Sorry for the late(ish) update. School work's been keeping me busy these past few days and I'm working on a Wattpad fic that's taking up some time. Don't worry, I won't forget to update this! Hope this chapter's worth the wait!

—5—

Edith puzzled over her notebook, which was filled with neat, flowing cursive. Ideas weren't coming quickly enough. She'd been sitting for hours, ever since Tom left, trying to write. Tom, midway through their conversation, suggested Edith write stories to pass the time. She'd laughed at first, but took his comment seriously. She, a writer? It seemed feasible enough.

Tentatively, she pressed her pen down onto a fresh sheet of paper, making a tiny ink spot. She struggled to write the first few sentences of her story, one about a young girl who goes on a quest to save the last fairy. But, just as words were starting to come more easily, the doorbell rang.

Sighing, Edith pushed her chair back. She walked to the door with as much enthusiasm a child would have upon receiving rocks for a birthday gift.

"Are you here to deliver food?" Edith asked the man on the stoop. He was dressed in a freshly-ironed suit, with a hat to match. In his arms he carried a bag of what appeared to be groceries.

"Yes, actually. Here…" He transported the bag to Edith, who held it to her chest.

"I'm also supposed to ask you how you're all getting on," he continued. "Well, I hope?"

Edith shifted her weight to her other foot to better support the heavy bag.

"As well as one can be when one's lifestyle has been completely changed. You wouldn't happen to know how much longer we'll be here, would you, Mr…" Edith scrutinized the name card on the man's suit jacket. "Gregson."

Mr. Gregson scratched the back of his head. Slowly, as if afraid of upsetting her, he said, "The public have been told the nobility's move will be permanent. That includes you, Miss. Crawley."

Edith bit the inside of her mouth to keep from swearing, as she first thought to do.

"Mr. Gregson," she said when she'd composed herself, "would you like to come in?"

Her polite manners amused Mr. Gregson. He liked the way she pulled herself together so quickly, wiping all emotions from her face in an instant. He hadn't met many women who could do that. Then again, he hadn't hung around many women.

She led him into the house, picking up some clutter and shoving it into a drawer in the process. They sat down at the kitchen table. Edith played with her elegant fingers, which were folded together. She looked at Mr. Gregson from across the table.

"What is it exactly that you do? For work, I mean," she added, clarifying.

Mr. Gregson shrugged. "Government official. Currently, trying to put you" – he gestured in her direction with a flick of his wrist – "back in that house of yours."

Edith sighed, "Good luck then. I know how busy you must be; your children must miss you."

"I have none. My first wife went insane shortly after the wedding, and we divorced."

"Insane?" Edith's voice raised an octave. "How so?"

"Mentally. Not right in the head. You know, looney. She wouldn't have made a very good mother figure, anyways."

Edith smiled kindly at him, this stranger she was so drawn to.

"Well thank you," she said, "for everything you're doing."

He smiled back.

Richard kicked rocks around the pavement as he walked. He really had been trying to make up with Mary, just to get the guilt of blackmailing her off his conscience. But he'd found it incredibly hard to walk up to the door, and then only to be turned away… Well, he'd said his piece. If the damn woman wouldn't accept it, at least he could check "apologize" off his life goals.

Rosamund, coming back from Violet's home after seeing her mama off, walked right into him. She stumbled but righted herself. Then she saw whom she'd nearly knocked over and blinked a few times.

"Mr. Carlisle, I didn't expect to see you here."

"I didn't expect to see a lot of people here," replied Richard bitterly, thinking of Mary. Then, to the redhead, "You do realize curfew's in place, right? For you and yours, I mean. I heard nobility has to be in by six."

She glanced at an imaginary watch on her wrist and then focused back on him. "Oh gracious, is it really that late?" She peered into the distance, as if calculating the time it would take her to walk back to her home. "I didn't realize."

"Yes, well, they never do."

Her eyes, icy blue, caught his and she lifted an eyebrow. "Who's 'they', Mr. Carlisle?"

"Your kind. Nobles. People who think they're better than everyone else."

"Forgive me… but it rather sounds like you're describing yourself." She smirked slyly, unafraid of insulting him. Then she began to walk again.

"You're never going to make it," Richard called after her. He started to walk, keeping up with her fast-paced steps. She walked faster, harder. He caught up.

"I would've been nearly there by now if I hadn't stopped to talk to you," she shot back, still speed walking.

"For God's sake, we spoke barely forty seconds."

They came to her house, which, since they'd moved so quickly, came up fast. And yet curfew had passed and the damned authorities had come by to lock the doors.

"Oh bother," Rosamund said under her breath, when the lock on the front door wouldn't budge.

"Your best bet is to climb through the window," joked Richard, but Rosamund took him seriously.

"You really think that'd work?" She eyed the window suspiciously, seemingly imagining herself fitting through it.

"No, of course – What in God's name are you doing?"

"Climbing through the window!" she called over her shoulder, just as she managed to lower her full self through the opening. She shut the window behind her.

Richard laughed and shook his head. Then he headed back for his own house.

Mary shook out her purse. Two pound notes fluttered to the floor.

"We're running out of money," she said to Cora, who was lounging on the couch. Robert sat in a nearby armchair, reading the newest paper (which buying regularly, as Mary had pointed out many times, was not helping with their lack of income).

"I'm sure we'll get our allowance soon," Cora assured her, not looking up from her magazine, a flimsy packet that'd cost much, much less than Robert's paper.

"I can look into some odd jobs, if you like," said Tom. He'd just come in the front door (Curfew, albeit unfairly, didn't apply to family members without titles). He wiped his shoes on the makeshift mat (a few sheets of paper towels) and walked over to where Robert was sitting and took the chair opposite him.

Mary glanced over at him. "Would you? Thank you, you're an angel." She paused for a moment to smile at him. Then, "Now why are you here?"

He grinned mischievously. "I thought you'd like to know, Edith is babysitting tonight."

"What?" Cora and Robert asked in unison, their reading material forgotten on their respective laps.

Tom chuckled and nodded. "I'm not kidding. I went over to get a break from the Dowager and Isobel. She told me. And then Rose tried to sneak out, at the same time Lady Rosamund came in through the window. And that's when I left."

Robert sighed and placed his head in his hand in response to the news about Rose and Rosamund. Cora sat up, attentive.

"Edith also received a visit from a government official," Tom went on, now with all three Crawleys listening eagerly. Who would've guessed? Edith, the center of attention, for the first time since… well, since forever.

"She says his name is Michael Gregson."

"He?" Robert looked up.

"Relax, Papa," said Mary. "Edith couldn't get a boyfriend even if she undressed before an open window."

Robert made to scold his daughter but Cora gave him a look, and he sat back.

Tom passed Mary's jest off as a playful thing, and he continued to divulge information.

"The girl she's sitting is coming over there in a few minutes. Speaking of which…" He glanced down at his wristwatch. "I should go before the Dowager murders Mrs. Crawley. I'm joking, I'm joking," he added hastily, seeing Robert's face.

Mary watched him exit before turning back to her nearly empty handbag.

"I hate being poor," she sniffed.