When Edith descended the next morning, at the rather late hour (for her, at least) of half past nine, it was to find Sir Anthony staring out of the open front door. With a shiver - for it had snowed hard in the night, and still was, and a cold wind was blowing through the door - Edith came up to his side. He turned and looked at her, a somewhat crestfallen expression on his face.

"Good morning, my dear. It's coming down thick and fast out there, I'm afraid. Quite pointless to attempt the car. You'd be all right up until Grantham village, I suspect, but beyond that... it always gets completely blocked up, after heavy snow." He frowned sympathetically down at her. "I'm terribly sorry - your first Christmas away from your family…"

The corners of her mouth turned down unhappily. She had been meant to return to the Abbey for the Christmas festivities today - the Dowager Countess had been most insistent on that point - and now that there was no prospect of it, Edith realised how much she had been looking forward to it. Christmas Day wouldn't be the same, she reflected, without Mama encouraging them to play silly, childish parlour games, or Mary being standoffish, or Sybil's four o'clock outburst, when the excitement and enforced socialisation of the day had finally got to her. "Oh, it's quite all right," she managed bravely. "I'm sure Mary and I would only have ended up tearing each others' throats out anyway."

With a final sigh, Sir Anthony shut the door and turned for the breakfast room. "You must join us all for Christmas dinner, and for the party," he consoled her. Sir Hugh and Lady Gervas were joining them later, as well as Lady Fyfe, and a few of Sir Anthony's other local friends. Luckily, everyone was coming from the other direction, along the better maintained and more frequently travelled roads between here and Ripon. Lady Strallan had sailed for America the week before on the Mauretania to spend Christmas in New York with her daughter and son-in-law. "You had me last year, Pip," Edith had heard her tell her grandson, the last time she had visited. "And your Aunt Diana can get horridly jealous when she chooses."

If Sir Anthony's mother had been present, Edith reflected wryly, she might perhaps have been persuaded to accept. Lady Strallan was very kind and very clever, and Edith had liked her immensely. As it was, the prospect of a day spent among her employer's friends, with only Sir Anthony and Pip for bolstering, was less than appealing. "Oh, I think I'll just have a tray in my room - "

"Nonsense!" he exclaimed. "On Christmas Day?"

"Really, sir," she insisted, as he pulled out a chair for her at the breakfast table. "I'll be perfectly content."

"But I will not." His voice was soft and serious and Edith felt a flush creeping up the back of her neck as he helped her to tuck the chair back under the table. "Please, do come."

Edith looked away, under cover of spreading her napkin across her lap. "I don't think your guests will approve of your inviting me, sir."

"Well, just between us, Mrs Crawley, there are a great many things that some of my guests do of which I decidedly do not approve." His voice was beginning to sound rather annoyed. "I should be honoured if you would join us for dinner, and for the party - and I shan't be taking no for an answer."

Briefly, Edith closed her eyes. A tray in her room alone did sound frightfully dull… Hesitantly, she offered him a smile. "Well, in that case, it seems I have no choice but to accept. Thank you, sir."

After breakfast, Edith returned upstairs to change. She had intended to go to Downton in comfortable clothes - a green blouse and dark skirt that she liked, given that today was to be a strictly familial affair - but now that her plans had changed, she felt that a slightly more festive outfit was required. A day dress of dark blue velvet with a folded back lilac collar - again, a vestige of her old life - seemed much more suitable. At least she would not disgrace herself.

Descending the stairs again, she heard an odd noise - a sort of chugging, as of a train - and frowned. The door to the library was ajar, and from within she heard Sir Anthony ask, "What on Earth - ?"

"That's a tractor!" exclaimed Pip excitedly as Edith entered the room. "Mrs Crawley, come and look!"

It took Edith only a single glance out of the window for her to recognise the tractor's driver. "Oh, Lord - it's Mr Pelham!" she gasped, and hurried from the room. By the time she had reached the hall and had opened the door, Mr Pelham had clambered down from the tractor and was standing grinning at her on the doorstep.

"What on Earth is all this?" she asked, echoing her employer's question from a moment ago.

"Well, your mother and sisters were terribly disappointed that the car wouldn't get you to Downton in all this snow, so the Earl and I put our heads together, and we thought… well, there's more than one way to skin a cat." He gave her a sweeping bow. "So… m'lady… your chariot awaits."

Edith couldn't help laughing. "You and my cousin are both thoroughly ridiculous - " Her voice softened. "And thoroughly, thoroughly sweet. Let me just fetch a coat and hat."

Inside the hall, Sir Anthony met her with a shy, crooked grin. "So it seems you shall go to the ball, after all."

Edith smiled at him a little sadly. "Yes, it seems I shall." She bit her lip. "I - I can hardly refuse, now that Mr Pelham has been so kind as to come all this way to collect me, in such filthy weather. I - I am sorry."

"Nonsense! Of course you can't refuse - and it will be lovely for you to spend the day with - with people who care about you."

"Yes." They stood there for a moment, in silence, and then Edith sighed. "I oughtn't to keep him waiting, I suppose. I shan't be back too late, I shouldn't think."

"Well, don't hurry back on our account. We shall leave the door unbolted for you - lock up when you get back?"

"Of course, sir. Thank you. And happy Christmas!"

"Oh," Hugh Gervas frowned, looking around the half-full drawing room, "isn't your pretty little secretary joining us, Anthony?"

"Don't be a damned boor, Hugh," Anthony replied, with more sharpness in his voice than might have been there under normal circumstances. "I'd have thought that fifteen years married to Claudia would have taught you to speak about ladies with a touch more respect than your average fourteen year old manages!"

Hugh lifted his eyebrows as his friend fell silent. "Sorry, old man. Didn't mean to cause offence."

Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose. "It… doesn't matter."

"No, no." Hugh clapped an apologetic hand on his shoulder. "If I'd realised it was like that… then I wouldn't have said a word."

"Like what?" Anthony frowned confused.

"Well…" Hugh gave a wry grin, "if you're… sweet on the girl - and I wouldn't blame you if you were - then I shall keep my lechery to myself."

Irritated, Anthony fired back, "Do I have to be sweet on her, not to want to hear you talk about her as if she were - were some sort of - ?"

"Some sort of what, Anthony?"

"I don't know!" his friend exploded in an undertone.

"Ah. Awfully eloquent." Apropos of nothing, Hugh asked, "Got any family, apart from Grantham and his women?"

"What?" Anthony sighed. "Oh, yes. A mother, two sisters, a brother-in-law. He takes an interest."

Hugh nodded, apparently satisfied. "Good." He grimaced and broke off, lowering his voice. "Then… just be sensible, old man. And… be prepared to take responsibility for the consequences if you…" Hugh inclined his head somewhat suggestively. "… If you can't be. You understand what I'm saying?"

"Good God, Hugh!" Anthony's eyes were wide. "Surely you've been my friend for long enough now that you know I would never - "

Hugh lifted his eyebrows. "Anthony. I was the best man at your wedding, for God's sake - "

"That - Maude was - was different, and we never - " Anthony broke off. "And I would never - never compromise someone whose wages I pay. It would be - disgusting and - and - "

Gently, Hugh rested a calming hand on his elbow. "All right, old man." He shrugged. "In any case, we're probably fretting about nothing. Grantham's agent seemed frightfully keen on her last night. How many dances did he get in the end?"

"Three," Anthony bit out. Sullenly, he added, "He came to drive her over to the Abbey today. On a tractor."

Hugh laughed suddenly. "Ha! Good on the lad! God, do you remember being young and spontaneous like that, Anthony?"

His friend stared moodily into the bottom of his glass of sherry. "Not particularly, no."

"Good Lord, you've really fallen for her, haven't you?" Hugh sounded positively astonished. "I'm sorry, old chap." He exhaled. "And here was me thinking that you were taking up again with Ginny. Claudia always says I've no powers of observation whatsoever."

"And you don't, my darling," Claudia intervened fondly, reaching their corner spot. Hugh lifted her hand and kissed it. "Now, Anthony, come along, you're neglecting your other guests. You can gossip with my clown of a husband later."