Inheritance

by QuestionableRelevance

I've always been fascinated by the fandom theory that Edith Crawley is actually Lady Rosamund's illigitimate daughter. This is my take on that in my usual verbose, meandering style. Now Rated M, for Marriage (and the things married people do).

12. Chapter 12

Author's Notes: Thank you for waiting so patiently! This chapter moves things along. The next chapter shall be the wedding.

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

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

Specific Warnings: Original Child Characters & Crawley Family Dynamics.

SPECIAL THANKS go to the Classicist, who has built a wonderful fanon family for Anthony. Diana, her husband and children, as well as Anthony's parents belong entirely to her.

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Early August 1913

The return home had been, in one way, lovely. After the proposal they'd spent three more blissful days in the Alps. Edith had hovered in a cloud of euphoria all through those days and up until they'd returned to Salzburg, packed, and final gifts were exchanged.

Mrs. Bauer had tutted and insisted the fabric and lace that Addie and Edith had procured from Paris was far too grand when presented with her gifts. The professor had no such scruples and was all too happy to proclaim that he would be rubbing his fellow academics' noses in his new cigarette case. Edith admitted, reluctantly, that her little sister had been correct. Klaus Bauer's taste did neatly align with the gaudiness of the silver, turquoise, and coral piece that his niece had found in a secondhand shop near one of the bookshops Anthony had taken them to.

Edith had been deeply touched and horrendously embarrassed when Mrs. Bauer had proudly added to the wedding quilt already gifted during the picnic. Wearing a smile as proud as if she'd arranged the upcoming marriage from start to finish, the lady had gifted Edith a small chest painted in pretty colors and lined with cedar. Inside was a selection of tiny, knitted blankets, tiny booties, diapering material, and other practical baby material that the older lady had spent the eighteen months since Edith's graduation putting together at her son-in-law's request.

"Your father," Mrs. Bauer had patted her hand, "knew that he didn't have long and didn't have much faith in that Englishwoman who raised you, so he asked me to make sure you had a proper start at motherhood – from one mother to another. I was very pleased to help."

Once Edith had finished making use of her handkerchief and she and Anthony had mostly stopped blushing, they'd had Addie's teasing to contend with. Thankfully, she was at just the right age and disposition to find the chance to tease less interesting than the rotary knitting machine that her omma and onkle had gifted her. The trip back to England was, for Edith's younger sister, largely occupied with training Hippolyta and learning how to use the circular sock machine.

Now Edith found herself in her solicitor's office. Across from her was every evidence of the suspicious unhappiness that she'd feared. Thankfully, she did not have to face it alone.

"Miss Adelaide looks very well."

The words were offered up neutrally, and Edith held in a sigh of relief. Mr. Branagh was still the portly, middle-aged gentleman who he'd always been. His countenance was still warm and kind. His physical presence, from his well-tailored, modest suit, to his well-shined shoes remained precisely as expected. His attitude had undergone a rather significant change. The air of almost parental disapproval from a man whose responsibilities were financial, and not in any way familial, was deeply annoying. Now, if only Edith could resist a lifetime's ingrained training to squirm under that kind of look…

"I believe that the mountain air suited her very well, and the companionship offered by allowing her a pet has done wonders for her loneliness." Anthony spoke smoothly into the slight gap, squeezing her hand subtly as he guided her chivalrously into one of the two deep leather seats in front of Mr. Branagh's desk and took the other himself.

Mr. Branagh's office was as imposing as he was not. The man was not a partner in a significant law firm for nothing, and here it showed. The beautifully paneled office stood on a street near enough to the Temple to matter, and the windows looked out upon the expected street much like a lion surveying its domain. All around them paneling and well-stuffed bookcases dominated the walls and the massive desk he sat behind had likely been around since Wellington routed Napoleon.

Edith was hardly unused to the pomp and glamour of age and wealth, but the place reminded her uncomfortably of Lord Grantham's study. Her father usually did all but what he considered sensitive work in the library. He did not invite his children into the study often and Edith's only experience with the room had involved punishment. It had been the scene of her split with the family when she was fifteen where the man who raised her bid her never to return, if she chose to leave.

Things had changed since then, but Edith still felt terribly on edge as she sat before the usually kindly man that she was used to working with regarding her family's finances.

"Sir Anthony is too modest. I wrote to you that he secured the first truly successful consultation we've had on her eating habits while we were in Paris."

"You did." The older man cleared his throat. "Miss Adelaide does appear to have gained a bit of weight."

"Eight pounds." Edith was justifiably proud of that. "She's now three pounds heavier than she was before Daddy was confined to bed nearly two years ago. She's still small for her age and underweight for her height, but by a smaller margin."

"Dr. Mercier believes that Adelaide will reach the lower end of normal weight for her height and build if things carry on as they have."

"And I see no reason why they shouldn't, given that she's being so cooperative now that my sister is more involved in her own treatment."

Mr. Branagh looked between them both and sighed, heavily, then he sat back and threaded his fingers together over his stomach, looking between Edith and Anthony as if choosing between two unpleasant options.

"Lady Edith, I've always been honest with you. Your father valued my advice for that specific reason. We both know Zachary Kavanaugh had neither use nor patience for dissembling. So, I'm going to do you the same courtesy that I would have done him and be entirely honest. I do not have overwhelming faith in the content or quality of your decision making since you settled in Downton."

"I appreciate your honesty, as I have appreciated it in our correspondence."

"Remember, sweet one, that before all else we must remain calm. The first strategy employed by any legal representative in any situation is to attempt to unsettle those they are speaking to. Emotional responses are more easily manipulated."

She and Anthony had spoken extensively on how to approach the situation when they returned. Edith simply… didn't want to elope and arrive married. Had they done so, it would have been simpler. Just the idea of it just crept under her skin and bit. It reeked of scandal and guilt, and she'd already been denied a debut and so much because of how she'd come into the world. Anthony had assured her that it was in no way wrong to want a proper wedding, and that they'd face whatever trials came of that decision together. This is just the first step in our life together.

They'd also agreed that Edith would do the talking. Anthony would, of course, answer any questions or step in if he noticed Edith needed his help (they'd developed signals for that), but this interview was hers to manage. He was there for support, not to take over.

"May I ask what specifically you are unsettled by, Mr. Branagh?"

One bushy brown broad lifted across the broad forehead.

"Miss Edith, I would think I made that quite clear in my letters."

"Correspondence, over distance, can end up being rather circular, Mr. Branagh. I would rather we had it all out in person and cleared up any misunderstandings directly." Edith's temper did eek through enough for her to add. "I had thought you were much reassured as to my decisions from your last letter."

"I am reassured that you've not taken up with a fashionable life of travel and excess, Miss Edith, but I remain unsure of why and how the trip came about in the fashion it did."

"I had thought Professor Bauer had explained the early miscommunication himself."

"His letter was most enlightening, but it remains that I don't understand Lady Mary's part in this."

This Anthony and Edith had also spoken of extensively. Edith had even chanced a letter to Mary herself and been relieved when she'd received it back while they were resting in Calais, before taking passage across the Channel. To her surprise, Mary had entirely agreed with the plan and was quite willing to play the villain to some extent.

"I'm afraid I rather let her manipulate me a bit." Edith explained. "It involves a bit of rather female thinking, Mr. Branagh."

"I happen to be married to one of those, so I do speak the language, if not fluently."

Edith smiled a bit at the return of the man's good humor, thin as it was stretched across his stern expression.

"I hadn't realized how much Mary and Sybil had to put up with here due to the scandal of my birth." It itched at the back of her mind to say it, but Edith had to acknowledge that there had been repercussions to her decisions and hurt involved in her leaving England that went beyond her own. "Sybil's too good natured to hold it against me, but Mary was justifiably bitter that it affected her the way that it did."

Edith bit her lip. This was the part she felt a bit guilty for. Silently, she apologized to her no-longer distant cousin if this made the talk in London worse for him.

"Mama and Papa…"

"Lord and Lady Grantham."

"Yes." Edith smoothed her skirt, intentionally fidgeting as she did so under the solicitor's gaze. "They were putting dreadful pressure on Mary to accept our cousin, Matthew."

"Who is Downton's current heir."

"Yes."

"Please, go on."

"Mary loathes being pressured, and that's why she came to London with Addie and I." Edith tilted her head slightly to the side, her lips tucking under.

"When you were visiting Mrs. Chetworth?"

"Yes, then."

"How did Lady Mary's tagging along on a long weekend in London become a trip to the Continent?" Branagh frowned. "And where do the funds that Miss Adelaide withdrew come into the picture?"

Edith sent a silent apology to her brother in Heaven. Just at that moment the perpetual London fog broke a little and a warm shaft of sunlight glowed its way down through the panes of the office window's. Low-slung, it warmed Edith's toes inside her boots and she nearly ruined things by smiling. Adrian hadn't trusted her with his secret, and that would likely always hurt a little. That said, she felt her kindest brother would be the first to forgive this little lie on his behalf.

"Those are two separate issues." Edith squeezed Anthony's hand, looking away as if embarrassed.

Anthony cleared his throat.

"I'm afraid this is where your error and mine becomes a little more understandable in terms of assuming blackmail, Mr. Branagh."

"Oh?"

Anthony nodded, his expression a picture of chagrinned embarrassment as he cleared his throat and the portly man behind the desk looked on with sharp intent. Branagh's expression was focused, Edith noted, when it looked at Anthony. It wasn't, however, nearly as intrusive as when he looked at her. Part of Edith was quite riled by the man's different postures. She'd known Branagh for years, if mostly by post, and yet – because Anthony was a man and much older – he got an instant assumption of respectability and trust while she was in the hot seat! I shall talk to Sybil about it. She'll be every bit as outraged as I am, but much more satisfyingly loud about it…

"Yes, you see, Addie found some letters in my brother, Adrian's, trunk." Edith interjected, keeping her voice soft and embarrassed. "Apparently he owed another student at university some money."

"A small debt of honor from a card game." Anthony shook his head, and Edith had to fight to continue her own expression of embarrassed discomfiture instead of laughing.

Anthony was, well, the dearest man on Earth. Edith knew he was also inclined to fretting and anxiety about those he loved. That, while she enjoyed it, many found his habit of going on about farming or industry or engineering or anything else pedantic. Mary had never made it anything but plain that she considered Anthony Strallan boring, and even Sybil had annoyed her a time or two by sharing that opinion.

Edith reflected that the ocean was boring, if you never looked past the waves. Just like there were mysteries only God held the keys to in the depths, Anthony was more than he appeared. Sitting there, looking earnest and sweet, her fiancée's every inflection and posture spoke of trustworthiness… as he lied through his teeth without the slightest qualm. It's for a good cause, sweet one, nothing to be ashamed of.

"That's all?" Branagh was frowning as Anthony nodded, drawing the line taut and setting the hook.

"Yes, something like fifteen pounds total to another university student. The only problem is that it wasn't specified in the letter." Anthony shook his head, now looking sternly disapproving. "Edith's sister had decided that her brother's honor hinged on repayment and wrote back. The cad decided to take his chance."

"I still can't believe that the – he told her that Adrian owed him three hundred pounds!"

Edith felt Anthony gently push his foot against hers to warn her not to overplay it. Sitting back, she straightened the cuffs of her jacket and blouse and removed her gloves from her pocket to smooth them across her knee, pressing her lips together as if she was too angry to look directly at either of the men.

Branagh, for his part, sat back as if in realization, nodding to himself.

"So that's why she said that her income would bear the cost of the trip. You didn't know what she was up to, Miss Edith?"

"No, but thankfully Barrow did." Edith decided this was the best moment to reinforce the fact that her butler would be staying on in her employ, problematic as he was. "Whatever mistakes he's made, he really does adore Addie, Mr. Branagh."

"I take it Mr. Barrow was involved in resolving this without extortion?"

"Yes. As soon as she told him the truth he told me, and I handled it. The lout collapsed like a shaken soufflé when I arrived to handle things with Barrow in tow."

"You're not disturbed by his history of theft?"

"A couple of wine bottles here and there when under the influence of a senior servant with a history of misusing others doesn't bother me compared to his proven loyalty to myself and my sister." Edith shook her head and, at Branagh's raised eyebrows, waved her fingers as if drawing in a memory. "You recall that Lady Grantham's let her lady's maid go?"

"Yes, a woman named O'Brian with a somewhat colorful work history prior to her arrival at Downton. Something, I should add, that many employees of your uncle's household share, Miss Edith."

"I know, Mr. Branagh, but please hear me out."

"Of course."

"Mr. Barrow has been in service since he was barely thirteen, and in rather questionable establishments." Edith let herself lean forward slightly, repeating nearly word for word the final conversation she and Anthony had had, when he'd agreed that Barrow's service would indeed continue with their family. "My uncle's butler and housekeeper knew this when he was hired and viewed him with suspicion, which made him vulnerable to O'Brian's manipulations. She didn't like to risk herself so she chose younger servants to befriend and encourage into mischief."

"I took the liberty of asking the Earl to look further into her past, after he said he had let his wife's maid go for her behavior." Anthony withdrew some letters from his jacket and handed them over. "There does seem to be a pattern of the woman befriending younger servants at households who are later fired for similar infractions."

Branagh took the time to skim the letters and set them aside. Nodding, he leant forward and settled his forearms on the edge of his desk, refocusing on Edith.

"That does rest my mind somewhat on your choice of household staff, but I'm still concerned about the matter with Lady Mary. How exactly was she entangled in your choice to go to France? The last time I checked, Miss Edith, she wasn't even civil to you. How did that change into you paying for an extended holiday at a spa for your cousin?"

Edith didn't have to work to look embarrassed. The truth was mortifying. Channeling that was easy, as was staring at a few book titles over her solicitor's left shoulder while she blushed.

"Mary really was much more pleasant once we were away from Downton and Mama and Papa's carrying on about Matthew." Edith maintained, then cleared her throat. "I'm afraid it was, well, I was upset about that coward trying to steal from Addie, and then when Professor Bauer's telegram was confusing…"

"Yes?"

"Well, you see, Addie was upset and wanted to leave immediately and then Mary chimed in and agreed to go with us." Edith finally shrugged. "So, well, with both of them agreeing I just… went along with it as well. Then, by the time we'd gotten to Calais I had a better telegram from Addie's uncle and Mary was saying she didn't want to go all the way to Austria and I had the money… Paying for a little holiday just seemed the sisterly thing to do, especially with how we'd gotten on so poorly before…"

"You see, Miss Edith, that is why I am concerned by how far this might go." Branagh jumped in, as she and Anthony had thought he might at that point. "I don't deny that it makes sense that you would feel guilty if someone raised as your sister was in a poor state and being pressured to wed. However, it is my job to protect your interests, and I have to caution you about allowing your uncle's family to consider you a fallback strategy – especially financially."

"I know, Mr. Branagh, and I can assure you it won't happen again, nor will it ever amount to a sum larger than this."

"How can you assure me of that?" The older man's jowls trembled as he shook his head. "Being pressured to wed is upsetting, but it's hardly an emergency. What would you do, for instance, if your uncle came to you and said that his estate was failing?"

This was where Anthony's hand came and collected hers, smoothing over it soothingly and lifting it briefly to her lips. It was, Edith knew, a gesture meant to emphasize the very things that Edith felt were more than a little condescending and awful about the assumptions people made of their relationship. That said, it was also something they could use. Edith settled back and let her future husband speak.

"My fianceé would say precisely what we've discussed should such a situation arise." Anthony stated firmly. "That while we would never allow our family to suffer in abject poverty, it would be both disrespectful to Mr. Kavanagh's memory and irresponsible to our own family to overextend ourselves for the sake of the estate at Downton."

Branagh, whose attention had quickly and utterly shifted from Edith to her future husband, sat back thoughtfully.

"Your own estate is far more successful."

Anthony blushed honestly over that statement, fidgeting slightly.

"Well, agriculturally, Loxley is very well-situated, and I take a great interest in newer technologies and updating things so, it's really more of a matter of involvement and management than any especial merit on my part."

Branagh raised his eyebrows and Anthony cleared his throat.

"In terms of profit, yes, Loxley is more successful than Downton despite being far smaller."

"You've also investments in industry and real estate."

"My father – well, the Strallans have always… that is, yes." Edith smiled and squeezed his hand as he looked at her, pink about the cheekbones and ears, dissembly gone from his manner. "While I am pleased that Edith has the independence of her own fortune, and I have not equaled her inheritance, let it be said I have no need to marry her for any purpose than her own, lovely, self."

"While nearly relieves me as much as the sound financial advice I trust you to give her, sir."

Edith tore her eyes away from Anthony, truly nettled, and tilted her chin up to shoot a glare at the stolid fellow across the desk.

"Mr. Branagh, I think that's quite enough! Can you honestly tell me that you have any reason to fear for me financially or that I can't offer up a gift to a family member occasionally? I would point out that I've always lived well below my allowance and funded this trip entirely from savings derived from that. Savings of which I still have a considerable sum set aside."

"That is true…"

"I didn't touch the current income from any of the trusts, let alone the principal, for it, did I?"

"No, you didn't, but my concern was for the future." Branagh sighed and smiled crookedly. "A future where you would be spending an unknown amount of time under your uncle's influence and in his household."

Anthony shifted, settling back into his seat a bit and awkwardly setting one ankle up on another knee. Edith flushed a little at the signal to relax, but obliged. Offering up a shy smile that was genuine, she retrieved her left hand and held it up with a hint of embarrassed pleasure.

"Speaking of the future, Mr. Branagh, you've yet to congratulate me on my engagement. A situation I might add should address those worries somewhat?"

"I apologize, Miss Edith." The solicitor's smile was finally unrestrained as well as sincere. "I know that this was something you've both hoped for, and I offer you my very best wishes."

Edith adjusted the watch she'd purchased in Paris on her wrist. Sybil was right. Wristwatches were convenient.

"Speaking of, why don't we take a moment to discuss logistics?" Branagh went on. "There will be the marriage settlement, allowances, and I take it you will be altering your will, Miss Edith?"

Edith nodded and twined her fingers more firmly with Anthony's when he went to release her hand. They hadn't had a chance to talk about this, but she felt now was a fine time to make it clear.

"And I need to amend the paperwork about Adelaide's custody. If the Titanic has taught my family nothing else, it is that it is best to be prepared for even the most impossible eventuality, and should anything happen I want Anthony to have custody of my sister."

"Edith…" Anthony turned to look at her, his expression open and full of surprise as well as a bit of distress at the idea.

"Entirely, Miss Edith." Branagh settled more comfortably into his seat and returned his hands to the round arch of his belly as he looked between them. "Shall we carry on being painfully honest?"

"Please."

"I had some initial concerns given Sir Anthony's age." Edith frowned as she felt her fiancée wince beside her. "Mr. Cartwright, of course, is all for it as he believes every woman needs a man older and wiser than she is to manage her life for her."

"Of course." Edith barely resisted rolling her eyes at the mention of the fossil in question.

"He's quite all in favor of a quick wedding and letting some other man worry about the non-financial aspects of your life. I have had my fears alleyed today."

"I'm pleased to hear it."

"Your correspondence, Edith, and the unquestionably dogged support your sister and brother-in-law has softened those concerns, Sir Anthony. That said, if you could call her off it would be ever so appreciated. I begin to fear that my wife is about to make a friend who intimidates me nearly as much as she does!"

Anthony smiled and assured him that he would speak to Diana and that, really, his little sister meant well. While he was blustering, Edith had to cover her mouth with her hand to suppress the urge to giggle. Diana had taken the initiative on her own and then, from what Edith gathered, had brought Granny into it. There had been repeated invitations to tea that Mrs. Branagh had gleefully accepted. Edith bit her tongue in order to resist telling the man that neither Diana Chetwood nor the Dowager Countess Grantham ever gave up an advantage once they had it. Tea time would no doubt carry on.

"Mr. Cartwright and I have decided to present no impediment to your future marriage, should you choose to pursue a date before your twenty-first birthday."

Edith's face burst into a bright smile, her cheeks straining, and beside her she felt Anthony relax and watched him flush with pleasure, offering up his hand.

"Very good of both of you."

"Well, one does try to be good, though my chosen vocation isn't known for it, sir." Branagh shook the offered hand, but when Edith extended her own, he took it, then cleared his throat, Edith couldn't quite hold in her sarcasm as their brown eyes met.

"This would be where you tell me what the catch is, Mr. Branagh?"

The man's smile was rather pained.

"Yes, Miss Edith, it would."

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"Telephone, Mr. Crawley!"

Matthew's flat was as nice as one would expect the Earl of Grantham to let for his heir, but had also taken into account all of his own requests. Nothing like ornate or gaudy, it was a tidy, well-placed, set of rooms in a recently renovated brick building near everywhere a young barrister-in-training would need to be. There was a sitting room, a tiny, and two small bedchambers: one for himself and one for Moseley. He hadn't originally intended to take the man who was both Crawley House's butler and his valet with him, but his mother had insisted.

To Matthew's surprise, he hadn't come to regret it. Awkward as Moseley could be, he'd surprised Matthew. The man was endlessly useful in seeing a dozen tiny details of daily life done without Matthew having to bother, and he'd never had a better study partner.

"Thank you, Moseley, but you know I can hear it, too."

The only "friction" so far had been fairly hilarious. Leaning comfortably against the paper of the small entry hall's wall, Matthew wriggled his bare feet and ran a towel of his tamp hair as he raised the phone to his ear. Trying not to smirk at the retreating butler he tightened his robe's belt and adjusted his mental score for the week.

Moseley 4, Crawley 7. So far, he'd beaten the man to the telephone three times. Not bad, given it was only Tuesday and he'd had to quit the tub to get to the thing.

"Hello?"

"Matthew, darling, you sound very well today!"

"As opposed to sounding like a miserable, broken, wreck of my former self?"

"Matthew."

"Sorry, Mother."

The young man winced at his own sarcasm and looked in the mirror, reflecting that he felt better. It still stung when he thought of Mary, but now it was starting to feel less like a missing limb and more like a burn. Still a serious injury, but one he now felt had been earned less through some brutal and unexpected attack and more earned by his own stupidity. You'd barely begun to make progress with her and you rushed in when she was vulnerable and scared her off. You should have known better. You know her pride, of course she was insulted.

He'd just… hoped she'd see past it all to the feelings that were behind it. That those feelings would matter more than her pride. Shaking himself and shooting a glare at the hall mirror, he stood up straighter. You've your own pride.

"That's no matter. I was just calling to let you know that Cousin Edith is back in Britain, safe, sound, and engaged."

"To Sir Anthony? Well, we were expecting that." Matthew fiddled with the base of the contraption, turning the telephone around to examine the black iron and wooden stand that went with the receiver. "So they didn't elope?"

"No, they're having the banns read for the first time this Sunday and should be wed in early September. I'm quite eager for the planning, to be honest."

"Do you really think you'll get a crack at it, Mother?" Matthew grinned at his mother's misplaced enthusiasm. "Between Lady Grantham and the Dowager, I mean."

"Considering that Miss Edith and her little sister shall be staying at Crawley House with me, I think I've got as good as shot as any."

"What, really? They're not staying at Downton?"

"No, Mr. Branagh won't budge on having the girls back there."

Matthew took a moment to consider that silently.

"Matthew? Hello, are you still there?"

"Yes, I was just taking a moment to see if I could hear our cousin yelling from here."

"Oh, honestly…"

Matthew Crawley laughed with his mother, reflecting that – crackling static aside – he could get to like the telephone. It had all the comfort of his mother's presence in terms of benefits, and none of the drawbacks of her actual hovering. Scratching his right calf with his left toes he told himself not to ask the next question that popped into his mind.

"How are the other girls?"

"Lady Sybil is doing very well. Diana – and isn't she a marvel – anyway, Diana introduced us to Lady Gervais and she's head of the Yorkshire Charitable Society for Enfranchisement. Lovely group, really, and they push for all manner of social reform. Your cousin is mostly interested in their links to the suffrage community, but I'm very interested in their work in pushing medical access for the poor."

Matthew let his mother chatter on for a few more moments about her interests and the new friends that getting to know Sir Anthony's sister had introduced her to. Then, against his better judgement, he clarified his last question.

"How is Lady Mary?"

His mother's sigh carried quite clearly over the line but, in a rare moment of delicacy and understanding, his mother's answer was precisely what he needed to hear and nothing more.

"She seems very well, Matthew."

"The," Matthew swallowed and kept his voice perfectly light and level even as he clenched his eyes closed. "husband-hunt still on?"

He'd heard about it from a fellow pupil. The man was the second son of yet another Earl and been quite keen to try and poke at the rumors about Matthew's failed wooing of the Yorkshire beauty. Matthew closed his eyes again. You told Mary you'd defend her and shield her in any way she wanted, no matter what it cost you. Well, now you'll put your money where your mouth is and take the blow to your pride like a man, Crawley! The phone line crackled as his mother adjusted her grip so very far away.

"It is."

"Any likely victims?"

"Several, but I can't speak to specifics. It's really not my business, Matthew."

"Nor mine, I know, Mama." Matthew allowed himself the rare comfort of the softer address and then shook his head and stood upright, sniffing the air with wry appreciation. "Did you know Moseley could cook?"

"I did not! Can he?"

"He can." The man smiled and brushed some sandy blond hair from his eyes. "He's put a chicken on to roast, with all that's expected, and it sounds as if he's setting the table."

"Well, don't let me keep you from your supper, then. I just wanted to let you know that next time you come North we'll have both our guest rooms full at Crawley House. Oh, and Addie's gotten her puppy so that'll be underfoot."

"You never let me have a puppy."

"I'm sure Lord Grantham shall get you one for Christmas if you ask."

Laughing, Matthew bid his mother a goodnight and stood up. Looking in the mirror he saw a man who might have lost a bit of weight in the last few weeks. Stepping closer across the narrow hall he took in how he looked. Wearing pajamas and a dressing robe, wet hair and bare-feet, aside? There's nothing wrong with me, Matthew noted. Hubris and vanity aside, he was a handsome man. He was young still, and had a respectable vocation under his belt. One he was improving further. His expectation were, frankly, grander than anything he'd expected.

"No more moping for you, old thing." Matthew muttered under his breath and reached behind himself to peel his wet shirt away from his back, squaring his shoulders, he turned and retrieved his slippers before walking into the kitchen. "Dinner smells fantastic, Moseley."

"Thank you, sir!" The awkward man offered up a bright smile and Matthew stifled the urge to laugh at the fellow in his neatly pressed waistcoat, shirtsleeves, sleeve garters, and ruffled apron. "I have high hopes for the gravy this time."

"Ah well, any failure was on my head last Sunday. I'm the one who lit the stovetop aflame."

"It could have happened to anyone, sir."

"Thank you for that." Matthew pulled out his chair at the cramped two-person kitchen table and waved a hand at Moseley to sit down when the other man made as if he wasn't. Reaching up, Matthew pulled down another plate and rifled for a napkin and silverware. "Don't even think of going to your room. For God's sake, this is hardly a grand house!"

"Well, yes, but the earl-."

"Used to mess with his valet once upon a time, in the field, at least." Matthew shook his head and pointed to the stack of scribbled upon half-sheets of paper perched on the edge of the counter. "Besides, he hardly needs to know. You can quiz me on high court precedent while we eat, anyway."

Moseley hesitated and then, with an insecure smile, gave in and sat down opposite his employer. Matthew gleefully picked up the cards, passed them over, and tucked into the potatoes, carrots, and leeks before him as the butler efficiently cut a leg and half a breast off the browned chicken upon the single platter before them. Once they were both ready to tuck in, Matthew gestured grandly with his fork.

"Let me have it, Moseley."

"Beginning in the Court of the Star Chamber-."

"That far back?"

"Yes, sir."

"At least there's nothing there I can't argue against."

"Very good, sir. Anyway, on the authority of Thomas Cromwell…"

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"Anthony you wretched man!"

Taking three large steps into his own foyer, Anthony Strallan wrapped his arms around his little sister and lifted her feet clear of the floor in a rib-cracking embrace. As expected, she yelped, squirmed, and laughed in equal measure. Despite the years of living they'd done, for the moment, Loxley's children were just that.

"Diana, thank you."

"As if thanks could possibly be enough!"

"I've brought you presents from the Continent."

"Now that is a better tale!" His sister laughed as her heels made contact with the black and white foyer tiles beneath her feet, beaming up and him and planting a wet kiss on each of his cheeks despite his attempt to escape. "Anthony, you look wonderful."

"Er-well."

"Marriage has always suited you, old boy." Archie stepped forward, but whatever other congratulations he might have added were drowned out in the almighty clatter of two schoolboys entering, stage left.

"Uncle Anthony!"

"Boys!" Anthony stepped away from his sister. "Ooph!"

David and Christopher Chetwood impacted with their uncle like a pair of overcharged fireworks. Anthony rocked back, laughing, as their lanky frames inserted themselves into his space. Long experience kept him from elbowing the shorter of the duo in the face. It didn't save him from flailing slightly as David leapt onto his back, wrapping his arms around the baronet's neck.

"Uncle Anthony, you took forever! I thought you were spending the summer with us?"

With an almighty grunt of effort Anthony reached behind him for David's collar and flipped the lad over his shoulder, narrowly missing the chandelier with the boy's feet before he settled the boy to stand in front of him and managed to get Christopher in a loose headlock before he took his brother's place.

"Yes, why'd you have to go to Austria, Uncle Anthony?"

Swinging David around he got the seven-year-old up on his hip with considerably more effort than it took to lift his soon-to-be acquired sister-in-law. As he did so he noted that both the boys had inherited the Strallan family height, even if they both had their father's brown hair. Then, as was only polite, he answered the question.

"I was acquiring you an Aunt, my dear chap." Anthony grinned at his nephews, reveling in their presence and feeling a spark of almost giddy wonderment at the hopeful idea that, in not too long, he might provide them with cousins with which to play. "Don't ever forget: a gentleman does not shirk his duties when it comes to pursuit of a lady that he would make his wife."

"A wife?" David looked appalled. "What would you want one of them for?"

Behind him, Archie was audibly losing the battle with his mirth. Judging from the soft sound of impact that followed he'd gotten one of his wife's sharp elbows to the side for his trouble. Stifling his own amusement, Anthony let Christopher drop back to his own feet and ruffled the older lad's hair.

"In only a year or two I think you'll figure that out on your own, little chap." Anthony chuckled and turned as David tugged on his jacket, the dark eyes he shared with his father alight with curiosity.

"Is this Miss Edith who you told us about?"

"Yes, Miss Edith Kavanaugh. You met her briefly, you'll remember."

"Yes, with her sister, Miss Adelaide. You remember her?"

"The little girl, yes." David, who'd excused himself from that introduction as quickly as possible, wrinkled his nose in disgust. "That visit was just tea and biscuits and suffrage, Uncle Anthony. I'm glad Papa took us to the park for it. Tell me that you're not going to let Loxley go all lace and fancy biscuits and girlish nonsense, are you?"

"Addie's not bad. She liked my jar of frog spawn." Christopher offered up as his more outgoing brother paused for breath and looked up at his uncle shyly.

Anthony chuckled as he, finally, managed to hand off his coat to his butler. Mr. Kerr, aged and bent as he was, offered up the smallest and most professional of smiles as he took the offering in hand. Stewart, no doubt, was handling luggage competently in the background, invisibly efficient as always. Looking around and drinking in the sight of home, Anthony put a hand on both his nephew's shoulders and turned them towards the stairs.

"Boys, I think you'll get on fine with all of your new family and I'll be happy to answer all of your questions."

"Do you-."

"Can we-."

"But first," Anthony spoke clearly over their eager interruptions. "I've just gotten back home after far too long absent and I've yet to even change out of my traveling things or manage a spot of tea. What do you say, Diana? Tea and presents first."

"I think that can be managed." His sister laughed. "Freshen up and we'll settle in the breakfast room. It's almost time for luncheon, as it is, so I'll see if Mrs. Bernard can't just move it up a bit. Boys, go upstairs and get your presents for your Uncle from your rooms and we can handle it all in one go."

"And start thinking of your questions because it'll be at least a week before we pry your uncle free of estate business now that he's back!" Archie added as he stepped forward to help coral the boys and Anthony, gratefully, vanished upstairs.

Grinning at Diana, Anthony escaped. Dressed in fresh tweeds and surrounded by those he cared for most; the last hour of the morning was very happily spent. Some of Diana's considerable sharpness over having been abandoned to deal with the Crawley Family Circus softened when presented with a good stock of well-chosen wines, no few new books, and a new tea set. Anthony watched with some relief as his little sister settled back and listened with maternal satisfaction to her boys enthuse over the haul their indulgent uncle had returned with for them. Archie, of course, was happily bribed with spirits and that was the end of it. Blessedly easy to please, his brother-in-law.

Anthony escaped outside then, to meet with his estate manager, Nichols. As he'd anticipated, everything at Loxley had continued to run shipshape in his absence. There were a few details that, as a man who not only loved his estate, but the minutiae of running it, he needed to attend to. For Anthony Strallan that was a pleasure, and he shamelessly skipped his first dinner back with Diana and the boys in favor of sorting out those few little things, touring and approving the updates to the dairy, then absconding to soak in a long bath as the sun went down. Finally, he stole Archie's prerogative and settled in to read a chapter of Treasure Island with the boys before doing his duty as host and appearing at supper with the rest of the adults.

As such, Anthony could put off the inquisition no longer and… really had no desire to.

"Well?" Diana demanded as soon as they'd settled in to their light supper of cold fowl, bread, cheese, and soup. "You barely said a word over the phone!"

"We spoke for nearly a quarter hour this morning, and I called you as soon as we got out of Mr. Branagh's office, Diana." Knowing he was playing with fire and unable to resist, Anthony commented over the rim of his wine. "Don't be dramatic."

Diana looked outraged at the very idea, but the blue eyes they shared were shooting sparks as she sat up and glared at her big brother. Archie cheerfully overfilled his plate while his wife was otherwise occupied. Anthony reserved the right to rat him out if the conversation got out of hand. For now? He felt like a boy again; so buoyant with happiness he'd caught himself taking the stairs three at a time earlier. (If he'd ended up wheezing on the second-floor landing, no-one needed to know.)

"Dramatic? How do you like that!"

"I don't, that's why I implied you should calm down."

"And after all I've done for you." Diana sniffed and changed the subject. "Not a moment of that counts. You didn't tell me anything important."

"Such as?"

"When is the wedding, where is the wedding, and when am I sitting down with Edith to help her plan it."

"The wedding shall be the first Sunday in September, it shall take place in Downton Cathedral, and don't you think it might get a little crowded, Di, with Edith's mother, grandmother, sisters, and everyone else helping her?"

Diana shot him a look that would have quailed tigers and lesser men. Anthony took another sip of his wine and an excessively large bite of his supper just to twit her. Her eyes narrowed.

"I take it that there's no specific reason for the haste, old boy?"

Anthony choked on the sandwich he had assembled, coughing and spilling wine all over his fingers before he put the glass down so he could wipe his hand clean and pound on his own chest with his free hand. Diana turned and offered her husband a sparkling smile of gratitude for his timely – and cruel – question. Then her eyes narrowed again, this time at the three towering sandwiches on his own plate.

"N-nothing of the s-sort, you rogue, and I'll thank you not to suggest it!" Anthony spluttered, cleared his throat, took a gulp of wine, and coughed again before going on sternly. "Really, Edith's got her heart set on having a proper wedding."

Diana's eyes sparkled dangerously.

"Oh, I know."

Anthony raised an eyebrow and Diana's smile came back with the intention of shaming crocodiles everywhere.

"You see, she wrote Lady Grantham of it and she was in quite a state of excitement over the whole thing."

"The-."Anthony felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, followed quickly by a sense of real alarm. "Diana, I don't know what Cora Crawley said, but Edith and I want a small wedding."

"I'm sure you do."

"Di-."

"Anthony, honestly, did you two really think you could run off like that and get off Scot free?" Diana Chetwood had never looked more like her dear Mama than that moment as she flicked a loose curl behind her shoulder and sat up straighter, taking a dainty bite of her supper and sip of wine, then humming in happiness. "I swear, I need to steal Mrs. Bernard. Even a supper made up of what's left from dinner and luncheon is lovely. Why won't you let me abscond with your staff, Anthony? As your sister, I think they should be half-mine anyway."

"You already got your inheritance, Mrs. Bernard doesn't care for London or traveling, and what do you mean Scot free? I was run all over the continent keeping Edith and her sister safe!"

"Oh, as if you didn't have wild fun once you were out of Paris and had everything resolved." Diana chastened. "I read your letters, you know."

"Of course, but what does that have to do with our wedding?"

Anthony didn't like the tone of complaint that was creeping into his voice; he was far too young to sound disturbingly like David when his nephew built himself up into a proper whine.

"It means you owe us – me, especially – for all the trouble you caused and can pay it back with an absolutely lovely party." Diana smirked. "Especially one that Grantham is paying for."

Anthony felt his mouth open. He had nothing to say to that. Archie chuckled evilly.

"You should have been there, old boy. The earl looked like a rabbit must when they get to the end of the warren and realize it's ferrets for them, no matter which direction they run."

"Pardon?"

"We trapped him over tea weeks ago." Diana chirped happily. "I'll be just as happy never seeing the Dowager again, but Cora is really quite lovely if you get to know her. She wants to properly make up for her mistakes with Edith, and I think giving her the wedding she should have had is a lovely step."

"Yes, but-."

"And her uncle could hardly disagree with it, now that he's set on being Papa again, properly." Archie spoke happily over Anthony's attempt to regain control of the conversation. "So his wife, my wife, his mother, and Lady Sybil trapped him as neatly as ever you did please. It was hilarious, Anthony. The poor chap looked so pained when he realized he'd agreed to, 'hang the cost'."

"I imagine he did." Anthony offered up, his tone weak to his own ears and no little bit plaintive. "But what about us? It's our wedding!"

"Yes, dear, it is." Diana patted his hand and set her plate down, cutting a considerable piece of cake for herself with enviable smugness. "We'll even let you stand up front and everything after we've had our fun, I promise."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thomas Barrow entered Crawley House with one of his two employers draped, drooling, over his right shoulder. As per expectations, Addie had fallen asleep on the train journey North. Rallying at the halfway point she'd stayed awake for a bit and then, just before they arrived in Yorkshire, collapsed into a deep sleep once again. Given her wild state of excitement over Branagh's bowing to Miss Edith and Sir Anthony's united front, the upcoming wedding, and school? It was of little shock that she'd stayed asleep through being carried to the waiting car and then Thomas' careful trek into Crawley House.

"Oh, the dear." Mrs. Crawley offered up a bright smile at him, and Thomas allowed himself to relax.

This won't be so bad, then.

His fears of what he'd find waiting for him in Yorkshire softened somewhat, he followed the busybody's soft instructions and deposited the girl upstairs.

"Her and her sister's things are mostly being sent on to Loxley." Isobel Crawley offered up more explanation than was strictly necessary for a servant, but Thomas reminded himself he was their butler and nodded as he settled Addie on the bed and stepped back so that the older woman could tuck her beneath the duvet. "Her clothing, books, and odds-and-ends are here already. Anything else she needs we'll send for as she discovers it. Does the puppy need anything in particular?"

"Nothing we've not brought with us, ma'am. Polly will be fine in the kitchen with her dinner, then I'll bring her up later." Sensing weakness and happy to ingratiate himself since he wasn't facing open censure, he offered up a charming smile. "Her mistress will likely be awake by the time she's done and then Miss Addie is to be responsible for her."

"Very good, Barrow." Isobel sighed warmly down at the image of the sleeping child. "I'll just head right to Downton to join the other ladies, then."

"Of course, ma'am. Is there anything I can do?"

"I believe Mr. Carson is waiting for you downstairs."

Barrow froze as the future earl's mother went on blithely, utterly unconcerned over what sounded highly threatening to Thomas' ears.

"As for me, if you don't mind stepping in as butler here at Crawley House, I would appreciate it. You see Mr. Moseley went with my son to London, so we're a bit short."

"I -of course, while the ladies are in residence…"

"Thank you, Mr. Barrow."

And with that, she swanned out of the room. Thomas looked over at the bed where Addie was sleeping the harmless dreams of exhausted youth. Then he looked at the door. For the barest moment he considered flight. Then, gritting his teeth, he put his shoulders back.

What was he doing, acting yellow? It wasn't like he was a footman anymore. He didn't answer to the likes of Charles Carson. He didn't work for the Earl of Grantham. Turning sharply on his heel he strode (quietly) out of the guest room and down the servants' stairs. It was just a short turn to step into the narrow door that stood open between the kitchen and the largest of the linen cupboards. Crawley House's butler's pantry was rather cramped and, standing in the middle of it as if surveying his kingdom, Mr. Carson took up more than his share of room.

"Thomas."

Thomas Barrow had the capacity for a great deal of insolence of manner, and it was with all of it that he sidestepped the older man, pulled out one of the four chairs surrounding the scrubbed oak table dominating the small room, and sat himself in it. Trying to channel the entire contents of Addie's Encyclopedia of World Reptiles into his smile, Thomas pushed the opposite chair out with his foot.

"Have a seat, won't you, Mr. Carson?"

The pure outrage rolling off the older man as his jaw dropped was delicious. Watching the older butler puff up like an outraged owl, Thomas resisted the urge to hoot at the man. He was glad that he did when Carson settled his feet further apart and crossed his arms. A bit of harmless agitation was one thing; causing the man coronary distress would have been another.

"I imagine you think you've done very well, Thomas."

"I believe, as we are now both butlers, Mr. Carson, it is no longer correct to address me by my Christian name."

"That is what you have to say for yourself?"

"Well, I know how important propriety is to you."

Carson visibly chewed on that, and Thomas sat back, waiting for the lecture. He wasn't disappointed. The shelves all but vibrated along with the furious rumble of the taller man's voice.

"How dare you come waltzing back into Downton like some – some – some oriental pasha, lounging about before me as if I don't know you for the – the thief and charlatan for which you are!"

Thomas stood up and glared right back at him.

"I'll answer for whatever you wish on the thievery, but it's no worse than most servants have done and not a bent tuppence more than I'd be owed if your precious earl would pay a decent wage."

"It's not your place-."

"No, it's not." Thomas no longer feared interrupt the older man. "Because I don't work for the likes of you or Lord Grantham, do I, Carson?"

He could all but hear the other man's teeth grinding and grinned right back, full of teeth.

"I answer to the Misses Kavanagh and, after the wedding, Sir Anthony Strallan. So, unless you've a message to pass on from them, perhaps you'd best get back to your duties and leave me to mine?"

The dark eyes narrowed, and Carson stood. With impeccable self-control the older man straightened his lapels and cuffs, flicking at the latter as if brushing away some speck of dirt that had come upon them just from sharing air with the younger man. Barrow crossed his arms and slouched insolently.

"Lord Grantham will tolerate your presence in this house until Miss Edith's wedding day, and not a moment longer." The old man intoned as if pronouncing some ancient god's judgement. "He will not have you at the Abbey now or ever, under any circumstance. You are not permitted on any of his other properties, either. This includes in crossing anything, but the paths dictated as public by tradition from which you cannot be legally excluded, as well as those buildings in the village which he owns. Including the Grantham Arms, the dry goods store, and the hospital."

"Wait now, what if I need the hospital?" Thomas protested.

"As you reminded me, Mr. Barrow, you are no longer under my authority nor are you my concern." Carson turned and, over his shoulder, offered a parting shot. "And, blessedly, you are no longer my problem, either."

Absurdly insulted that he hadn't even been offered a condescending "good day", Thomas stared after the empty doorway until Mrs. Bird's sharp footsteps warned him of her arrival. He blinked to find the short, hard-faced Manchester cook standing in the doorway. His lips quirked slightly as she settled Hippolyta upon the floor and the puppy tripped over its own feet making a bee line for Thomas'.

"I've seen the pup fed, Mr. Barrow, and now I'd like a word with you about things, if you've the time."

"I – yes, I do, Mrs. Bird." Thomas offered up, then cleared his throat and reminded himself that… he was the butler. Gesturing across from him he repeated his earlier offer, far more politely. "Can I offer you a seat."

Mrs. Bird nodded once and accepted, settling in and setting several books down in front of him. As the household accounts were opened, Thomas found his mix of smug pleasure and bitter disappointment vanishing under the surprising pleasure of work as he noted he was, at least mostly, far more in charge of his life than he ever had been in his life.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"But we want a small wedding, Mama."

It felt dreadfully strange to settle into the library at Downton while knowing she'd be sleeping in Crawley House, but it didn't feel bad. Not at all, not when Edith had been greeted upon arrival by Sybil's enthusiastic embrace, and unusually fervent hug from the only mother she'd ever known, and even an awkward hug from Lord Grantham. Mary had assayed a friendly smile from her seat as well.

It is very strange to wake up and find you've got everything you've ever wanted.

"As we were all disappointed to hear, Edith, however now that you're home we can discuss reality as opposed to desires."

Granny, of course, never changed. Edith watched as the matron laid down what appeared to be an extensive list of names upon the low table in front of them. She couldn't help but feel that defeated nations were presented the papers outlining their surrender in just such a manner.

"Oh, darling, don't listen to your Granny."

"No, listen to Granny and then tell her, no!" Sybil giggled, grinning from her spot beside Edith on the sofa, opposite to where Cora had bookended the strawberry blonde as soon as she'd sat down.

"If you dare."

"Mary, do behave."

Only Mary, Edith reflected, could sip her tea in a manner that broadcast insolent sarcasm of such effect. Only their Mama could ignore it with such grace.

"Edith, you are a young lady of impeccable," The Dowager retook the floor with the slightest moue of discomfort, "if not entirely correct, breeding and considerable fortune. There is no reason you should not immediately capitalize on this to use your wedding as the entry into society you have always deserved, but been denied."

"Granny, it is – it's very nice to hear you say that, but Anthony and I don't want a large wedding."

"But you would like a nice wedding?"

"Well, yes, of course, Mama."

Edith could almost hear the snap of the trap closing as the dowager tapped her cane on the floor.

"Then there's no reason why a nice wedding cannot have an appropriate guest list."

"Appropriate does not mean enormous, Granny!"

"No, but it does mean matching." Mary countered. "How many guests is Strallan planning to invite."

Edith, who'd felt he had a wonderful argument utterly lined up, stuttered to a halt along with her mind. Unfortunately, her mouth didn't stop with its companions.

"I – well, what I mean is, Anthony and I discussed having a small wedding, but we haven't gone over numbers yet. I mean, we've only just got here-."

"Of course, Edith!" Sybil agreed, ever supportive. "You'll need to discuss everything with Sir Anthony, but we both know how many friends he has."

Edith realized that her idea of support and the idea of support held by the grinning women surrounding her might not be the same thing.

"Hello all, I do hope I haven't missed anything important?"

"Cousin Isobel," Edith asked desperately as she cast about for assistance, "How many people would you say makes up a small wedding?"

With a nonchalance that was an utter and horrendous lie, Isobel Crawley sat down in the chair next to Violet Crawley and blithely answered.

"Oh, not more than a hundred or so, don't you think?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I say, what a fine little lady that is!"

Adelaide Kavanagh had slept most of the train ride north, but despite evidence to the contrary, she'd done a great deal of thinking. It had started after a long talk with her omma and onkle in Austria, after Sir Anthony had proposed to Edith. It had carried on with a quiet talk with Sir Anthony on the train through Switzerland, when Edith was napping.

"She is. I've named her Hippolyta, because Daddy always says dogs are like heroes and should have the best names."

"Well…" Lord Grantham looked down at the great gulf between his height and hers with clear awkwardness but offered her a warm smile as she scratched behind Pharoah's ears as the older Labrador asked for his share of attention. "I won't pretend your father and I ever were on good terms, but I quite agree with him in regard to dogs, Miss Adelaide."

Adelaide nodded awkwardly, falling into silence as she watched him kneel and grin at Polly. Her puppy, sensing a friend, rolled over and presented her belly. Lord Grantham obliged with a good belly-rub and Adelaide tried to organize her thoughts. It was difficult, but she did the best she could given the complexity of what she felt. When something's important it doesn't matter that it's hard; it's often hard because it's important. With that reminder, the softly accented tones of her mother barely clinging to her memory along with the words, Addie rallied and sat down as well, letting Pharoah rest his broad head in her lap as the man continued to play with her puppy.

"Daddy said a good dog is the best judge of character, and Onkle Klaus says that German Shepherds are the best dogs."

"I've always preferred Labradors, myself, but if to each their own. Though your father was right; dogs are excellent judges of character."

Robert Grantham was fond of dogs as a subject of conversation, along with ancient Egypt, conservative politics (as long as you agreed with him), and a number of other subjects chosen from his limited pool of interests. In truth, he was a bit awkward around young children, having spent little time around his own. He was especially awkward around this one, for he'd quite virulently hated her father but was at pains not to alienate Edith again and had a great deal of sympathy for any child who had lost so much family so quickly as Adelaide had in any case.

Adelaide was only partially aware of any of that. With a child's natural selfishness, she hadn't yet grown skilled at seeing the world through other eyes or from multiple perspectives. She was, however, naturally observant in the way many small children are.

She'd been quite ready to hate all of Edith's Crawley relatives. In her mind they'd been built up like the wicked stepmother in Cinderella or Rothbart in Swann Lake. She'd always thought of the Earl as the wicked man who'd stollen her big sister, to go with his evil sister who'd broken her Daddy's heart. Cora Crawley had, in turn, been a coldhearted social climber who'd neglected her children and foisted them off on servants, spoiling Lady Mary and treating Edith miserably.

Upon arriving at Downton she'd been confused to find it unlike her expectations. Lady Grantham had been rather difficult to dislike once she'd gotten to know her. Perhaps she hadn't been a good mother to Edith before but even Addie could see that she was trying very hard now to be much better. She also seemed to have a natural kindness and sympathy that confused Addie terribly. It didn't match with the idea that she'd neglected and ignored Edith before and had brought about the uncomfortable realization that good people might do bad things quiet easily. Maybe even unintentionally.

It had been that realization, however, that had made accepting Thomas all the easier. She was already unbothered by his preferences. Her upbringing would have had her be far harsher on theft, but having already accepted that one of the largest villains of her childhood wasn't, in fact, Satan's Mistress… there was room for judgement to flex and change shape inside of her young mind.

"May I call you Uncle Robert?"

Lord Grantham visibly started as Addie blurted out her question, and then carried on hastily, made nervous by her own boldness as they sat alone – save for the dogs – at the foot of the great stairway.

"It's only that it's awfully odd to call someone who – who's as good as family my Lord all the time. You're Edith's Uncle – and her Papa too since she missed that and we already talked about it. But since you're her Uncle, and we're family, I thought maybe I could call you Uncle Robert and Lady Grantham, Aunt Cora, and it wouldn't be so strange. I won't do it if you don't like it, though."

She watched nervously and was surprised when a smile carved its way across the older man's broad face. Raising up from his knees with a grunt and crackling joints, the man sat beside her on the stairs (a couple of steps up) and turned towards her.

"I would like that very much, and I'm sure my lady wife would as well."

"Oh."

Addie hadn't quite thought the rest of it through. Thankfully, Edith's Papa/Uncle was still talking.

"Though, if we have guests there are still times you'd call all of us by our ranks. Has Edith given you much instruction on that, Miss Adelaide?"

"We've gone over it a bunch, but it's still confusing."

"Well, if you've ever got a question, you can feel free to ask me."

"Thank you, Uncle Robert." Addie tried it out and realized she was being rude. "You may call me Addie, if you'd like."

"I believe I will."

It didn't flow as easily as Onkle Klaus, but it was an improvement over Lord Grantham.

"So, shall you be joining the ladies in the library to talk about the wedding, Addie?"

Addie made a face and stood up, picking up her leather shoulder bag and shaking her head.

"Oh, no. It's all flowers and lace and sitting still forever. I'll let Edith and Mrs. Chetwood and everyone else do that. You're not going to help with the wedding?"

"Alas, I find that my input is again unnecessary when it comes to spending my money."

Addie bit her tongue and didn't ask if it wasn't really his wife's money. Feeling bad for the uncharitable impulse when he'd been so fine to her about everything else she pointed towards the entry hall.

"I brought my wellies and my net. I'm going to do another amphibian and reptile survey to compare to the last one." Addie explained. "Then I'll do one at Loxley with Sir Anthony and his nephews tomorrow. He promised."

"Well, then, as Strallan is a man of his word I'm sure you'll do just that." The earl stood, patting his dog upon the head and smiling before, with an expression of curiosity. "I say, what goes into one of these surveys of yours?"

"Oh, lots. First, you count how many you find of each species and mark it in a ledger along with their size and weight. I made Thomas carry the scales last time, but this time Mr. Carson said that Branson's coming since he doesn't have much to do today with nobody going anywhere. He went to get some waders from the undergardener."

"Not William?"

Addie was young enough to miss the mirth in the earl's expression as she sniffed and tossed her curls over her shoulder.

"William laughed when I said I was going to be a veterinarian!"

"Did he, now?"

"Well, if your wife can be a Countess, why can't I be a veterinarian?"

The other man let out a bark of laughter, but it was paired with a nod of agreement that soothed her temper, so Addie accepted it in good humor and was surprised when the earl cast a look back at the open doorway to his library and the sounds of feminine conversation that were drifting from it. Then Robert Crawley looked at the two dogs happily cavorting around the lady and where his chauffeur – now dressed awkwardly in a pair of waders and holding three differently sized nets – was standing with a slightly confused expression in the foyer of his home. Looking back at the library, the man stood up and, with all of the grace of a lifetime of social training, cleared his throat.

"I don't suppose you could use an extra pair of hands?"

Adelaide looked up at her newly acquired uncle with blank astonishment, and then a slow, almost shy smile of delight spread across her face as she bounced up on her toes, nodding with gathering enthusiasm.

"Yes, if you'd like?"

"I think I would." The earl, already dressed for a day of sport, cheerfully began to follow her towards the door. "I say, how do our reptiles and amphibians fare against Loxleys?"

"Loxley has more amphibians, but Downton has more reptiles."

"Oh?"

"You had a lot more snakes."

"Oh."

"Snakes are good, they eat rats. You had a prodigiously big corn snake in the horse barn, Barrow was awfully fussy about holding it."

"Right then! How were we for frogs?"

"Not so good, but you did have the biggest frog."

"Well, that's good to know. How are we doing for lizards?"

"Not so good, but I think it's because Sir Anthony has more pigs and sheep, and they bring more flies."

"From a naturalistic perspective that would make a great deal of sense, Addie. Did you know that the cobra was a symbol of royalty, and they had a cobra-headed goddess known as Meretseger?"

"I didn't! Didn't one of their queens kill themselves with one? I think I read about that."

"That would be Cleopatra, and it's a very interesting story…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After weeks and weeks of delightful freedom, Anthony Strallan had to admit that the shackles of propriety had finally closed about himself and his affianced. Between Diana, Lady Grantham, the Dowager, and Mrs. Crawley he'd just about given up hope of pressing more than a light kiss to Edith's fingers between their arrival in Yorkshire and their wedding day.

He had not contended with Sybil Crawley. In the midst of an intense discussion of the wedding that had overtaken his library the young lady somehow managed to derail the attention of every single woman over the age of twenty with a statement involving suffrage, marriage, equality, and the like that Anthony hadn't quite caught over the general feminine din. The response was instant and immediate as everyone converged upon his future sister-in-law. Save for Edith, who had excused herself for the necessity less than thirty-seconds beforehand.

With the speed of a much younger man, Anthony slipped from the room, mouthing some polite excuse as he fled. Making a wild guess, he escaped out of his own home's back door and turned left to where a tall wall of hedges separated the path to the kitchen garden from the path into the orchard. Just as he'd hoped, in the shade of the hedge, not even armored properly with a hat against the sun, Edith was waiting for him.

"Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid you wouldn't know what Sybil was about!"

Taking the distance between them in two great strides, Anthony reached out and seized both her hands in his own. He was planning to bring them to his lips, but Edith showed the spirit and intelligence he loved her for by pulling him closer to her with the leverage he offered and bobbing up onto her toes. All too happy to oblige, Anthony Strallan leaned down and pressed their lips together.

It would have taken a stronger man than himself to resist the tentative invitation offered when her tongue flicked shyly against his lips. It was some untold minutes later when they both leaned back from each other, short of breath, and Anthony marveled to discover that she was petting at waistcoat, her hands having slipped beneath his jacket, and that he'd wrapped her fully in his arms.

"Oh, I needed that. How are you, darling man?"

"Sweet one, I could not possibly be less than ecstatic after such a greeting."

"Seriously!"

"Truly!" Anthony defended his hyperbole and dropped a kiss on her cheek before turning her away from the house. "I'm sure they'll be out looking any moment. Let's not make it took easy?"

"Oh, goodness, no. Let's not." Edith wrinkled her nose and fell in beside him, her hands tucked into the crook of his arm as she bit her lip. "Not to say – I mean, I'm happy! Having Mama and Granny and everyone – having them happy and having them care like this is everything I ever wanted."

"But?" Anthony bit the inside of his cheek as he prompted, and Edith wrinkled her nose and inclined her head.

"But it is a bit much."

"How much?"

"Hm?"

"Erm, how many rings is our matrimonial circus to have?"

"None, and neither tigers nor elephants, much to Addie's disappointment." Edith sighed and looked sheepish. "I did agree to having, well, a larger wedding. We never did talk details and – I mean, are you terribly upset with me, Anthony?"

"Not a jot."

"Really."

"Well, let me ask you a few questions."

"Yes?"

"We've settled on no more than one-hundred guests, haven't we?"

"I've set it at seventy, actually, and I shan't be moved to include one more."

"Well, that's fine, then." Anthony shrugged. "Once I've invited my university chums, Diana's had her way and brought all of the extended relatives in, and I've included everyone from around Loxley who should have a seat that shall end up with about the proper number."

"Oh."

"You're happy, sweet one, aren't you?"

If she wasn't, Anthony would – despite his deep misgivings at the idea – put a stop to it. Somehow. He had no idea how, but there had to be a way.

"I, well, yes?" Edith seemed a bit surprised at the idea and Anthony spent a moment thoroughly reflecting on the failings of the world that had produced such perfection in human form and then made it feel insufficient because of all of her wonders. "What I mean is, I'm a little wary of my guests but everything else is lovely?"

Ah, there's the problem…

"Are your mother and grandmother overstepping?"

"Chronically but… not in a bad way?" Edith's words came out in a rush. "They're not inviting anyone I dislike, it's just that it's unsettling to realize how few people I know. Grandmama Martha and Uncle Harold have already telegraphed that they'll be there, and I've three friends from university who are coming over and one of them has married but other than them and Mr. Branagh and his wife I don't have any guests."

Anthony nodded as understanding set in and led Edith under the dappled golden shade of the orchard.

"It is always difficult, knowing that some happy moment in your life cannot be celebrated with those important to you because you've lost them."

Edith nodded and Anthony stopped. When she looked up he took his free hand and cupped her chin, gently stroking the fine arch of her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb.

"It's even harder, sometimes, realizing that those we love weren't necessarily perfect. Edie, there's nothing wrong or disloyal with acknowledging that your father kept you too isolated in America. Knowing he was wrong doesn't mean you love him less."

And just like that, Edith rested her head against his chest and melted into his arms. Wrapping her tightly against him, Anthony curled his head down. If only it will always be so easy to soothe her hurts.

"I know, I mean, I always knew that Daddy was overprotective, but it just… I could pretend most of it was – was society being awful about my birth. Some of it was, but…" Edith swallowed. "The fact remains that if Mama and Granny can find a way to ease me into English society, Daddy could have likely found a way to ease me more into things when I should have debuted."

"He would have likely had to swallow his pride and made new associations himself."

"Daddy wasn't keen on new people." Edith sighed into his jacket, just over the breast pocket. "Oh, he'd… business was different, but he always said society wasn't to be trusted with an honorable woman… but he'd take Katherine out on the town anyway. He said she had him to protect her and that married women were safer."

"In a way, they are, but the fact remains that he should have done more." Anthony buried his nose indulgently in Edith's curls and closed his eyes, inhaling the soft touch of jasmine perfume she was wearing. "You're entirely sure that you're well, sweet one?"

"Yes, I am." Edith burrowed deeper into his arms with a soft laugh and looked up at him, her contented smile honey and summer sun on rose petals. "I don't know how you do it, but a few moments and a few words and you always make me feel better."

"A question I ask myself daily regarding your own magic, I assure you." Anthony stole another kiss, briefly. "You mustn't let them steal your joy in this, Edith. I won't have it."

"I know, and they're not. It was just a – a moment. All better now, I promise." She bobbed up and met his kiss with another, stepping back with a bright, slightly naughty, grin. "Besides, whenever I feel disloyal, I remind myself that Daddy would want me to spend as much of Papa's money as possible since he's insisting on paying."

Memory popped up from earlier and Anthony recalled something serious he had wanted to discuss with Edith.

"Speaking of, are you allowing Addie to pay for anything?"

"Why, did she say something? Oh, speaking of, how did the survey go?"

"Swimmingly, well, mostly. David got a bit cheeky about what girls 'should' and 'shouldn't' do but I reminded him of his manners."

"Oh?"

"I threatened to tell Diana."

Edith laughed and Anthony grinned crookedly at her, getting them moving against to confound pursuit a bit more as they strolled along, glorying in the easy joy of her company and the fact that, very shortly, he would have assurance of it for the rest of his life.

"That said, Loxley's going to have to work to defend its honor. We may be winning in the amphibian count – we had five times the number of salamanders, you know!"

"I'm sure Papa was seething with competitive spirit."

"He was. Wouldn't be quiet about the superior size of his frogs, what few Downton has." Anthony huffed, only slightly exaggerating. Like any good Englishman and land owner he was absurdly proud of his home and had the natural competitiveness of a man who'd both played cricket and rowed in university. "Not to mention the snakes. Wouldn't let me forget that Downton has an adder and we do not."

"Oh, dear."

"Yes, well, I'm sure we've got more snakes than we counted. David and Christopher were a bit, well, loud and all that yelling and stomping about likely sent them into hiding. The next survey will reflect better on Loxley's obvious superiority."

By this point Edith's shoulders were shaking with repressed laughter and Anthony was fighting his own grin.

"I'm serious now! You are about to be lady of Loxley as well, sweet one, and I insist on the proper spirit!"

"Oh, I'm entirely with you, darling. I'm sure that we've far finer and more numerous reptiles than Downton does here."

"Thank you."

"I can't believe Papa went out with Addie yesterday." Edith sighed, then paused. "Well, no. I do believe he fled all the wedding talk as soon as he saw a reasonable escape. I'm just… I am pleased that everyone's getting along. I just… I struggle to trust it, do you understand?"

"Better than I can say, but that's no reason to fret."

Edith paused to look at him and Anthony smiled crookedly.

"More than usual."

Their shared laughter, sadly, led their pursuers right to their location.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You don't feel the least bit guilty at turning Cousin Isobel into an unpaid governess for the afternoon?"

"Cousin Isobel loves nothing more than helping and, apparently veterinary medicine still counts as medicine." Edith rolled her eyes at Mary, who refused to acknowledge the low insult at all. "The only thing more fun than my wedding is spending the afternoon helping my sister with her lessons and then pursuing anatomical studies for deep discussion with a ten-year-old."

"Well…"

"Well?"

"Some things are so boggling there is no possible response."

Edith huffed a laugh despite herself and looked over at Mary with suspicion. Mary couldn't quite blame her given the absurd reason she'd used to get them a moment alone to talk amidst everything else. She wasn't about to go to Crawley House to visit in the evening, not with Matthew's mother as hostess and all of that awkwardness to wrestle with. At least during wedding discussions there were others present to prevent unfortunate questions…

"You don't want to give Addie riding lessons, Mary."

"No, nor do I think she'd wish to have me as a teacher." Mary Crawley sighed and shrugged, nodding once at one of the grooms as they approached the barn and then peeling off down another well-worn walking path. "I just wanted a moment to talk without everyone else in the family sticking their noses where they are neither wanted nor needed."

"What did you want to speak of?"

"You know, America has not made your habit of appalling bluntness any better, Edith."

"Thank you."

Mary shot a narrow look at her sister and, pained, decided that… just this once… Edith had the right of it. Coming to a halt in a little nook between three large oak trees, Mary carefully noted that there was nowhere anywhere near enough to hear them and turned to face the blonde. Edith watched her with equal measures wariness and that new boldness that she'd brought back with her that Mary just… didn't know how to cope with.

You weren't doing half-badly before Pamuk. Mind you, then you just had to remind yourself that you had everything better than her save her money, and then avoid her. Now?

"I wanted to thank you, for… for everything. I needed you and you helped and I – I wouldn't have done the same. I know I owe you, and… thank you."

Edith stared at her for a moment and Mary was reminded again how she'd always hated that. Her younger sister's eyes weren't the melting, dark, brown that she saw in the mirror. Nor were they the soft, loving, blue that Sybil shared with their parents. Instead, Mary had always felt that Edith's golden-brown gaze could see right through her. She'd felt stripped raw by the judgement and expectation and condemnation in her sister's gaze when they were in the nursery. Back then it had made her angry, now… it still did, but Mary Crawley?

Was finally old enough to admit, if only in the quietest parts of her soul, that her anger was nothing more than a thin shield to hold over her fear.

Edith had always watched things and she'd seen them. What's worse? She'd then cheerfully said whatever she saw, and damn the consequences. As children it had left Mary reeling as she worried constantly that Edith wouldn't just see that Mary was lying about who had really eaten the sweets or spilled the ink.

What if Edith sees that I don't refuse to do my lessons because French is boring, but because I don't understand it at all? What if Edith tells everyone that I can't remember my multiplication tables no matter how much I try? What if Edith realizes that I'm not really reading because it takes too long, and she's already done and if I don't pretend everyone will know?

"What?"

Mary hadn't actually meant to sound so waspish, she just did. To her surprise, Edith restrained her offense.

"Mary, you're welcome, but you don't owe me any thanks. What happened to you was wrong and… all I did was get you medical help, and everyone should be able to get that if they need it." Edith finally responded, and Mary was surprised to see her appear as awkward as she did. "I mean… Mary…"

"Yes?"

"Why don't we just pretend it never happened?"

"I – you mean that?"

"Yes!" Edith's vehemence surprised her.

"You mean you – I – you could get anything you realize. For the rest of my life, if you say anything, you-."

"Mary, there is nothing you have that I want." Edith flailed inelegantly, gesturing broadly around them. "Mary, I have a fortune independent of Papa. Sybil and Addie are happy and healthy. Mama and Papa and even Granny are being, well, kinder and better than I ever thought they'd be, and I'm marrying the man I love to distraction. I'm fine, I don't need to hurt you to be happy."

"You did, once."

"And you didn't do the same thing to me?"

"No, I mean, yes, I did, just… what?" Mary demanded. "You're going to pretend all of that never happened? I mean, ignoring it and being civil for Granny is one thing, but…"

Mary found herself standing there in the weak gray sunlight filtering through the usual mantle of clouds overhead as she and Edith stared at each other. Strangely, the threat seemed to have drained out of the air around them. Even the jagged little golden spikes in her sisters eyes didn't hurt or judge her. Briefly and sharply, a question jolted through Mary's mind and she found herself surprisingly in need of an answer.

"What do you see when you look at me?"

"Mary, what on earth kind of question is that to ask now?" Edith demanded then, shaking her head slightly she muttered, "And I know I'm going to regret it, but – what do you see when you look at me, anyway?"

Mary bit down on the demand that she has her answer first and chewed on her lip for a moment. Then, hesitantly, she answered.

"I'm not… entirely sure."

Edith frowned but waited, patiently, in a way she never could have five years before. Mary swallowed roughly and stepped to the side and back, moving as she thought as she often did.

"I don't know how much of you I see when I look at you, Edith, and how much of myself I'm seeing instead. Or what I want to see. Ooh, you're the one who was so good with words!"

"Writing, not speaking. You had all the charm, remember?"

"Well, it's nice to have it acknowledged."

Silence fell again and Mary chose to break it.

"I was jealous sometimes, that you weren't on – on display. You had so much freedom to have your walks or paint or write or vanish and I was Mama and Papa's little wax doll brought out for company."

"I thought you enjoyed being perfect."

"Oh, I do." Mary agreed, smirking before she wrinkled her nose and tilted her head. "Only, I'd like to have it on my terms."

"All I wanted was for them to, just for a moment, think I was perfect, too." Edith's reply was soft and tired and she looked up towards the great shadow Downton cast before turning away to look off into the distance with a smile.

"Now, you've found someone else to think you're perfect." Mary finished. "And his opinion is infinitely more important."

"Yes." Edith actually smiled at her, broadly, and in that moment a tentative understanding was reached. Neither risked it with another awkward question and Edith stepped jerkily towards the path back to the house; a silent offer Mary quickly accepted even as her sister went on. "So… any luck?"

"At?"

"Husband hunting."

"Ah, well, yes." Mary was actually quite satisfied with that, and pleased and surprised that Edith would ask after it when she'd shown no inclination at all to do so during all of the wedding talk. "While you were on your way back from Austria Mama and Granny and I sat down. We've got a list and I've made some progress on it."

"How?"

Mary scoffed at the return of Edith's bluntness and social blindness, but was happy enough to speak on the subject anyway.

"The usual. I attended a few parties, danced quite a bit, dropped a few words in the right gossip's ears."

"Anyone in particular?"

"Three."

"Well?"

Mary grinned like Downton's singular viper and let her stride swing out a little. Edith had never walked in an entirely ladylike manner, not the way they'd been taught. More of her height was in her sister's legs, though she was an inch shorter than Mary. As the eldest, she'd been expected to comport her walk perfectly, but Edith could just stride and it was ignored. With no-one watching and… feeling unusually free, Mary stretched out beside her sister and matched her pace. It felt gleefully like rebellion.

"I have a viscount, a viscount's heir, and an earl."

"Which ones?"

"Roger Villers, the Viscount Purbeck broke his engagement to that coal magnate's daughter from Pennsylvania after his cousin died and left him a fortune in South African diamonds." Mary explained. "I didn't even have to approach him. His mother called on Granny almost before she'd gotten the chance to invite the worst of her gossips over to chat."

"Well, that's a good sign. Is he a favorite?"

"He's a bit long in the tooth at thirty-six."

Edith narrowed her eyes and Mary scoffed.

"Not all of us are romantic archeologists, Edith, don't be hateful."

"I didn't say anything, which is more than you can say now."

Mary waved off the complaint.

"Augustus Edgerton is the Viscount Brackley's great-nephew."

Edith frowned, clearly trying and failing to place him in her memory. Mary helped, rather than scoffing, not even realizing that her eagerness to discuss the subject was softening her usual approach. Sybil had remained concerned and insisted that Mary was rushing into things and would regret a practical marriage, and her little sister's outlook had cheated her out of someone her own age to speak to about her plans. Normally she'd have had others she could speak to, but none of them knew. They wouldn't understand her eagerness to wed and she was too wary of a change in her behavior around them sparking questions to act with anything but insouciant apathy around her society friends. The isolation, given Mary's social nature, had been eating at her.

"Brackley is disgustingly rich. The previous earl invested in a lot of real estate in the stews of London that's now coming up, and Paul Brackley's – the nephew – father passed away last year and left him a tidy shipping fortune of his own that would work nicely until his grandfather's brother is done."

"Well, that's not coldblooded at all!" Edith scoffed. "Mary, goodness, I'm beginning to think that you should have been part of the survey."

Mary was on the verge of biting back and taking offense but was derailed when Edith followed it up with a smile of surprising, good nature, taking the significance out of their usual spat.

"You're one to talk! I haven't heard a word of anything around Downton that wasn't your wedding for the last six days!"

"And I'm absurdly happy about it." Edith replied with a sniff before awkwardly waving a hand. "Tell me about your earl. I'm in too good a mood to wish you anything but the best."

"If I'd known a romance with a geriatric farmer would improve your personality so dramatically, Edith, I'd have pushed you to Loxley in a pram."

"I can and will take my boot off and throw it at you."

"America has done horrid things to your manners, Edith."

"And yet it's done loads for my self-confidence. The earl?"

"The Earl of Holderness, Lawrence Ramsey. I know you've met him."

Mary watched as Edith thought about it, then nodded and shook her head in quick succession.

"I do, and I don't know why I'm even surprised. Is he as rich as he is handsome?"

"Yes." Mary looked up at the clouds and smirked. "And only twenty-five."

"Younger than Matthew by a year or two, then."

"Almost exactly the same age, actually, Matthew got out of University a year early." Mary flicked at imaginary dust on her trousers and answers, as she'd practiced, the unasked question. "Matthew is – is incredibly sweet, but it never would have worked. He'd have spent the rest of his life as my knight in shining armor – and anytime we argued he'd remind me of that."

To Mary's surprise, Edith actually thought about what she said rather than dismissing it. Sybil had done the same, but she'd just used it as another reason not to marry quickly. Edith thought about and nodded.

"You agree?"

"You should do what's going to make you happy, Mary. I always imagined you'd marry someone with a title and a great house. You'll make a spectacular social hostess, and you're ambitious. Ramsey took his seat in the House of Lords last year when his father passed, didn't he?"

"Yes, and he planned to run for a seat in the Commons before his father fell ill. He needs the sort of wife who's more than an ornament or a checking account."

"He couldn't look for better."

Mary stopped in her tracks and Edith flapped her hands uncomfortably, blushing and looking away.

"I may never have enjoyed you turning the sharp edge of your tongue on me, or using it against me, Mary, but I'm not going to deny that you're brilliant at social maneuvering and getting people to do what you want. You'll make a spectacular political hostess and partner in that sort of thing."

Mary was surprisingly touched as she realized that, as most of what came out of Edith's mouth, the younger woman meant what she was saying. Helplessly, Mary groped around for a compliment to offer in return.

"I think you and Strallan will do very well together. You're both just the perfect sort of tiresome to complement each other."

Edith looked at her for a long moment and then, with a certain reluctance, both of them began to laugh.

"Well, at least it was an honest compliment." The blonde offered up ruefully, then moved on. "They're both on the list for the wedding, yes?"

"Yes, if you don't mind?"

"I don't. I only have a few guests for my side. Whatever balanced out Anthony's at this point is fine by me. I'll only veto the ones who are awful."

"So, most of my friends?"

"Do you really want any more eligible young women invited?"

"Absolutely not. Veto as you will!" Mary paused and drew Edith to a halt before they quite got to the house. "Just to clarify… I won't be giving that little hellion riding lessons."

"Don't worry, I'll let everyone know Anthony shall teach her after the wedding. I'd never trust you with a child's safety."

"Thank you, ever so much."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Diana Chetwood smiled into her husband's bare shoulder, quite content to know her sons were under the watchful eye of their nurse as she and Archie took full advantage of the newfound freedom of their holiday to fully enjoy all that they should be free to enjoy. It was a lovely situation made yet more enjoyable by the mutters of outrage that drifted from her brother's study as he discovered the nuts and bolts that had replaced his pens and that he had an entire drawer full of, all the things, mismatched glass eyes where some of his ledgers out to have been.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

More Notes: Anthony/Edith – why we're all really here! Honestly, this is just sunshine and roses. They're adorable and they're my favorite and I love them. Expect pure fluff and happiness through the wedding and I may have to up the rating to M for the honeymoon. Haven't decided yet!

Addie – right now she's also in the honeymoon family phase. She's worked through a lot of her issues with the Crawleys over the last few months and can even get on with Robert through the frame of their mutual interest in the outdoors (and dogs being awesome). She's already made progress with Cora and that will continue.

The difficulties are yet to come. Addie has really had a free-range childhood since her father grew ill. Edith isn't overly good at or inclined to discipline her. She's done it, but not in a greatly significant way. Addie also doesn't have much of a structured schedule as Edith gives her excellent lessons but lets her do them mostly on her own terms. The move to Loxley and beginning formal schooling is likely to cause some friction and adjustment in the future for all parties. Not the least because Anthony won't *call* himself Addie's father but that is absolutely the role he sees himself in. As opposed to Edith, who firmly sees herself as a sister and not a mother - even if it's a sister in a guardianship role.

Then there are Anthony's nephews. They're used to being the old kids in the family and the apple of their uncles' eye. Without direct adult supervision, given the accepted misogyny of the times… yeah, probably a few spats coming from that direction as well.

Barrow – is doing alright and feeling okay! Clearly we need to do something about that, but probably not until after the wedding. Where'd O'Brian get to anyway? Hmmmm…

Matthew/Mary – I fully intend to get them together after the War. First, however, I think I have to explain why I've made the split seem easier. In canon, Matthew and Mary had many months to court after the Pamuk mess. Here, only three months passed between Pamuk and Mary heading to France. They began to court but were in the early, careful, stages and Mary was deeply distracted by something being very wrong with her body. As a result, they hadn't gotten so far with each other emotionally.

Matthew is more impacted here as he's older and wasn't just courting. Matthew looked at Mary and wanted a wife. Firmly and with a realistic idea of what he wanted in that relationship. Now that he can't have that he's refocusing on something else that he is proud of and loves: his career at law. He'll also likely start considering other relationships, but for now he's very much focusing on becoming a barrister since he's agreed to it.

Mary was still very unsure what she wanted in life at this point. Yes, marriage and wealth and a title were something she assumed she'd have, but she was only 21 and very much more naive than a modern young woman her age might be given her rank and the times. Pamuk's assault shook her horribly and as a result Mary's trying to retake control of her life the only way she knows how given her socioeconomic status and upbringing: by claiming her "rightful place" as a noblewoman and a wife. She's also pulled off a great con in her mind. Her secrets are safe. She's cured and healthy again. Her Mama and Granny are focused on her future even as they plan Edith's wedding. She's gotten interested responses from the guys she's most interested in. Mary's young and excited!