Thanks for all your lovely reviews for the last chapter. I did borrow a line or two of Edith's from JF in this chapter. Now, who's at the door?
Caught completely off guard by the knock at the hotel room door, Anthony and Edith stood silently, holding their breath as though hoping who ever it was would go away.
The knock sounded again, "Mr. and Mrs. Strallan, are you there?" Jimmy called out.
The couple glanced at each other but neither answered the bellhop.
"Edith, I know you're in there young lady, so, you'd best answer this door before I get upset."
"Is that?" Anthony cringed at the look Edith gave him.
"Yes," the strawberry blonde glared over her shoulder at him, "but then you already knew that didn't you!" she accused, flinging the door open.
"I swear Edith, I had no idea..."
"Liar!"
Poor Jimmy took one look at an angry Edith and an agitated Anthony before quickly scurrying away.
"Hello, what this?" Martha Levinson glided into the room as though she'd been expected, "It sounds as though there's trouble in paradise."
"Edith, I beg you, listen to me," Anthony pleaded "I realize how this must look but... believe me, I..."
"I'm through listening to you and your lies, Anthony Strallan," the young woman screeched, "I'll never believe another word you say."
"I didn't lie to you!"
"Oh, really, then what is she," Edith pointed angrily towards her grandmother, "doing here if you didn't tell her that youb'd found me?"
"I have no idea," the baronet shouted, "I gave you my word...""
"Ok, children, would one of you kindly explain what the hell is going on?"
"So, her arrival just hours after you show up at my door is just a coincidence, I suppose?"
"No, I called New York while you were sleeping and she flew here on her broom."
"Get out, Anthony! Do you hear me, get out!" the strawberry blonde repeated when the older gentleman didn't budge. "I never want to see your face again! Never!"
"Perhaps, Sir Anthony, it might be best," Martha intervened, "if you gave Edith and me a minute to ourselves."
"Of course," the tall blond gave a polite nod before trudging slowly towards the door. Stepping into the hall, he turned and for a long moment quietly stared at Edith, his brow furrowed, "You needn't hurry on my account Mrs. Levinson," he muttered at last, "I'm leaving. I can't handle any more of this...", he waved his hand in the air in exasperation, this madness," he sighed, wearily pulling the door shut as he left.
"My darling, what was that all about," Martha raised any eyebrow at her middle granddaughter.
"Not five minutes ago, Sir Anthony promised me that he hadn't told anyone that I was in Boston and fool that I am, I believed him. Again."
"And, what makes you think the man is lying?"
Edith looked at her grandmother in disbelief, "You're here, aren't you?"
Martha Levinson studied Edith, "I can understand your reasoning my dear, but you're jumping to conclusions. Sir Anthony hasn't betrayed your trust, at least not as far as I know."
"What are you saying? I don't understand what you're saying!"
"I haven't spoken to your former fiancee' in weeks. I'll explain later how I came to find you but first, I think, you owe the gentleman an apology."
"But, but, you heard him" the strawberry blonde cried, "he said he was leaving. That he's had enough of...of my foolishness."
"I'm sure he was just letting off steam," Martha assured her, rambling idly about the room. She smiled suddenly, "He'll have to come back for these" she said, nodding towards the bags the baronet had left behind.
"You don't understand," the redhead was distraught, "Ever since Anthony's arrived, I've been nothing but horrible towards him. I've certainly haven't given him any reason to stay and whatever is in those bags he can easily replace."
"Oh I wouldn't say that," her grandmother murmured, peering into the older gentleman's luggage "I doubt he'd leave without taking this with him," she grinned knowingly. Reaching into the bag that had been left open, she withdrew the framed photograph of Edith that lay atop the baronet's other belongings.
At the sight of her picture, the devastated young woman began to weep, "But I've been so mean and spiteful, there's no reason he'd come back for that photograph now." Except, perhaps, to burn it. "Don't you see, I've ruined everything. He's gone and I'll never get another chance to set things right."
"Edith, pull yourself together," Martha ordered, "I'll go find Jimmy, perhaps Sir Anthony spoke with him before leaving. Don't give up hope, the man can't have gotten far. Besides he'll need to book passage to England so that gives us a bit of time to search for him."
Martha Levinson couldn't help but smile at the sight that greeted her as she stepped outside Edith's hotel room. Normally the picture of propriety, Anthony Strallan, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie undone, and his jacket discarded and crumpled under his head as a makeshift pillow, lay slumped against the wall fast asleep.
"Edith," she motioned her granddaughter over. "The poor man looks exhausted" she whispered has the strawberry blonde joined her.
For a moment, the two women stood quietly, simply admiring the sleeping baronet. With his hat tucked down over his eyes, his jaw sporting two days scruff from having not shaved, and his long legs sprawling from nearly one side of the hall to the other, the baronet was, Edith thought, quite handsome in such a state of dishevel. Her grandmother, it seemed, was entertaining an eerily similar notion. "My dear," she murmured, "if you don' t hurry up and decide whether or not you want Sir Anthony," the older woman paused and nudged her granddaughter's elbow, "I may just keep him for myself."