"Happy Christmas, my dears!" smiled Lady Strallan, kissing Pip's cheek as her other arm embraced Anthony. Releasing them, she stepped back and caught sight of Edith. "Edith, darling girl, I was so happy to hear from Anthony that you'd come back." Before Edith knew what was happening, her employer's mother had caught her up into a tight, warm hug.
"Hello, my lady. Happy Christmas."
"What lovely jumpers you both have!" Lady Strallan said to Pip as they all walked through to the library.
"Mrs C. knitted them for us," Pip explained proudly.
"Did she? How very clever of her!" Lady Strallan squeezed Edith's hand. "And for both of them, too, my dear - you must have been at your needles for months! Why don't you come upstairs with me after tea? I hear we've a ball to attend this evening, and I could do with another woman's opinion on my gown."
"I truly was happy to hear that you'd come back to Locksley, my dear." Lady Strallan hung her gown on the outside of the wardrobe and stepped back to view it critically. "Anthony was so downcast after your quarrel."
Edith, perched on the edge of the bedspread where she had been placed five minutes' before, blushed. "Oh. He told you. I'm so ashamed of my foolishness, my lady, I… There's really no excuse for it."
Lady Strallan waved away Edith's half-apology with an airy hand. "Not at all." Her still-pretty face grew rather serious. "Anthony… also explained why you were particularly distressed to hear about the circumstances surrounding his and Maude's marriage." At Edith's small, faint noise of surprised distress, she sat down next to her on the bed, giving her a somewhat anxious look. "I hope you won't blame him - I always have been horribly inquisitive, and I couldn't for the life of me work out what had gone so horribly wrong between you."
"Yes," Edith managed. "That is to say… no, I don't blame him." She tipped her chin back bravely. "I'm well aware that my association with Mr Gregson speaks to my having a rather shabby, low sort of character but I - "
"Stuff and nonsense!" snorted her ladyship. "I assure you, my dear, there was nothing in what he told me to make any rational person - certainly any rational woman - feel anything apart from a hearty dislike for your former employer."
Edith swallowed, not quite able to believe her ears. There could be only one explanation for such a kind and charitable response to her transgression. "And… he told you… everything?"
"If by everything, you mean that your married employer, whose wife was in an asylum, saw that you were mourning the death of your father and took advantage of your vulnerability to embark on a love-affair with you, and that you became pregnant by him, and lost your child… then, yes, he told me everything." She lifted an arch brow. "Is there more that I should be aware of?"
Numbly, Edith shook her head. "No. That… is everything. Although, Sir Anthony has cast my behaviour in a much kinder light than I think it deserves." Honestly, she explained, "Vulnerable I may have been, but not ignorant of what the word 'married' means. One momentary slip might be forgivable, but not what I did, not two years' of - of - "
Lady Strallan watched her narrowly all through this little diatribe, and then asked, quietly, "And are you still there? Are you still his mistress? Are you making any sort of an excuse for your behaviour?" Without waiting for a reply, she pressed on: "No, of course you aren't. My dear, no one goes through life without making mistakes. I certainly haven't. But you would only be compounding your error now, I think, to carry on… holding it over yourself for the rest of your life. Can you see that?"
"I - " Edith began and then stopped. Carefully, she began again, "How do I even begin to start forgiving myself for something like that?"
Lady Strallan slid a friendly arm around her shoulders. "By perhaps just being ever so slightly kinder to yourself?" She sighed. "You have a young sister, don't you?'
"Yes?" Edith answered, not entirely sure where all this was going.
"What is she like?"
How on Earth to describe the human whirlwind that was Sybil! Nonetheless, Edith tried. "Sybil? She's fierce and strong, and she has a frightful temper. But… she can be terribly sweet too, when she wants to be. You'll meet her and her husband at the ball later."
There was a twinkle in Lady Strallan's eye as she said, "I shall look forward to that. Well, then, my dear, if Sybil had ever come to you, and told you that she had done what you have done, what would you say to her? What would you do?"
"I'd want to tear out the throat of the man who thought he had the right to - oh!" Edith's rather fierce expression lapsed into one of sheepish amusement at Lady Strallan's humorously raised eyebrows and 'I-told-you-so' expression. "Oh," she repeated, in quieter tones. "I see."
"And that's how you stop hating yourself," Lady Strallan finished kindly. "In any case, rest assured that Anthony is generally the very soul of discretion, and when he isn't, he chooses his confidantes very carefully."
"He's been very, very kind to me," Edith agreed.
"And a mother is always glad to hear that about one of her children." Lady Strallan stood and went to the wardrobe to twitch a crease out of the skirt of the ballgown. Thoughtfully, almost as if she were talking to herself, she said, "It strikes me that both you and Anthony need someone to take care of you. You might… be of use to one another in that way."
"R-really? I d-don't know what you mean, my lady."
Nancy bit her lip to hide a smirk at the squeak in Edith's voice.
"Don't you? Forgive me, then. Apparently I have misread the situation." As she spoke, she went to the dressing table and opened her jewel-case. "I think I shall wear this this evening. It will suit this gown, won't it?" She turned, holding up a glimmering necklace of diamonds. "Anthony's papa gave it to me, as a wedding present, and it became something of a tradition to wear it at balls."
"It's very beautiful," Edith agreed.
"Indeed it is," Lady Strallan smiled fondly. "And certainly the most expensive gift I'd ever received, at the time." Setting the necklace back carefully in its place in the jewel case, she added, wryly, "Not much call for diamond necklaces, as the daughter of a common country curate, as you might imagine."
"I… didn't know that."
"Oh, yes. It was quite a local scandal at the time - the lord of the manor courting by letter a girl who was twenty years' his junior - the daughter of a penniless Cornish curate - and then marrying her…! Well, my dear, I'm sure you can imagine." She grinned at Edith in the mirror, looking thoroughly unrepentant.
"But you sound as if you and Sir Phillip were very happy," Edith countered.
"Oh, I was, blissfully so. We both were." Lady Strallan shook her head. "I won't say that Phillip didn't sometimes make me incandescently furious - but I'm equally certain that there is no one else who could have made me so positively, absolutely, completely happy either." Her hand was gentle against Edith's shoulder. "Strallan men have something of a habit of falling perfectly in love with women whom everyone else considers perfectly unsuitable. I think I even remember Phillip telling me once that one of his ancestors, back in the 16-somethings, married an actress. Family legend, I think - but I'm sure you'd know more about it than I would, you being such an expert on the family history." A pause, and then she prodded, "Do you see what I'm trying to tell you, my dear?"
Edith trained her eyes on her lap. "I… think so. Lady Strallan… I won't lie to you: I have the very highest regard for Sir Anthony. And recently… well, certain things have happened which have made me realise that… that that regard is both mutual and… and much warmer and more affectionate than I had thought before." She could feel herself blushing. "But… that being the case, I would want to make sure - to make utterly sure - that… that we were pursuing the right course of action, before we… leapt into anything." Thinking of Pip, she pointed out, "We don't simply have our own happiness to consider, after all. Am I… explaining myself clearly?"
Lady Strallan gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. "Perfectly clearly. I think you're a very sensible woman, my dear. But I would like you to know that none of the people who really matter would have any objection whatsoever if you and Anthony were to… well, form some sort of closer connection with each other, if and when the time is right for you both." While Edith was still absorbing that, Lady Strallan exhaled, clapped her hands together, and then said, "Now… what are you wearing this evening, my dear? Is there anything I can help with?"
"Well, don't you two look dashing?" Lady Strallan smiled at Anthony and Pip as she and Edith descended the stairs that evening. The gentlemen, in their white tie (Pip looking faintly stunned at finding himself in such formal wear), were waiting in the hall for the ladies. "And," Lady Strallan added quietly and mischievously to her son, "doesn't Mrs Crawley look beautiful?"
Overhearing, Pip rolled his eyes. "Oh, Granny! Mrs C. always looks beautiful."
"Well, thank you very much, my darling."
Edith's smile and faint, pretty blush made Anthony ache.
The ache did not show any signs of dissipating, either, on the drive to the Abbey, or while he sat at supper, watching Edith laughing with her sister and mother, or afterwards when the whole merry party trooped through to the ballroom for the dancing to begin. Edith, Mrs Branson and the Countess had clustered themselves into a group of chairs at the side of the ballroom, giggling with each other, and Anthony couldn't help allowing his gaze to drift over there occasionally.
At his shoulder, his mother sighed. "Are you really going to spend your whole evening ogling her? At this juncture, it might be more proper to, oh, ask her to dance, perhaps?"
"Would it indeed?" her son asked dryly, twisting his head to look her in the eyes.
"Yes," his mother replied firmly. "In fact - oh."
"What?" Anthony frowned.
An amused smile settled on Lady Strallan's face. "I'm afraid that your son has beaten you to the mark."
It was true. Edith and Pip were already halfway onto the dance floor. Over the music - a waltz - Anthony heard her tell him: "Now… it's very simple, you must just remember to count as we go. One, two, three, one, two, three - lovely. What an excellent dancer you are, my dear."
Anthony smiled (she was exaggerating Pip's prowess rather significantly) but they both looked as if they were enjoying themselves. Their joy had not gone unnoticed. Behind him, he heard Helen Spalding say, somewhat archly, "Is Mrs Crawley Anthony's secretary or Phillip's governess? One might hardly know the difference, Isobel."
The Dowager Countess's reply was softly scolding. "Well, I happen to think they're terribly sweet together. And the poor boy has been without a mother for far too long."
Lady Strallan shot a sparkling look of fun up at him. "Now, isn't that what I'm always saying?" she muttered.
On the floor, Pip frowned in concentration. "Am I still doing it right?" he wanted to know. "It doesn't feel very smooth…"
"Oh darling," Edith smiled, "you're doing very nicely. Only… perhaps I'm slightly taller and you're slightly shorter than we should be for it to work as well as it should."
Looking over her shoulder, Pip grinned suddenly. "Perhaps Papa can help, Mrs C."
"May I cut in?" Sir Anthony asked at that moment from behind them.
"Oh, I - "
But Pip had already stepped back, that cheeky grin of his getting even wider, and Sir Anthony lifted an enquiring eyebrow and Edith stepped into into his arms. One hand rested warmly against her upper back, his thumb just grazing the skin left exposed by her gown, the other held her hand. Edith let her free hand come to rest over his shoulder. They were almost eye to eye, and certainly closer than they had been since that deliciously ill-advised kiss a few weeks' ago.
"You waltz so beautifully," he murmured in explanation as they moved away, "that I couldn't possibly let Pip have all the fun."
"That's very kind of you," Edith whispered. "But between you and I, I think we may have to work on his technique." It was true, what she had said to Pip - this sort of thing really did work better when the leader was a little taller and more experienced.
"Ah, I see." His eyes twinkled with fun. "Give the poor lad some demonstrations, that sort of thing?"
"I think so, yes."
"Well," Sir Anthony grinned, "I'm nothing if not a slave to his education. What a selfless pair we are, Mrs Crawley."
At the side of the ballroom, Lady Helen was watching this new development with interest, her lorgnette held up to her eye as if she were in the front row of a new and engaging play.
The Strallan boy seemed quite smitten with his secretary. He was certainly holding her closer than even the waltz's hold strictly demanded. Not that his pretty partner seemed to be objecting, it had to be admitted. Lady Helen was eighty-five at her next birthday and the mother of five daughters; she knew well what those sorts of blushes and smiles meant on the face of an unmarried woman - and, it had to be admitted, even sometimes on the face of a married one. It was all most interesting.
Training her lorgnette around the room, Lady Helen fixed it next on Anthony's mother. Dear Phillip had married beneath him, of course - everyone knew that - but Anne had not been such a poor mistress of Locksley as the county had been expecting. In fact, she had made rather a success of it. Helen watched her watching Anthony and Mrs Crawley and noted the faint look of approval and pleasure on her face, almost like a woman looking upon her son and daughter-in-law.
Even more interesting. Perhaps Anthony had inherited his father's somewhat unconventional taste in women. Even so, this sort of thing really was beyond the pale. Oh, the Crawley girl was nice enough, she supposed, polite and clearly in possession of a brain, nothing objectionable about her, but she was not exactly the most sensible choice for a man in Anthony's position. Perhaps it was the Grantham connection that had attracted him. Yes, that would be it.
Still, carrying on like that in public with one's staff was not the done thing at all. If they were engaged - which did not seem unlikely, given Anne's behaviour towards them - why not announce it and have done? Lady Helen shook her head a little. Tremendously odd. And if they didn't do something about it soon, then those less observant than she herself would begin to notice - and people could be terribly cruel and gossipy about things like this, particularly in the countryside, when everyone knew everyone else. Eyebrows would be raised. Assumptions would be made. Anthony mightn't suffer from it at all - men, after all, would be men, and no one would blame him for engaging in a brief dalliance - but the Crawley girl might, and Helen guessed from their brief interactions in the past that she was the sort of sweet creature who was likely to be horribly wounded by any sort of unpleasantness.
Helen sighed. Someone ought to say something. Not to Anthony himself, of course, nor to Anne. He would bluster, and she would deny everything. No use speaking to the Crawley girl, either - such a blushing, mousy creature. No, someone of sense was needed here, someone who knew both of them well enough that she could impart some kindly advice, and not be instantly thrown out, someone like…
"Ah, Claudia, my dear, good evening."
"So," Matthew smiled as he one-stepped Sybil around the floor, "is wedded bliss living up to expectations?"
Sybil smiled broadly. "More than. Tom's a darling - and he's being so helpful to Richard these days, with Mary being so out of sorts."
"Oh?" Matthew lifted a polite eyebrow, quite at odds with the way his stomach was churning. "She's… not ill, is she?"
Sybil hastened to reassure him. "Oh, not any more ill than ladies tend to get, when they're expecting. Funny, isn't it, that last Christmas Lavinia was so sick, and now it's Mary's turn!"
Matthew turned shocked eyes on her. "Mary's… in the family way?"
"Yes," Sybil confirmed. "That's why she and Richard decided to stay in London this Christmas. Didn't they tell you when they wrote?"
"N-no. I don't think so." He forced a smile. "Mary… wrote to Lavinia, not to me. She may have told her. When is she… how far along…"
"About five months'," Sybil smiled. "A little April baby. Isn't it such lovely news? Richard's tickled pink."
"Yes," Matthew forced out. "Just lovely."
"Only don't start spreading it around, will you?" Sybil pleaded. "Mary's being so secretive about the whole thing, she'd have my hide if she thought I'd been so indiscreet, even with you." She shrugged. "I suppose that's what happens, when you've been married for six years and this is your first. It's such a long time to wait for a baby, isn't it, if you want one?"
"A very long time," Matthew agreed quietly, a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.
"Well, that was a lovely evening," Lavinia smiled quietly at Matthew as he poked his head around the nursery door. She was sat in the rocking chair, cradling a sleepy George. "Happy New Year."
"And to you. I… missed you downstairs, when the clock struck."
"I slipped up here just to check on our little troublemaker, and he took his chance and woke up for a feed," she shrugged. "I'm sorry."
Matthew bent and kissed her forehead. "Not at all. Happy New Year to you, old chap," he added, stroking a finger along George's temple, and brushing aside a few wispy golden curls. "Shall I put him down for you?"
"Thank you." Lavinia kissed the baby's head and let his father take him back to his crib. By the time Matthew had turned around, she had stood and neatened her gown.
"By the way, did you know cousin Mary was expecting?" Matthew asked lightly as they stepped out on to the landing.
Lavinia gave him a slightly startled smile. "Oh, yes. That's why she and Sir Richard didn't come for Christmas. Didn't I mention it to you?"
"No, you didn't."
His voice came out somewhat sharper than he had intended; Lavinia stopped, eyes wide. "Have I… done something wrong?"
Matthew let out a breath and forced a smile. "No, of course not. Sybil mentioned it to me, when we were dancing, that's all. I was… surprised. Coming to bed, darling?"
"Y-yes," Lavinia nodded. "Only… go on without me, won't you? I have a horrid feeling I've left my gloves downstairs, and Westlock will scold when she comes to undress me."
"One sometimes wonders," Matthew rolled his eyes humorously, "who is the mistress, and who the maid."
"Yes," Lavinia laughed lightly. "You're perfectly right."
He pressed a kiss to her cheek and was gone.
The Countess waited until her husband was all the way along the landing and had turned the corner into the corridor where their room lay before she allowed her face to crumple into tears.
It had been a horrid trick to play, she knew, and in the end, she hadn't even been there to see his face when he had found out. But, as it turned out, that hadn't been necessary. His shock and confusion, yes, and his fear were still filling his eyes. She didn't think Matthew realised how well she knew him, even after six years of marriage. He couldn't have hidden something like this from her, even if he thought she were suspicious enough for him to need to hide it.
She had known when she had married him that there had been something still there between him and Mary. But she had been foolish enough to believe that he loved her too, or at least cared for her sufficiently to avoid this sort of mess.
She had thought she had managed it. And then, that little letter from her cousin, just before George had been born - I saw your best beloved in Oxford Street yesterday afternoon with his cousin Mary, but not to say hello to… - and then when she had asked Matthew whether he had seen anyone interesting, once he had got back, he hadn't mentioned Mary at all. It was that that had made her go cold all over, and start to think back over all those trips to London Matthew had been making over the last year. That week he had spent away from Downton with friends, around the time Sybil had been arrested. Had she been utterly foolish?
Apparently she had.
Even if he were not the father of Mary's child, Lavinia reflected, mopping her eyes with her handkerchief as she went downstairs to retrieve the forgotten gloves, Matthew clearly believed there was a possibility that he might be.
And wasn't that enough to destroy any marriage?
