Over dinner, Anthony asked, "Are you sure you don't want a separate room?"
Edith shot him a quizzical look. "Yes, quite sure. Why would I… after…?"
Anthony flushed, toying with the lamb on his plate. "Well… it's all too easy for a husband to get used to his wife always being… available, or… apparently available. I - "
Quietly, Edith swallowed her mouthful of food; it was difficult, owing to the sudden lump of hurt in her throat. "So… you want us to behave like a pair of Victorians? 'Marital visits' to my room twice a week, or however often you feel like it, with me waiting every evening to see if you're going to come to fulfil your duty - "
Anthony pushed his plate away with a deep sigh. "Darling, I want your happiness…"
"Then stop telling me what I should want!" Edith snapped. "Are we partners, or not?"
"Of course we are! It's just… I've been married before. You haven't. I want to make quite sure that you're perfectly aware of all the options." His voice was still so infuriatingly measured and calm that Edith suddenly lost all will to control her own temper.
"Is that how it was with Maude? Or did you trust her to make her own decisions?" The words flew jealously, stormily, from her lips before she could stop them; Anthony stood and turned away from her, but not quickly enough - she still caught the sudden flash of hurt in his eyes as he tried to control himself. After a moment, he answered, very quietly.
"If you must know, Maude… took very little joy in the idea of physical love. She cared for me, she wanted children… but the getting of them was something of a chore for her. We tried, but… she simply didn't…" He stopped, momentarily, eyes damp with emotion. "I… troubled her as little as possible - and certainly never without her express prior invitation. So, please, do forgive me for not attempting to force you into my bed against your will!"
She watched him, too stunned to speak. After a moment, she croaked out, "Anthony, I - I never knew. I could never have imagined…"
"I… when we were engaged, the first time, I imagined that it would be the same between us, that you would feel that… the physical act was a duty to be performed and nothing more, whatever I did. Even more so, considering the fact that I was a crippled wreck nearly a quarter of a century your senior. The best I hoped for was that I would be able to make you… comfortable. And now… our arrangement makes our marriage different, don't you see? We have different ways of… doing things. What else could I have expected? What else could I have done?"
"You could have talked to me!" she answered furiously. "You could have trusted me enough when we were engaged the first time to tell me, so that I wasn't left wondering afterwards why you'd never touched me, or kissed me back, when I…" When I wanted you so very much! "God, did you really think that… that sex with you would be such an imposition? Do you still think that? You are the most infuriating man!"
She slammed her cutlery down and rose, heading for the door.
For the first time in months, Edith went to her own room to sleep; it felt cold and damp from lack of use. She shivered, but persevered bravely, sliding into her nightgown and getting hastily under the quilt before weakness had a chance to overcome her and send her rushing back to Anthony's room and bed.
It was the first time they had properly quarrelled, ever. When they had been engaged the first time, there had been disagreements, but she had to confess, they had not known each other well enough to discuss things that had the potential to injure either of them. And now… sometimes she felt Anthony knew her better than she knew herself, and vice versa. And fighting with him had hurt more than any quarrel she had ever had with Michael. Clutching the pillow to her chest, she began to softly sob.
She was just drifting off when she heard the hesitant knock on the door and, a moment later, sensed a sliver of light from the landing fall across the bed.
"Edith?" Anthony murmured tiredly from the doorway.
"What do you want?" she snapped, voice thick from crying. "Your marital rights?"
His breath whooshed out in a hiss of sorrow. "Of course not. Darling, I…"
"You do realise," she told the pillow, "don't you, that I spent that whole night - what should have been our wedding night - wondering just what it was that made me so undesirable?"
Anthony stepped inside the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. A moment later, she felt the mattress sink as he perched on the end of the bed. "I never dreamt that you - that anybody - would think my behaviour any reflection on you."
"Well, I did," she retorted.
There was silence for a long, long time after that. "Edith… what can I say? Sweet one, what can I say to make it better?"
She sat up, brought to tears again by the desperate rawness of his voice. "You don't need to say anything. But… you must trust that I know what I want."
"And what is that?" His face was in shadow - if only she could see his expression! It would be so easy to tell him, to tell him that she loved him - if only she could see his face!
"Your friendship, of course - as always," she murmured at last. "Your respect. I want to bear your children, eventually. I want to share your bed, and not have you second-guessing my reasons every time." She reached for his hand. "I want you not to worry."
Gingerly, he shifted a little closer, looking at their joined hands. "I will always worry," he reminded her softly, and she let out a little sigh of frustration.
"I'm nearly thirty-three years old," she reminded him.
"And you spent twenty eight of those years at the whim of your parents' indifference, and another two at Michael Gregson's mercy," he pointed out. "You said once that you… that he… I want to make it clear that you have a choice here, Edith - every single time. Never feel that you must pretend to want me."
"There's been no pretence. I promise." He still wouldn't look at her; Edith tugged at his hand until he glanced down into her eyes. "I don't lie to you, remember? Anthony?" He nodded quickly, but she could tell that he wasn't quite convinced. She reached up, brushed his cheek with her fingers, following their tracks with kisses until he smiled a little sheepishly and his breathing quickened.
"You are a wonderful husband, Anthony Strallan, and a marvellous father." She swallowed back sudden tears. "And when I am in your arms, I feel safer than I ever thought possible."
Anthony wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her close into his embrace, blocking out any lingering chill she had been feeling. His chest was warm and solid, and his voice was soothing - and the kisses he was dusting over her face and neck and collarbone were very sure of themselves indeed.