Everyone has been so kind with the comments. It is truly inspiring and so my fingers have been happily busy typing the words the muse bestowed upon me. That muse thrives on good reviews, haha. I hope you enjoy.
I know Sir Julian created these characters, but I think we've taken them places he never considered and developed them in ways that might shock him. I take pleasure in that thought. So while he might own them in the legal sense, we Andith shippers own them on a much more personal level as they are a part of our hearts and souls. And don't worry, Sir J, Anthony and Edith couldn't be in better keeping, for we all love them whole heartedly. And now...
He was lying in his bed in the semi lit room after arriving at the hospital that was obviously more ordinarily someone's residence, his blank mind lost in bleakness. In London, they had confirmed his name and he'd been told the cursory details of his life, raised in Yorkshire on the family estate at Locksley. Attended good schools and finished at Harrow and then on to Cambridge. Married and then widowed; no children. His only family was a sister who they were trying to find. He couldn't give them her name, of course. According to his commanders, he'd been captured by the Germans when he was caught behind the lines gathering information on troop movements and battle plans. And now, here he was with no memory, a useless right arm, a battered body, and feeling quite used up. Why hadn't he just died in that house, in that dark room? He'd been rescued for what? He had no purpose, no roots, nothing to ground him in this life.
He'd been found in the rags of a British uniform and the Americans that rescued him assumed he was British. However, he confused everyone until that Crawley woman identified him. If someone spoke to him in English, he replied in English. If they spoke to him in German, his response was in flawless German. The same with French. Apparently, he could even speak a little Polish. He felt no more a part of one group than the other. He belonged nowhere, belonged to no one, not even to himself. His thoughts had grown darker each day as he lived through the pokes and prods of doctors and nurses at each hospital along the way.
They'd performed surgery on his shoulder in an effort to give him back some use of his arm. He'd agreed, thinking it mattered little one way or the other and if he was lucky perhaps he would die under the surgeon's knife. He awoke to find the arm still useless but more painful. More to his chagrin was that he woke at all.
The afternoon of his arrival at Downton, Anthony was exhausted both physically and emotionally, and was dozing when he heard voices in his subconscious mind. ""I'll just sit here, if it's alright," a sweet young voice said with an insistent tone. "But it might be hours before he wakes. And ... well, he's just so terribly confused." The second voice was one he recognized from earlier in the day, a nurse of some sort.
"Well, I'm staying." He heard a twinge of sadness in her voice and wondered who this stranger was.
A small chuckle could be heard and then footsteps walking away. There was scraping on the floor next to his bed and he thought a chair was being dragged. Then quiet. Then a soft whisper. "Oh Anthony... Oh my darling..."
He felt a sudden rush of anticipation. Was it his sister? But the voice sounded young. Could it be... might Edith be here to see him? He almost felt giddy until he remembered. She wouldn't want him like this, broken and beaten, a cripple. He pretended to sleep while he tried to decide how to act with her. His ruse was short lived however, when she said softly, "I know you are awake, Anthony. Please don't be afraid."
Slowly he let his eyes open, the light still a concern after having spent so much time in the dark. But as they adjusted, he settled his gaze on the woman sitting in the chair beside him. It was the young woman in the photograph. She was a tad older, looking less like a child, but there was no mistaking who she was. "Edith?"
Her face lit with a smile that sent warmth through his entire being. "Yes Anthony, it is your Edith." She reached over and took his left hand in hers. "But they said you couldn't remember anything?"
"I… I can't. But in my pocket, I found a picture. It was you and, on the back, you'd written always, your Edith." I kept it hidden in my pocket and took it out when the guards were not around. " He hesitated but then decided to forge ahead. "That picture, of you, was my only comfort. You kept me sane."
"Oh Anthony, I was so worried. You just disappeared and I wanted so much to explain…"
He stopped her. "I don't remember anything, Edith; not you or whatever happened before…. Anything. So, there is no need to explain anything. Well, except perhaps that I am no use to you now. I was told that we were to be engaged before the war, although I can't imagine what you would see in me as I'm so much older, but I'm quite sure I would have been a very happy man. But now, don't you see, I'm not…"
It was Edith's turn to interrupt. "You are alive… and here. And for now, that is enough. We will sort it all later. For now, please let me just enjoy sitting here with you. Please?"
She looked at him with such a glow in her eyes and Anthony was so very knackered that he couldn't find it in himself to push her away. "Yes, alright, for now. But there is nothing to sort. I have always been too old and now, well…. I'm not fit for any woman, let alone one as lovely as you." Edith started to object but then decided to thank him for calling her lovely instead, choosing to hold his words close to her, relishing that he thought her lovely.
And so Edith sat with Anthony. She sat that day and every day that week. Often she snuck in little treats, a tart or a sweet bread, remembering that Anthony had a bit of a sweet tooth and knowing he had lost a lot of weight and needed filling out. "Goodness," he said with a small chuckle one afternoon when she'd brought in a tart, "I fell like the proverbial goose being fattened for a holiday feast." Seeing him smile boosted Edith for the rest of the day.
Her duties were not neglected, but she found an hour here and an hour there every day to sit and as he felt able, talk with Anthony. And for him, those hours spent with Edith were the most glorious hours he could remember.
Eventually, he learned that the nurse who most often attended to him was Edith's younger sister, Lady Sybil. She was a pleasant young thing, full of vitality, and very pretty to look at. There were other nurses, of course, and even occasionally the house staff helped as needed. But none of them, Lady Sybil included, was lovelier in his eyes than Lady Edith. It was her that he hoped to see each time the door to his room opened. Anthony also learned that when the Earl had heard that he was coming to Downton he insisted that his longtime neighbor and friend should have a room to himself, a luxury that only the worst cases received. Over time, he was visited by each member of Edith's family, the Earl, his mother, Lady Grantham, and even the oldest sister, Mary. Anthony found it difficult to understand how someone as amiable as the Earl and pleasant as the Countess could produce two exquisite and splendid daughters in Lady Edith and Lady Sybil and such an indifferent one in Lady Mary. Even the birdlike Dowager Countess, while aloof, was more charming than her eldest granddaughter. He would have been mortified had he known of the conversations about him between the Dowager and the current Earl and Countess, however.
"Robert, you must find a way to keep Edith occupied and away from Sir Anthony," the Dowager told her son. Then looking at her daughter-in-law, "or perhaps Cora could find tasks to occupy her time. While a gentleman and a long time acquaintance of this family, "she paused, "Heavens, his father and your father hunted together as did their fathers, he is simply not suitable for Edith in his present condition. And even if his memory returns, he's still rather used up, don't you think?"
Robert blanched and Cora opened her mouth to object, but the Dowager continued. "He is far too old and his war experience seems to have aged him even beyond his years. And now, with the arm… and no memory…. We simply must put a stop to it."
Robert grimaced. "Mama, surely you recognize that it is most likely Edith who is pursuing him, if there is any pursuing going on? Strallan is still too confused and too ….broken to do much pursuing. And as much as I agree that he isn't suitable for her any longer, I refuse to make things more miserable for him right now."
"I agree," Cora said softly. "I imagine as Edith sees more and more of, she will see that any future with him would be short lived and heart breaking. But even if she doesn't, I trust Sir Anthony to do the right by her. He may have lost his memory, but he is still a gentleman, and a very caring one at that. He won't want to drag Edith into his misery."
The Dowager harrumphed and then sighed. "Well, I reserve the right to say I told you so, when they announce their intentions to marry. By then it will be too late to break them apart."
"Don't worry, Mama. It won't come to that," Robert said. "I'm not suggesting we give them free rein. If it does seem they are getting too close, then I will step in. But for now, let's just be patient and trust that the situation will take care of itself."
Cora saw the unsatisfied expression on the Dowager's face, even if Robert missed it. Inwardly, she sighed. There would be heartbreak for her Edith, she feared.
