I'm back at the typing. We'll see how long the muse stays with me this time. Hope you like this one; you've certainly waited long enough for it.
They did go for tea at Downton the following afternoon. And while it wasn't as ghastly as Edith seemed to expect, Anthony found it quite dreadful enough. Lady Grantham was welcoming and smiled easily as she greeted them and inquired about their well-being. Lord Grantham was less enthused but civil and even pleasant at times. Lady Sybil was as bright and cheerful as ever, wanting to hear all about their time in Scotland. Lady Mary, on the other hand, was terse, cold, and barely civil. And the Dowager Countess was sharp, to the point, and didn't miss any opportunity to poke at Anthony. "I suppose I may dispense with your title now and call you Anthony," she said upon the greetings. "Of course, you may call me Lady Grantham." Or later, as Sybil was questioning Edith on Edinburg, the old lady Grantham turned to Anthony and asked, "Are you certain the marriage is legitimate, what with it taking place in a blacksmith's shop? I would have thought the location more fitting for beasts."
Edith had saved him from having to reply, although her answer was a tad uncomfortable for him. "We should hope so, Granny," Edith shot back at her grandmother, "since it has been consummated. Anthony knew his face turned a deep shade of red. Lord Grantham choked on his tea and Anthony saw Lady Mary gaping at her sister. Lady Grantham seemed somewhat embarrassed as she turned her head with a roll of her eyes, but Lady Sybil was struggling not to laugh. "Really Edith, Vulgarity is no substitute for wit," the old woman replied. Sybil smirked into her teacup as she responded softly, "well, you started it."
Finally, a very flustered Anthony found his voice. "It is quite legitimate, Lady Grantham. I have the documents at Locksley, if you need to see them."
"That won't be necessary," Lord Grantham said as he gave his mother a firm glance. "Marriages have been taking place at Gretna Green for years now and I imagine the ceremony hasn't changed much in all that time."
The old lady harrumphed and gave her son a pointed stare before taking a sip of her own tea. Then turning to Mary, she asked about her fiancé. Anthony remembered the man from when he would visit while Downton was a convalescent home. He had seemed very out of place among the Crawleys. At the moment though, Anthony was grateful to the man for being the temporary source of the old lady's interest. Turning his attention back to Edith, he saw that she and her mother were deep in conversation and he was content to simply watch his wife, who was glowing with happiness. Consequently, he was unprepared for an unintended blindside from Lord Grantham.
"So still no memory, Anthony?" the Earl asked.
"Er…no, I'm afraid not," Anthony replied, wary of what the man might take his question.
"Shame," Robert replied. "Must feel quite empty; I can't imagine…"
Uncharacteristically, Anthony interrupted. "It feels disorienting at times, but never empty; not with Edith beside me." Robert's eyes widened at Anthony's barefaced declaration. Sybil jumped to the rescue again. "When I was nursing during the war, it seemed that the men perked up ever so much when their loved ones were nearby. Having someone beside them who loved them and whom they loved seemed to aid as much in curing them as any medicine we might administer. Not only was it comforting but it seemed to give them focus; it gave them hope."
"Exactly, Lady Sybil," Anthony said softly. "Edith and I are too busy building a life going forward for me to thinks so much about a past that I can't remember." Edith eased her hand into his good one and gave him a smile that made him feel as if there was a glow of warmth surrounding him. But then, her smiles tended to make him feel that way always.
"Hope is a tease, designed to prevent us accepting reality," the Dowager spoke, ruining the glow.
"I beg to differ," Anthony replied. "I believe I have had no choice but to accept my reality, the reality of my crippled arm and the loss of all memory. For many months I was forced to accept the reality of being a prisoner of the Germans, being tortured and starved in their effort to get information from me that of course, I could not give them. In those months, the only thing that kept me sane was hope, hope derived from a picture of someone who I could not remember. On the back was written 'always, Edith.' It was the hope of someone waiting for me, the beautiful young woman in the picture, to which I attribute my survival. Having found her, my reality is now and forever tied to whatever Edith wants."
"Yet, you will be leaving her alone soon to spend time with that man in Cambridge," the Dowager said in her imperious manner. "It would seem that you are still thinking about your missing past."
"Yes, well… I believe it is my duty to Edith to recover as fully as possible from my injuries and that includes endeavoring to reclaim what I have forgotten." Edith squeezed his hand but it was becoming all too much. Tea felt more like an inquisition than a familial gathering over scones and refreshment. Turning to Edith he spoke softly. "If you'll excuse me, my dear, I'm in need of …"
"Of course, darling." She gave his hand another squeeze as he stood to find the water closet…any closet would do really. He just needed a few moments away from the Crawleys and their interrogation.
With Anthony safely out of the room, Edith looked at her family, her anger having reached a boiling point. "Thank you, Sybil for trying to be supportive and Mary, I do appreciate that you have been quiet and refrained from offering your thoughts on Anthony's situation and our marriage. However, I am very upset Granny, with your constant questions and barbs. Papa, you are really not as clever as you believe. All the two of you have done is pick at a very tender wound. Not very honorable, is it Papa." Then, turning to her mother, she spoke firmly. "Mama, I know you want us to play at happy family and all, but I thought I made it clear that Anthony was not to be treated in such a manner. When he returns, we'll leave. We had hoped to invite you all to tea at Locksley but after this afternoon, that will not happen anytime soon. We'll see you briefly on Christmas Day, but other than that, please leave us alone while Anthony is still at home."
"Well, that was ghastly," Edith huffed as they settled in the Rolls.
"Yes, well… not completely unexpected, I suppose," Anthony replied. "I thought I might be ready to withstand their …."
"Inquisition?"
"Well, a bit…yes."
"You didn't deserve that, Anthony."
"No, I don't think I did. Bless you sisters, though…" Anthony couldn't miss her frown. "Sybil did try and Mary… at least she held her tongue. It was a nice change."
"Yes, quite surprising, actually. And I did thank her for it."
"Good. One thing I've learned in training animals is that good behavior must be rewarded," he said drolly. Edith burst into giggles and her laughter almost made the afternoon worth his discomfort; almost.
"Where did you go…when you excused yourself?"
"Oh, I erm…. wandered across to the smoking room and helped myself to one of your father's cigars. I do hope I didn't smell too much like smoke when I returned to the room. I did stand by an open window."
"I didn't notice a smoke odor, but I wouldn't care if you did. Serves him right for bringing up a sore subject. And Granny… I honestly wonder sometimes if she is intentionally so cruel."
"I remember her from when I was a boy. She was sharp tongued even then and has become even more so as she's aged. My mother couldn't stand to be in the same room with for long, but my father and the late Lord Grantham were friends, so the families socialized from time to time."
Edith looked at him sharply. "Anthony, do you realize what you just said… that you remembered something?"
Anthony paused and looked at her in surprise. "Why yes, I did remember something…well, not an exact memory, more like an impression of memories… a feeling, if you will. But it is something, isn't it?" She was gazing at him, smiling beautifully. All he could feel was wonder. Perhaps his memory was coming back; perhaps, one day he would remember everything.
