Author's Notes: Have some more Lord Holderness and a look inside his head! Also, I apologize. I tried to set Stewart up with someone else and Midori turned out to be so possessive my OC came over from Cantata to claim him. Whoops!
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 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! Charlotte and Clara are also her amazing inventions!
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November 1913
"Thank you again!"
"You don't need to thank me, Lady Sybil." Tom Branson wasn't the sort of man who told himself not to smile to widely, or feel too much, but he did feel the barest inborn hesitation when it came to teasing the woman sitting in the passenger seat of the Renault. As he always tried to do in such situations, he chucked the oppressive social training of his youth and went with what felt right. "It may surprise you to know that driving you places is my job."
"I don't know how I could have failed to observe such, Mr. Branson."
The lady teased back just as readily, then settled in more firmly with a sigh as she looked out the windows at the unusually bright and pleasant autumn day.
"It really is wonderful to be out, though. Well, not out that way. That's not for a few weeks yet – and what a trial all that fuss will be just after I thought I'd gotten out of it!"
Branson didn't need to ask the lady what she was referring to. Just when he'd thought his job was either a thing of the past or that Sybil would start to avoid him, he'd been saved by… well, he still wasn't entirely sure what. Whatever had gone on behind the two older girls sprinting for the continent over the summer, Tom personally doubted that it was anything as uncomplicated as youthful high spirits, Lady Mary bullying Miss-Edith-now-Lady-Strallan to get her way, and an old German lady taking a bad fall. No, as unlikely as that combination of events was, it didn't smell right. Not with the way that Daisy looked so torn up and the whole household went into a flutter.
"I won't ask."
"Hm?" Sybil turned and blinked. "About my season? I don't mind if you'd like to, though I'd rather talk about almost anything else."
"No, I mean…" Tom paused and Sybil's encouraging smile and the brightness of her eyes chased away what little restrain he practiced as he carefully shifted gears.
The fine motor car he drove was a pleasure to maneuver, but it took concentration. Even on such a fine day as they were enjoying, England's roads were narrow and twisting on the best of days and the traffic in the softly rolling hills outside London was erratic at best. He'd gotten permission to take the motor out and give it a bit of a run after he'd had to do a bit of work on the engine. If Tom had made sure Lady Sybil had overheard just so she could beg her father to go along and get a bit of country air? Well, she'd outright told him that she felt stifled with everything going on around her. Why shouldn't he be helpful? His help was every bit as good as anyone else's.
And it's only help you're offering, hm?
If it was his conscience pestering him, Tom Branson ignored it. Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath and explained. As he'd known she would, Lady Sybil listened and let him say his piece.
"It's not my place to ask and I'm not going to, my Lady, but you've got to know that all the staff that stayed at Downton and weren't shuffled about when O'Brian was sacked know something more went on than your family is gossiping with the neighbors about."
Sybil froze, but he persisted, keeping his eyes on the road so she wouldn't feel so pinned by what he was saying.
"All families have their troubles. We're people. Rank doesn't change that one bit. I want to see people become more equal, rather than less, and part of that is not treating people worse than they deserve for arbitrary reasons."
"I'm glad to hear that." There was a sharpness in the young woman's normally warm voice that drew his eyes briefly off the road to watch appreciatively as her blue eyes cast sparks in his direction. "I wouldn't want anything said that anyone would come to regret. Especially if it involved my sisters."
"Nor would I."
Tom turned back towards the road and pushed onward, now slightly unsure but more determined for it.
"What I mean to say is that it's not my business and I won't ask about what's got everyone all wound up. I do know it's got you worried about the Lady Mary."
"Why would you say that?"
"Because William said that he thought she was going to throw a bowl of watercress soup at you last night during dinner for saying as much."
"That's an egregious exaggeration!"
Tom risked another quick glance and watched when Lady Sybil's sense of humor overtook her chagrin and she giggled.
"Maybe not egregious…"
"Hmmm?"
She outright laughed and the grin on his face was God's own will. It was cast down from heaven. Tom was powerless to stop it. What a lovely sound…
"At most she'd have flicked a spoonful at me on her worst day in the nursery and that's ages ago. Mary has far too much dignity to go hurling food about now."
"But?"
Some of that mirth vanished, but a warm glow banked itself around his heart at the ease with which she spoke to him on such a sensitive subject.
"I'm worried. It's all happened so – so fast!" The words rushed forth like water through a cracked levee. "Mary thinks I'm being terribly unfair, but she's ignoring that I was worried for Edith too. Mary thinks I'm only questioning her judgement and her courtship, but I did talk to Edith about Sir Anthony quite a bit. Far more than Mama or Papa or Granny or anyone else in the family did, you know!"
"It's good she had someone to talk to. I'd have been half-worried myself. Sir Anthony's more than twice her age, isn't he?"
"Yes." Sybil sighed. "I don't understand it, personally, but she's been sweet on him since the moment she got home and they're very visibly happy. So, while it wasn't really a properly long courtship, at least not in my opinion, and I think they rushed the wedding far more than they needed to… well, what right does any one person have to tell another how they can and can't be happy?"
"None at all."
Tom's firm agreement earned him a pat on the shoulder and fluttering hands full of energy.
"Yes! So, you see, that's why I didn't try and put Edith off more. Mama and Papa were all set to before the trip to the Continent, but after that it was clear that we – well, they were so terribly in love. Why stand in the way of that?"
Tom noticed a slight hesitation in the way that the lady finished her statement, but he left it alone. As he'd said before, it wasn't his business. Besides, she was going on… and Sybil Crawley worked into a passion was about the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen nor heard of in his life.
"Mary barely knows Lord Holderness."
"I thought you'd known him for years?"
"Oh, we've run into him at parties and sat nearby at dinners and the like, but he's not a friend of the family. Not like the Napiers or the Greys. You see that's one reason Mama was so keen on Evelyn Napier. We've known the family forever and she can tell you everything about him. He really is a very nice man."
Tom nodded as if there wasn't a part of him that wanted to passionately argue the insufficiency of anything male she expressed a fondness for.
"Lawrence Ramsey is really someone we only know by reputation, and while it's a good reputation… I just don't see why she has to marry him so quickly!" Sybil finished as he drew the car to a stop in a little patch of gravel and packed earth jutting into a field. "Oh, are we going to have our picnic here?"
"Aye."
Food was another advantage, Tom had found, to Sybil inviting herself along on a drive. If Sybil asked Mrs. Patmore for a picnic basket? Lady Sybil got an overflowing basket she was all too happy to share. Sybil chattered on at him as they got out. He noted with pleasure and admiration how she reached for the heavy hamper first, even if she was lady. He fended her off and relegated her to carrying the old blanket they'd brought along instead. A few moments later and he could almost pretend this was anything but taking his boss' daughter out for some air and time away from all the other fretting females stuffed into Grantham House.
"Their engagement is going to last less than two months. Did you know that? Two months! Edith at least had the better part of a year to get to know Sir Anthony before they were wed before the engagement started. Then there's how Mary's going about it. All her lists and requirements. It's just so mercenary! I know Mama and Granny think it's the done thing, but I thought we were past this sort of husband shopping as a society!"
"I think you'll find that there's little you can put past anyone when money's involved, Lady Sybil."
Tom gleefully loaded up a roast beef sandwich with a smear of horseradish and onion chutney. Beside him, the lady assembled a far daintier sandwich, but didn't hesitate to pour out her lemonade before she poured for him. He couldn't blame her. He knew she had a fondness for it. Personally, he'd have preferred beer, but a free meal was a free meal!
"I hate to think of Mary that way." Sybil sighed and looked away. "Besides, I worry. Mary's never even had a proper beau before. Well, almost with Matthew, but that never had the chance to become more than a fancy. The point is that first Patrick and Papa dissuaded any admirers and now she's getting married out of nowhere. What's she to do if she makes a mistake? Marriage is forever, or at least I believe it should be unless someone is doing something cruel or illegal. What do you think about the new divorce laws? I wonder that nobody brings up how wretchedly unfair it is that a man can divorce a woman for adultery but a woman's shamed for not simply baring the shame of it!"
"Well, I'd say at least somebody is bringing it up now, aren't they?" Tom grinned and, for a moment, gleefully forgot about rank, his uniform, the urban quagmire of capitalism not an hour's drive away, and everything else but the joy of arguing with the shiny penny sitting across from him in the midst of a freshly cut field of hay.
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"I do wish Sybil would come with us and get to know her future brother properly." Lady Grantham fretted as she settled herself into the capacious back seat of Mercedes Benz that Lord Holderness had sent to Germany for earlier in the year. "Lord Holderness is going to part of the family now, and has shown such interest and kindness in her debut."
Cora did approve of the young man's thoughtfulness. Well, perhaps that wasn't the right word. Consideration would be better. From what she'd seen of Lawrence Ramsey, he was the sort of man who thought twice before doing anything and liked to have a plan in place when he acted. It gave her so much hope for Mary's future. She knew her eldest could be impulsive and having a steady influence would be good for her… especially given that Lord Holderness seemed to possess enough of ambition to keep Mary's attention in the long term.
"He just wants to make sure that she doesn't waste her opportunities, or the family's."
"Very few brothers-in-law would offer so kindly to invite their single friends to so many entertainments – or throw a party or two themselves."
"Oh, that's as much to give me practice as a social hostess as anything else. Lawrence is wonderfully adept at making getting his own way seem like kindness."
Cora raised both her eyebrows at that statement, and her daughter's clear admiration of it, but Mary just waved a hand and went on breezily.
"Sybil's just being difficult because she wouldn't feel like a proper suffragette unless she'd had a go at me for making traditional choices for a lady of our position in society." Mary waved the sentiment away as she admired the smooth leather and gilt fixtures of the interior. "She'll come around as soon as the wedding is over. I do wish her debut wasn't going to be right in the midst of preparations, but Lawrence does have a point about it being a good way to draw more attention and focus to our wedding and connections."
Cora wrinkled her nose.
"You hardly have to make it sound so mercenary, darling."
"It's not mercenary to be practical about it, Mama. You should understand that given how you and Papa started your marriage. For goodness' sake! Even Edith can be practical. Look at how she let me handle the social end of her own wedding."
Cora hid a smile at that. While Mary sounded her droll self, she appreciated the sentiment behind the comment. Mary never felt safe being grateful, but she certainly was for the fact that Edith had accommodated her so neatly. Cora really was so grateful to have all three of her daughters getting along so well, even if they were all leaving the nest. At least they shan't be across an ocean. Edith's barely three miles distant and with luck Sybil will warm up to dear Dickie's son..
"It will be good for both of you, and Sybil will see that later. Imagine, two daughters married and one out within three months!" Cora nudged gently at her daughter's foot with her own. "I shall be the envy of most Mamas, you know. Edith, despite all of her problems, is married to a very comfortable and kind man who'll help her keep an eye on her fortune and help her raise her little sister. You are going to make the finest match of the season, if not the decade."
"Oh, Mama, don't exaggerate."
"I'm not."
"Well, then, carry on."
Cora laughed softly at her daughter's endless confidence.
"And I shall have my youngest making her debut just a fortnight from now and shining like the moon to her big sister's sun through all of the wedding festivities. Really, what more could I ask for?"
"Uncle Harold and Grandmama Martha?"
Cora sighed and shrugged helplessly.
"It would be a terribly quick turn-around seeing as they just got back to the States, darling. They've sent their love and you have to admit that your Grandmama and Uncle were very generous in the gifts they sent."
Mary cut her a look, but nodded a little uncomfortably. Cora just sighed. Perhaps Mary might have liked a showy public gift, but she thought it was best for everyone that her mother and brother had sent over funds for the wedding instead. It wasn't as though they couldn't afford to give Mary the wedding she deserved, but… given they'd just married off Edith it would have been a touch uncomfortable. Especially considering the expense of getting Sybil properly set up for her own debut.
Lord Holderness had tried to be generous and offer to take on some of the cost. He'd initially convinced Robert on the grounds that he wanted an unusually lavish London ceremony. Unfortunately, someone in the Lords had gotten wind of it and Robert had been forced to save his face by denying it and that had been that… at least until Cora had made sure a little bird on the telegraph wires tweeted in the proper ears.
"Yes, but Lawrence was very disappointed that they won't make it. He got on swimmingly with Uncle Harold at Edith's wedding."
"Proof positive the man is a born politician." Cora dimpled. "Clearly your fiancée can get along with anyone."
"I'm just happy that there won't be any more arguing over the wedding. Lawrence and I have reasons for all of our decisions and it's not as if we're putting on a show for the Yorkshire Yeomanry and a few stuffy academics the way that Edith did. Our wedding will be the foundation of our entire life together and show the direction we intend to take – just as theirs' did."
"Mary…"
"I don't mean it as an insult! Edith got the wedding she wanted and the sleepy little life she wants as well. Why she wanted it, I don't understand, but she was clearly happy with it and I'm glad for it, Mama. I mean it! I hope she's very happy."
"As a sister should, Mary."
"Of course."
Cora sighed as her eldest waved away her sister like a gnat.
"We have more important things to discuss than Edith, Mama. We've been buried in planning all week and Lawrence has promised to go over things with us today. I don't want him thinking we're disorganized."
Cora hid a smile as she watched her daughter, who prided herself on having people to do work for her, withdraw a rather new and shiny red ledger. Mary had insisted they find one that didn't look as if some 'fusty old accountant' was carrying it, and the result was rather amusing. Still, it was satisfying to watch as Mary worked to plan out and budget and organize her own wedding. Cora found she could take on just enough of the work to keep herself busy and entertained without stepping on Mary's toes and was very satisfied with that. She had plenty to organize on her end in terms of the season's normal entertainments, Sybil's coming out, and this atop it all. There was no need to take over.
"Of course not, darling." Cora smoothed her skirt. "Are you nervous about seeing his London house for the first time?"
"No." Mary denied, then paused. "Well, not nervous so much as anticipatory. This is his main residence. We'd likely reside in London far more of the year than at Leathe House."
"Are you sure you can be happy spending so much time in London?"
"It shall be terribly exciting, and I look forward to being busy. There will be so much to do…"
Cora held in her sigh of relief, but she felt it the way a bellows must feel relief to wheeze out over hot coals. She'd been so terrified for her daughter, first thinking her fallen and then realizing that something far worse had happened. She'd done everything she could to be supportive and save her daughter from the shame of what had happened to her; not that she should be the one ashamed.
Dr. Clarkson could talk of barbiturates and the dangers of mixing them with cocaine and alcohol. He could mention heart defects if it pleased him. Cora preferred to think that the body she'd helped Mary and Anne carry down the hall that night belonged to a man so vile that God himself had struck him down.
She imagined Hell was a touch warmer than Istanbul this time of year. She ever so much hoped he enjoyed his new residence there. It would be eternal, after all.
"Mama?"
"Oh, sorry my dear, just woolgathering." Cora reached out and squeezed her daughters' gloved hands and then paused. "I've just realized something."
"Yes?"
Cora took a moment to look around her at the great lines of fine homes that made up the neighborhood. It wasn't so exalted as Grantham House's location, but it was a very nice house. Tall with a white limestone façade and a compact, but sweeping set of entryway stairs, the house was more compact than the Grantham London residence… but it was also more intentional.
"You really are quite close to Strallan House, aren't you? Just perhaps a block or two around the corner, I think."
"It might be convenient, Mama, if Edith and Sir Anthony were the sort for company." Mary blinked and wrinkled her nose, then shrugged. "Which they clearly are not."
"I don't think you can blame either of them for wanting a bit of time to themselves after their wedding, darling. They're still newlyweds!"
"Oh, Mama, don't remind me!"
"Don't remind you that your new brother quite enjoys your sister's company?" Cora raised an eyebrow. "Or that you're about to enter a state of wedded bliss yourself?"
Mary flushed and Cora gently squeezed her daughter's hands.
"You do know that there is nothing you can't ask me, I hope? Darling… that… there is no shame in a certain amount of fear in these situations? A mother always understands her daughter's feelings, and even when she doesn't understand everything, she loves them entirely."
It was something Cora had longed to say for… well, since she and Violet had begun this husband search for her daughter. That Mary wanted it so very badly was a great reassurance, but knowing what that terrible brute had done to her daughter gave her pause. There was more to marriage than an understanding, and despite his excellent manners Lord Holderness was still a man.
The car pulled to a stop and Mary, grateful for the reprieve, retrieved her hands.
"Mama, you really can be so terribly American about these little talks."
"Thank you, darling, I try."
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Mary was only grateful that entering Ramsey House was the perfect excuse not to talk to her mother a moment longer. At least not in private. She… respected that her mother meant well. Mary merely didn't want to be dragged into some terribly trite, horrendously embarrassing, talk about emotions and bodies and… congress.
Mary was sure she had nothing to worry about. Her memories of Pamuk were… not pleasant. They were, however, mercifully brief. She had no intention of dwelling on them and, really, barely thought on that night now. It was just a matter of… letting it go. Burying it, along with the architect of all of that misery.
He was dead.
She was healed of his disease.
No one would ever know.
It was as if it hadn't happened.
If Lawrence wondered at the lack of blood, she had her riding as the perfect excuse.
It was as if it hadn't happened.
Effectively, it hadn't.
Even Edith had agreed to just… let it fall away like smoke in the wind. No debt. No obligation. No discussion. Mary was gleeful to start over, really she was, she just needed everyone who knew to stop being so careful about it and ignore it as she did. At least Granny and Papa are willing to be reasonable about it.
So, Mary pushed all thoughts and worries deep down inside herself and slammed the door on them. As she closed one door, another opened. This was the outer door to the foyer of Ramsey House, and Mary quite liked what she saw. Just the right amount of marble and gilt; the perfect little room for a first impression that mattered.
"Mary, thank God!"
Mary blinked, surprised by the effusiveness of her fiancée's greeting. Tall, black-haired, and dark-eyed, Lawrence swept into the room with a long-stride and impatient manner utterly unlike his usual controlled greeting. His usual perfect presentation marred by the fact that he was in waistcoat and shirtsleeves, no coat in sight. In fact, his sleeves were rolled up and he was wearing a pair of black satin sleeve garters. Was there dried ink on his fingers?
"Lawrence?"
"You're not injured?"
Mary found herself being held at arm's length and, in a gesture more like what she was used to, turned this way and that in a sudden and close inspection. Shooting her Lady Grantham a confused look, she brushed his hands away and straightened the finely cut woolen jacket she was wearing. A quick glance showed the ink was dry and he hadn't done her clothing a mischief.
"Lawrence, what in the world?"
"Palmer?"
Unlike Downton's, her husband's footmen matched. As she was unfamiliar with his servants, Palmer was just another of the ubiquitous tall, medium brunets that he kept about the place. She'd been rather amused by his cheerful admittance that he chose men with lighter hair and eyes so that he stood out among his servants. Though, honestly, she would have done the same.
"Not a spot of trouble sir, is something amiss?" The poor boy, who'd come along with the driver to collect them, looked as confused as she did.
"Apparently not. Thank you, Palmer. I'm sure someone downstairs will enlighten you."
The young man nodded and fell back into the blank look and still posture of service as Lawrence's butler stepped forward. Mary didn't know the man, but he seemed perfectly polite. A few years younger than Carson, Abrams was the same sort of solidly built, stolidly reliable fellow. The similarities put her at ease as the older man took their coats and Lawrence took her mother's hand in proper greeting and began to chivy them from the room.
"There was a bombing not ten minutes ago."
"A what?"
"A bombing."
Before, a great deal of talk and thought had revolved around what Mary would think of the house. As shocked as she was, Mary's eye still wander around the octagonal salon she and her mother had been led into. An intimate room, it was still very much a show piece. Though the furnishings and fixtures weren't overly ornate, it was a room carefully choreographed to offer comfort. Mary instantly liked it's rigidly organized informality, and was pleased that the deep burgundy of the upholstery fit her coloring so well.
Now, Mary was rather distracted.
"Where?"
"Just outside St. James'. I couldn't recall if you were going there before or after you came here."
"After."
"And thank God we were. Was anyone hurt badly?" Lady Grantham wanted to know as she was gently chivied into a seat by her future son-in-law and another matching footman reappeared with a silver tray bearing tea and a tiered tray of dainties.
"Two dead according to my information. Several badly injured."
Mary felt a terrible coldness settle in her belly and solidify. Her mother was going on with Lawrence, talking about numbers and acquaintances, and charitable responses. All she could think of was how close she'd come and how close she was to having everything she wanted – needed.
"Was the church damaged?"
"Mary, people are dead this is hardly the time to worry about your schedule!"
"No, the bomb went off prematurely." Lawrence winced, answering his future wife's question instead of his mother-in-law-to-be's remonstration. "Inside the cab, in fact. So far, it's the driver and the presumed bomber who are dead. They're attempting to make some identification but… well. The other injuries were in other vehicles and some pedestrians from flying glass and other debris."
"Well, I hope it doesn't put anyone off the season in town." Mary finally managed, primly setting her ledger on the marble-topped table in front of them. "I haven't put this much effort into our wedding just to have it derailed by lunatics."
"Mary."
The censure in her mother's voice was overcome by the sound of her future husband chuckling. Mary startled slightly at the sound but offered up a smile as he rose leaned down and pressed a brief, dry kiss to her cheek.
"That's the spirit. Though a public display of being shaken and delicate always goes well with a stiff upper lip; at least where the papers are concerned. If you want pointers, I'm apparently shaken enough for both of us."
Mary shot him a look, unsure whether he was serious, and found no answer in his friendly, fond expression. She was pleased when she was unburdened from interpreting his feelings on the matter by his usual briskness. She handed over the ledger when he asked, and the next half-hour was entirely devoted to the minutiae of the wedding. Something Mary was pleased to see he was as interested in as she was.
"Who were you thinking of speaking to about being your best man? You've said nothing about arranging the ushers."
"Ah, that's the thing." Lawrence tapped the list he'd given Mary a moment before. "All of the ushers are dear and very useful political friends. If I choose any one of them over the others, there will be offense taken."
"Oh dear." Cora frowned. "I do know what you mean. Robert had some of the same problems with his friends from the Army. He asked his cousin Patrick, instead, as no-one can be offended by family."
"Sadly I'm the last male of the Ramsey line." Lawrence shook his head, his expression going wistful. "I had a little brother, but my parents lost him to diphtheria just weeks after he was born. I was… six? Perhaps seven. I don't quite remember."
"If I recall you had an elder sister as well. I remember when your mother was preparing for her debut."
"I did, Lady Grantham." Mary felt a flare of surprise and sympathy as an expression of what was clearly genuine pain touched her fiance's face, which closed like a shop dropping its shutters, as he shrugged uncomfortably. "Unfortunately, Henrietta t-took fits. We lost her when she was seventeen after she fractured her skull. She sadly had one of her episodes on the stairs."
Without thought Mary leaned forward and squeezed his hand, receiving back a warm smile that she seemed to feel as much as she saw. The sudden feeling warmed her to her toes. Not merely because it was a good feeling. Mary felt a great deal of relief to have the feeling at all. It was almost like what she had felt at Matthew's smile. See? You aren't choosing poorly…
"It's one of the reasons I'm so eager to marry. Over the last decade I've watched the last of my family fade away. It's my intention to rebuild it, as my father and I rebuilt my family's fortunes and our influence." Lawrence smiled at both of the women and gestured around. "Speaking of family, however, back to the subject at hand. Do you think Sir Anthony would stand up with me and help me avoid giving offense?"
"I can't see why not."
"Unless he's run over by another rogue bovine." Mary drawled and got a laugh out of both her mother and her future husband, though the former was rather exasperated.
"Really, Mary, the man's accident wasn't his fault."
"Besides, given the productivity of his estate you really can't fault his methods of keeping it going." Lawrence went on with that glint of chill admiration that told Mary he was calculating something behind his dark eyes. "I've modernized Leathe, but I can't get that sort of return per acre. They've tried to tap him for the Board of Agriculture and Fisheries before, but no luck."
"Still, you really want Sir Anthony to stand up with you?"
"Well, I'm afraid we're both rather short on male relations. Shall I ask your cousin Mr. Crawley instead?"
Mary gaped at him and Cora looked distinctly uncomfortable. Lawrence laughed and waved a hand.
"No, no, forgive me. It would be terribly awkward… and I don't want any bad blood in the family. Least of all given that everything I hear suggests he has a fine legal career ahead of him as a barrister. He's already gotten some fair attention and that's not a connection to cut off for petty reasons, especially given how the inheritance of your father's title stands."
Mary, for once, found she had nothing to say. Her tongue was totally tied. Lawrence went on, turning to Cora, who'd murmured something polite about how good it was to keep things peaceful in the family.
"I agree. After a bit of time's past and things are less awkward, we'll have to reopen relations. Until then, let everyone keep their pride."
Mary had no idea how to take that, especially when the sound of a woman's heeled boots in the hallway distracted her. She was distracted further still when, after a brief knock on the door, the owner of said boots appeared. If Mary had been out of sorts over the bombing, this was far worse.
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Lawrence Ramsey, the Earl of Holderness, was an ambitious, driven, and sometimes coldhearted man. That said, he understood some concepts in a very solid and meaningful way. One of them was loyalty. Very few people ever got past his pleasant, but meaningless façade. Once they did, Lawrence made a point to treat them well.
"Midori, did you find it?"
"Yes, and you owe me your profound thanks. I'm missing class for this, Lawrence!"
Lawrence was the sort of man who could compartmentalize things easily. So, one part of his mind was absolutely aware of the impression that Midori Chen made upon other women when they met her suddenly and without warning. That was, of course, why he'd asked Midori to make a point of showing up with no warning this morning.
"I'll drop a word with your professor." Lawrence rose and took the brown folder of papers from her gratefully. "Where was it?"
"The attic. I think the letter was honest enough. Nothing important in terms of documentation left the house. It's just all over the house. I found a bundle of receipts behind a vanity in the guest bedroom and one of your maids found a mass of papers spread between the layers of bedding in another room. They're turning down all the other beds now, to check."
"Oh, for Christ's sake."
A third part of Lawrence's mind was, of course, dedicated to the other major event in his life at the moment. One that didn't revolve around a wedding. One that was the primary reason for Midori's presence.
"Lawrence?"
He turned around, a look of relief and bland pleasure clearly on his face. It was a careful balance. He mustn't look either amused or guilty or the wrong impression might be made.
"Oh, forgive me. Lady Grantham, Lady Mary, this is Miss Midori Chen." He made introductions with graceful hand gestures and every sign of pleasure. "My father invested in a business venture with her father ages ago. They're family friends."
"Indeed, and you never felt the need to mention such a close friend before?"
Lawrence looked appropriately boggled and sheepish, but inside he was entirely pleased. It was one thing to make a marriage based on similar interests and goals. He wanted that. It would do him no good, with the life he planned, to marry for affection alone to some sensitive soul who would never make a politician's wife.
Lawrence, however, wanted a family and that meant he had no intention of going into an entirely soulless marriage. For one, such an arrangement usually spawned the sort of doubts he would never tolerate in a spouse. He wanted children, and the children he intended to raise would be his.
Lady Mary Crawley had always had a great number of men trailing after her. She was also a masterful women who knew her place in society and its worth. Lawrence wanted that in a wife. He needed that social capacity. He felt he deserved it given the life he led and the position in society he held. What he didn't want were the nasty little behaviors that clung to the spoiled society princesses that Mary exemplified. After all, once her aunt had been very much like her…
The next Lord Holderness wasn't going to look unfortunately like some groom or the other because of a political arrangement between spouses, and that meant he wanted Mary to want him… and be as unwilling to share as he was going to be. That meant keeping his wife on a short leash. If he had to do so in terms of monitoring her behavior and having her watched in the future, he would, but it would be so much easier if a bit of emotional pressure could bring about the same results. Everyone said that once you made her loyal, you could trust Mary Crawley. Now was the time to make her loyal.
"Well, you – Mary, you see-."
"What Lawrence means, Lady Mary, is that my mother and I don't move in such circles as you do. He did not want it to be awkward for anyone." Midori stepped in, as they'd discussed, her tone as smooth as the ivory of her skin.
Lawrence noted with amusement that Midori had dressed for the part today. She didn't look even slightly inappropriate, but she also looked utterly alluring and foreign. Her long dark green skirt was English enough, and brought out the green in her turquoise eyes, but she'd chosen a blouse cut in a foreign fashion with little cord closures and a high neckline. While being totally modest it also was utterly beguiling while it drew your attention to the perfect figure it encased and brought emphasis to the gleaming black knot of hair at the back of her neck and the absolute symmetry of her features.
It really was a pity Midori was foreign, too young, and uninterested in being a society wife. In terms of looks Mary was definitely second best. Then again, there were worse options. Oh well, there are other advantages…
"What a dreadful thing, to be awkward."
Midori smiled sweetly and just a little aggressively at the ice in his fiancée's tone and Lawrence reminded himself to step in before her sense of humor got the best of her and the better of him. A little test was one thing. A raging conflagration of feminine temper was another.
"I told you last week that my secretary quit in high dungeon."
"I recall you mentioning it." Lady Grantham's warm tone had lost a little of its gentility as well and Lawrence kept his face bland as he nodded, making sure his expression showed a hint of his own – very genuine – temper at the situation as well as a certain amount of chagrin.
"Yes, well… I didn't want to complain so I perhaps didn't mention the full details…"
"You ticked the man off so badly he tore everything to pieces in your filing and hid it and all of the account books in the most absurd places possible." Midori drawled. "Which, when you consider the fact that you haven't minded your own filing or ledgers a single day in your entire life, Lawrence, explains why you called me in a panic."
"Yes, well, one of us was trained to run the country and one of us was trained to run an office, Midi, and-."
"Do not call me, Midi."
Lawrence hadn't quite been able to resist twitting her by slipping the nickname in. He took a precautionary step back as he noticed her raising a hand. Midori could pinch like an angry crab. The welts lasted for days.
"I apologize, I won't."
"Good. Shall I get back to work? I can't come tomorrow."
"But-."
"I can't miss anymore class than I have, Lawrence! I graduate this year, remember?"
"But you've only been in university for two-."
"You can graduate in two years, if you take summer classes and work at it."
Laughing softly he held up both hands in surrender and watched as Midori bowed briefly and, perfectly politely, begged forgiveness for the interruption from his future wife and mother-in-law, then vanished as she came. In a cloud of nearly untouchable beauty and with briskly clicking heels. As anticipated, when he turned back to Mary and Lady Grantham, neither looked quite as eager or as happy with him as they'd arrived looking. Obliviousness is the order of the day…
"I really do owe her my thanks." He went on, taking a seat again as the ladies sat across from him, Mary's dark eyes narrowed. "Midori – Miss Chen, I mean, is right. I can't manage without a competent secretary, and she's brilliant at organizing things."
"Is she?"
"Yes. Her elder brothers died young, so she helped her father run his offices from a young age."
"And that's how you know her?" Lady Grantham sipped her tea. "I wouldn't have thought, given the differences in your rank, that you'd have much contact."
"You said your father was an investor in the business. How involved does that make one, I wonder?"
That was jealousy right there in that tone.
"If it had been only that I imagine that I'd barely know her."
"But it was more than that."
Lawrence let a hint of real feeling touch his face, cleared his throat, and looked aside to make sure that there were no servants about. It wasn't pretense. His mother had spent so long so humiliated and hiding this. It was one thing for a few of his oldest and most loyal servants to know. He didn't want to hear gossip about it now, after his poor mother had finally found her peace.
"By the time I lost mother it was almost a blessing."
He saw he had his audience by the change in tone and silently congratulated himself on using the truth so effectively. He'd planted his little seed of possessiveness in Mary. He could water it later, in various ways, to keep her loyal. For now he didn't need real trouble with Midori. She'd only be here a few weeks after all, while he found another secretary who'd want the job permanently.
"What do you mean?"
"Mother had cripplingly bad rheumatoid arthritis, and the grief over my sister's death pushed it into a crisis. She needed constant nursing care just to move." Lawrence shook his head. "Mrs. Chen's father was involved in eastern medicine. She was forever making ointments and creams or teas for mother. I don't know if they had any actual curative properties, but having another woman to talk to about it who wasn't a servant, but wasn't of a rank whose presence would have shamed her, did my mother a world of good."
"So this Miss Chen was always underfoot?" Lady Grantham interrupted, her tone rather significant. "Like a little sister?"
"I suppose, yes. You could say that."
In her mind at least. I always considered it a pity, but… well… some things aren't meant to be… and I did desperately need a secretary who wouldn't blab about some of the things in those files.
"Why didn't you, then?" Mary demanded.
Lawrence paused and with a great deal of effort, made himself flush. Mrs. Chen's old instructions on meditation had helped him a lot in growing out of the hot-headed boy he'd been in youth. They'd also taught him the value of bodily control.
"I – Mary, are you jealous?"
"Of course not! I just feel a bit odd to come visit my fiancée in regards to our wedding and find him half-dressed in the presence of some foreign woman."
Lawrence immediately backpedaled, putting on an expression of contrition.
"And you shouldn't have to, Mary, I am sorry to upset you. I just didn't give it another thought. I really wasn't walking around Midori in my shirtsleeves. I've been in my office sorting out some of the files that aren't labeled by year, you see, as she chases all the hidden paperwork down around the house and then puts it into better order for me to look through later. If it hadn't been for that bombing I never would have received you or your mother in such a manner."
That much was true. He hadn't planned to rush out in his sleeve garters. He'd just seen all of his plans and hopes go up in smoke for a moment and lost control of himself.
He watched as Mary struggled for a moment, and blessed her mother as Lady Grantham stepped in. She really was a gem. Lord Grantham was in no way good enough or intelligent enough for his wife. Hopefully Mary aged as well as she did.
"Which I'm sure has us all out of sorts. I know I won't feel properly safe until I've gotten back to Grantham House to talk to your Papa. Gracious, what if he's heard?"
Even Mary was derailed by that thought and Lawrence blessed the woman for the perfect excuse to close this without a proper resolution. His future wife should stew on things for a bit. Then they could have a spat that risked disrupting the wedding. Mary would panic, he would forgive her, and a nice pattern would be set up for his future use when her temper got away with her.
Calling for his man to get him his jacket and coat, Lawrence insisted on seeing the women back to Grantham House himself.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Dr. Charlotte Yardley was a fit, trim woman of a year or two Anthony's senior with iron grey hair and a demeanor that could seem quite stern, but seldom was.
"You mustn't let Anthony's fretting instill any fear in you."
Charlotte's first words when they were alone surprised Edith completely, as did the warm way she squeezed her hands.
"Pardon?"
A pair of eyebrows lifted towards that neatly cropped hair. Edith had wondered at first at the "fashion" of it, as she'd knew from Eva that some young women were cropping their hair to be on the very edge of acceptable fashion in America. Charlotte, however, gave off no air of fashion. If anything, the almost masculine cut of her suit and the simplicity of her hair had a feeling that was almost devoid of fashion. Edith had a feeling that Charlotte had proceeded the trend.
"Maud's troubles have left Anthony terribly… shaken where pregnancy is concerned."
"I had noticed." Edith confessed. "I have been unusually tired, but Anthony literally tucked me into bed after we got to London and insisted I rest. Then, before I could say one way or another, he had dinner sent up to me on a tray!"
"Maud often took her meals abed during her pregnancies, after the first few months."
Edith closed her lips tightly before she could comment on the fact that she was not Maud, but Dr. Yardley's signaled that she'd seen it with a sardonic tilt of her head. She also raised a hand towards Edith and sat forward in her desk, resting her elbows on the blotter with a sigh.
"I know you aren't, my dear, but… you must understand how badly Anthony has been effected by it all."
"I know it was horrid. He… talked about it, once or twice before." Edith hesitated, and lowered her voice. "He mentioned losing his son, Phillip."
Dr. Yardley's expression grew genuinely mournful.
"Yes, that was undoubtedly the most traumatic of the losses. To come so close only to lose Maud and the baby, after he'd been born alive… You can't imagine how devastated he was."
"Then tell me."
Edith had no idea what her expression was like. She couldn't see the stubborn tilt of her jaw or the demand in her eyes. She certainly couldn't read the love written in the concern around the corners of her lips. Charlotte, however, could see it, and it went further than anything else might have in convincing her that Anthony's terribly young bride might be just what he needed.
"He's utterly convinced that he is at fault and it was some failure on his part that it happened." The older woman sighed. "Just as he was convinced that it was some failure in how he cared for Maud that resulted in their other losses."
"That's ridiculous!" Edith couldn't keep the outrage out of her voice. "I have never met another human being in my life who takes such care of everything and everyone around him. Why, you should see him with my sister! Everyone who sees them thinks she's his daughter and anyone with eyes can see – do you know what he did for us earlier this year? That he followed us to Austria because he was afraid we were in trouble?"
"Were you?"
"No." Not quite true but closer to the truth than not. "It was a misunderstanding. Really, my sister and I were perfectly safe and traveling with a trusted servant besides."
"Hm."
"Anthony just got it into his head that we were in danger and, terribly sweet and wonderful as he is, had to come riding to our rescue." Edith flushed. "Not that I regret for a moment that he joined us. Anthony proposed on that trip. It's just that – how could he think so little of himself?"
"Anthony is a very perceptive man where anything but a mirror is concerned."
Edith returned the woman's earlier harumph. Then she straightened her shirt and flushed.
"I-I'm sorry to digress."
"Oh no, my dear, I started it." Dr. Yardley smiled a small, tight, smile that quickly turned wry. "Besides, I don't view it as a digression."
"Pardon?"
"Well, it's my job to take care of expectant mothers. I've found that doing so includes looking after fretful papas-to-be more often than not."
"Well, I'm perfectly happy to reassure him."
"He may need a bit more than that, Lady Strallan."
"Please, call me Edith. You came to our wedding, after all!"
The smile this time was warmer.
"So I did." Dr. Yardley cleared her throat. "Now, shall we?"
"Yes." Edith nodded firmly, then blushed. "Exactly what…"
The older woman picked up a pen and a file, opening it to a series of prepared papers.
"What was the date of your last menstrual period. Please be as precise as possible."
Blushing, Edith offered up the date precisely. It wasn't difficult. It ended precisely eight days before her wedding. Dr. Yardley, to her gratitude, didn't smile or laugh or comment at all about the probable conception date of her future offspring. Instead they just blazed forward, until Edith was quite shocked by the full range of questions she was asked.
The physical examination was a bit embarrassing, but Edith found that it wasn't too horrid. Charlotte was brisk and professional about it. Moreover, she made a point of explaining each thing she did. As the examination went on, however, a seed of thought planted in Edith's mind sometime ago by her husband's sensitivity to all things pregnancy related decided to finish its life cycle. It had already broken the soil, but the weed grew too annoying to be ignored. Unable to rip it out silently, Edith bit her lip as she tidied her clothing and rose from the odd table in the little room behind Dr. Yardley's office.
"Charlotte… I really have no right to ask and it's none of my business, so ignore me if you must, but…"
"But?"
"What did go wrong with Maud's pregnancies?"
The older woman sighed and Edith was ready to backpedal, but was stopped by a gentle, if brisk, pat to her hand.
"No, no, I would have been surprised if you didn't ask." She looked back at the door and nodded once to herself. "Let's finish this chat here. Anthony needn't hear it again."
"Of course not."
"There was nothing hereditary wrong, that I could determine. Nothing in the process that you need to fear, as Anthony's new wife."
Edith felt thoroughly ashamed for asking and bit down on the urge to assure Charlotte that she would have married Anthony anyway. The other woman was going on as it was. As if it were less painful to speak quickly.
"If anyone is to blame, perhaps I am."
"You?"
"You see, I gave Maud hope." Charlotte sighed, her voice quiet as she turned and looked closely at a watercolor hanging on the wall. It depicted an expectant mother looking down on a toddler surrounded by puppies. It looked terribly out of place. Edith wondered if her partner, Clara, had chosen it. "She had a condition that is called cervical incompetence. There was a new treatment available and I was younger. I was sure I would be the one to help them live their dream of children, you understand."
"And… it didn't work?"
"Sometimes it does. Often it does not. At first, as if often the case in medicine, there was a higher success rate attributed to it than close research proves out."
Charlotte turned and gestured with her hands.
"You see, there are muscles at the neck of the womb – the cervix – that hold the baby in during pregnancy. When a woman has cervical incompetence they aren't strong enough to hold the weight of a baby past a few months. In very severe cases, they can't hold a child past the earliest stages of pregnancy."
Edith shivered and the older woman fixed her with a look that was both stern and reassuring.
"I see no signs of the condition in you, Edith, and you've given me no cause to worry. You were completely honest."
"Oh, yes! The only thing I've to complain of is how tired I've been. I haven't felt the least bit sick."
"No other symptoms."
Edith flushed and, had they not been caught up in such a drought conversation and Charlotte not been so honest in her guilt, Edith might have prevaricated. Instead, staring at her toes, she cleared her throat.
"I've found that I – I desire Anthony's company… intimately… even more frequently than I usually do…"
Charlotte smiled, almost smirked, and Edith cursed her fair complexion.
"Nothing to worry about there, dear. That is a very common symptom."
"Then we shouldn't… abstain."
"Only if you notice some discomfort. Otherwise it's a perfectly safe activity for an expectant mother. Though, given Anthony's size, you might advise him to take care when you get further along."
Edith was boggled.
"But, if the cervix holds the womb closed then how…"
Charlotte blinked at her and then burst out into the most uncharacteristic sort of giggles. Nonplussed, Edith glared.
"I meant his weight, Edith. So that he doesn't put excess pressure on your stomach when you've grown large. That would be uncomfortable for you in the, erm, traditional masculine position for congress?"
Edith returned to her earlier exploration of the color red and covered her eyes with her hand in mortification.
"Though I now can say I honestly know more about Anthony than I ever needed to!"
Edith brought up her other hand to cover her mouth as, entirely against her will, she started giggling as well. She found her hands tugged away and she was soon looking into the kind, dark, eyes of the doctor.
"Edith, my dear girl, Maud had a heart murmur, suffered from recurring symptoms brought on by a bought of malaria as a child, and was melancholic by nature. The cervical incompetence was one of many health problems that exacerbated each other. Perhaps it was irresponsible of me not to have dissuaded her from pregnancy earlier… but even when I tried she would have none of it. Like we all are, she was a woman with a mind of her own. Anthony has trouble letting go of the sense of responsibility that defines him, and accepting that... Out of all of those problems there is only one you have to contend with… and unless I'm much mistaken, you rather enjoy the challenge, hm?"
Smiling, Edith nodded.
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Then let's go in and save my poor carpet from his pacing."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Clara had attempted to distract him with a puppy, but Anthony wasn't having it. In the back of his mind he noted that it was just as well Addie hadn't been with them. In light of the painful and odd distance that had grown between himself and the girl in the last few weeks… he'd have been tempted to offer her a second puppy.
All of Anthony's concerns seemed to have decided to hold a parliament in his digestive track and invite his brain as the main course of their little communal gathering. If he wasn't fretting about what Diana had told him that vile woman was spreading about town, he was worried for Edith's health – and the child's. If there was a child. It might be something worse. He'd read of women showing pregnancy-like symptoms, only instead it was a tumor. There had been that lady-in-waiting to Queen Victoria. His mother had related that scandal to him once ages before.
Then there was Addie. Anthony didn't want to make Edith fret, especially now, but he was concerned. Not necessarily over her being in school. That had genuinely seemed to improve, from what she told them. If she wasn't being honest, of course, then all of his knowledge was wrong.
Which also begged the question of how she felt so at ease with being dishonest. Edith might dismiss it as her sister being the product of an overly protective household, but Anthony was sure it wasn't just that. It was why he'd gotten so cross when she'd dismissed him. Why he felt so cross at the idea that she wasn't listening to him about Addie's care.
Anthony had expected to, well, feel less redundant. When he'd been courting Edith it was so easy to picture himself as part of a little family of three with her and her sister. He'd been able to imagine dropping Addie off at school, hearing everything about her day, helping her with her homework and projects… so many other things. Things he'd dreamed of for years and told himself that he was content without, but had to admit to himself that… he wasn't. Not now that he was married to Edith and everything he'd ever dreamed of in life was right at his fingertips.
Instead?
Anthony had felt more and more unnecessary every day. Not in a large way, but in terms of little things. Things that he told himself would iron themselves out in time, but… weren't.
Addie never asked him to help her with her homework. Instead, she asked her sister. Which made sense, as Edith had always played such a large role in Addie's education. Anthony had just rather expected to be asked to help. If not by Addie herself, certainly by Edith.
Then there was the other individual Addie turned to. More than once Anthony had entered Addie's room, planning to offer her help with sums or history only to find his new underbutler sitting in the armchair by Addie's bed, one knee thrown lazily over the arm, as he talked her through her homework or discussed her day at school. A discussion that always came to a halt with Barrow on his feet at proper attention before the master of the house and Addie looking at him like he was the interloper.
A little voice in the back of Anthony's head told him that he was being ridiculous. That he knew very well that Addie had a more brotherly relationship than not with Barrow. That it was doing her good as she'd lost her own brothers and he was himself too old to take such a place in her heart. He was pointlessly jealous and just needed time. Anthony found it unusually hard to heed the small voice of good sense in the back of his head where his family was concerned.
Now… Anthony swallowed. If Edith was in the family way, and it seemed certain she was, it was all the more essential he get ahold of himself. Not just that, but also get ahold of whatever Edith might have sensed happening at school with Addie. He remembered all too well how fragile the health of an expectant mother could be and he wasn't going to let fate and poor circumstances snatch Edith from him. He didn't know what he would do if he lost her. Not now. Not after he'd known the joy of having her as his wife.
His mind immediately turned towards Diana's revelation. He frowned thunderously at an entirely innocent potted fern. In the back of his mind he knew he shouldn't. First of all, the fern was innocent. Secondly, Charlotte would fuss at him for interfering with one of her plants. It didn't matter that she had a tremendous black thumb and the only reason the thing was alive was Clara's furtive intervention. Charlotte firmly believed that she was keeping that lone fern alive in her office, survivor of so many other fallen green brethren, and she was protective of it.
Anthony kept frowning at the fern.
He felt so torn over it! Blast it all, on one hand he knew in the very roots of his soul that marriage was based on honesty. His parents had never had any secrets from each other, and he had seen how happy they were. He felt he'd finally found that with Edith.
At the same time he quailed at the thought of telling her, during these first fragile few months of her pregnancy, of anything so upsetting. If there was one thing that Edith acted blasé about, but was deeply affected by, it was any inference that she lacked virtue. Given her origins it was understandable. Given how often she'd had to put up with such inferences or social snubs based on the assumption that, as the child of an affair she was herself a loose woman, it was inevitable. She'd be incredibly upset to find out such rumors were going around… and more-so to realize that their little one was going to make them seem factual.
"Anthony would you please leave my poor fern alone?"
Anthony Strallan jumped and flinched at once, turning as he did so. It looked a bit ludicrous, but no worse than Charlotte stomping over to usher him away from her potted plant and then check it over for damage.
"Really, you're so good with plants. I don't know why you dislike mine so dreadfully!"
"I don't have anything against your fern, Charlotte."
"Yet you glare at it so every time you are in this office!"
Anthony bit his tongue and resisted the urge to point out that the fern in question had miraculously changed from a Boston Fern, to a Button Fern, and back to a Boston Fern in the last fifteen years. Charlotte would be hurt. Clara would skin him alive.
"I was glaring at the wall behind the fern." Anthony said with as much dignity as one could put into such a patently silly statement; which wasn't much. Then he turned to find his wife and take her hands, gently chivying her into one of the two seats across from Charlotte's desk. "How do you feel, sweet one?"
"I'm fine, darling."
"Tired?"
"Not a bit."
Anthony bit his lip and turned to one of his eldest friends, who surprised him with a smile.
"I can confirm that Edith's perhaps two months along, likely just a bit more. Congratulations on such efficient use of a short honeymoon."
Anthony flushed, but a wave of delight pushed the color away as he smiled. He couldn't resist, despite the slight impropriety of it, raising Edith's hands to kiss her fingers. She brought his blush back by returning the gesture, tugging him over and popping up slightly out of her seat to press her lips to his cheek.
"Do – are you… she's been very tired recently."
"Many new mothers are in the first three months."
"And it really is likely just all that I've been doing, atop being pregnant." Edith added. "I get up dreadfully early to take Addie to school, you know, and I still can't seem to go to bed so early as I might."
Anthony frowned, though he could admit that much was true.
"Are you naturally a night owl?"
"Not at all, but Addie's up and running about the house at four or five in the morning. She always has been."
"She goes to bed early, however?"
"She's asleep by eight o'clock if she hasn't taken an afternoon nap, which she often does. Then it's no later then ten."
"And yourself."
Edith looked at Anthony briefly and his lips quirked up crookedly as she shut her mouth. Both of them had seen the fib coming. Edith had simply chosen not to indulge it.
"Lady Strallan," How he did enjoy saying that, "is usually abed by eleven or midnight, unless her writing takes her."
"If I'm writing I may stay up longer to get an idea out." Edith confessed. "I like to sleep until around eight, if I can find the time."
Charlotte made a note in her file.
"Then I suggest you find the time. It's very important to listen to the natural rhythms of your body now, Edith. If you're tired, rest. If you don't want to sleep, don't make yourself. Your body knows what its doing, follow its advice."
"She's been taking a great many long walks lately." Anthony interjected. "Don't you think-."
"If she has no other complaints, and she doesn't, then she should listen to her body, Anthony." Charlotte interrupted firmly. "It may be that her body knows it needs to build up strength now, before the baby is due."
Edith petted at his hand in a way that made Anthony wonder if there hadn't been some highly embarrassing discussion about himself behind closed doors. Before he could counter this potential conspiracy against his entirely sensible caution, Charlotte added a caveat of which he approved.
"However, if the walk is longer than a half-hour altogether, I would suggest you shorten it. I also suggest that you don't tax yourself over any difficult terrain."
"Only a half-hour?"
"If it's in one stretch. For instance, if you wished an hour's exercise, four fifteen minute constitutionals would be utterly reasonable."
"I haven't been going off the house's main grounds."
"That sounds perfectly reasonable."
Anthony felt that four walks was excessive, but fifteen minutes did sound better. He slid an arm behind Edith's shoulders and cleared his throat.
"So you… don't advise any particular caution in regards to excess activity?"
Charlotte gave him an amused look.
"I can't see any particular activity a healthy married couple might engage in that would be a danger to your wife and unborn child, Anthony. Please don't constrain yourself."
Anthony flushed and Charlotte went on briskly, closing Edith's file and standing to gently usher them out of her office for the sake of her next appointment.
"Be moderate and reasonable, get plenty of fresh air and healthful food, and exercise at your leisure and in a comfortable manner." Charlotte summed up. "Other than that, stop glaring at my fern, and I'm sure that in a few short months I shall be up to Yorkshire to attend a christening, just as I was to attend your wedding."
Anthony let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"I'm not sure whether to congratulate you on such a well-played success, old boy, or commiserate with you on our shared embarrassment."
"Hm? What was that, Arnold?"
Captain Oliver Arnold was an old friend of Lord Grantham's from Eton. The second son of a Viscount, they'd gotten into all manner of mischief as boys. Then, when they were older, they'd both been disappointed as family tradition took them in different directions. Robert happily joined his forefathers with service in the army, and Oliver went into the Navy as second and third sons of his family had done since the reign of Good Queen Bess. A smallish fellow, wiry and bright-eyed, with an energetic demeanor, long ago he and Robert had made a fierce team on the cricket pitch. Oliver was fast and wickedly accurate, and Robert had ever had the bulk to shield him from other players.
Oliver looked left and right as he met Robert outside their club. Oliver had been going in as Robert was headed out. As it was, the shorter man gestured for Robert to join him as he pointed at a rather gaudy maroon and grey automobile.
"My brother's. His wife can't live without color in his life."
"Ah."
"Still, I don't see your man about…"
"No, no. The weather was fine, so I decided to walk from the House. Dreadful business with the bombing. Thankfully my butler called and told me that all was well."
"Yes, your eldest is marrying Holderness at St. James'?"
"In a month's time."
"Yes, two weddings in under six months." Robert winced. "My checkbook certainly is aware of the haste, I assure you."
Oliver, bless him, laughed and gestured again to the car.
"Come along then, lunch will be my treat. If you don't mind the chop house?"
Robert perked up at the offer of a hearty steak and a pint in purely masculine company.
"Nothing could sound better, old fellow. I can't tell you how much I need an escape from flowers, fabric, music, and the like. I came home the other day and was asked to determine which color was best for some silk flowers meant for my wife's hat of all things!"
"Well, which color suited her more?"
"They were both white."
Oliver's shoulder shook as they settled into the rear seat and the driver pulled into London's ever-worsening traffic. Oh for the days of nice sedate hansom cabs and the like. Even street cars were better for the city, in Robert's opinion.
"I've been there. Three years ago my stepdaughter went off the market. Was one white and the other ivory? That's how they got me. Spent a night on the settee for laughing at it."
"Well, for once I showed superior sense, then."
"Didn't laugh."
"No. I picked the one she held up slightly higher and thankfully it agreed with Cora's taste. I got a kiss on the cheek and off she went…"
"Lucky escape, chap!"
"Don't I know it!"
Then, in the midst of a perfectly happy conversation, Oliver surprised him by clearing his throat.
"Though, really, what's the rush?"
"Ah, I asked the same thing."
Robert had practiced this nonchalance. He and his mother had sat down for a very serious conversation not long after Mary had, very sensibly, decided to accept Holderness' offer and it became clear that he was all too willing to rush down the aisle on such a ridiculously tight schedule.
"We can't afford anyone to ever look too much into Mary's past. Strallan may have done us a favor we can never repay in doing what he's done to hide all traces of where Mary went for – for treatment. The fact remains, however, that if someone does even get a slight inkling of the truth then Mary will be utterly destroyed."
Robert knew that he'd failed to protect one daughter from the pain that the truth could bring. If he'd only managed to control Rosamund's impulsive decision to inform Kavanaugh of her existence. If he'd been able to even anticipate that she might do such a thing. If he'd been as vigilant as he should have been, then Edith never would have known she was the bastard child of an affair.
Robert knew the full scope of his mistakes, and he regretted them. He regretted that he hadn't shown Edith the love she deserved. He regretted that he'd treated her unfairly as a child and unequally next to the daughters of his loins. He knew he should have done better, that he'd failed to keep his word to love her as he should have a daughter, and he'd been trying to do better.
In his heart-of-hearts, however, Robert still felt his greatest failure was in not keeping the secret. Had it been kept then Edith would have been able to make a debut. She'd have still been Lady Edith, not Miss Kavanagh when she'd married. Had he managed to protect Edith from the truth as he ought to have, then Edith's wedding would have had far more guests than it did, for she wouldn't have been snubbed by so many of their acquaintances. Even as Lady Strallan there were friends that both families had known in Yorkshire for ages that wouldn't receive her. There were shops that turned up their noses at her. There were the constant whispers she had to endure at concerts and dinners out. There were comments that had to harm her, as Robert knew he was himself hurt and infuriated when he overheard them.
He was determined that he wouldn't fail Mary the same way. He'd already failed to protect her from the most abominable sort of attack inside his own home. He'd failed to earn her trust to the point she turned to Edith for help rather than her parents when she'd discovered she was ill. In this he would be the father he should be.
"Mary will deny it, but she's rather jealous of her sister."
Oliver blinked in surprise.
"The little one? Lady Sybil? Oh, yes, she is debuting this year isn't she? I suppose it might make a girl of twenty-two feel a bit on the shelf. Silly to, though, at that age. Twenty-five is a fine age for marriage in my mind. I married my Jenny at twenty-five and she was twenty-eight. We couldn't be happier, as you well know."
Robert smiled despite himself. It had created a dreadful scandal when Oliver had wed a twenty-eight-year-old divorcee from Boston. Not only was the woman more Irish than American, but she was divorced and had custody of her two daughters! The fact that she was comfortably wealthy, well, that was beside the point.
Robert hadn't been able to bring himself to do anything but welcome them both into his home when given the chance. He'd known he should have treated it all as more irregular… but Oliver was his friend, dammit, and Jenny was a delightful woman. She and Cora had immediately become friends and remained so since. Had Oliver not been posted in Ireland for much of the last twenty years he was sure that the girls would have all grown up playing together.
"No, I mean Edith."
Oliver sat back.
"Really?"
"Well, you know that Mary's, well, better favored than her sister."
"Mary's a beautiful girl, but I always recall Edith as being lovely." Oliver cleared his throat. "She does look very much like your sister, and you'll recall how I pined for Rosamund all those ages ago."
Robert winced, but nodded. He'd at least been delicate about it.
"Yes, but she never had her sister's confidence and Mary is an exceptional beauty. She's always had such poise… she was a bit put-off at having to be second to marry… and she's sensitive about Edith's inheritance."
"Well, it can hardly be helped that there's an entail. Not unless she's going to make Verne a reality and go back in time to argue equal inheritance and suffrage with some medieval King."
"Yes, but one can only expect so much logic for anything female."
"True enough, Robert, true enough. So, Lady Mary's jealous of her sister?"
"Yes. Edith had a wedding and now Mary must have one as soon as possible and many times as extravagant." Robert complained with perfect sincerity. He'd been embarrassed to accept the gift from Cora's kin, but would have loved to have a bit of leftover for this or that project about the estate. "Holderness is, of course, entirely on board with the pageantry of it all."
"He would be! That young man is as ambitious as they come. Solid though. Wonderful work ethic according to my brother."
"He didn't stint at getting anything done the Lords asked him to. Even looking into that embarrassing thing with the sewers."
Robert smiled as he agreed. He did like his future son-in-law. He felt he understood the man so much more easily than he did Sir Anthony. Not that he didn't like Strallan. They'd been friends for decades. It was just odd to think of him married to Edith… and worse yet to see them acting married.
"I'm not complaining. It's a fine match. Well, I'm not complaining about the match. Just the expense and the haste of it." Robert sighed and frowned. "I say, shouldn't we be at the pub by now?"
"I asked my man to take us the long way around."
Robert blinked as he realized that, instead of the driver he expected to see, he was looking at a uniformed naval yeoman in the driver's seat of the car. He immediately sobered to see the serious look that had settled on his friend's face.
"I say, Ollie, what's amiss?"
His old friend sighed and cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Jenny was out with some friends and overheard talk about your Edith."
Robert's jaw clenched as his old friend went on.
"It's coming from your cousin's wife."
"Lady Flintshire."
"Why am I not surprised?"
"Because MacClare is a poor devil and we both know his burden."
"That is the truth. What tripe is she bandying about for attention now?"
"According to the usual gossips Lady Strallan is expecting… and was when she walked down the aisle."
"What?"
"They're saying that he seduced her in Europe, when they were on the Continent together with no proper chaperone." Oliver's tone this time wasn't apologetic, but sympathetic and Robert bristled. "Now, don't look at me like that Robert! We both know Sir Anthony of old and Strallan's hardly the sort to go seducing young heiresses for their fortune or for a good time!"
"I should say so! The man's the most boring fellow in Yorkshire." Robert glared, and, as usual his mouth ran away with him. "Were it up to me then no-one would have ever known about my sister's shame, but even I'm not foolish enough to miss the fact that Edith's fortune could have gotten her a far better match than an aging baronet. If I'd been properly consulted, I assure you, I'd have nipped it in the bud."
"But you couldn't?"
"No, despite-." Robert flushed as he realized how it sounded. "Not that anything dishonorable happened between them, Ollie. I give you my word, they were appropriate and chaperoned at all times. I mean, for goodness' sake, most of the time they were together they had a ten-year-old girl underfoot. We both know how children of that age prevent any shenanigans – even the sort a married couple should be able to indulge in properly."
The navy man laughed and held up his hands, his uniform shushing softly as the stiff wool of his jacket brushed up against the velvet of the seats.
"I know all too well! I had stepchildren, remember?"
"I suppose so…"
"So there was nothing irregular? Nothing at all?"
"Nothing except perhaps Strallan realizing that he'd best cement his good fortune while he could. Edith's mad for him, God help me." Robert complained. "It's embarrassing, honestly. The man's our age."
"While I'd keelhaul any man our age who looked at my girls…" Ollie offered up a creased version of his once infamous boyish grin. "Can't help but admire the man, hm?"
Robert glared.
"Really, good for Strallan's luck, then, and if anyone should ask I will put it just like that."
"Well… yes, that is exactly how I would put it too." Robert sighed as they finally pulled up before the shop. "Now can we eat?"
"After that conversation I'd honesty rather have the pint."
"If you think you're buying me any less than two after ambushing me like that, Ollie, you've got a lot to learn about strategy in the navy!"
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"You're sure you feel up to it, my sweet one?"
Edith turned to her husband and, as nobody was around to look askance at them, pressed a warm, open-mouthed, kiss to his lips. As was to be expected, he immediately leaned down to deepen it. He also drew her into his arms and began petting down the small of her back and to the curve of her behind. Edith shivered and pulled back after several moments of very pleasant distraction.
"It's just dinner at Grantham House."
"I can't honestly think of anything more exhausting."
Edith giggled helplessly and patted at her husband's chest in highly ineffectual censure, which Anthony chose to take as approval.
"Look, the butcher told Mrs. Patmore that we're in residence in London. Mrs. Patmore told Mr. Carson, who told Mama, and now they'll take mortal offense if we don't stop by to share yet another dinner to celebrate Mary and her fiancée. The way I see it going to this one excuses us from whenever the next one is. Why not get it over with sooner?"
"I – well, I can't argue with pulling teeth quickly over slowly, but isn't keeping your teeth preferable?" He teased, then grew more sober, one of his hands wandering around to rest warmly over the flat plane of her belly. "Besides, I won't have you putting yourself under any strain right now. The first few months are the most fragile."
"I know, darling, but you have to remember that Charlotte said I was fine."
Anthony frowned, wanting to point out that no-one could say for sure what went on inside a lady's body while she was expecting. Edith, however, was going on.
"Besides, we can visiting for dinner tonight and tell them all we're going right back to Loxley tomorrow. When they protest-."
"I notice you don't say 'if', Edie."
"My husband is a very cunning linguist, I'm learning linguistic precision from you, darling."
Anthony blushed at the double-entendre and shot his wife a narrow look that she ignored with laughing eyes. Then again, it was hard to really fault her. His mouth rather tasted of toothpaste after his latest brushing. Something he'd undertaken mid-afternoon for obvious reasons.
Anthony wanted it known that the mid-afternoon lovemaking and then the nap that had followed were not his fault. He had been a very responsible husband and attempted to get his wife to lay down and rest, given her condition. His pregnant wife had then lured him into bed with the promise that she would take a nap only if she wasn't alone… and then had shamelessly seduced him. What was a man supposed to do?
"When Mama and Papa and the rest protest that we can't only spend two days in town, we'll simply say that we've a meeting at Addie's school and must be back in Yorkshire for it."
Anthony raised his eyebrows, trying to hide his hurt.
"You never mentioned a meeting."
"That's because I've only just decided there is going to be one." Edith finished, hesitating. "Unless I shouldn't? I mean, I… I don't know really how these things are done. Especially here, I never dealt with any school at home, only during my time in America. I just thought that it might help us understand better if we just… popped in… unannounced."
"I think it's a splendid idea."
Edith visibly relaxed and Anthony felt like a cad when he couldn't quite stop the next words from popping out of his mouth.
"When you say 'we'… am I included in this surprise inspection?"
Edith looked at him, her eyebrows lowering, and for a moment he cursed himself for restarting an already pointless argument. He opened his mouth to apologize but found a finger pressed to his lips.
"Of course, we're both going."
Anthony immediately relaxed and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
"Thank you, sweet one."
When he drew back he found her looking up at him curiously, her expression gentle and a little unsure.
"Anthony I – didn't you say earlier, when I was having my funny turn and Dr. Clarkson was called and all of that – didn't you say something about feeling, well, that Addie and I aren't paying you proper mind?"
Anthony flushed and was about to counter it. To assure her everything was fine. They were barely wed three months. She was pregnant with his child. What excuse did he have to censure her or complain when they'd been so exaggeratedly blessed? When he looked away, however, his eyes caught a familiar picture.
Edith had done no redecorating at Strallan House in London. Maud had preferred an entirely different set of rooms in the house, claiming that the Master's chamber and the attached boudoir that Anthony's mother had once claimed as her own got too much light and noise from the street. As such, the boudoir was still decorated according to Anne Strallan's taste.
Edith had rather liked the room and preferred to share a bed nightly, even if all they did was sleep. As such, Anthony had wandered in to talk to his wife while she dressed. This was for the equally practical reason that she didn't yet have a ladies' maid and would need someone to help her with the buttons and ties of her complicated evening gown, as such was required for a night at Grantham House, and because Anthony had every intention of using the opportunity to make sure that his pregnant wife wasn't over-tightening said corset on herself and their growing little one.
It also meant that as he held his wife loosely in his arms, if Anthony turned his head just so, he found himself eye-to-eye with a portrait of his parents from early in his marriage. That meant that his father, as Anthony remembered him from his youth, was staring Anthony in the eye just as he was about to gently – and not entirely truthfully – reassure his wife that nothing at all was amiss with his feelings.
As was expected under Phillip Strallan's stern gaze and high expectations, Anthony caved.
"I, well… I've been feeling… rather… left out with Addie recently."
Edith looked surprised and Anthony felt himself begin to babble, as he sometimes did with nerves.
"You see, I know it's ridiculous. Quite silly, really, in every way. You and Addie… you have your own little family and there's nothing wrong with that. I can hardly expect to simply walk in and reorder things, for you to let me into every aspect of your relationship. That would be unfair and I don't intend to interfere so. Which means you should feel free to ignore me if-."
"Anthony?"
"I rather thought we'd take her to school together. Or I would have some mornings. Or help you pick her up." The rest of it poured out. "And she keeps asking Barrow for help with her studies. I took a First at Cambridge, for goodness' sake, and I studied engineering on the Continent for a year! I can certainly help her with her homework, and I – I don't know why she wouldn't ask. Before we were married she would sometimes, did you know?"
"Then there's the time we used to spend together." Anthony went on. "The first few days at Loxley were – were perfect. She was up to the barns with me and out to the farms. I know some of that has to stop because it would interfere with her schooling, but she's not agreed to go out with me for more than a short walk about the grounds for the last three weeks!"
By the time he stopped Anthony was flushed. Breathing hard with all he'd said, he looked down at his wife and his color deepened. Before he could apologize he was surprised to find himself tugged down into the chair his father had once read to his mother in of an evening, and Edith had perched herself in his lap in a mirror of that other couple. Anthony found himself being petted at and then his wife wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him hard.
"Oh my poor darling, I had no idea." Edith pulled back, looking concerned. "Is she really not running about with you?"
"I, no?"
"That's not like her at all. She's been telling me that she's going out with you often."
"What?"
Edith scowled and shook her head.
"Oooh, I knew it. Something is rotten here."
"But what could it be?" A thought hit him and he scowled. "You don't think Barrow- ouch!"
"You've got every other servant in the house watching Barrow like a hawk, and Addie isn't spending as much time with him as she used to. He is who brought up how concerned he is about her being in school, you know."
"I… well." Anthony flushed and Edith looked at him in surprise.
"Anthony, are you jealous of Thomas?"
He sighed and gave up on even the slightest hint of dishonesty.
"I'm afraid, sweet one, that this is when you see how deeply flawed your husband is. I – I know it's wrong of me, and I mean no disrespect to your father or his memory of all that you've done to raise your sister or your age… but I – I can't picture myself as a ten-year-old girl's brother."
"You see yourself as her father."
Anthony nodded ruefully and was surprised when, instead of getting up from her comfortable seat, Edith snuggled closer to him and offered him a long, gentle, kiss. He accepted it gratefully. The explanation that came after was even better.
"I… don't know that Addie will ever see anyone but Daddy as a father, Anthony. At least in direct terms. Giving the title to another… would hurt."
"I'd never ask it of her, sweet one."
"Which is why you're the very best person to be the father she needs, Anthony."
He started, but Edith went on, petting at his chest through his vest, sliding her hand underneath his dressing gown to do so.
"You're precisely the father she needs because you'll never demand to take the place of the Daddy we both loved… but you'll be a father to her in every other way. You have been a father to her." Edith took a deep breath. "Anthony, you know how involved I've told you Daddy was."
"I do." I'm jealous of it, to be honest.
"For the last three years of his life, that involvement… it – he was always asking. Daddy was always following up and trying to know and talk to us about it, but you have to understand that his health plummeted in the last four months of his life, but it hadn't been good since after Katherine died." Edith blinked rapidly, tears standing in her eyes. "He'd always smoked heavily. Not just a pipe like you do, or for after dinner, but cigarettes all day. That was half of why Addie was forbidden from his study. The place smelled like an ash tray and made her cough fiercely whenever she went into it as a toddler."
"Oh."
"Addie doesn't realize that of course. She was banned before I even came to America."
"That makes sense, sweet one." It also cast a number of exchanges he'd had with her into a new light. "So, it was an absolute ban."
"You have to be stern with Addie about things that are dangerous or she'll ignore them." Edith sighed. "You've seen how she is with adders, for goodness' sake."
Anthony shuddered. On one hand, he was impressed at how good Addie was at spotting a hiding snake. It took sharp eyes and a skill at interpreting silhouettes to spot any disguised creature, but especially a cunning reptile. On the other, she was far too fearless where poisonous things were concerned.
"You don't know the training it took to teach her to stand so far back from such snakes, or to wait for someone else to come in and help her catch them. Addie is a bit spoiled, but she's also stubborn."
Anthony felt his lips twitch up into a familiar half-smile and his wife shot him a false glower.
"Yes, I know, that's a trait we share. It does illustrate the fact that Addie… isn't easy to manage all the time. She's actually been very restrained since that dreadful telegram and losing Daddy. Now she's healing, well, you're seeing a bit more of the bright, loving, sneaky little girl she can be."
"And you think that's what's happening now?"
"Addie has some kind of secret. I don't know what it is or why she's keeping it, but it's directly linked to her school. I'm sure of that much because of the uniforms." Edith frowned. "My current guess is that she's got some new and likely inappropriate pet secreted somewhere and is getting messy caring for it. Maybe an escaped piglet or something equally messy penned up in the woods out behind the school? She's knows the groundskeeper by his first name and waves to him when he's outside when I drop her off. I wouldn't be surprised if she's managed to enlist him as an accomplice. She's done it before with other staff."
"And you think that explains it?"
Edith looked at him and he was reminded yet again that, for all that life had matured her greatly, Edith was much younger and more innocent than himself.
"What other possible reason could she have for needing a clean uniform at school? Or for hiding from the both of us and Thomas?"
A horrendous suspicion, too horrible to imagine, took root inside Anthony and his stomach turned to ice.
"Anthony, darling?" Edith looked at him in shock. No doubt because the husband she'd been cuddled against a moment before had been replaced by a wall of clenched muscle. "What's wrong?"
"Edith, I'm going to phone your parents and tell them that something's come up."
"What, why?"
"We need to go back to Loxley immediately."
"Anthony, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"
"Probably nothing but – but we must make sure."
"Anthony, you're scaring me."
"Darling girl, I'm scaring myself."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Author's Note: There you have it! PLOT DEVELOPMENT!
Lord Holderness, Lawrence Ramsey – Well, he is by no means evil. He does care, he does want to be a good husband to Mary… but he is 100% a product of his times and of his political ambitions. He also likes Mary because he sees so many character traits that they have in common… including an enjoyment of manipulating people. Which now includes Mary…
Mary – Is, sadly, young and largely still very sheltered. She's grown up a LOT due to what she's gone through and she is slightly inclined to be kinder to Edith. That said, she's going to take several decisions Edith makes that are unconnected to her personally and they'll have to work from there. Plus, she's about to embark on a complex marriage to a driven man… and she's not being honest with him about her past… which includes treatment for a condition that directly affects fertility. While married to a man who desperately wants children.
Crawley Family Tensions – they wouldn't be the Crawley family if they didn't have them. At the moment? Robert and Cora feel that Edith is safely settled and Mary vulnerable… and they're not wrong. So they're very focused on protecting Mary… which may involve not paying as much attention to or the right kind of attention to those rumors. We'll see more developments with that ongoing.
Rumors – Anthony STILL hasn't told Edith, which will cause some problems later on. Meanwhile, this leaves it entirely up to the Crawleys to handle them. Well, that and Diana. :D
Addie – I want to be clear here. Addie is not being sexually abused, though she is being badly bullied. We'll see the specifics of this in action and more details about the school in the next chapter. That one will revolve around the situation there.
The thing is that Anthony's valet is Stewart. My Stewart, who grew up in a series of deathly horrible Indian Schools and suffered so much abuse that his mind repressed large parts of his childhood. Anthony also went to English boarding schools during a time when there was a fair amount of unaddressed abuse going on. With all this in mind he jumped to conclusions. Honestly, it's a good thing Stewart didn't jump to conclusions because he'd have likely been at the school looking to do someone physical harm. One of my favorite dichotomies in Loxley downstairs here is that Thomas Barrow seems horrendously dangerous but has a sweet gooey center. Nicholas Stewart seems like a quiet, shy, sweetheart… but is horrendously dangerous underneath it all.
