back, relieved to be able to talk with someone she knew, if only superficially. She felt a surge of gratitude for that simple, kind man: it was clear to her that he had seen her there, standing uncomfortably in a place she didn't belong to, and he had come to her rescue. "My sister, Lady Sybil, wanted to say hello to a friend of hers - but it looks like I'm the third wheel."

Mr Miller looked dubious. "I see" he said, hesitantly. It was clear by the look on his face he was wondering what kind of friends could they possibly have in steerage, but, as straightforward and uncouth as he might have been, he was polite enough not to ask.

"So you're a good friend of Sir Anthony, I gather, M'lady?" he asked, to change the subject.

She smiled. "Yes, I hope so."

"He's a fine man, that one, M'lady." He shook his head. "Pity for his arm. He took a bullet in the wrong place, y'see."

Edith turned serious. "Yes, so I've heard. Must have been very hard for him."

"Aye." He shook his head. "He sees himself as a poor old cripple, M'lady, but he's not old and, even with his wretched arm, he doesn't need help at all." He hesitated for a moment. "He's not bad looking, either." he added, eventually.

He was clearly pleading the cause for his former captain, and Edith blushed: was it that obvious that she was after him?

"Yes, I think so, too." Edith said, shyly. It was terribly unladylike to be talking like that - and to a commoner, on top of that! What would Mama think of me, if she was there? she thought.

But Mr Miller beamed. "Ah! I knew you and I would agree on that. He's a fine looking fellow: he just needs a wife to beef him up a little. He lost quite some weight since the last time I saw him."

Edith didn't know whether to be exasperated ot amused at Mr Miller's boldness and candor. "Oh?"

"I think it's the loss of his wife. Took a toll on him, y'see."

"I see." Edith thought that Sir Anthony's cheeks were, indeed, a bit gaunt. She had noticed it the evening before, when they both stopped under a lamp of the First Class Entrance.

"He spoke very fondly of her, during the war. Fonder than most men when talking about their wives, M'lady." he paused, then resumed talking. "If you forgive my bluntness I think, M'lady, that if you'll keep being… friends with Sir Anthony, you won't regret it."

Edith gave him a little smile. "No, I don't think I'll regret it. Thank you, Mr Miller."

He nodded. "You're welcome, M'lady - oh, look, isn't that your sister?"

Sybil and her Irish friend were back. Tom was smiling from ear to ear and she looked flushed and bright-eyed; it didn't take a genius to work out that the two of them had been kissing.

Sybil quickly approached Edith and took her by the arm. "Shall we go, sister dear?" she said, merrily.

"Goodbye, Mr Miller. I hope to see you again" Edith managed to say, before Sybil dragged her outside. The younger Crawley girl was so cheerful she was almost dancing.

"I thought you were only supposed to say goodbye" Edith remarked.

"I did." Sybil sported an innocent expression.

"Before or after you kissed him?"

"Before… and after." she giggled.

"Let me guess: you're going to see him again."

Sybil looked at her. "Well, you said it yourself: this ship inspires people to do wild things."