AN: And now, for the morning after the night before...

Edith woke up with her back pressed against the solid warmth of another human being for the first time in almost six years. For a moment, she couldn't comprehend what was going on, and then she recalled the previous night and groaned mutedly. She'd asked him to stay with her. And he had…

It was a rather disconcerting thought, so Edith distracted herself by taking stock of her surroundings. She had turned over in her sleep, and Anthony's hand had fallen lazily over her hip. She could feel that the top of her head had slotted perfectly beneath his chin - his occasional quiet snore would rustle the tips of her hair.

Anthony shifted and kissed the top of her head. "Darling…" he breathed out, so quietly and reverently that Edith wasn't sure whether or not she was supposed to have heard. In the mist between sleeping and waking, did he dream that he had Maude in his arms and bed again? Of course, that would be it. She sat up and realised that she was still wearing her gown from the night before; she chanced a glance down at Anthony's still sleeping countenance and half-smiled. Of course he wouldn't have undressed her. He was lying on the outside of the blankets, even, in evening dress (minus his waistcoat, collar and tie) and was presenting such a comical picture that Edith had to stifle a small giggle.

Clearly she had not stifled it well enough, however, because Anthony opened his eyes, blinking in the morning light. He caught sight of her, frowned, and then the expression cleared as he recalled, as Edith had, the events of the previous evening. "Good morning," he murmured, voice croaking from sleep. Edith drew the covers up to her neck, revelling in the warmth. "Good morning. Th-thank you for staying with me."

Anthony smiled in return. "Not at - "

And then the door burst open. In ran Elinor, trailing Edward Teddington. "Mummy, Mummy, I can't find my - " She stopped, eyes wide, looking between her mother and Anthony. "Why's Anthony here with you, Mummy?"

Edith opened her mouth to reply, but Elinor had already turned to Anthony. "Did you have a bad dream?" she asked seriously. "Mummy always lets me come in with her when I have a bad dream."

Anthony cast a nervous glance at Edith, and she smiled reassuringly. "No, sweet one. I thought I was going to have a bad dream, so Anthony came to keep me company."

Elinor seemed to accept this excuse, and climbed up to sit next to Edith. Wriggling herself under the duvet, she frowned again. "Mummy, you're still wearing your pretty dress!"

Anthony was by this time hiding a grin behind his hand; Edith made a mental note to scold him for it at the soonest opportunity. "Yes," she replied patiently. "I - couldn't find my nightie, darling. It seems we're both a bit forgetful at the moment!" Edith brushed a strand of wayward hair from her daughter's eyes and began to get up. "Now, sweet one, what can't you find?"

Breakfast was a quiet, rather bashful affair. Edith busied herself with helping Elinor eat her soft-boiled egg and soldiers, too embarrassed to even look her husband in the eye; Anthony busied himself with the Times, trying not to blush every time he thought of how it felt to wake to Edith in his arms. Afterwards, Anthony went to the library, and Edith took Elinor up to the study with a large sketch pad and her colouring pencils. For the first time in several months, Anthony and Edith had exchanged barely a word, and Edith spent the first few hours of her day's work in contemplation of luncheon passing in the same awkward silence that had so unhappily characterised breakfast.

Silence was eventually broken at eleven o'clock - each party had had their mid-morning cup of tea, and soon after she had set her cup aside, Edith heard Anthony's steps outside her study and his shy knock at the door. "Come in!" she called, scratching out a troublesome line in her manuscript with rather more force than was strictly necessary. Anthony poked his head around the door. "Sorry to disturb you," he smiled, still slightly ill-at-ease. "I think you may have my Brewer's."

Edith raised her head properly from the manuscript and gave a confused, distracted little frown. "Pardon? Your…"

"Brewer's," Anthony repeated, edging further into the study. "Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. I've looked everywhere… did you perhaps borrow it?"

Edith laid down her pen and got up to rifle amongst the several piles of books that lay on the small round table by the window. At last, she pulled out a particularly thick, heavy book and held it out. "Sorry," she murmured. "Here it is." A small smile curled her lower lip. "Perhaps I should start leaving notes…"

Anthony shook his head. "Not at all. Sorry again for disturbing. I'll see you at luncheon." He hurried out. Edith stood in the middle of the study for a moment and then, glancing back to check that Elinor was still engrossed in her drawing, followed him. He was halfway down the corridor, but the sound of her quick footsteps made him pause and turn, an enquiring look on his face. "Edith?"

She stopped in front of him, impatiently brushing back a red-gold curl that had fallen over her eyes. "Anthony… I - I just wanted to thank you again for… for staying with me last night. For being so nice about it all."

"Oh. Well, you know, it wasn't any trouble. It's not as if you… snore, or anything!" He let out a nervous little chuckle and after a moment, Edith joined him.

When the laughter had died away, Edith reached out and squeezed his free hand. "Thank you anyway. I - I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, last night, by asking… well, you know."

Anthony lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it reassuringly. "You didn't make me uncomfortable. It was going to come up sooner or later - I'm only sorry that it happened when you were in such a state. Don't worry about it anymore."

Edith took a deep breath and her face finally cleared. "Alright. I shan't. But, Anthony… it was terribly nice, to have you with me in that way. Very… reassuring." She looked away, biting her lip, unable to take the last leap.

Gently, Anthony helped. "If it's what you want, then I've no objections to… to doing what we did last night, again. Sharing a bed."

She exhaled quietly with relief and when she looked up at him, her face had been split with a glorious, sunny smile. "I'd like that very much."

After luncheon, Edith and Elinor went out - the former had an appointment at the fashion house which Diana had suggested she begin to frequent, to collect a new gown, and Anthony was going to be busily engaged with his estate manager, just down from Yorkshire that morning. The meeting was an excruciatingly detailed one, even for a man such as Anthony who usually enjoyed involving himself intimately in the runnings of all his business affairs, and so, having finally seen Mr Briggs out and settled himself in the library writing a letter to David, Anthony was dismayed to hear Figgins' quiet voice in the hall as he opened the front door, and then his footsteps approaching the library. "There's a visitor for her ladyship, sir. A Miss Worth. I know that her ladyship is out at present, but are you at home, sir?"

Anthony brushed over his eyes with tired fingers and then nodded. The least he could do for Edith was to be polite to her friends. "Yes, Figgins. Send her up."

He stood and reached for his tweed jacket, discarded over the back of the library sofa, and had just put it on and managed to rearrange his features into something resembling a welcoming smile when Figgins escorted Miss Worth. "Sir Anthony!" she smiled widely in greeting and held out a hand to shake. Anthony hastened to comply.

"Miss Worth, good afternoon! Looking for Edith, I understand? I'm afraid she and Elinor are out at the moment, at her dressmakers'. Can I offer you some tea?"

Helen shook her head. "Not for me, thanks. This is only a flying visit."

They took seats - Helen on the sofa, Anthony in the armchair facing it. Helen reached into her handbag and pulled out a square of what appeared at first glance to be a piece of rather thick paper. "I thought you might like this," she explained as she did so. "I was clearing out some cupboards earlier, and found it lurking in an old box." And she passed over a photograph to Anthony. It was not of the usual type - neither of the subjects appeared to realise that they were being photographed; one because she was only a baby, and the other because she was too focused on her daughter to be aware of anything else. Anthony swallowed. Elinor couldn't be more than a few months old, but she was batting gently at Edith's cheek with her tiny palm, and Edith's face had split into a soft laugh, eyes glowing with delight as she held her.

"The camera loves her," Helen commented gently. "Edie's beautiful when she smiles, isn't she?"

"The most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on," Anthony murmured absently. And then his head shot up as he realised he had been tricked, just in time to see Helen's self-satisfied grin.

Rapidly, he back-tracked. "What I mean to say is - all the women in Edith's family have a certain sort of attractiveness - "

Helen's tinkling chuckle cut through his words. "And you think Edie's the most attractive of the lot," she finished, reaching into her handbag for her cigarette case.

"Miss Worth - " Anthony tried, but she only smiled sweetly up at him and offered him the case.

"Cigarette?"

"Thank you, no. Miss Worth - "

She lit up and waved the cigarette airily in his general direction. "Oh, please, call me Helen. I'm actually glad I've had the chance to speak to you alone, Sir Anthony."

Anthony was becoming more and more disconcerted by the minute, and Helen's revelation had done nothing to reassure him. "Oh?" he managed, voice wobbling on the verge of panic.

"Yes," Helen confirmed decisively. She took a long draught of her gasper and commented, "Edith's had a terribly rough time of it since Michael chucked it, you know. She pretends she hasn't, but she has. You've seen for yourself what a brute he was."

Anthony's face darkened and Helen saw the haunted, hunted look that had come into his eyes. "Yes. I'm afraid I have," he replied quietly.

"Then you'll know that she needs someone who will devote himself to her. And to Elinor. She needs someone who'll see through that jolly mask she's been wearing for the last five years. Do you understand?"

"I think I do, Miss Worth." He paused, and ran a hand across his face, framing his next words carefully. "Please - let me tell you, I care for Edith very deeply - "

Again, Helen interrupted. It seemed that she wasn't the sort of woman to stand by and be talked at for too long; Anthony could see why she and Edith were friends. "Yes, that's what she told me. I'm sorry to say that I didn't see it until the wedding."

Anthony frowned. "Did Edith… tell you what I did to her?" His voice was hesitant, ashamed, and Helen suddenly saw the truth of the man - kind, gentle, obviously clever, and yet with such a horrid knot of self-loathing lodged in his heart. Any lingering desire to berate him on behalf of her friend melted away. Instead she raised her eyebrow, and said almost comically, "Of course she did. Sir Anthony, there's only so much that a girl of Edie's upbringing can hold back the first time she gets properly squiffy."

Anthony didn't share a smile at the joke. Instead, he murmured, "You must think very little of me."

Helen paused, instinct fighting politeness. Eventually, the two came to an uneasy truce. "I think you were a fool to behave the way you did," she replied honestly. "At the very least you were horribly misguided. Edith's the sort of person who needs an awful lot to make her happy, you know. Not - not money and silly things like that, or even someone who 'cares very deeply' for her. But… she needs a man who will appreciate her brains, and support her in that way. A man who won't take advantage of her kindness and generosity. Someone who's brave enough to accept her independence and still be willing to comfort her when things are going wrong, and take her comfort in turn. She'll only be happy with complete equality, you know. And of course there's Elinor to consider."

Anthony nodded hesitantly. He recognised that the conversation had shifted subtly, that they were no longer simply sharing their mutual admiration of his wife, but rather that he himself was being sized up as a suitable, nay good, husband. "I'd rather come to that conclusion myself, Miss Worth."

Her eyes sharpened behind the faint, misty cloud of smoke from her cigarette. "Can you be happy raising Gregson's child, Sir Anthony?" she huffed, and Anthony sensed that this was the heart of the matter. "Edith won't love anyone who can't welcome Elinor as his own."

"She's a dear thing," he replied firmly. "And she's Edith's. I value her for herself and for her mother's sake."

That seemed to satisfy Helen. She gave a catlike little smile, and Anthony thought that she would be a tremendously terrifying woman to cross. "Good. Edie's been a good friend to me and - " Suddenly, Miss Worth paled and stood up. "Excuse me a moment, Sir Anthony, I'm feeling a little queasy…a bathroom?"

He stood as she did, gesturing out of the door. "Use Edith's. Up the stairs, and second door to the right."

She hurried from the room and Anthony anxiously reseated himself. It had been a long time since there had been an ill woman in this house. Anthony frowned. Whatever would they do if Edith was ever ill for any period of time? And more importantly, however had she managed being ill when she was alone with Elinor? The respect he had for his wife doubled at the thought.

When she returned, Anthony had poured her a glass of water from the jug he always kept on his desk. "Thanks," she said shakily, sitting down.

"Are you quite alright?" Anthony asked doubtfully.

She gave him a wan smile and took a sip of the water. "Yes. Just a tummy bug. Thought I'd shaken it off. I'll be fine in a moment."

At that moment, the library door swung open to admit Edith and Elinor. "Auntie Helen!" cried Elinor, and threw herself at her aunt's chair. Anthony wisely rescued the water, and rested a lightly quelling hand on his stepdaughter's shoulder. "Steady, Elinor. Your aunt's not feeling quite the thing just this minute."

Elinor hovered, her lip quivering on the verge of anxious tears, looking between the adults in the bewildered fashion of one who did not quite know what to do next. But Edith had removed her hat and hurried over at Anthony's words. With the sharp eye of a mother, she noted her friend's slightly pale face and clammy forehead. "Are you all right, Helen?"

"Right as rain!" insisted Helen, somewhat impatiently. "Some fresh air is all I need."

Edith frowned doubtfully. "Well, if you're sure… I'm sorry we weren't here when you called."

Helen stood up, gathering handbag, cigarettes and matches together. "Don't worry. I just wanted to know if you'd come for a walk."

Elinor, recovering her equilibrium now that Aunt Helen had pronounced herself fit, hopped from one foot to another excitedly. "Oh, please, Mummy, can we? To the park?"

Edith glanced over at Anthony. "Darling? You wouldn't mind us dashing out again, would you? It's not quite teatime, and we shan't be gone long…" Her husband did not reply, but his eyes were fixed on her, almost as if he had never seen her before. She went to him and kissed his cheek, and Anthony came to himself. Edith was looking at him with that little curious birdlike tilt of her head. "Darling, you're looking quite stunned. You're not sickening for something, are you?"

Anthony forced himself to shake his head. "No, of course not. I was… miles away, my dear." Then: "That's a lovely ensemble."

Edith smoothed down the new neat blue skirt suit she was wearing. "Thank Diana, for introducing me to her couturier. Evie Elliot has the most wonderful eye for design." She picked up the recently discarded hat, and kissed his cheek once more. "Come on then, you two," she said over her shoulder to Elinor and Helen. To Anthony, she added, "We shan't be too long. We'll see you at teatime."

With those words, all three whirled from the room again. Anthony could hear Edith and Helen laughing as they went down the hall, and Elinor chattering away to them, but he was too distracted to pay any attention to the topic of their fading conversation. Helen had given him far too much to think about.

AN: I couldn't resist a sneaky reference there at the end to one of my other favourite TV shows - 'The House of Elliot.' It's about two sisters in 1920s London who set up a fashion house after the death of their father. My mum introduced me to this brilliantly acted production in my early teens and I credit it with beginning my obsession with all things 1920s, as well as my love of TV dramas with strong female leads. BBC Worldwide recently put every single episode up on YouTube in full, so if you haven't seen it, go and take a look!