A/N: To the guest review who commented on the last chapter: First of all, thank you! I really do appreciate people taking the time to leave their thoughts and reactions for me. Secondly, because I made a choice to only write from Bertie's POV, the conversation between Edith and Mrs Pelham couldn't be part of this story. I'm sorry if that's a bit of a disappointment.
Chapter 22: To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield - part I
5 October, 1925
Bertie worked as he had before becoming the Marquess of Hexham, with dedication and purpose, but soon enough he had to concede to the evidence of his change in status; he had suggested lunch at the pub close to the hospital to Harry, once, only to find that the atmosphere had not been the same as before his inheritance. Once the pub owner had addressed him as Lord Hexham, a quiet had settled over the pub, while at the same time a murmur had started amongst its patrons. In addition to that, while for most of the autumn Brancaster had been let, expectations were high for him to invite guests over when he was the true master of the castle. The Deacon of Hexham had written more than once to politely inquire after Bertie's ideas about furthering the Church's interests in the area, and his mother had quite helpfully pointed out that being filthy rich meant throwing money left, right and centre to whichever cause demanded it.
Bertie had resigned himself to throwing a dinner in between each letting of Brancaster, and to dedicating more time to think about what causes he really ought to support in the area. For that reason, he had requested Edith's counsel. She was much more used to this type of commitment, for once, and he had hopes that she would pick up some of his work once she officially became his wife – he didn't intend to make her a slave to her duties as Marchioness, but he would need her help in some things. Edith had suggested he might wish to involve himself in the hospital – for which he could rely on Harry's support – education for less fortunate children – she had suggested it for females especially, but Bertie believed in equal opportunities on that front and had decided not to make a distinction – and the Church. Bertie would leave most of the work with the Church to his mother, and use her help on local fairs and trade shows, but the rest would be up to him. Further inquiries in the conditions of coal miners, finally, had convinced him to become a supporter of miners' rights, though exactly how that could be achieved beyond his vocally proclaiming himself one was still somewhat hazy.
In between all of his new commitments and the keeping of his old duties, Bertie found the time to head to London to visit Edith. He made sure that she knew ahead of time when he was required to go down to meet with Mr Bell over the lawsuit against Mr Carr or when he had meetings to arrange Hexham House's future as a museum house, and she was always there to see him. Unfortunately, despite the fact that their courtship was very much public after the announcement of the engagement, Bertie was mostly too tired to ever make use of his title to get reservations at the best restaurants and clubs of the Capital. Edith had been understanding enough to suggest they might have a simpler intimate dinner, and they mostly made use of her Aunt's presence in London to meet more privately. Lady Rosamund was possibly Bertie's biggest supporter, and never had enough of praising him and making him feel accepted as Edith's fiancée. Unfortunately for Bertie, that meant that her eagerness to please was draining. After the third such dinner, Bertie had decided to invite Edith over at Hexham House, hoping for a bit more privacy, but the butler had made as much of a fuss as Edith's aunt, and Bertie had finished the night more exhausted than he had ever been.
Though he would have never complained openly, Edith had seemed to pick up on his mood, because at the end of that particular night she had suggested that he go to her flat the next time, so that she could repay his invitation. He had kissed her in plain sight of his butler.
He showed up at her flat with a red and white bouquet made of amaryllises (for splendid beauty) and white chrysanthemums (as a symbol of his loyal love). He had spent two hours at a florist trying to get the perfect combination to give her, and the result was a radiant smile on Edith's part. She didn't need his explanations to know what his bouquet stood for, apparently the meaning of flowers was something she had learnt from her governess.
"I never really thought it would be useful, but there you go."
"I wish I had had a governess to teach me the symbology of flowers when I was young; I spent a stupidly long amount of time at the florist being lectured on their meanings."
"Did you take notes?" She asked, jokingly.
"Many," he replied in all seriousness. "I've drawn a list of what flowers to get you in the future, don't worry."
She leaned into his personal space at that, and he met her lips halfway as they raised to meet his in a fervent kiss. "Hi," she whispered when they separated. It was then that he remembered he hadn't greeted her yet, too enthused about his floral accomplishment. "Thank you for taking the trouble to learn what flowers mean rather than simply buying a dozen roses. I know it's not your favourite pastime and that you could do something more useful with your time."
"Hi," he answered, with a giddy smile. "I may grumble, but I would find a way to give you the stars if that would make you happy. I'm so very much in love with you, I hope you know that."
"I do. And I love you, too." She paused for a while, their foreheads resting against each other's. "And I hope you'll love me enough to forgive me. My charlady was taken ill this afternoon, and had to go back home. She left me a note saying that she hadn't managed to prepare dinner."
Bertie closed his eyes. "Do you have food, at least?"
"Yes. I don't know how to cook it, but I do. I could probably boil us an egg and prepare some vegetables, but I'm not really a chef."
"It's all right," Bertie reassured her. "Just give me five seconds, and then I'll take care of dinner."
"I thought you didn't want to go out," Edith commented. "Indeed, this whole invitation was about making you rest."
"I don't." He opened his eyes and watched her. "I actually know how to cook a dish more complex than boiled eggs," he revealed with a joking tone. Her eyes widened. "Well, don't look so surprised, I might be a marquess now, but I was raised a proper country boy, running around my mother's skirts while she busied herself with preparing dinner. Well," he amended, "maybe she didn't wear a cook's clothes, and maybe I wasn't allowed to run around in the kitchen – or any other parts of the house except the garden – but you get the picture."
"Is there something you don't actually know how to do?" She answered with a tone somewhere between exasperation and admiration.
"Many things. But I'm not revealing my secrets all at once."
They moved to the kitchen soon after that, as he asked what the intended dinner had been, so that he could see if he could replicate it, or at the very least so that he might use the ingredients to prepare something he was familiar with. He removed his suit jacket and donned an apron, much to Edith's amusement, but despite the short teasing he received once he had put it on, she paid very close attention to what he was doing, and asked questions, displaying a keen interest. He wouldn't use her as an aide in the near future, but he did see the potential in her to become at least adept at doing something slightly more elaborate than boiled eggs.
He didn't mind in the least having to cook, despite her continuous inquiries to that end. Yes, he was tired, and he might not have made use of his culinary skills often, since they weren't stellar and he had often had his mother or a cook to provide nourishment for him, but with Edith at his side to pass the time, he had no opposition at all to the activity. They conversed easily until the food was ready, and then he took the decision to set the table in the kitchen; she didn't look accustomed to the frugal arrangement, but Bertie wanted her to know a bit of himself which he doubted she would get to experience now that he was a marquess.
"Do you have plans for tomorrow?" She asked, after having complimented his chicken.
"I didn't. I thought I'd be able to tag along with whatever plan you might have had, but I received a phone call this afternoon," he lamented. "It means I'll have to leave for home tomorrow soon after breakfast."
"Did something happen at Brancaster?"
"No, I'm only passing home because I need the car, but I'm going up to Naworth Castle. The Earl of Carlisle has invited me there, and I can't refuse since he's doing me a favour." At her perplexed look, he realised he hadn't yet told her about his plans for Hexham House in detail. "The ninth Earl was a painter, and Peter admired him greatly; his grandson, the current Earl has been helping me out with finding the appropriate manager and funds to set Hexham House as a museum. There's a whole world of insurances and staff which I knew nothing about, and he's been very gracious in helping me out, but I couldn't expect him to set his schedule around mine. Since he wrote to me to apologise for not being able to attend Peter's service, I think I owe him some sincere consideration."
"How long will you be staying?"
"He invited me for two nights, even though by all rights I could go back to sleep at Brancaster, since it's not that far. They're good people, as far as I remember, though, so it'll be good to get to meet them properly."
"Would you be opposed to the idea of coming to Downton for a night after that?" She asked almost shyly.
"I'm never opposed to the idea of spending time with you," he reassured her. "Besides, I had a thought the other day. I still haven't met your grandmother, and I think it's high time I did."
"Are you quite certain that you want to meet her before the wedding?"
"The only time I saw her, she gave me the impression of someone who knew and spoke her mind, someone who would make either a very powerful ally or a staunch opposer. And I'm of the mind that most of what she could have criticised about me is no longer an issue. But," he declared conclusively, "even if she were to dislike me intensely and try to send me running for the hills, I won't go anywhere without you, at this point. I made that mistake once already, and I'm not about to replicate it."
"Good, because there is something I've been meaning to tell you." She leaned forward and took his hand in hers, squeezing with delicate strength. "I've thought about what you said regarding my relationship with my family. And I think you're right. It'll take some effort, but I promise to try my best at it. And if you catch me reverting back to my old habits, I want you to let me know, so that I can fix them with you."
8 October, 1925
The visit to Naworth Castle had been pleasant; Bertie had managed to feel like he had been making a friend out of the Earl. The man had the Army imprinted in his soul, and a taste for politics that Bertie didn't share but admired. Indeed, the Earl had convinced Bertie that he should give the House of Lords a proper go when next they convened. Obviously, the last sessions had been in a very inconvenient moment, just at the tail end of Bertie's succession, which had come with the loss of Peter and the temporary – though at the time seemingly definite – break with Edith. Even had Bertie wished to give the Lords a try, he had not been in the right frame of mind for it. On the business side of things, Lord Carlisle had introduced Bertie to the man who would take care of concretising Bertie's plans for Hexham House, an art historian who was very renowned for his work in London
Bertie had still been glad when the visit had been over, because it had meant that he could soon be at Downton with Edith. He had gone directly from Naworth Castle, driving his car because it would save him all the fuss of getting different trains and wasting most of his morning. When he arrived in front of the Abbey's entrance, however, he barely had the time to unload before Edith forced him back in the car and gave him directions for the Dower House. Apparently, they were going for a morning visit. "I thought your grandmother was coming to luncheon. And dinner."
"She is," Edith agreed. "I still want you to meet her when she is alone. Cousin Isobel is definitely coming to dinner, and there's a tendency towards confrontation when the two of them are together. I don't want you to end up a victim of the cross-fire."
"Your family seems to provide an endless source of amusement to its guests," Bertie smiled, much to Edith's exasperation.
"No jokes when we're at the house, and whatever you do, do not be your usual charming and helpful self with the butler. I like Spratt as a writer, but he's a veritable stickler for tradition when it comes to his job for Granny."
Bertie nodded, still unable to contain the smile whenever he was reminded of Mr Spratt's alias of Miss Cassandra Jones. He had never met the man, of course, but the irony of Lady Grantham being served by a man who hid his identity behind that of a woman was not lost on him. When they arrived and Bertie had a chance to actually see the man, the effort it took not to laugh was greater than anticipated, though it did help him be less useful – which had been what Edith had wanted of him.
They were shown into the garden, where the Dowager was enjoying the last of the warmth of early autumn, afforded by a rare day of sunshine. Bertie let Edith take point, and was content to walk a step behind her. Edith had not told her grandmother that she should expect them, and it showed on her face.
"This is a surprise," the Dowager Countess stated. Bertie didn't think it was a judgment-free comment.
"Hello, Granny." Edith leaned towards her grandmother to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I thought you could meet Bertie properly."
Bertie removed his hat. "It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Lady Grantham."
"I must confess to being quite curious about you as well, Lord Hexham," the old lady admitted. She indicated that they should sit, and Bertie did as he was bid immediately after Edith. "I do wonder at the reason why you didn't think luncheon would be an appropriate time to meet."
"I didn't want you to be meeting him while you were upset over something else."
"Why would I be upset? Did someone do something I ought to be upset about?"
"No, Granny, but you always find reason to be upset at someone."
"I somehow don't think you're being very helpful, Edith," Bertie chanced.
"Well," the Dowager commented. "At least he's perceptive." Bertie took Edith's hand in his as he thanked her grandmother for the back-handed compliment. "So tell me, Lord Hexham, which of your virtues are you going to try to impress me with today?"
"None, Lady Grantham. I'm afraid my sole purpose in being here is to finally make your acquaintance. If I shall have your stamp of approval afterwards, I will be most pleased, but either way today was long overdue."
"You know, everyone speaks very highly of you, despite everything that transpired."
"Still, I get the impression you don't let other people's opinions influence your mind."
"Very perceptive," the Dowager remarked, looking at Edith. It felt like Bertie had broken down a barrier.
"That's not his best quality, if you'll believe it."
"Ah, I see Lord Hexham already has you beat on understanding how little I like to be told what to think."
"She's anxious for us to like each other," Bertie intervened, realising now that Edith had been genuinely overwrought about the meeting, truly explaining why Bertie was at the Dower House despite the fact that they would have met at lunch in little more than an hour. "I suppose considering my actions only a couple of months ago, she is entitled to some apprehension."
"You don't like to beat about the bush, do you, Lord Hexham?"
"Not when honesty can help me cut to the chase." Bertie felt as though a battle was being waged, but he had no munition with which to counterattack, rather only some scraps which he should do his utmost best to fashion into an armour strong enough to sustain her assault. But Bertie had fought tougher battles, and not just literal ones, either – he had had to contend with an army of people who hadn't believed in his right to ascend to a powerful position in the County, for starters – and though the Dowager Lady Grantham was undoubtedly a strong and uncompromising individual, he knew her ilk, for his mother wasn't too far removed from it. Knowing that, though he had definitely only scratched the surface with the Dowager, meant that Bertie knew on which fronts he had to defend himself, and on which others he was best suited to bare his soul, that she might come to appreciate him for the man he truly was.
"Very well, then you won't mind telling me what changed your mind. Somehow, I don't think a call from Mary was all it took for you to revisit your position," she commented quite sharply. Bertie didn't know whether Mary had boasted to her grandmother about her role in reuniting him with Edith, but, by hook or crook, he thought the Dowager would have found out regardless.
"Granny!" Edith intervened.
Bertie stopped her before she could say anything further. "It's all right, she has a right to ask, and it's nothing I'm afraid to admit, at any rate. I believe," he said sincerely, "I never for a second liked the decision I had taken, and when I went to see the buried remains of my cousin, I knew for a fact I had made the biggest mistake of my entire life. It took me a while longer to realise it," he admitted unabashedly, "and longer still to understand and accept my mistakes. But when I did, there was only one constant thought in my mind, and it was to find a way for your granddaughter to accept me back." He looked the Dowager in the eyes for the entire time he was addressing her, wanting to let her know how serious and committed he was to Edith's happiness. He would not be cowed into not being honest by the woman's sternness.
"And the girl?"
Bertie took a quick look around, ensuring that no one might be within earshot. "Marigold has done nothing wrong, and I see no reason to fault her for any of this. I was never angry with her, if that's what you meant."
"No, that's not exactly it."
"If this is about Bertie making her feel any less loved because of her birth, you shouldn't worry," Edith intervened. "He has asked Papa's solicitor to draw up the papers to pass her guardianship over."
"Since Lord Grantham is her official ward, and since my own solicitor is somewhat busy with a lawsuit at the moment, I preferred leaving the matter in his solicitor's hands. Things shouldn't be too complicated since she's a girl, and there's not much issue with the inheritance."
"And your mother has no objection?" Lady Grantham seemed intent on finding and exposing all the problems that might interfere with their union, but Bertie refused to bow down to her dogged determination.
"She doesn't fault Marigold, either, and though she might have preferred not to have to deal with a situation such as this, she does like your granddaughter."
"Yes, Cora told me what Mrs Pelham said about the matter. Words and facts are not necessarily the same, though."
"She meant what she said," Bertie reassured her, although he felt that Edith had possibly needed the words more than her grandmother.
"How do you know?"
"Because she's my mother," he said with finality. "And if I'm half the man I am, I owe it to her and her education."
There were no more objections after that, just polite conversation, in which all three of them participated equally. The Dowager was an interesting character, to be sure, and half the time Bertie struggled to understand whether she was being serious or joking, while the other half he hoped he had misunderstood her intentions but knew he hadn't. It hadn't gone half as badly as he had anticipated, however, and by the relief he saw on Edith's face, he thought he might not have been the only one to come out of the encounter with a feeling of accomplishment. By the time the conversation came to an acceptable lull, it was close enough to luncheon that Bertie offered to drive Lady Grantham to the Abbey with Edith and himself; there was little need to inconvenience her chauffeur, so she accepted.
When they arrived, the first thing Tom asked him when he saw him was whether or not Bertie had survived, and though he was truly tired, Bertie's response was entirely honest. "Definitely." It earned him a smile and a congratulatory pat on the shoulder.
Luncheon was an overall pleasant affair; he had plenty enough to talk about with Henry and Tom that he didn't feel like he was being singled out. After having had a chance to properly get to know them, he had come to the realisation that he didn't dislike Lord and Lady Grantham (he actually thought Edith's mother was very pleasant), but he always felt under some kind of scrutiny with them, as if his every action might be questioned at any given time for no other reason than because he was an outsider. He might not always be one, but he certainly was now, and he thought that had much more to do with his attitude than the fact he wasn't married to Edith yet. Tom might have been a shock in his time, but Bertie thought he was harder to understand than Tom. His simplicity was much more questionable, in light of his newfound role.
Questions about the wedding were made, but Bertie was happy to let Edith answer those, since she was clearly going to take most of the important decisions – he certainly wasn't going to intrude in the choice of flowers or food, his only interest laying with the guests he wanted to invite.
After lunch, though Edith proposed a walk outside, Bertie asked if she would mind him spending time with Marigold instead. He was tired enough to wish to be inside and possibly lethargic, but he didn't want to retire to his bedroom for a nap. He had some correspondence to see to, and he took care of that before going to see the children, since they would probably be resting. Edith, of course, was more than happy to oblige his request, smiling as though she had seen the sun for the first time in months.
He was glad to see the little girl was still wearing the bracelet he had given her as a gift, and that the other children remembered him as well, and was overjoyed when Sybbie asked him for a piggy-back ride. Apparently, that was the children's favourite activity, and one that they had not partaken in too often since the underbutler, Mr Barrow, had left. They read and played as well, and Bertie did his best to keep Marigold close to him at all times. He wanted her to like him before she was officially told that she would become his ward. When it was time for tea, he and Edith helped Nanny get the children downstairs, and Bertie noticed with some self-pride how Lady Grantham's eyes lit up when she saw him come in holding Marigold safely in one arm and with Sybbie walking alongside him, holding his hand in her much smaller one.
Bertie didn't know what his next hurdle would be, but in that moment he felt like he had tackled the worst of it.
A/N: One chapter to go. And because next Friday I'll leave for a bit of a holiday (if everything pans out as it should), the last update will be on Thursday next (i.e. the 13th)... It doesn't seem fair to make you wait until the 23rd.
I'm not promising anything - mostly because I've got an ongoing original work and little time during my work months (September through June. Yes, you guessed it, I'm a teacher) - but for those of you who would like to read more in this universe, you may leave requests in the form of comments and I'll see if I can be inspired at any point to write more. Bear in mind that I don't really like what the film did to Bertie and Edith, and therefore I sort of not consider it as canon in my mind (more on my Bertie/Edith headcanon as a final note to the last chapter).