Author's Notes: Well, that's a cat amongst the pigeons…

General Warnings: Because this story is set during the early part of the 20th century, be prepared to occasionally run into period typical homophobia, ableism, racism, sexism, lack of good mental health care or the concept thereof, common childcare concepts we find appalling, classism, and victim blaming. Not to mention different concepts of things like consent. I will try and post specific warnings per chapter!

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and plot in this work belongs to the BBC, Julian Fellows, the wonderful actors, and actresses who brought Downton Abbey to life, and a number of other people. This work is produced for entertainment only and no profit is made.

Specific Warnings: Original Child Characters & Crawley Family Dynamics.

SPECIAL THANKS go to the Classicist, who has built a wonderful fanon family for Anthony. Diana, her husband and children, as well as Anthony's parents belong entirely to her. Be sure to drop by and read her work as it is considerably better than mine!

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November 1913

Sir Anthony Strallan worked not to frown when he was met at his front door by his underbutler rather than his butler or valet. It was hardly Thomas Barrow's fault that his was a new and, as yet, unproven presence in the house. If his past was still somewhat suspect, that was an issue he'd already given his word on. The man had a chance. It wasn't Anthony's job to withhold the real meaning of that with excess suspicion.

Or, you could be honest with yourself and admit you're jealous, darling.

Anthony reflected with a purely internal sigh that his better nature and common sense often sounded a great deal like his mother.

"Good Afternoon, Barrow. How goes the day?"

"Very well so far, sir. The Dowager Lady Grantham was by earlier for a visit with Lady Strallan over tea."

Of all of the man's dubious talents, Anthony reflected that he could not complain about the man's ability to say a great deal with very few words. Nor could he complain about his information gathering skills. Turning as the younger man took his coat Anthony immediately reached for his pocket watch to check the time.

"The Dowager was already over? It's not even noon."

"I gather she arrived to discuss the family's plan to spend the season in London."

Anthony restrained a very ungentlemanly urge to swear.

"I see."

Barrow stood at polite attention and Anthony resisted the urge to sigh. The man still wouldn't quite look him in the eye. Instead he had a tendency to look just slightly left of where his employer stood. His manner was not insolent, not technically, but there was just something… a man could tell when one of his household didn't care for him!

"And where is Lady Strallan, Barrow?"

"I believe she decided to take a turn around the orchard, Sir Anthony."

"Thank you, Barrow."

Holding out his hands, he retrieved his coat and, glad he was still wearing the practical shoes he'd spent the morning tramping about the estate in, went right back out the front door he'd just entered. As he did he noticed that his mother's elegant hall tree, with its brass hat and coat hooks and its high mirrored back, had returned to its place by the door. Anthony allowed himself a tiny smile at that and promised he'd retrieve his deceased father-in-law's hideous hat-holding creation from wherever she'd stowed it soon. Seeing it made Addie happy… and it really was hilariously ugly. He wanted to see Diana's reaction to the thing next time she visited. If it was half as amusing as Lady Grantham's had been it was more than worth the effort of keeping the thing in pride of place.

The Master of Loxley found his wife, as advertised, wandering the orchard. Her steps were stern and unhappy and Anthony frowned to see that she was wearing only a knitted wrap over the light gray tea gown she'd put on that morning. Without thought he began to shuck himself out of his own thick woolen coat.

"Edie, darling, are you quite alright? It really is far too late in the year to be wandering about in a day dress and a shawl."

His wife squeaked and started. Anthony took a certain helpless pleasure in enveloping her in his coat as he stepped up behind her. Turning to look in the direction she was staring off in, he noted that there really wasn't anything to hold one's attention so fixedly to the gray surface of the pond. The dreary reflection of the gray clouds overhead was hardly moving.

"Oh, Anthony dear. Is – how was your visit to the diary?"

"Excellent. I have high hopes for the mild blue cheese we've been making this year. It's sold well enough at the local level; we're going to give London a go for the holiday market."

"That's wonderful."

"Hm, yes."

Anthony eyed his wife, who'd turned to stare unwaveringly at the pond's surface again. Pursing his lips in thought he stepped closer to her and joined her in staring down at the unassuming body of water.

"The cows have been delightfully productive."

"Mm."

"I attribute it to an innovative new program to harness the full potential of their gastro-intestinal processes."

"Oh? That's very good."

"Yes, you see, in order to limit the effect their weight has on the land – tears up the pastures something awful – we've been trying to utilize their methane production to lighten the load, so to speak. A tiny change in their feed and they start producing helium. Does embarrassing things to one's voice, but the cows are all but floating over the fields. It's like having a herd of lowing zeppelin, really."

Edith, as predicted, opened her mouth to agree how nice that was, then turned and blinked at him as she finally listened to what was being said. Anthony blinked at her innocently. Her eyebrows began to lower as he cheeks went pink. He offered up his most innocently chagrinned half-smile and her expression immediately softened at the crooked, sheepish, expression.

"Oh, you!"

Anthony chuckled and Edith let out a helpless titter, then covered her face with her hand and looked skyward through her fingers.

"Oh, thank God, Granny couldn't hear that! Flatulent floating cattle! For goodness' sake!"

Anthony gave in, laughed, and reached for his wife, gently tugging her against his chest. She responded by shrugging out of his coat and trying to offer it back. He balked immediately.

"Now, see here, I won't have you wandering about cold while I'm-."

"No, no, here, just put it on and – there!"

Anthony found himself quite helpless before her stubborn intent, but had no complaints once her plan had been executed. He found himself back in his voluminous brown woolen coat – with his wife tucked against his chest, also wrapped up in it. Chuckling, he nuzzled into the amber curls piled atop her head and sighed.

"You always were the smarter of the two of us, sweet one. Was your Granny difficult?"

"Does she know how to be anything else?"

"You cannot possibly expect a gentleman to answer a question like that."

"Not honestly, at least."

Anthony couldn't quite help the snicker that escaped at that observation as his wife sighed and cuddled against his chest. The sheer weight of the noise gave pause to his humor.

"I say, darling, are you alright?"

"Just… oh, I don't know. I'm just so exhausted."

Anthony looked down, his amused expression immediately melting into concern as he slid his hands down to better support her at the small of her back. Coaxingly, he stroked her spine until he found his wife leaning nearly the entirety of her weight against him. Bracing himself, Anthony felt a fission of real worry.

"Edie, sweet one, are you well?"

"Oh, yes, just tired. I mean, you're only just back in proper fighting order after that wretched accident. Addie's – do you think everything's… well, as it should be with Addie?"

Anthony blinked in complete shock as his natural tendency to fret accelerated went. However, as always, he took his wife's concerns entirely seriously.

"In what way?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. You saw as well as I did that she didn't seem happy with school at first – though it seems much better now."

Anthony nodded in agreement. Addie had struggle for the first fortnight of her formal education, but it seemed much better now. She had stories of friends she played with in the school yard. Both Edith and Anthony had spoken to the two women who were currently Addie's instructors, and the teachers had assured them that Addie had some difficult habits due to her lack of socialization and formal instruction, but that she was bright and adjusting well. They'd even seen some of her marks and Anthony had been as satisfied with Edith with the signs that she was settling in.

"Yes, she seems much happier. What's got you concerned that things aren't as they seem, my girl?"

"Oh, it's just – Barrow took me aside earlier and said he was concerned that Addie wasn't being honest."

"Why?"

"He said that Addie keeps coming home in a different uniform than she sore that morning."

"What?"

"I checked with the laundress and Addie is wearing more uniforms than she needs."

Anthony felt a mix of confusion and alarm that equaled Edith's own. Then he forcibly tamped it down as Edith looked up at him, nervously. Leaning down, he pressed a quick kiss to Edith's cheek.

"The easiest solution shall be to ask her."

Edith blinked at him twice, then offered up a slightly amused smile that left Anthony feeling… unaccountably nettled by.

"Oh, Anthony…"

"What?"

"Well, it's just…" Edith's smile widened. "You haven't been living with Addie long and you – well, asking her won't do us any good if she doesn't want to tell us."

"Pardon?"

"Darling, Addie's my little sister and I adore her, but Addie hiding Aidan's… special friend from me isn't the first and won't be the last thing she tries to deceive us about."

Anthony frowned and shook his head stepping back slightly.

"Edith, I am aware that children do lie to their parents. However, if you want to raise a child in an environment where honesty is valued, you have to teach them to value it. That means demonstrating it yourself."

"I know Anthony, but what you don't understand is that you have to take into account how she's lived before we came to Loxley."

"And that involved a great deal of lying and deception?"

Edith blinked in surprise and Anthony nearly winced at the words tugged themselves free of his lips. He hadn't meant to say that. He opened his mouth to apologize, to try and explain that he felt rather insulted by the way that Edith seemed to dismiss his attempt to help direct and parent the child in their care. Edith's eyes, however, were already snapping and he watched in alarm as her lovely, expressive face flashed over with a rapid progression of emotion: surprise, to hurt, to temper.

"Our father did not raise us in a house of deception or dishonesty no matter what the greater aristocracy here thinks of the self-made men of America!"

"Of course not, Edith, I didn't mean to imply-."

"Yes, you did." Edith glared. "You're hardly the only one! If I have to spend one more moment with Granny, listening to her harp on Addie's running wild or poor manners or that I've taken on more than I can and that I need to leave my sister to some nanny-."

"Darl-."

"Don't, Anthony!" His wife bit out as Anthony found himself suddenly in the midst of his first fight with his second wife. Edith held up a hand and stepped away from him. "Don't you dare stand there and imply to me that Daddy and Katherine somehow failed at raising their children properly! Do you think I've never heard it? Do you think I didn't hear it when people tutted about letting a bastard near such an impressionable young child? Do you think I didn't know what it meant when I had trouble booking a proper hotel suite for Addie and I before we sailed? Or the way that some of Aidan and Jamie's university friends would look at me and laugh when the boys weren't there to see it? You think I don't hear all of the things Mama and Papa very carefully don't say about the people who loved me when they couldn't be bothered to?"

Anthony watched in alarm, his own temper present but somewhat stifled, as his wife's expressive face twisted first with anger, and then with visible pain as her voice got higher and more strident with each word. By the time she'd finished, tears were tangled in his wife's lasher and Anthony's irritation was losing the battle with his compassion.

"Sweet one I would never think such a thing. Not for a moment! I'm just – Edith, come here, you've got to be chilled."

"No! I spent all morning being harangued by Granny because I can apparently do nothing right and got the most wretched letter from an editor-."

Edith turned suddenly away from him with a stifled sob and Anthony reached for her with a cry of alarm as, in the midst of her rapid turn, his wife wobble and then listed to the side. A quick grab and Anthony found himself in possession of a wife who was swaying on her feet as if in deep water or heavy wind.

"Edith?!"

"I – I – oh…"

Without another word or thought Anthony dipped and got an arm beneath his wife's knees. Edith's temper from a moment before was apparently forgotten as his wife pressed a hand to her forehead and leaned against his shoulder, clutching the lapel of his overcoat and blinking helplessly. Striding quickly across the grass he looked left and right frantically. Finding his target with relief, Anthony made a line for the vast chestnut tree at the edge of the orchard and the marble bench his mother had located beneath the tree when he was a lad. It made a convenient staring point if one aimed to climb the huge tree, or a very private place to read a book… or share a few moments alone with one's spouse.

Situating Edith on the bench, he knelt by her feet, heedless of the damp, oozing Yorkshire mud. Chafing her hands he looked up into his wife's face in concern. She was dreadfully pale.

"Edith, sweet one, please speak to me."

"I -it's – I'm fine. Just a funny turn."

"Darling, you fainted in my arms!"

"I didn't faint. I was entirely conscious."

"On or off your feet?" A sudden suspicion hit Anthony and with it a chill descended. "Edith, has this happened before?"

"No."

At his incredulous look, Edith crumbled and offered a sheepish smile.

"I haven't. I did feel a – a bit faint yesterday morning, but I thought it was from lack of sleep."

Anthony felt himself blush along with his wife. The last of his bruising from that miserable encounter with an irate steer had faded, and with it had come Edith's stern refusal to engage in marital relations until he was "wholly healed". A refusal that had lasted an entire fortnight of their first full month of marriage.

Anthony had felt rather hard done by over it, honestly, though he hadn't pouted over it no matter what his wife said on the matter.

The results, however, had been that the last three days had been sent making up for lost time. Feeling sheepish, he reached up and brushed a few escaped strands of bright hair behind his wife's ear. Clearing his throat, he pushed onward.

"And you think this is from the same?"

"I… no, it was… rather singular." Edith looked thoroughly embarrassed, but Anthony only felt the terrible cold grip of fear in his stomach.

How could I possibly survive if anything happened…

"But, let's not fight Anthony. Not that I had a funny turn to win an argument!" Edith rushed to say. "I only – I was… I do apologize, but it hurts… people say such things about Daddy and I know Papa and Mama hate him and-."

"I'm sorry I misspoke. I'm sorry that I upset you so. Now let's forget all about it, sweet one, and get you back up to the house."

"I'm fine, truly Anthony, I just had a moment-."

"If you can call Clarkson for a little tumble out on a drover's path, Edie, I think you'll find I can give him a call when you collapse in the orchard."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thomas Barrow sat in the back of the big silver motor for once as the driver brought it around to Rosewall's front entrance. He watched, sharper than a hungry raptor, as the door opened and a small tide of girls in their dark blue uniforms came scrambling out. Most scampered for a line of bicycles, but Strallan's Rolls Royce was one of three motor cars lined up and waiting.

Addie scrambled out with her pale little face drawn with worry. He felt the same little twist of surprise he always did when her eyes met his and she relaxed. It was followed by a sweeping upwell of relief of his own. It had been a long time, longer than he could really recall, since someone looked happy just to see him.

"Where's Edie, Thomas? Is everything alright? Is Anthony alright?"

"Everyone's fine, Moppet."

It wasn't quite a lie. The whole house may have gone into a bit of an uproar because the lady of the establishment took a wobble, but Thomas wasn't stupid. Loud Mrs. Walsh might not pry into the family business because of her supposedly good manners. Mrs. Bernard didn't like to fuss outside of her kitchen because, as she put it, 'that wasn't her place'. Old Mr. Kerr was too ancient and too long a bachelor to notice, but Thomas? He liked to be aware of certain things… and he'd been talking to the laundresses anyway, on another matter he hoped to clear up today.

"Then why didn't they come to pick me up? Edie always picks me up, and Anthony comes with her when he can."

"You know Lady Mary."

It was neatly tossed bait and it worked like a charm. Addie might have been more disposed to ignore Mary Crawley after their little continental vacation and Edith put more effort into curbing the active spleen involved in that little rivalry, but the fact remained that Adelaide Kavanaugh had her father's ability to hold a grudge. She did not care for Lady Mary.

As such, the sudden way that the entire Crawley family had gone up like a kicked hornet's nest over her impending nuptials had left a sour taste in Addie's mouth. To Thomas' way of thinking, it was justified. Oh, the effort that the Lord and Lady Grantham had put into properly making up and making over Miss Edith's marriage to Sir Anthony was unmistakable. The lord had paid for it. He'd walked Lady Edith down the aisle. He'd presided over it all as 'father of the bride', uncle that he was, but if anyone had eyes they could see the difference.

Lady Edith's marriage to an aging baronet wasn't half the source of excitement that Lady Mary's marriage to Lord Holderness was. To Thomas' way of thinking this didn't reflect the difference in rank, size of the ceremony, or the social approach that the various couples took and wanted in life. To a man who'd spent his entire life slighted it was very easy to find insult, and he took the elaborate affair and great pains that were going into giving Lady Mary the perfect society wedding, and turning it into the event of the season, and translated it into a return to the established favoritism that had defined the Crawley family prior to Miss Edith finding out her heritage and leaving for the States.

In another life Edith might have been more of a manic bride than Lady Mary. Then she might have attempted to turn the wedding into a demonstration – a demand really – that her parents and everyone else in her life show her the love and affection she was due, and was equal to her elder 'sister'. After everything else Edith had gone through here, however, her marriage had been an important, but not obsessive, moment in her life.

Now? Mary Crawley had only just escaped ruin. She'd managed to keep her secret. She'd made the society wedding and the catch behind it that she'd been told would define her entire life from this point forward. To Mary Crawley her entire life was represented by that wedding and her parents and family, wanting to support her, were doing all they could to cater to her needs.

Thomas Barrow did not give a bent damn about almost anyone's needs but his own. So while he'd softened somewhat, the fact was that he didn't see stirring up Addie's malice towards the woman as a bad thing. Not when it was so useful.

"Unfortunately. Did she come over to bother Edith or send Aunt Cora to do it again?"

"This time it was the Dowager."

"I used to think a real dragon would be neat, then I met one."

Thomas put a hand over his heart and nodded in total agreement as they both listened to the sound of the chauffer letting out a sharp bark of laugh in front of them. Addie, reminded they weren't alone, scooted forward and stood up to poke her head through the open window separating the cab from the back seat of the larger of Loxley's three cars. The hardtop, while older than the convertible, was more comfortable in Thomas' opinion.

"Hello, Waters!"

"Hullo, Miss Addie. How was school?"

That garnered Thomas' immediate attention.

"Oh, fine."

"Then why have you been changing your uniforms before you come home?"

Addie froze on the seat and slowly turned to look at Thomas. He smiled at her and raised both his eyebrows. Addie glared. He crossed his arms. She bit her lip. Thomas uncrossed his arms, softened his expression to make it welcoming, and patted the seat. As he'd hoped for, she caved and flopped down beside him. Lowering her voice and looking up at Waters, she leaned upwards towards him and hissed:

"Keep it down, would you?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"What it's worth to me."

Addie shot him a wounded look.

"You know I have to keep my allowance in a ledger now and show Edith!"

The older man sighed, his tone gentle enough he'd have been uncomfortable with it had he noticed as he reached out and tugged on one of the two excessively neat plaits that the girl was wearing.

"Pay me with the truth, Addie."

She hesitated and he turned his most beseeching look on her. As he predicted, she caved. Looking down she reached up to smooth the thick plait, and then the other plait, and finally the tasseled ends of her hair. How such a thin child could have such think hair he had no idea, but there were wolves in the artic jealous of just how much of it she had. When she finally looked up at him, those stormy eyes were nervous.

"Promise you won't tell?"

"Only if it's not worrying."

"It's not… I mean, I can handle it, so you don't need to worry."

"I'll be the judge of that, Moppet. Out with it. If you've not told me by the time we're at Loxley…"

The threat was motivation enough.

"My teacher hates me, but that's alright, because I hate her too and I'm going to win."

Thomas blinked down at her in confusion, and then worry flared up bright and twice as terrible.

"What's your teacher got to do with you needing new clothes?"

"She puts me on punishment in the school yard. She makes me sweep the yard or she makes me scrub the floor in the class or wash the windows." Addie sneered. "She's as stupid as she is English."

Thomas raised his eyebrows and Addie rushed onward.

"You're English, Thomas, but you're not stupid. She acts like I'm going to be all ashamed because I scrubbed a floor – like that's not honest work! Who do they think scrubs my Omma's floor or blackens her stove or who taught my Mama how to cook? And who's she to care, hm? She's a school teacher. That's hardly some earl's wife, now is it?"

"No, it's not."

"Then we're-."

"That's not all."

"Thomas-."

"Why are you on punishment?"

"Because she hates me."

"Addie."

The little girl heaved a breath and, after squirming for a moment, she turned and looked up at the servant. Thomas was alarmed to see that, for a brief moment, the usually energetic girl looked tired.

"That really is why. I thought at first it was because it was back-talking. I always get in trouble for that and I know I do it and it is my fault, so I should take my punishment like a lady and get on with it… but I was really carefully especially good and she still kept finding things to punish me for!"

"Like?"

"It's not even school things. I hate writing all my work again when I forget to write it the English way but I do it when she tells me to even though it's only Mrs. Hart and Mrs. Everly doesn't care and I'm not nearly as good at the sums I do with Mrs. Everly as I am good with the writing and reading and other things I do with Mrs. Hart."

"Alright, then what is it?"

"She made me scrub the floor in her class today because I was breathing rudely and I ran the wrong way outside."

"Breathing rudely?" Thomas felt an upwelling of anger on behalf of the child, not to mention his rather strong (if sideways) sense of personal justice. "What's she? The respiration police?"

"I know!"

And just like he'd hoped, the floodgates opened.

"And it's all so stupid because they lie about what they teach, too! Edith said they teach a lot of science and the classes are like a boys school, but they don't."

"What do you mean?"

"We're supposed to learn about science, but we only spend fifteen minutes on it every day after our mathematics class and all we do there is simple sums and division and things like Edith did with me, but even Edith had started me on putting numbers in my math and real equations but we don't do those at all! I'm supposed to have Latin, too, but all Mrs. Hart does is make is read and write phrases out of a big book. She doesn't speak Latin or Greek at all and we don't even write Greek phrases, though she has the older girls do it. I've talked to the older girls and while most of them are stuck up and awful some aren't and Kate is nice and she told me that all they do is memorize Greek phrases in the classes too."

"Do her parents know that?"

"Yes, but they think it's all she's going to need to know because even if she does go to university 'for a bit' she's going to get married later and won't need that as much as French because that's a proper language for Ladies to learn and she's just there because she can get a better husband later if she goes to a nicer school than the ones in York."

Thomas processed all of that, but as he tried, Addie carried on, her tone aggrieved.

"And we're still doing the dumb stuff Edith said wouldn't be important, like flower arranging or how to walk and sit properly, or elocution – which is apparently about sounding English and nothing else – all the time! It's just like Rose's school and Edith said it wouldn't be."

As Waters kept the car on the road Thomas looked down at Addie, who was working to get her breath back after that great explosion of words. He really could only think of one thing to say.

"And you want me to keep quiet so you can stay there why?"

"Because it's a test."

"A -what now?"

"A test, to see if I can be a proper grown up and not – not run wild all the time and cause trouble." Addie flushed and looked up, her expression a mix of mulish and vulnerable that dug its claws into Thomas Barrow's heart and yanked. "I talked to Anthony and he said that I need to solve my own problems and – and learn to get along with people."

"Well, yes, I suppose everyone does. Even though I can tell you a few better ways to solve a problem than obedience, Moppet, because if you're trying to obey your teacher into being less of – into hating you less, it won't work."

"I'm not. Well, not just doing what I should so I can prove I don't need a governess because I'm not a baby." Addie perked up, looked at Waters, and then got up to kneel on the seat and whisper in Thomas' ear. "I put soap flakes into Mrs. Hart's tea almost every day. She's always on the toilet!"

Thomas barely contained a laugh at Addie's smug expression and nodded along in perfect agreement. Addie made a face.

"She tries to make me eat the school lunches, so I figure she deserves to be sick, too."

All of Thomas' amusement vanished.

"She's making you sick?"

"Well, she's making me eat the lunches, and they're too heavy. Or she tries to. I just pretend to now and Lizzy Wilson – she does sums with me and she's pretty nice – sneaks most of mine onto her plate. She's one of the scholarship girls and she's hungry a lot, so it's good for everyone, and I've been having an extra snack in the kitchens before I go to bed so all my numbers in my meal diary come out right. I've only lost three pounds since school started and I've nearly got one back. Well, unless Anthony's scale is wrong, but I don't think it is."

"I don't either, Moppet."

"So, you won't tell Edie or Anthony?"

And, feeling a bit worse about it than he would have in other circumstances, Thomas Barrow crossed his fingers in his pocket and held his free hand up.

"Not a word."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Really, Dr. Clarkson, I feel fine. I just had a funny turn is all." Edith lay tucked into the great bed she shared with her husband, blushing as the doctor came in to see to her as she lay there in her most modest night gown and her dressing robe.

"I'm glad to hear that, Lady Strallan, but would you allow me to put your poor husband's mind at ease?"

"Just as I put yours at ease and allowed you to look after me when I had that minor scuffle?"

Edith shot her husband a droll look at his continued insistence that bruised ribs and a bruised kidney were a 'minor scuffle'. However, she did see his point and relaxed back against the mound of pillows her doting husband had insisted on stuffing behind her. When she saw Clarkson turn to Anthony, however, she reached out for his hand.

"No, darling, stay. I'd really prefer it."

Surprised but visibly pleased, Anthony sank down to sit beside her at the head of the bed, holding one of her hands in the safe warmth of both of his own as he watched the doctor shine a pen light into both of his wife's eyes and listen to her hear through a new stethoscope.

"And you've not felt any other symptoms or had any other episodes?"

"I've just been exhausted lately." Edith allowed, and blushed. "You see, I've not been sleeping well and then I had a – a very trying morning."

The doctor looked at her expectantly and Edith felt all of five years old again, ashamed that she had the sniffles and even more ashamed that Nurse had told her Mama and Papa that she was the reason that Mary and baby Sybil were sick as well. That old urge, that need to justify herself and beg for forgiveness through it all bubbled up.

"You see I – I had sent an article in to several publications and I got the most dreadful letter of – of refusal. Not for my writing but – but because of how I was born, Dr. Clarkson." Edith stumbled over the words, not noticing her husband's widening eyes, brief look of outrage, and then the quick smoothing of his features. "It left me out of sorts and then Granny came to visit and I'm sure the stress of it was just a little too much after I went and tramped out through the orchard with no coat and without having had anything for breakfast but an excess of tea.'

"I'm very sorry to hear that anyone felt the need to be so rude to you over anything so very much not your doing, Lady Strallan, and anyone's vocation should be judged by the quality of their work, not their origins." The kindly Scotsman agreed and then cleared his throat. "But you say that you've been very tired lately?"

"Yes, that's all, though."

"You've not felt unwell?"

"No."

"Have you noticed your appetite increasing?"

Edith blinked, surprised.

"Well, actually, I've been famished lately."

The man looked at Anthony, who looked back blankly, still internally lingering on the fact that he hadn't explored Edith's upset further and asked about her earlier comment. Not to mention the internal fuming going on at the idea of anyone daring to send a missive back to his wife chastising her for her lowly birth as if… well, they had any right to think ill of the finest lady in creation. Clarkson, misinterpreting the blank look as agreement, or as the kind of level, stoic look he'd expect in this situation given Sir Anthony's difficult experiences with his first wife, carried on by clearing his throat a touch awkwardly.

"May I ask when you were, erm, last visited, Lady Strallan?"

"By whom?"

Poor Clarkson's mustache bristled a little awkwardly and he cleared his throat for a second time, his hands idly toying with the stethoscope he was still holding before he recovered his medical directness.

"I mean in terms of a feminine visit… your… courses, my lady."

Edith flushed at having a man address such a question towards her. Then she froze. She opened her mouth to assure Dr. Clarkson that she'd had her "visitor" just a fortnight or so before, but honesty and actual thought on the subject changed her direction entirely. Her mouth snapped shut. Quickly, she did a little mental arithmetic. Then she tried again, but… realized she couldn't offer up any different answer that the first and most obvious conclusion. Edith's face heated more brightly.

"Edith?"

Edith turned her head to look at her husband and found Anthony staring at her, though unspeakably bright blue eyes as wide as dinner plates and an utterly indescribable expression on his face.

"I, well, er – in… September."

"When in September, Lady Strallan?"

"The week before we were married." Edith offered up meekly, her mind abuzz with sound but thought just out of reach.

"And have you ever been so irregular in the past?"

"No, I – I'm usually… very… reliable in my visits."

Obviously fighting a smile, the doctor turned and put his stethoscope up in his familiar black gladstone bag.

"Well, I obviously can't make an assurance without a full physical examination, but I believe it is a safe assumption that a lady who is suffering from some faintness and exhaustion and hunger who has missed the normal signs of being in a lonelier condition for nearly three months might assume herself with child." The man turned away from his bag and beamed at them from beneath his mustache. "Congratulations!"

Edith was vaguely aware of her husband enthusiastically shaking the older man's hand and assuring the doctor that he would have Edith off to see a specialist first thing tomorrow morning, after a proper rest. Mostly she simply sat where she was, utterly shocked beyond the point of thought.

"Sweet one?"

Edith was jerked out of whatever strangely quiet corner of her mind she'd fallen into as she blinked into her husband' worried blue eyes.

"Darling, do you feel well? Should I call Clarkson back? He's just down in the hall-."

"No, no!" Edith hurried to assure him. "I'm fine-."

"Are you feeling-."

"Entirely well, my darling." Edith took both of his hands and was so relieved when he sat down beside her, an arm curling about her shoulders in support that she couldn't control the sudden weakness of her voice. "Just surprised is all it – I didn't expect it to happen so fast!"

Anthony flushed, but the crooked smile he offered up was so sweetly boyish her heart turned over a little and her mind caught up with it, turning her cheeks red with embarrassment.

"Well, erm, there's no material component of the, well, process we've been lacking?"

Edith, quite despite herself, managed a weak giggle. To her horror, she felt her eyes watering. Anthony, whose expression had been so alight the moment before, visibly dimmed.

"Sweet one – I -are you not-."

"I am happy!" Edith was quick to speak. "I am, of course I'm happy. Anthony, I'm – we're having a baby. I'm having your baby. It's all that I could want!"

Her husband stared at her for a brief moment and Edith watched in horror as his eyes welled with tears. Then, with no warning, she found herself being kissed quite silly. With nothing else to do and quite happy with this turn of events, she melted into her husband's arms as he joined her on the bed. When they finally pulled away, both slightly breathless, Edith sighed and rested her head against his chest, letting him cradle her there with his arms. She shivered, still overcome with wonder and a little disbelief as he rested a trembling hand on the flat plane of her belly.

"I'm sorry I got so caught up earlier I didn't ask after your day properly."

"Hm?" Edith, quite caught out by the sudden change in subject, stared at her husband, who smiled sheepishly.

"I expect to see that wretched letter, you know, so that I can give the editor a piece of my mind."

Edith winced.

"If it was-."

"It wasn't anyone we know. It wasn't even one of the larger suffragette publications." Edith sighed. "It's not even an important paper and I sent the article in to others… I don't even know why it had me so upset, or why Granny got under my skin so badly…"

Edith recalled with some embarrassment how she'd retreated to the orchard. She had to have stomped through it, viciously angry and miserably upset by turns, for a good twenty-five minutes before her husband had come to get her. Then, she recalled with embarrassment, how a difficult conversation that had otherwise been just a conversation had accelerated into a fight so very quickly. To her surprise, her husband chuckled and she looked up.

"Oh, darling, I would say that in your condition a little upset is understandable… but if everyone your grandmother had ever left irritated ended up enceinte?" Anthony grinned. "Most of England would have enjoyed the journey towards parenthood regardless of gender."

Despite herself Edith laughed and, helplessly, yawned as she settled more firmly against her husband's chest. Simultaneously unable to let it go and desperately tired, Edith closed her eyes.

"I wasn't suggesting you don't know Addie, either, Anthony or that you're not just the most amazing man and-," half-asleep, she went on without thought, "the most wonderful father. It's just that we all got in the habit of editing things for Daddy, so he couldn't overreact. If Addie's doing that with us then she won't tell us she's doing it…"

"Of course, sweet one, and we'll talk to her directly. Right after we're back from London."

"London?"

Edith fell asleep on her husband's chest as his soft voice gently explained to her how very long he'd been friends with a Dr. Charlotte Yardley and her special friend, Clara Haynes. For his part, Anthony Strallan rang for his valet and told him, in the quietest of voices, to ask Waters and Barrow to fetch Addie for the day. Then he held his wife as she slept.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You're having a baby?"

Addie had quite a bit on her plate at the moment, but a wave of utter excitement descended and wiped out all thought of her own concerns and her need to prove herself. Instead, beaming, she threw her arms around her sister's neck and grinned so widely her face hurt.

"When? How soon? Can – well, it can't be too soon, you're hardly married so in… June? I mean, if it's a honemoon baby? Is it a honeymoon baby? Can you tell yet." Addie frowned. "I don't have any books on people husbandry."

Anthony, standing over them by the fire and all but radiating happiness, let out a laugh.

"Obstetrics, Addie."

"I don't see why we always need different words for people and animals." Addie complained, seeing it as a perfectly genuine affliction. "We're all mammals, aren't we?"

"It's less crass, Addie."

"I'm just glad you're alright. You've been awfully pale the last few days."

Addie's response was meant well, but she noted with chagrin that it also utterly changed the atmosphere in the room. Her sister looked exasperated. Anthony, who was already quite good at looking fretful, looked terribly concerned. He moved from standing proudly by the library mantle to sitting on the other side of Edith on the sofa, his hand hovering suddenly at the small of her sister's back.

Addie caught Edith's eye and couldn't quite hold in a giggle at her sister's expression. It was very fond… and rather exasperated.

"You're in trouble." Addie informed her brother-in-law solemnly and he started.

"Pardon?"

"When Edith looks like that it means you're in trouble."

"Addie, for goodness' sake! No-one is in trouble."

"A lot of trouble!" Addie whispered dramatically and fell over laughing as Edie picked up a pillow and smacked her with it across the head. "No fair, I can't hit you back now!"

"Absolutely no assaulting the expectant mother."

Anthony's agreement was full of false solemnity and funny as well, so Addie carried on laughing before sitting up and wrapping her arms around her sister.

"I think it will be lovely, and ever so much fun to have a baby in the house!" Addie enthused. "I won't be the youngest anymore, and when the baby is older we can catch frogs and go on adventures."

Addie turned and wrapped her arms around Anthony as well. She hadn't hugged him as much, since their talk. Not because he'd changed, but because she wanted to let him know that she understood that he wanted her to prove she could be grownup about things. She wouldn't pretend it was… a bit of a wrench, knowing he'd thought she couldn't handle school, but her Daddy had said that you have to prove yourself a little in life. It made sense that, well, that she'd have to do something like this now that they were all family. Anthony was a baronet, and his family was terribly old and had fought in wars back when there were swords and knights were for more than playing pretend with kings and queens who acted like movie stars and took orders from politicians. He was useful and spoke so many languages and knew people who did things in the government other than drink a lot of be related to other people in the government. He'd gone to Cambridge and he used his degree, unlike all the other fancy titled people she'd met.

Addie was determined not to let him down, but in that moment… she really thought he wanted a hug. The way he squeezed her back tightly proved it. Besides, she was happy.

"I'm going to be the best Auntie!" Addie beamed. "I won't even hardly have competition because Sybil's going to be busy with parties and trying to vote and Lady Mary's horrible, and I live here so it will be easy!"

"And what about my sister?" Anthony teased and Addie blinked in surprise.

Edith laughed, but Addie hardly minded since she knew she was being silly. That was alright. Addie was tired, frankly, and it felt good to laugh. It didn't feel good to be relieved but… she was just a little relieved. Not just that Edie was having a baby, though she was happy about that.

"Mrs. Chetwood is nice, but she doesn't count. She's old."

Anthony's resulting laughter nearly drowned out Edith's question.

"You'll be alright without us for a few days?"

"Go up to London and see the obstetrician." Addie tested the word out, smiling. "I'm almost eleven and I have Thomas and Mrs. Walsh and everyone here. Mr. Waters can take me to school. It will be fine."

It would be too. She'd been afraid that Thomas would break his word, that he'd have to because of the deal he'd made with Edith when she'd let him stay on after all of the awfulness in Paris… but she could tell that he hadn't. Warmth and relief filled Addie in equal measure as she realized that, if Anthony and Edith left early the next morning… she could go to bed as soon as she got home from school and there'd be nobody there to ask questions.

Yes, it would really be better for everyone to have a little break… and she almost had everything handled, anyway.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Well, Anthony, should I be offended that I'm the absolute last to know when I'm going to be an aunt?"

Strallan House was in a minor uproar given how quickly its Master and his new wife had arrived. The skeleton staff at the house had rallied, however, and put on a proper show. Everything was clean and entirely ship-shape for when Edith and Anthony arrived at around noon.

At that point the master of the house chivied his wife in to take a proper nap and get some rest before Dr. Yardley arrived that afternoon for a proper examination and a visit afterward. With Edith tucked into bed, Anthony had found his sister – who he'd called the night before to tell her he was coming up to London – on his doorstep. Enthusiastically, he drew her inside with an embrace only to be utterly flabbergasted by the way she chose to greet him.

"Anthony?"

Diana, for her part, looked on with concern at the befuddled expression her brother was wearing.

"How in the world did you know to begin with? Edith and I haven't told a soul outside of her sister."

Anthony stared at his sister, who stared back at him, before Mrs. Chetworth made all the proper connections and, with a growing expression of delight regarded her older brother.

"Anthony, you're not – are you saying that-."

"Edith's with child."

Diana let out a piercing squeal and seized her brother in a hug that threatened the integrity of his spinal structure.

"Diana, please mind your volume, Edith's resting!"

"Oh, darling, is she alright? I mean, twenty isn't terribly young for a first, but it is rather soon."

Anthony flushed at the reminder of his wife's youth but offered up a sheepish smile. Diana, with a giggle quite younger than her years, took her brother's hand and dragged him towards the small parlor.

"Well, you never have been one to waste time, have you brother."

"Now, Diana, honestly!"

"I'm just happy to know how healthy your marriage is!"

"Diana!"

She dimpled at him and he glowered before huffing and crossing his arms, refusing to sit when he had a chance to tower over his sister a bit instead. Diana, who was quite tall and unused to being towered over, gave her big brother a narrow-eyed look.

"Don't take that tone with me." Anthony informed her. "I'm still trying to find everything that should be in my desk, but is instead secreted about in every nook and cranny at Loxley. You do realize that I finally found my favorite pen only yesterday, and it was in that marble box on the mantle of our third best guest bedroom?"

"Of course I realize it. I put it there, and you deserved it after leaving me to manage the Crawley Family Circus in your wake while you have a lovely Continental tour!"

The words were no sooner out of Diana's mouth than her mirth fled. The original reason for her visit reasserted itself. Quite forgetting her manners as the full implications struck her, she muttered something that had Anthony staring at her in shock. Then, exaggeratedly, he looked left and right.

"And what exactly are you looking for?"

"Papa's Ghost, which would surely rise just to stare at you in mortified disappointment if he'd heard what I just did."

"You didn't hear a thing, and I'm not to be blamed if you're hearing is going before fifty. You're the one who insists on constantly spending time around loud machinery."

"A likely story. I seem to recall a time when your pet rabbit bit you very well. You were fourteen or so and when Papa heard how you chose to describe that innocent bunny's actions I thought he was going to suffer a cardiac event right there in the rose garden."

Diana Chetwood, mother of two and diplomat's wife, pinked up delightfully before glaring up at her brother with a huff. The humor present in the room fled as she deflated. Anthony, giddy with happiness as he was, immediately sobered upon seeing her expression.

"Diana."

"Anthony, why don't we talk about it tomorrow. Today should be hap-."

"Diana."

"I thought your visit was because of Lady Susan Flintshire." Diana sighed and sat down, smoothing her skirt and reaching up to remove her hat. Normally she wouldn't but… if she had to have this conversation now, of all times, she wanted to be comfortable. "Do stop looming and sit, brother dear."

"What's the woman done now?"

He did, but he clearly wasn't happy about it. Diana decided that, in this case, the bandage was best ripped off.

"She's been spreading rumors that you and Edith married so hastily because Edith was already with child."

Anthony said nothing and Diana began to feel a growing unease at her gentle, sweet, fretful brother's sudden silence. Anthony shared a tendency for nervous babbling with his sister. They'd both inherited the trait from their mother. The difference was in their tempers. Diana tended to get loud when she got angry, but like lightening, her anger was here and gone in an instant – if an intense instant. Anthony, on those rare occasions when he was truly furious, took far more after their father than their mother… and the silence was a disturbing indication that he might be very angry indeed.

Still… what else was there to remedy a situation involving gossip but the truth?

"Lady Flintshire doesn't have a great deal of credibility. We all know the woman, Anthony, and she never has been able to keep the rumors she spreads straight."

"What else is she saying, Diana?"

"You know."

"I do not."

Diana fell silent, but crumbled with a sigh at the hard look now residing in her brother's normally gentle eyes.

"It's been strongly implied that you seduced her on the Mauritania and followed her to the Continent after the Grantham's sent her abroad to get her away from you."

"I would assume that it was implied that my motivation is largely her fortune?"

Diana flushed, but… in for a penny.

"Largely, but it's also been suggested to be simple lechery."

Her brother flushed darkly and stood. Diana rose quickly.

"Anthony."

He didn't turn to face her, he merely strode out to where the door is. Stewart, bless him, was already there. Unfortunately, no matter how much she liked her brother's ever-loyal valet, it didn't change the facts that underwrote that loyalty. Namely the fact that it wasn't directed towards her, and that it was no little bit supported by how very like-minded the valet and his employer were. Ignoring the full and considerable force of Diana Chetwood's glare, Stewart was already holding her brother's coat, hat, and the other odds and ends of a gentleman going out on a serious errand.

"Anthony, you can't seriously be thinking of confronting the – what would you even confront? The rumor mill of London?"

"This isn't the first time Susan Flintshire has mortified my wife, Diana. This isn't even the first time in the last three month she's done so wholly for personal gain. My honor has been insulted, Diana. My wife's honor has been insulted."

"Yes, but she-."

"Is married and it is about time that that man took responsibility for that woman's actions!"

Diana cast about desperately for a way to stop her brother from leaving until she could talk past his temper. What she struck upon resonated in her mind as guaranteed in its effectiveness. Her heart, however, quailed at the idea. As she watched Anthony shrug into his coat, however, she realized with a terrible sinking feeling that she really had no choice. The complexity of this sort of rumor mongering, when family ties were involved, and the added attention given the situation due to Lady Mary's engagement all meant that Anthony absolutely could not go out and accost Shrimpy MacClare at the club where he hid from his wife. Not without making everything a thousand times worse.

"Are you really going to leave Edith to alone right now in her condition?"

As she expected, her brother froze. Keeping her face stern and hiding the absolutely miserable feeling that welled up inside her with each word, she went on.

"She hasn't even been examined yet, has she? Not if you're just up to London!"

Anthony turned and she could see the sudden indecision. His personal honor and that wonderful protectiveness of those he loved fighting with the most dreadful memories of his life and the deep-seated fears associated with them that Diana knew haunted the gentlest soul she'd ever known. Diana stepped forward.

"Anthony darling, you cannot leave her alone. Not until she's been seen to and you've spoken to her about this. Half of her family is in town. What if you're out and Lady Grantham drops by to warn her of it? Or Lady Mary shows up in a huff because she's embarrassed? Anthony, she needs you here."

She watched the struggle escalate and intervened.

"I can't stay. I have to go home – Archie's hosting someone from the Russian embassy tonight for drinks and cigars, but we both know it's official business and the only cards dealt will be played by empires. I only came by to talk because I thought you were in town because of the rumors."

"Diana, I can't just… do nothing! What would Papa say if – can you imagine what he'd have done had anyone said such a thing about our mother?"

"Oh, I can imagine it, and poor Mr. Kerr would have been worried about blood in the carpets, I'm sure, but Edith really must come first. Her and your little one?"

"Of course! I… you're right, Diana… Christ this is.." Her brother gritted his teeth, but Diana could finally relax as she watched him hand his coat and hat off to his valet again, shaking his head in frustration and then turning to her with an expression that collapsed into worry. "Dear God, I hadn't… is there any way that Edith can be protected from it?"

"Pardon?"

Diana felt a sinking in her belly.

"From knowing of these dreadful rumors. In her condition. No, no. I won't have her upset like this."

"Anthony, for goodness' sake! Edith has to know!"

"And risk the child? Risk Edith's health? You were there with Maud! You saw how easily she…"

And there it was.

Diana's heart ached, twisting in on itself as that flash of pain and loss – the absolute grief that had overwhelmed her brother so many times in his first marriage – reasserted itself. For a moment, all she could see on that beloved face was fear. That raw terror for someone you loved more than life itself… and were absolutely powerless to protect. Because, really, what could a man do anyway to protect a child his wife was carrying?

"Anthony, Edith is not Maud."

"Maud was hardly the only woman to ever lose a child. It – it's a fragile thing. Diana, you've met Addie. Her health still hasn't recovered and it is a miracle that child survived. She'll likely never truly be healthy."

"Which will be a moot point when this child is born in wonderful health and Edith has a perfectly uncomplicated and easy pregnancy and birth."

Diana realized that her only option now was to be as bracing as possible. Feeling miserable for stirring up her brother's fears and even angrier for having had to, she silently swore that this would be the last time that Susan Flintshire rushed about with slander and misery trying to get attention from someone else's pain. Anthony might, in a temper, humiliate poor Shrimpy over his wife's behavior and lead to the woman's being shipped off to Scotland for a few months. Diana, however?

She had her own resource. Namely the one she married. If the Laird of the Manor couldn't control Susan here, perhaps it was best if she found herself and her husband shipped off elsewhere to a location where the miserable wretch couldn't cause trouble at all.

"You can't know that, Di."

"And you can't know that anything shall go wrong." Diana took her brother's hands and made him turn and look her in the eye. Reaching up she embraced the wonderful, dear man. "Brother dear, and you are the dearest man, isn't this why you came to London? So you could have Dr. Yardley come in and offer her professional opinion on keeping your wife and child safe?"

Anthony blew out a breath and she struck again, grinning as she leaned back.

"Besides, I absolutely refuse to let that woman take the joy out of this moment. Have you or have you not realized that you get to be a Papa yourself, hm?"

A smile, tremulous but ever so wide, graced her brother's features and she struck again.

"But, more importantly, I get to be an auntie!"

Anthony's smile was finally more like himself, his eyes sparkling playfully, as he added solemnly:

"Albeit a very old one…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Notes: in all of my headcanons (and I insist canon considering her one-night-stand baby) Edith is very fertile. Here, we're going to see some growing pains. Edith and Anthony are my OTP and wonderfully suited to each other… but Edith is YOUNG and under a lot of pressure here. Getting pregnant so quickly, still suffering from social discrimination because of her birth, and taking care of Addie… Edith has a LOT on her plate to add in motherhood and marriage!

Anthony and Edith also need some growing pains. I'm miserable at writing arguments. I hate them and they feel awkward for me… but Anthony and Edith are going to have to *work* at marriage, as everyone does. Addie still internalizes things and, as it goes, is a child raised by strict parents for most of her life. Strict parents make for *sneaky children*. And Anthony doesn't know how to articulate it but he longs to be Addie's father, not her brother-in-law and he's very sensitive about his own perception that he's not worthy of fatherhood. The man has pregnancy PTSD on a serious level after Maud's struggles and death.

So now we've got to deal with:

1) Everyone assuming that Anthony and Edith really DID have a shotgun wedding and rampant rumors. At least until the baby is born safely within the realm of holy wedlock.

2) Edith's nervousness about the baby, her own youth, being overwhelmed, and just general young motherhood issues.

3) Addie and what's going on at school. Which isn't fair or nice right now, but not serious… at least until it escalates.

Next up: more of Mary's wedding drama heating up, getting to know a touch more about Holderness' life, the Strallans' and Crawley's reactions to the rumors, THOMAS taking the rumors personally, and oh so more drama. 😊 Thanks so much for reading!