I can't do this, her mind whispered to itself, it's too much. She'd felt this swell of emotion building in her since they'd first boarded the train. At first she'd attributed it to the sadness that their few weeks alone together were coming to a close. But it was more than that, it was this train. This train that was whisking her north to a life she'd been willing to accept but hadn't sufficiently considered in all its terrifying detail; this train that was taking her further and further away from the things that she knew and understood - her career, her family, her home: and, this train that signified that she was no longer free.

She gripped the armrests of the seat, the coarse fabric rough under her fingers, her heart beating faster as the notion took hold. She could feel something akin to panic starting to rise, its tentacles worming their way through her blood beginning to consume her. She gasped for air but it didn't seem to come and she let out a strangled cry. Bertie started at the sound, his newspaper dropping to the floor as he grabbed for her in alarm.

"Edith, what's wrong? What happened?" his voice confused and then alarmed as she turned pale in front of him.

"I can't do this," she muttered, out loud this time but still more to herself than to him, "It's too much."

She rushed to stand, to escape the confines of the compartment that felt as if it was closing in on her, but a wave of dizziness hit and she was forced back down. Bertie crouched next to her, his hand on her back giving it a gentle rub in a way he hoped was calming. He encouraged her to lean forward, rest her elbows on her knees, hoping it might bring some relief to her ragged breathing. He whispered some words of comfort but not knowing the cause of this fit he struggled to console her with anything of meaning. He waited for a few minutes, not taking his eyes off her for fear she would worsen. What a journey this was turning out to be, he reflected, but pushed thoughts of it aside. That was for later, his focus had to be on her now.

He heard as her breath settled, slowly became more regular, the slightest hint of colour back in her ashen cheeks. She breathed out heavily and made to sit up, grasping his hand that had been resting on her knee. She whispered a quiet thank you before falling back and letting her eyelids close.


Bertie paced the corridor of their carriage. Tea had fortuitously arrived not long after Edith's attack and that had seemed to revive her some more. She wouldn't tell him what was wrong but he thought he knew, the events of the day told him more than she realised. But what to do? If only they could get off this blasted train, sit somewhere together, hold one another and just talk. He'd seen glimpses of this side of her before. She was a master of controlling her emotions, like all women of her standing, but she'd let the mask slip just slightly as they'd gotten to know each other. Mostly she'd revealed her strengths, her passion and drive, but those came with the insecurity of a middle child who'd been given no clear guidance in life and largely left to find her own way. He peered through the outside window, the grime from the locomotive's smoke thicker now, but was able to make out the signs as they flashed through another station. Darlington, he noted with relief, not too much much longer now.


She'd been hopeful that a blissful sleep would come and take her away from all this, but it hadn't. She'd heard as he'd slipped out, knowing he wouldn't go far. She could see the love and worry for her etched on his brow but she needed time to think and so had continued to feign rest to achieve just that. Her thoughts had taken her back to an afternoon in Paris. He'd surprised her with a carriage ride through the Bois de Boulogne, all too aware that the end of their wonderful honeymoon was rapidly approaching. He'd done that throughout, peppered treats and little excursions. Not so many that it took away their spontaneity but enough to show his adoration for her. The rains that had plagued much of their time away had paused, the skies even cleared a little as he'd wrapped a heavy woollen blanket around her legs and snuggled her close to him. She'd shared with him stories of her as a girl, her competitions with Mary as she fought for her parents' attention, and how time and time again she's tried to be strong in her struggle to find her place. She recalled her words when he'd tried to tell her that she didn't need to be brave anymore, that she was safe and secure with him.

"Oh, but I do, my darling," she'd replied, cupping his warm cheeks in her gloved hand. "Courage is just one of many things I'm going to need to be on this new adventure with you."

The carriage had continued, their guide turning around at intervals to share something of the history of the parkland. It had tested their grasp of French but his time in Tangiers had helped and he'd been able to translate the words with which she was less familiar. They'd swept around the lakes, the blue sky helping to bring them to life a little despite the time of year, before they were dropped by the vast greenhouses. Edith for one had been grateful to get inside and away from the damp air. The impressive collection of plants and specimens were from all four corners of the globe and made for a spectacular display. The enormous leaves of the palm trees that had hung over the narrow pathways created a tunnel-effect under which they'd stolen a deep and nerve-tingling kiss without any of the risk of discovery.

She sighed heavily at the recollection of a day that had been perfect in every way but already it felt distant. Her heart was telling her that she was loved unconditionally; she'd seen, felt and rejoiced in it. But her mind wouldn't let that be enough. Her old friend, doubt, had returned and taken hold, its icy grasp reaching in to claim every fibre of her being. It was as if a cape had encircled her and she knew that whilst she could survive within its folds, its pervasive presence would mean she couldn't fully live.


Author's note: We're nearly there. They have to reach the north at some point, surely?