"Papa… Mrs Crawley isn't… isn't leaving, is she?"

"Wherever did you hear that?" Anthony knew his voice was too sharp, too panicked - a clever lad like Pip would pick up on that. He was not disappointed.

"She is, isn't she?" Pip swivelled to look at him properly and Anthony's hands tightened on the steering wheel under the scrutiny. "Why? What did you say to her? What made her want to leave us?" His voice grew higher and more panicked with every syllable.

Anthony sighed. "It's just… time that she moved on, old chap. That's all."

"But she promised," Pip whispered, staring emptily out of the windscreen. "She promised she wasn't going anywhere."

When he poked his head into the study later, he was nearly barrelled over by a sobbing Pip running out. "Pip - "

"Leave him," Mrs Crawley managed from the fireplace, sounding almost as distraught as his son had. "You've done enough damage for one day, I think."

"Damage?"

"Telling him that I was leaving." Her voice broke again as she looked at him. "How could you do something so beastly?"

Anthony entered the room fully and shut the door behind him with a snap. "Well, you are, aren't you? He had to know sometime."

"Yes, but - but not before everything was settled!" she cried. "Anyone with half a grain of sense would have - but I suppose that that's just too much to ask! So now we'll have him fretting and sobbing for weeks all because - " Her face took on the expression of something slowly dawning on her. "God, did you do this on purpose?"

"No! Mrs Crawley - "

She carried on, heedless of what he had said. "Tell him so that he'd be upset and guilt-trip me into staying?" She straightened her shoulders. "Well, don't think that it will work!"

"Mrs Crawley - "

"It's the most despicable, shabby - but I oughtn't to have expected anything less from the man who - "

"Mrs Crawley!" he thundered and she fell suddenly, shockingly silent, staring at him with wide eyes and a trembling lip, her breast rising and falling like a trapped bird was trying to get free. Belatedly, Anthony realised that he was far too close, and towering over her. Stupidly, he'd let her rattle him. He stepped back.

Her silence had, however, only been momentary. Five more seconds, and her fury was back in full force, if slightly more controlled. "Do not ever raise your voice to me again, Sir Anthony." The words were quietly spoken, but shaking with cold anger. A faint voice inside him pointed out how strong and powerful and magnificent she looked in that moment and Anthony hated himself for it.

"Then, Mrs Crawley, don't you accuse me of using my son as a chess piece in some sort of game of - of emotional manipulation!" he snapped.

Edith brushed a weary hand across her eyes, all the turbulence suddenly draining out of her. "Do you know, I really couldn't care less, just now? I'm going to see to Pip."

"Are you - are you going to tell him the real reason why you're leaving?" The words were torn from him, most unwillingly. She stopped and looked up at him as if he had just spat at her feet.

"No." Her voice shook. "He at least will be spared the knowledge that his father lacks any conception of what constitutes honourable behaviour."

The door slammed behind her.

"I've prepared your reference," Sir Anthony murmured, laying down the envelope on her desk.

Edith did not look up. "Good. Thank you. I'll… inform you, sir, when I have any interviews to attend."

"Of course. We'll be as accommodating as we can. Mrs Crawley - "

"Don't. I said before - don't even think of trying to persuade me to stay." She looked up at him, eyes blazing with anger - mouth tight and full with it. "Don't you see? You've… Whatever we might have had… you've smashed it all to pieces. It was destroyed before we even met."

He bowed his head, opened his mouth as if to say something else, then sighed, closed it and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

I won't look at it, Edith thought to herself, studiously avoiding setting her eyes onto the open envelope. I'm not even interested. It's probably lukewarm at best - just the sort of spiteful, hateful thing a man like that would do. I don't even care what he says. I won't look.

Of its own volition, her hand crept out to touch it.

To whom it may concern,

I have no hesitation whatsoever in recommending Miss Crawley for whatever position for which she has applied. Over the two years she has worked for me, she has proved herself to be diligent, clever and thoroughly efficient.

More than this, she has endeared herself wholeheartedly to the rest of my staff, as well as to my son, all of whom will be most sorry to see her depart. She would be an asset to any household, in whatever capacity required.

All that remains to be said is that any person who finds themselves fortunate enough to engage her services will gain the loyalty and steadfastness of a woman of true substance.

I remain yours,

Sir Anthony Strallan, Bart.

Mrs Crawley slapped the reference down on his desk. "I can't accept this."

"Well," he said, in quite a bored tone of voice, without looking up from the letter he was writing, "I'm not letting you leave without a character, so it seems that we have a problem."

"I won't accept it." She hissed impatiently. "This… it's ridiculous. Glowing."

"No more or less than you deserve." He lifted an eyebrow. "If you did not want an excellent character, Mrs Crawley, then you oughtn't to have made yourself so thoroughly indispensable. Will you excuse me?"

"No - no, I will not excuse you!" Her breath was coming in heavy, frustrated pants. "Stop it! Stop - stop - "

"Stop what?"

"Being so bloody noble!"

He tutted. "Profanities, Mrs Crawley? That's new."

"If you think this will persuade me - if you think it will make me… make me pity you or - " She stopped. "You're wrong."

"And if you ever thought that I would let you depart with anything less than this, then you were wrong." His voice was quiet. "I might… what was it? Ah, yes…" His lips twitched faintly. "I might 'lack any conception of what constitutes honourable behaviour', but there are limits even to my iniquity, Mrs Crawley."

"Are there?" Her voice made it perfectly clear that she didn't believe that for one moment. "Are there really?"

"Isn't Edith with you?" Flora asked, meeting Claudia at the door.

Claudia shook her head. "No. Oh, my dear, there's been such a to-do. Am I the first here?"

Flora nodded. "Yes. Whatever's happened?"

Veronica poked her head out of the study. "Hello, Claudia. Come through - not brought Edith with you?"

"Not tonight." Lady Gervas passed her coat over to Baines and followed her hostesses into the library. "I'm afraid I made rather a faux-pas earlier this week. Edith came asking about Anthony and Maude." She shook her head. "Of course, you're both too young to have heard of it all, but… well, let's just say that Anthony and Maude were young and in love and…" All three women shared raised eyebrows. Claudia shook her head. "I'm afraid Edith was rather shocked." She scowled. "Damn Ginny Fyfe - it was all her doing, you know."

Veronica's face darkened. "Horrid little witch. Whyever would she want to be so beastly to Edith, of all people?"

Claudia sighed. "I don't know. Has she ever needed a reason to be spiteful? Jealous, perhaps, about Anthony and Edith… edging their way towards each other"

Gently, Flora squeezed Veronica's hand. "Don't worry, my darling. People like Ginny Fyfe are always looking to make others unhappy. I'll deal with it."

"MmFlora…?" Veronica mumbled as the other side of the mattress sank slightly and the eiderdown shifted.

"Oh, sorry," Flora sighed, "did I wake you, darling?"

Veronica shook her head and groped about with her hand until she caught hold of the sleeve of Flora's nightgown and pulled her closer. "Tsst! God, Flora, your feet are freezing! What on Earth have you been doing?"

Flora nuzzled her face into Veronica's neck. "Thinking. About this Ginny Fyfe business."

"Until this hour?" Veronica kissed her hair absently. "Got a plan?"

"I think so. I'll need the telephone for a few hours' tomorrow morning. Now, we should get some sleep. Mr Hartley's arriving at ten o'clock for you."

"True," Veronica sighed. A mischievous twinkle came into her eye. "Of course, we could…" Her hand, sliding down the collar of Flora's nightgown, made the end of the sentence entirely unnecessary.

Flora chuckled softly. "Oh, darling, what a frightfully clever idea…"

"I didn't realise Veronica was allowing you to host teas here now, Flora," Ginny said as Baines helped her off with her coat and hat.

Flora gave her a thin smile. "Well, I live here now. This is my house, too."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "I see."

"Won't you come through?"

"I feel as if I've been summoned to the headmistress's office for a scolding," Ginny laughed shakily as she preceded Flora into the drawing room. She shivered. "I always think how cold this room is, even in summer."

Flora did not comment. Instead, she sat down and gestured Ginny into a chair opposite her. "Tea? Cake?" Her voice hardened. "A file for that sharp tongue of yours?"

Ginny blinked. "I… don't know what you mean."

Flora shook her head. "Really? Not like you to hide your light under a bushel, Ginny. I would have thought you'd be overjoyed at your little piece of mischief."

"Flora, my dear - "

"Please do not address me as if we were friends, Virginia." Flora's cut-glass voice was suddenly very cold and very hard. "If you insist on feigning ignorance, allow me to remind you. We are talking of your cruelty to Edith Crawley, and your spreading of vile gossip about Sir Anthony Strallan."

"Gossip?" Ginny laughed, a brittle, edgy sound. "But that rather implies that what is being said is untrue, does it not? And Anthony would be the first to correct you there. I gave Mrs Crawley some very sound advice - "

"You knew precisely what you were doing." Flora spoke very softly and clearly. "Claudia seems to think that you are in love with Anthony. You've a funny way of showing it."

"What would you know about it?" Ginny asked, fingers clenched in her dress. "A jilt who abandoned her fiancé at the altar?" Her lip curled. "Or are all the rumours about darling Veronica true? Climbing in and out of other women's beds?"

Flora chuckled. "Oh no, my dear. Just mine." She shrugged at Ginny's gasp of shock. "Not that it matters. I had several very interesting telephone calls this morning, you know. Every woman with a scrap of social power in the whole county has been told precisely what you did - that you told lies about an honourable man and broke a girl's heart all because of your own jealousy. I even telephoned my godmother - you know, the Marchioness of Alverley? She was most interested." She tutted, shaking her head in mock sadness. "And Aunt Frances has always been the most incorrigible chatterbox, I'm afraid. All in all, I'd be terribly surprised if anyone who's anyone ever spoke to you again." She smiled, very sweetly. "So tell all the vindictive little tales you like - no one will care, and no will listen, and no one - no one - will believe a word that you say ever, ever again."

She stood up, ringing a little bell on the side-table with a graceful shake of her wrist. Baines appeared in the doorway. "Ah, Baines, Lady Fyfe is leaving."

"Very good, my lady."

"Oh, of course," Flora added, to Ginny's retreating back, "it goes without saying that none of us wish to see you at the motorcar club again."

Ginny paused momentarily, there was a shudder as if she were swallowing hard, and then, without turning around, she laughed harshly, "I should have known you'd take that silly little chit's side, Flora. Scandal does tend to cling together, doesn't it?"

"This way, my lady," Baines offered, his voice just the wrong side of polite.

Ginny swept out. Flora sat down again, a touch unsteadily. "My lady?" asked Baines. "Are you quite well?"

Flora flashed him a soft smile. "Yes, thank you, Baines. Might I have a glass of water? I've rather a… bitter taste in my mouth."

Baines bowed, a very kind expression in his eyes. "At once, my lady."