"Your mother will be very worried," Sir Anthony murmured to Sybil. They were all gathered in the library with a pot of tea. After the shock of Sybil and Mr Branson's arrival, Sir Anthony had taken complete charge, ushering everyone out of the hall and asking Stewart to send up refreshments for their surprise guests. The whole story had come pouring out, then - their reasons for eloping, the train that had broken down, depositing them at York, their inability to find rooms anywhere at such a late hour, and their eventual decision to press on to Locksley in a hired cab. Now, Sir Anthony was engaged in a battle of wills with a rather recalcitrant Sybil.

"If I go back," Sybil whispered fiercely, "she'll drag me off to America and have me married off before you can click your fingers!"

Sir Anthony sat down opposite her. "My dear, she cannot force you to do anything against your will. But if your intent is to make her acknowledge that you are almost a woman grown, then I think that you will not be helped by a mad escapade like this." He looked up at Tom. "I'm surprised that you allowed yourself to be persuaded into this, Mr Branson."

To Edith's surprise, Tom blushed and looked away. Sir Anthony returned his attention to Sybil. "And don't you see what a difficult position you're putting your sister in, too? What you're asking her to risk for you?"

Sybil cast her eyes suddenly downwards, more cowed by Sir Anthony's gentle disappointment than she would have been by any amount of loud scolding.

"I shall make you a bargain," Sir Anthony continued. "If you allow me to telephone your brother-in-law, and explain where you are, then when he arrives, I will speak to him on your and Mr Branson's behalf. Agreed?"

Tom squeezed Sybil's shoulder and they exchanged a quick, speaking glance. Sybil nodded. "A-alright. Thank you."

"Not at all. Mrs Crawley, why don't you take your sister up to the room next to yours, and she can have a lie-down? Mrs Dale's arranged everything. Mr Branson, would you care for a nightcap?"

Inwardly, Edith smiled. Well, that had all been very smoothly arranged, hadn't it? Making it very clear to all concerned parties that there would be absolutely no 'funny business' of any sort under Locksley's roof. "Yes," Mr Branson agreed, and then looked hesitantly at Sybil. "Well, good night, darling girl."

Edith touched Sir Anthony's arm, very gently. "I'll let you say 'good night', Sybil," Edith smiled at her sister. "I'll be outside when you're ready."

Together, she and Sir Anthony went out. As the door closed behind them, Edith let out a long sigh. "I'm terribly sorry, sir. I imagine you're regretting ever hiring me, the scrapes I've involved you in this year alone." She bit her lip. "We're a very difficult family all round, you see."

"Nonsense, my dear." Sir Anthony's expression was kind. "She's young, and frightened that she'll be parted from the man she loves. But she's brave, just like her older sister - I can see that. Now, what's your brother-in-law's telephone number?"

"Belgravia 246. Oh, he's going to be frightfully cross…"

He squeezed her arm reassuringly. "Don't fret. I'll handle everything. You take Miss Sybil up, and get a good night's sleep, both of you."

Edith let out a tired chuckle. "'Everything will look brighter in the morning'? That's what Mama always says."

"And she's very right, my dear."

The library door creaked open and Sybil emerged; neither Edith nor Anthony commented on the fact that her hair looked slightly more mussed, and her lips slightly more swollen, than they had done five minutes earlier. "Goodnight," Sir Anthony smiled cheerfully, and then, in a lowered voice, added to Edith, "And remember what I said."

When Edith woke the next morning, it was to Sybil knocking at the door, an anxious expression on her face. "May I come in?"

Edith nodded, sitting up and peeling back the eiderdown so that Sybil could climb in with her, just as she had done when they had been children. Really, it was too cold, even with the fire, to be out of bed in just nightclothes for too long. "I suppose you think I'm very silly," Sybil murmured after a while.

"I - I don't know what to think," Edith replied honestly. "But you did promise me you were going to be sensible."

"I know," Sybil agreed guiltily. "But I love him. And I was so frightened - "

"I know." Thinking briefly of Michael, Edith added, "And we can do very stupid things, when we believe ourselves to be in love." She found Sybil's hand with her own. "It - it is love, isn't it, Sybil? Not just - just… lust? Because if you marry him, there'll be no going back. You must be sure."

"I am," Sybil replied, clear-eyed and firm. "I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else. I wouldn't have done something so - so drastic, if I hadn't been sure."

A knock interrupted them. "Hello, my lamb. Your brother-in-law's here," Mrs Dale smiled as she poked her head around Edith's bedroom door. Sybil flinched. "Mr Branson and the master are already down, in the library."

"Oh, God."

Edith kissed the side of her head. "Don't worry. He'll bluster and rant and rave, but only because he's worried." She shook her head. "Darling. Whyever you thought you needed to deceive him, I'll never know."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "All right for you. At least Richard sees you as an adult."

Edith sighed. "You're barely nineteen, my darling. And you're only just out of prison. He's concerned, that's all. Let me go and see him first, hmm?"

Downstairs, Richard was being relieved of his coat and hat by Mr Stewart. He looked up as Edith pattered down the stairs, still in her nightclothes.

"Richard, thank God," Edith greeted him. As much of a support as Sir Anthony had been, the arrival of the head of the family had taken a weight off Edith's shoulders that she had not even really realised was there.

Richard squeezed her shoulder for a moment, as he might do a brother, and then asked, "Where is he?"

"The library." She shook her head. "He's got his heart set on her, Richard. And she hers on him. I don't think that threats will do any good - "

"We'll see," he answered grimly. "Take me through?"

"Ah, Sir Richard!" Sir Anthony poked his head out of the library passage, and then advanced across the hall, hand extended to shake Richard's. "So glad to see you. I'm sure you've heard - Miss Sybil is upstairs resting, and Mr Branson is in the library. I'll take you through in a moment - but might I have a word of your time, first?"

Edith glanced up at Richard, who nodded briskly. "Very well."

"Mrs Crawley, why don't you take a cup of tea up to your sister?" Sir Anthony smiled. "I shan't need you for the rest of the morning, I'm sure."

"Branson."

Tom shot to his feet, looking anxiously at his employer. But Sir Richard did not seem about to hit him. Indeed, he came quite casually over to the sofa opposite where Tom was sitting and sank back into it, observing him narrowly. At length, Tom eased himself gingerly back into his own chair.

"You know," Sir Richard said, conversationally, "Hewerdine is retiring at the end of the month. I'll be looking for a new political sub-editor."

"What are you saying?" Tom murmured, blinking in confusion.

"I'm saying… give up this idiotic idea that you're going to marry my sister-in-law, and the job's yours."

Tom's reply was both concise and obscene.

Richard lifted a single eyebrow, stood… and extended his hand for Tom to shake. The Irishman stared at it for a moment, open-mouthed, and then hesitantly, took it.

"You'll marry in London," Richard said. "She won't bring much money with her, but we can discuss that later."

"Wh-what are you saying?"

"You're an engaged man, Branson." Sir Richard's face creased into a dry smile. "Try to look at least a little cheerful about it, hmm?"

"You're - you're giving your permission?"

"Withholding anything from Sybil does no good. You'll learn that, and maybe you'll come to regret it. But, for what it's worth, yes, you have my blessing. Will you tell her, or shall I?"

"I'll - I'll do it." Tom rose shakily to his feet. "Thank you."

He hurried to the door, opening it on Edith. With a grin, he slid past her. "Thank you, Miss Crawley. Is - is Sybil upstairs? I've got the most wonderful news for her." Without even waiting for a reply, he made for the stairs at a dash. Edith shot Richard a look full of wry amusement. "You gave your permission, then, I take it?"

He nodded. "Let's just say… Branson proved his worth."

"I see." Edith came in and shut the door behind her, taking the seat next to him on the sofa.

"And what about you?" he wondered. "I know things didn't quite work out between you and Mr Pelham, but… you'd let me know, wouldn't you, if there were any young doctor or clergyman or solicitor I should be taking aside for a stern word?"

She blushed. "Don't be idiotic, Richard."

"What about baronets, then?"

Edith rolled her eyes. "Oh, not that again…"

"So… you aren't in love with Sir Anthony?"

"Richard." It slipped out as an agonised whisper. "Please don't."

"Why not?" In classic mercenary manner, he pointed out, "You're the cousin of the Earl of Grantham. A fair match for any man."

"It isn't about that."

"What then?" His voice was perfectly bland.

"He knows me… better than anyone, I think."

"I would have supposed that an excellent basis for a marriage."

"I think in my case," Edith told him wearily, "it's simply an excellent way of scaring a man off." After a moment's pause, she added, "You needn't fret that I'm going to - to ruin myself again, Richard."

"I didn't say that, nor did I even suggest that I thought - "

"Even if he does… care about me like that, Richard, nothing will come of it." Bitterly, she pointed out, "I've seen to that, haven't I?"

"Edith - "

"I should be getting on with my work, Richard. Excuse me."

Outside in the hall, she met Sir Anthony, about to go upstairs himself. "I… I imagine that I have you to thank for Richard giving his consent, sir," she managed, a slight smile wobbling on her lips. "Thank you. Sybil… will be delighted."

He shrugged sheepishly. "It was nothing. Sir Richard really needed very little persuasion."

"Whatever did you say to him?" she wondered.

"Only that… if Miss Sybil were known to have eloped with Mr Branson, and if she were then to return to London unmarried… it mightn't reflect well on her, or on him."

"Oh. Was that all?" She let out a breathy laugh. "I'd have said the same to him myself, if only I'd thought of it. And here I was, considering what advantages of her marrying Mr Branson I could present to him, when all I needed to do was present the one disadvantage of her not marrying him!"

"Well, that's all settled, then," Edith smiled. She and Sybil were sat on her bed, after dinner, both too wide-awake from the excitement of the day to think yet about sleep. "I'm very happy for you, Sybil."

"You won't have long to wait for your turn, I'm sure of it," Sybil smiled, a little wickedly. "Not if a certain gentleman has anything to say about it."

Edith shook her head. "Poor Sir Anthony! First Richard, now you! What must he do to stop people assuming that he's in love with me?"

Sybil rolled her eyes. "He couldn't do anything, darling. He is. Why - don't you like him?"

"Of course I do." Edith fiddled with the tie on her dressing gown.

"Well, then, what's the problem?"

"I - I wouldn't be suitable," she hedged. "Whatever he feels or doesn't feel, he must know that."

"Why? Because you're his secretary?" Sybil squeezed her hand. "Is he really the sort of man to let something silly like that get in his way?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I - " Edith frowned. "Do you remember Mr Gregson?"

"Yes." Sybil blinked in confusion. "What does he have to do with this?"

"Well… while I worked for him, I - we - " Her composure wobbled and fell away. "Oh, Sybil!"

Her look must have been eloquent enough, for: "You were… lovers?" Sybil whispered, stunned.

Edith nodded, a shuddering little sob escaping her.

"And Sir Anthony knows?" Sybil asked. "How on earth - "

Edith looked up, her eyes filling with tears. "I was pregnant, Sybil. I was pregnant and I didn't know and then I lost the baby and - and he was here, and I had to tell him everything." She swiped at her eyes. "He was so kind, Sybil, but - but no man wants to get themselves tangled up like that. No man wants a wife who could be so - so wanton."

Sybil sat there, gaping at her. At length, she threw her arms around Edith and hugged her tightly. "Oh, darling… But you're all right? It didn't… do any lasting damage? Losing the baby?"

It was the last thing Edith had expected. She shook her head against Sybil's shoulder. "No. I'm fine."

"Does Mama know?"

"No." Her voice grew firm. "And I don't want her to. Richard worked it all out, but you must promise not to breathe a word of it to anyone else."

"Of course not." Sybil sat back on her heels, a sudden thought striking her. "Is this why… you and Mr Pelham…?"

Edith nodded. "Yes. He proposed and… well, I had to tell him everything. Heirs to marquisates, unsurprisingly, want to marry virgins."

Sybil's expression was indignant. "He didn't say that to you, did he?!"

Edith had to laugh at that. "No, of course not. But… let's just say it was heavily implied. And… well, why should it be any different for baronets?"

There was silence for several minutes, Sybil's arm still around her older sister, and then she asked, "What's it like?"

Edith blinked. "What's what like, my dear?"

Sybil inclined her head suggestively. "You know…"

Edith let out a short bark of laughter. "Oh! Sybil, you do say the funniest things!"

"Well, I'm not going to ask Mary, am I? I'd never be able to look Richard in the face again!"

Edith shrugged. "It's… nice, I suppose. Nothing earth-shattering, but… nice."

Sybil looked faintly disappointed. "Oh. Then… why are men so keen on it, do you think?"

Edith smiled, a little bitterly. "Like so many other things, darling, I think it's somewhat different for them…"