Author's Notes: And we see things move along. Sarah O'Brian has come to a plan of action, Anthony and Edith remain Anthony and Edith, Addie works to adjust, and Downton carries on…
General Warnings: Because this story is set during the early part of the 20th century, be prepared to occasionally run into period typical homophobia, ableism, racism, sexism, lack of good mental health care or the concept thereof, common childcare concepts we find appalling, classism, and victim blaming. Not to mention different concepts of things like consent. I will try and post specific warnings per chapter!
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and plot in this work belongs to the BBC, Julian Fellows, the wonderful actors, and actresses who brought Downton Abbey to life, and a number of other people. This work is produced for entertainment only and no profit is made.
Specific Warnings: Original Child Characters & Crawley Family Dynamics.
SPECIAL THANKS go to the Classicist, who has built a wonderful fanon family for Anthony. Diana, her husband and children, as well as Anthony's parents belong entirely to her. Be sure to drop by and read her work as it is considerably better than mine!
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October 1913
"What's with the long face, Moppet?"
"What's school really supposed to be like, Thomas?"
Thomas' mind flashed back to being thirteen, and a charming seventeen-year-old boy who'd essentially ruined his life. At the very least he'd ruined his chance at an education. That said, it had to be someone's fault and it certainly wasn't going to be the gentleman's son's, now was it?
"Don't know that I'm the best one to ask." Thomas frowned, but before he could go on the valet entered, frowning at what could only be a lipstick stain on the collar of one of the baronet's shirts. Smirking, Thomas reflected that there were some indignities he'd been spared when Bates nabbed the job that should have been his. "Problem, Stewart?"
"Oh, Edith and Anthony were kissing on the Sofa." Ever-helpful, Addie immediately offered up what she knew. "He had his hand up her skirt and everything!"
Everything she knew.
"Here now, that is no way for a young lady to be talking!"
"They're married, Mrs. Walsh, it's fine. Edith said so, and Daddy and Mama were forever kissing in the parlor and forgetting to lock the door too. I'm not a baby or anything."
The stern Welsh housekeeper's frown twitched mightily and her dark eyes flashed between a shimmer of anger and a glimmer of amusement in an instant. Thomas thanked whatever gods were listening that he wasn't on the receiving end of either the woman's temper or her mirth. Though he couldn't fault the woman's honesty – and he'd never admit it aloud – he was starting to miss Mrs. Hughes' faultless tranquility. When you did wrong at Downton in her sight, Mrs. Hughes let you know it. When he blundered in front of Mrs. Walsh, half the county heard it.
"Well, that you aren't, but it's still best not to mention such things."
"I'm never going to understand the English." Addie complained, her thin little hands flapping as she looked around the kitchen for support. "You like to have entire theater shows where men dress up in skirts and flash their frilly underthings, but it's rude to talk about married people kissing?"
"Well," Stewart's face was entirely straight as he applied a paste of bicarbonate of soda and seltzer water to the rosy stains on the shirt's collar, lowering himself with silent dignity into a seat near the head of the servant's hall table. "when you put it that way, it does cast it in a certain light, doesn't it Mrs. Walsh?"
"You can just hush, Mr. Stewart. You are good at it."
The statuesque woman reached down and plucked a leaf from Addie's hair.
"As for you, young lady, what are you downstairs for now? Is Miss Polly quite alright?"
"Polly's fine. Anthony fell asleep on the big sofa in the library and she fell asleep on his legs."
"Then what can we do for you?"
"I just came down to ask Thomas about school, since I don't know anyone else who went besides him and Rose, and she's not here."
"What about Sir Anthony?"
"I already asked. I think it's different for girls, and if you're not boarding."
Thomas Barrow was incredibly attuned to his surroundings. He had to be. It was a simple reality of his life, but it had made him incredibly sensitive to tiny changes or contradictory signs within the body language and vocal tones of those around him. It had made him the worst kind of troublemaker: the skilled sort. It had also saved his neck on several occasions.
That day it did not, as his eyes were drawn away from Addie by a clattering crash from the Butler's Pantry. Seeing that everyone was busy and having been told not to bother the servants when they were working, the child hovered for a moment indecisively, and then went upstairs.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Is Edith writing?"
"Hm, yes."
Anthony had been altogether pleased that his wife had found herself a little nook of a room in Loxley to turn into her own office. A space just to write in with no disturbance. It was really a very small gift, that bit of quiet and privacy, but he'd never forget the delight in her face as he showed her where he'd had her desk located and the bookshelves he'd had the room fitted with, or the comfortable swivel chair.
"You can come in, you know."
Anthony dropped his voice to a playful whisper, amused to see the girl peeking around the door to his study, her feet firmly a full half-yard away from the door as she clutched the portal to prevent herself from falling inside.
"It's your study."
"Yes….?"
Addie looked at him like he was quite mad.
"I'm not allowed in studies. I mean, I wasn't allowed in Daddy's. They're not places for children."
Anthony was well-aware of the importance of having your own space. His father had always been fairly strict about his study. That said, there was a difference between strict and forbidden.
"Well," Anthony chuckled, "I would expect you to ask, and you are certainly not to enter my study when I'm not inside… but it's not verboten."
Her expression was purely skeptical.
"You can come inside, Addie, it's an invitation."
"I'll stay out here, thank you."
"Addie, don't be silly."
Anthony had limited experience with eleven-year-old girls. He remembered his sister all too well, but that was essentially the extend of his knowledge. Anthony simply found the whole exchange rather cute. He didn't put a great deal of significance behind it.
Anthony also didn't consider the vast differences between a young woman, such as Diana Strallan, who was raised in a family filled to the brim with love, affection, and consistency with the life Addie had lived. While he was very aware and forever thinking with concern for those he loved, his experience was not endless. It's one thing to grasp the fact that a child like Addie had spent her entire life with one member of her family after another dying and leaving her alone. It was another to anticipate and realize the complexity of emotion that granted to a child who was normally so straightforward and at an age that was still a few years from what one generally thought of as the "difficult years".
"I don't see what's silly. I said thank you. I'm not being rude. I was just looking for Edith."
Anthony blinked in surprise at the rather short response, and frowned.
"If she's writing, I'll talk to her later. Thank you."
And Anthony was left rather surprised when she popped back into the hallway and he had to strain to hear the soft hush of her feet on the floor. Which hinted at another concern. Rather put out and not sure why, Anthony rose and walked out into the hallway.
"Addie?"
"Yes?"
Anthony looked down from the third floor landing to the stairs between the second and first floor, where he found his sister-in-law standing and staring back up at him. He squinted.
"Addie, are you wearing shoes?"
"No, my school shoes are all wet so Mrs. Walsh took them to dry by the fire, but my other boots are all muddy from this morning and I don't like wearing the fancy shoes inside because they're so polished they can leave marks. Mr. Stewart said so."
"And I'm sure Stewart knows what he's about, but I'm not asking about – what I mean is, Addie, you can't go about in stockings."
"Why not?"
"Your feet will get cold."
"I'm always cold."
Anthony frowned harder as a knot of anxiety twisted in his gut.
"All the more reason for slippers. Are they wet too?"
"No."
"Then would you please get your slippers?"
"Do I have to?"
"Yes, Addie, you do."
Sighing so loudly he could hear it across the distance, she reversed course back up the stairs. Anthony opted to meet her and joined her on the walk to her room. Deciding to get to the bottom of her odd behavior, he offered her up a crooked smile.
"Perhaps I can help you with whatever you wanted to ask Edith about?"
She looked at him skeptically for a moment even as she walked into her room. Polly, who had been silently shadowing her mistress, wriggled up to Anthony and flopped on her back, begging for a belly rub. Kneeling down, he obliged. Addie, who was sitting on the bed pulling her slippers on, bit her lip and observed him with a tilted head. Adding that to the sharpness of her profile and cheekbones, Anthony found his smile broadening. She'd never looked so much like a little kestrel considering its prey.
"You went to school once."
"Hm, yes, very long ago."
Addie nodded in agreement and Anthony wasn't sure whether to laugh or wince.
"You still remember, though?"
Anthony winced.
"Yes, quite well."
"Do you think it would be too different, you being a boy?"
"Oh, I don't know. I think school must be school." Anthony let himself settle, sitting on the carpet beside the puppy and hoping that his joints didn't take cruel revenge later. After that last observation his pride demanded he prove himself something other than decrepit. "My mother went, you know, and she seemed to be of the opinion that people are people."
"I suppose they are. Daddy used to say that stupid doesn't change, no matter what color you paint it or how you dress it up."
Anthony cleared his throat and tilted his head, noting in the silent safety of his own mind that it might have been a good thing for his courtship that he hadn't had to contend with Zachary Kavanagh.
"That is one way to put it. Are you having trouble at school."
"I – it's not what I expected."
"Just… things."
Anthony frowned when Addie looked away from him, and fell into a waiting silence. He was, as was often the case, rewarded for his patience.
"It's just… I think one of my teachers doesn't like me. Or doesn't like that I'm American. She's really mean about my spelling and she's always telling me off for my accent and she makes me sit up front."
Anthony felt his lips twitch. He also felt a wave of relief. He'd devoted hours to fretting about how Addie would take to school. He and Edith had talked about it often before they were married.
"And the girls at school they – I don't know how to talk to them. Some of them are really above themselves. I mean, their daddies are solicitors like Matthew but they act like they're the Astors or something. They're nasty to the scholarship girls, you know, and they talk down about America because we don't have colonies, but why would we need colonies when we've got most of a continent that's ours anyway?"
"Erm, did you by chance tell any of these young ladies this when they spoke of the empire?"
"Well, if they're going to be mean I don't see why I should be nice!"
The relief settled in along with some very paternal feeling amusement. Take that, Archie! He felt the first hurdle of parenthood – or guardianship – was one he was perfectly suited to handle. Not to mention well-prepared for. He had, after all, some experience with diplomacy.
"I think, Addie, that what we have here is a misunderstanding."
"I think they aren't gifted in the understanding department, either."
"Addie. Manners."
She looked away and muttered an apology. He cleared his throat and held her gaze until she looked back.
"I'm sorry, Anthony, that was rude of me."
"Yes, it was."
"It won't happen again."
"Very good. However, as I was saying, I think you're just misunderstanding things."
"How?"
"Well, maybe your teacher is just trying to help you learn to spell in a way that will help you later on? After all, many of the best universities only use the King's English."
Addie seemed to consider that.
"So I'm sure that your teacher doesn't dislike you for being American. Even sitting you up front, well, you're new to school and you do have spectacles."
"I only need them to read."
"Perhaps she thinks you'll just see better altogether if you're closer."
"I suppose…"
Anthony smiled and reached out and tugged lightly on one red curl and watched her wrinkle her nose at him.
"Besides, Addie? Honestly?"
Addie's blue-gray eyes honed sharply in on his own and Anthony congratulated himself for knowing precisely what to say. Months of observation were not without benefit. Words like honestly, in confidence, and to be blunt about it got the girl's immediate attention. No matter how much time and his greatest efforts, she had been born and bred in America and any suggestion of "cutting to the chase" as they said was highly effective.
"Yes?"
"You're getting very grown up now, and some things you just have to sort out yourself, you know."
Addie blinked at him and then, reluctantly, nodded. Anthony, whose mental image of the problem was an entirely sensible one but built on common parental assumptions rather than data, smiled and grunted as he heaved himself to his feet, his knees popping as he did so. Accepting a kiss to the cheek when he leaned down, he ruffled her hair.
"Mind you keep those slippers on, and if your feet are that cold, put on another layer of stockings."
Anthony didn't give that exchange another thought for weeks. When he finally did, he had trouble thinking of anything else.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Mary Crawley strode into St. Michaels of All Angels Church in Downton the way that Napoleon strode onto the battlefield after a victory. She was dressed appropriately for the somber Sunday service, as she always was, but she'd sent Anna half-spare insisting that she be the very spirit of elegance inside the shackles of that appropriateness. As a result, she was wearing a demure ivory silk blouse that still folded becomingly around her with just a touch of the most delicate of lace at the collar. Her skirt and matching jacket were a deep burgundy. Scarlet would have been inappropriate, but this color was supportable and the perfect emphasis.
Because on Mary Crawley's left hand there was a gleaming ring featuring two matching circles of the deepest red. Balanced against each other and framed in smaller diamonds the engagement ring was the very definition of fashionable while also being as eye-catching as anyone could want. Tucked against the left breast of her silk-lined woolen jacket was a diamond ribbon from which was suspended a spiral of diamonds and jet. The front of the locket hiding the face of a brand new platinum watch.
"Do wait until after the wedding to tempt the almighty towards remonstrance of your pride, darling."
"Mama, honestly." Mary huffed, but smiled a tiny, repressed smile of triumph as she did so.
Granny had two visitors who'd decided to tag along to tea after attending the service. The Dowager caught her granddaughter's eye and they shared the tiniest of arch looks; each equally satisfied with the younger woman's triumph.
There was no time to speak as they slipped into the family's pew. They were at the very front of the church and on view, as they should be. It simply made speech impossible as Reverend Travis began his usual long-winded peon on sobriety (interesting in a man who liked an after dinner brandy as much as she knew he did), loyalty (specifically the sort that brought more money to the church), and respectability (all involved in being more obedient to said church). Mary ignored it all and people-watched enthusiastically out of the corner of her eyes.
Inappropriate though it might have been and chilly as the church was, Mary held her gloves. There really wasn't anyone of true merit in the church. At least not beyond Granny's specially chosen, particularly gossipy, guests. That said, it was a nice preview of what she could expect in London soon enough. That would be an unholy scrum of gossip, jockeying for social position, and a mad dash of planning in order to get everything accomplished to the proper degree on the proper schedule.
Mary couldn't wait.
After the service they could barely get out of the church, between all of the well-wishers and Granny's guests. In the end, however, Mary was seated in the car beside Sybil. Their parents were driving back with Granny to attend an early luncheon with her guests, which Mary had gracefully bowed out of. Her sister grinned playfully at her immediately as Branson started the car.
"It may have escaped my attention, but is there perhaps something different about you, sister?"
Mary arched an eyebrow and Sybil grinned more broadly.
"Did you have Anna put your hair up a new way?"
"No."
"I know, your corset was drawn just a bit tighter, wasn't it?"
Mary outright glared.
"It would explain how red-faced you got earlier when Cousin Isobel asked if your hands were cold."
Up front Branson chanced turning a repressed laugh into a cough and Mary caught his eyes in the mirror and glared.
"I do hope you're not coming down with a cold, Branson. That would be highly inconvenient with Edith now unavailable to drive us, busy as she is."
"Oh, you're not still cross about that, are you?"
"Cross, no, disgusted, yes."
Sybil's expression lost all humor. It did gain a great deal of disappointment and Mary flushed.
"I don't find it disgusting that Edith is happy. I wouldn't want her to be otherwise, even if I can't imagine the attraction of being wed to a man old enough to be my father. I just – I wish they'd practice a bit more discretion!"
"So does Papa. Then again, you and he are the ones who tend to blunder into places without knocking."
"It's my home! I shouldn't have to knock on every closed door just to enter a room!"
"That's what Papa said as well, and if you'll recall what Mama said-."
"Yes, yes," Mary raised a hand and flicked away Sybil's words like a particularly annoying gnat. "'Anyone who tracks a pair of newlyweds down after they've chosen to vanish has rather asked for whatever they get.' Sometimes Mama is the worst sort of American."
"I do wonder if you and Papa are being entirely truthful. Edith says they were reading-."
"Yes, with her perched in his lap! Which is just absolutely sickeningly sweet. It's like cheap treacle for the mind and it was entirely enough to horrify me." Mary huffed. "Now, are we really going to sit here and talk about Edith today of all days?"
"Not anymore." Sybil laughed. "Though you'll have to at least talk to her as she and Sir Anthony are coming for dinner tomorrow night. For now, tell me everything!"
Mary's ill humor evaporated as her sister held out her hands and she immediately offered up her left. Sybil took her hand and drew it closer to examine the sparkle of the gems in the weak light seeping from the gray clouds overhead and down through the automobile's windows.
"Mary, it's beautiful."
"Four carats of ruby, each flawless, and framed by diamonds, and we both know rubies are more valuable than diamonds – or sapphires, even the odd colors."
Mary ignored the humor and the censure in her sister's arched brow.
"How did he propose? I knew you and Mama were visiting his house, but I didn't know he planned to move that fast."
"Lawrence," Mary savored using his given name and the implied intimacy and equality in the syllables of it. "is not a man who lets what he wants pass him by. Nor does he waste time."
"But you're sure it's what you want? You didn't even know him six months ago."
"I hate to admit it, but Granny and Mama are right. I've wasted enough time. How long have I been out now? You should consider moving more quickly yourself, little sister, your debut is only a few months away."
Sybil made a face, her lips curling under and her nose wrinkling cutely even as she squirmed in her seat.
"I just don't know what I think about it. On one hand, I'm terribly excited for it. What girl wouldn't be? On the other… it's such an awful lot of fuss and parties and so much expense and all for what? I mean, couldn't the money for my debut be used for other, better things?"
"Like the suffrage cause?"
Sybil bristled at Mary's clear disdain, and she quickly changed tactics.
"Sybil, hasn't it struck you that you can do far more for the suffrage movement as a lady than one more angry girl in a white dress with a sign?"
Neither girl noticed how closely the driver was listening, or frowning. For Mary, it was merely a change in approach to better get her sister to do what was expected and to keep the family's fragile peace. For others… Mary's unintentional and brutal honesty was something else.
"That is hardly fair, Mary!"
"Then it is very much in line with the rest of life, Sybil."
Mary's voice grew less pert and, for the first time, Sybil heard a hint of what Cora and Violet heard when Mary spoke of her future. Neither side was truly hearing what went on in Mary Crawley's head or her heart.
It remained, however, that Mary Crawley had come back from France changed. To her mother and grandmother, that change meant maturity. It meant a realism and understanding of how they saw the world and their place in it that was precisely what they expected of a young woman, rather than a headstrong girl. In truth, it was perhaps as much desperation and a need for control as it was anything like growing up.
It wasn't dishonest, though, and it was that honesty that had Sybil leaning forward.
"That's a rather plebeian philosophy for you, Mary. I thought life was fair, for those of a certain class?"
"I've found that death, disease, misery, and society don't much care what class you are as long as they've got a chance to tear you down for their benefit." Mary shook her head, her face serious as she realized she finally had her well-intentioned, headstrong, little sister's undivided attention. Taking Sybil's hands, she leant forward. "Sybil, if you want to change the world, perhaps you shall. If you are to have any expectation of success, though, I suggest you start making strategic rather than moralistic decisions. I guarantee you that those who wish to deny you rights shall be doing the same thing."
"And what does my debut have to do with it?"
"Everything. Throwing fifty low class suffragettes in jail won't make nearly the impression that throwing one earl's daughter who's met the Queen will." Mary hurried to add. "Not that you should do anything to make that happen?"
"Oh?"
Mary wasn't comfortable with Sybil's look and squeezed her fingers hard enough that her sister yelped.
"Yes, oh! Think instead about the difference you could make if, I don't know, you actually did something worthwhile. Prove the – the value of the suffrage movement. Start showing how you can contribute in a visible high profile fashion."
"How?"
"How should I know, I'm not a suffragette?" Mary added. "But I will be a political wife in short order."
Sybil's eyes gleamed, shooting blue sparks all around the cab.
"Are you saying you'd help with the movement?"
"No." Mary wrinkled her nose and, at her sister's pout shook her head. "No, listen. I'm saying I could talk to Lawrence, and so should you!"
"About?"
"Feasible political strategy related to your goals."
Mary was rather proud of that pompous little sentence. She'd taken it right from her fiancé's lips and felt a real welling of affection for him.
"If you want a politician's cooperation you have to give them something they want."
"Like money or votes?"
"Both, preferably. The point is, if you want to talk to politicians, if you want to prove that they need you and would benefit from having ladies voting you have to be able to talk to those politicians."
"… Who are all the sort of men who'll talk to an earl's daughter but won't give a nurse or a maid the time of day."
Mary sat back, letting the silence speak for itself. Seeing that she had Sybil precisely where she wanted her, Mary took her victory for granted. Then she moved back to the important subject under discussion.
"It was precisely what I wanted from a proposal."
"Oh?"
Mary touched her new watch.
"It was his mother's."
"It's lovely."
"Yes, it is." Mary went on happily. "Leathe House is wonderful as well. I would never have accepted without seeing it, but I was not disappointed. It's even grander than the Abbey, and just a bit younger."
"Mama said it was Palladian?"
"An empress of Rome couldn't complain."
"So you've got a list of updates you expect before you move in?"
"Of course."
Both of the girls laughed and Sybil, crusading forgotten, squealed a bit and bounced happily in her seat.
"Come now, tell me everything!"
"Well, the house-."
"Not the house, the man! How did Lord Holderness propose? You and Mama were there four days!"
"He proposed on the third."
"By?"
"He took me riding." Mary offered up an amused smile. "He's been neglecting his stables – he rides well but is too busy, he says, but I can bring my animals from home. Papa wont' mind."
"Not with the expense it will spare him. He only has a few horses now that he dotes on."
"Exactly." Mary went on. "Anyway, he took me riding on a positively divine bay hunter that a friend loaned him, but I'm going to make sure he buys me."
"Mmmm."
"Oh, don't look that way, you don't propose to a lady on a fine horse and then tell her she can't keep it!"
"Of course not."
Mary ignored the mockery in Sybil's tone and looked down at her ring with a slight smile.
"That's really quite all there was to it. We went riding. He took me to the best overlook of the house and told me all of the reasons I would make him the perfect wife. I agreed with his good sense and accepted. Then we came back, had champagne with Mama, he called Papa – who he'd already asked for permission up in London - and Lawrence put the announcement in the paper."
"Yes, it ran this morning."
"We'll get married in December." Mary went on. "In London – what?"
"I – It's just hard for me to imagine you marrying anywhere but Downton."
"I'm a member of both Parishes." Mary shrugged. "So are you. Besides, it will be easier with the Lords in Session and all of his people in London then anyway."
The car pulled to a stop in front of the imposing façade of the home that had always been all that Mary had ever wanted. Mary looked up at it and felt a wistful pang. She pushed it away with images of a house of pale, almost white, stone and grand columns.
"Still, isn't it hard to think about leaving home?"
"A girl can never be at home in a house like this until she marries, Sybil." Mary brushed aside her feelings along with her sister's concern as she swept up the steps to the doors. "Just ask Granny."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
It was one of those days that had started out so well, or at least had seemed to.
"Oh, your hours are as appalling as Addie's, husband."
Lady Edith Strallan hauled herself out of the oversized, sinfully comfortable bed she shared with her husband in the dark hours of the morning and touched a hand towards her tangled curls. Behind her, Anthony Strallan leaned forward and pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss t other neck, sighing his repletion even as he dropped a hand from where he was cupping her breast and stroked his palm softly down to cup her hip.
"You could go back to bed, you know. I'm absolutely certain a wife is expected to take her breakfast on a tray."
Edith looked back over her shoulder to take in the vision of her husband. Tall, broad-shouldered, and golden, his blue eyes were chips of glittering sky in the darkness of their room's single lit lamp. He squeezed her hip, his cheeks pinking.
"You've certainly, erm, earned it, this morning."
Edith flushed back and laughed softly, tucking her head down shyly. There was nothing demure about the view, of course. They were both perfectly naked and utterly debauched. She could see a painless purple circle on the outside of her right breast. She'd left a little bruise that was quite clearly teeth on his ribs. The covers had fallen far enough that her husband's lap was exposed and with her head down she found her gaze drawn to where his organ lay in soft repose, the foreskin relaxed back over the tip and his member still shiny from, well, her. The dark golden curls it rested in were rumpled and visibly wet.
"No, no, I need to drive Addie to school."
Edith took her robe from its place draped within easy reach and stood up, tucking herself into it with a wince.
"I say, sweet one did I hurt you?"
"No!" Edith flushed and pressed her thighs together. It did no good. "It's just, erm, I need a wash…"
Anthony's eyes went down to her well-covered legs as she sinched the quilted robe more tightly around her and his face went beet read. Snickering, he rubbed a hand at the back of his head and nodded dumbly.
"Erm, entirely my fault?"
"Yes, it is."
Edith couldn't quite help the satisfied little smile she exchanged with her husband, along with their blushes, as she went into the en suite first at his gracious wave.
That exhausting, but lovely, start to the day just did not last.
"Edie, is university different from school?"
"I assume so, though I never went to school. Why, is something wrong?"
"No!" Addie insisted quickly. "It's just… not how I thought it would be."
Edith might have explored that statement further, but they were already at the school. A moderately sized brick building that had once been a button factory served as Rosebridge Girls' Academy's home. Precisely twenty girls, mostly of the upper end of middle income, boarded there. Thirty-three more girls between the ages of eight and seventeen attended day classes as Adelaide did. The Bugatti was rather distinctive compared to the other conveyances dropping girls off that morning.
"How did you think it would be?"
"I don't quite know." Addie rallied as Edith drew to a stop, picking up her stack of books by their strap and the little leather haversack that Anthony had gotten her. "It's fine, though. I can handle it! Tell Anthony I can!"
"What do you mean by that?"
"Goodbye, don't let Polly be lonely! Give her scritches!"
"I will, but…"
Edith laughed helplessly as she watched her sister scamper into the building along with several other girls. Offering a smile and a nod towards the assistant headmistress, who made a point to be in front of the building every morning, Edith put the car back into gear and returned to Loxley. She resolved to ask her husband if he'd talked to her sister about school, but all thoughts of such were driven from her mind as the previously clear sky decided to be English about the weather.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Edith!"
Lady Grantham had arrived at Loxley early, hoping to catch its new lady alone. She was greatly relieved by the felicity of her daughter's marriage, given the age gap between herself and her husband. That didn't change the fact that it made it rather difficult to speak to one Strallan without the other being present. There was also the very real fact that, if her younger sister was about, girls of not-quite-eleven were not known for their discretion.
"Mama?"
"Edith, what in the world?"
"I-I rather should have taken the Rolls, I'm afraid."
Edith's smile was charming, but the collapsed, soaked, mass of curls and plaits that might have started that morning as an acceptable hair style was not. Lady Grantham arrived on the heels of Loxley's lady to meet her in her entry hall. The elder of the ladies was perfectly composed, and the very spirit of elegance in a long brown coat with fur collar, and beneath it a dark green skirt suit and blouse. Lady Strallan was soaked to the bone, her pale rose skirt and jacket touched with mud from the road and the coat she'd just given over to Barrow smelled distinctly of motor oil.
"Edith?"
"It looked so clear I risked the Bugatti, but the sky opened up and positively flooded everything. I hit a turtle and jarred a connection loose and the engine gave out. I had to stop and get it to start again, but rather made a mess of myself in the process."
"Oh, darling, THIS is why you should use the chauffer your husband so ably provides." Cora tutted and, without thought came forward to brush some sodden coppery-blonde hair out of her daughters eyes. "Now, I know it's not may place as you're a married lady, but I do insist you go right into a warm bath."
"But you're here-."
"And I'll stay as long as you need me."
A cleared throat proceeded Loxley's Amazonian housekeeper, who announced that a bath had already been drawn. Cora smiled and excused herself to the library to wait. Edith still being Edith, she quite ignored all instructions and was down in less than fifteen minutes, redressed in a simple high skirt with large wooden buttons at the waist and a plain white blouse. Cora resisted the urge to tut.
"Mama, thank you for waiting. Did I forget that you're visiting?"
"No, darling, I just wanted to drop by and make sure you hadn't forgotten about dinner this evening."
"I hardly could, given that Carson called the house no less than twice already to remind our staff of the fact."
"Oh dear." Cora hid a smile with her hand and huffed. "Now, Edith, rolling your eyes is crass."
"I know, Mama, I'm sorry."
"And this is a very important dinner for your sister. Don't you want to celebrate with her as she did with you?"
"I don't want anything less than happiness for Mary, Mama, you just can't expect us to ever be terribly close. Mary wouldn't want that, either."
"I don't know if that's quite the case, Edith."
"Oh no, Mama, it really is. You mustn't worry. For the first time in our lives we truly understand each other. The lack of misery is refreshing for everyone involved, I'm sure!"
Part of Cora wanted to argue. Mary, in her eyes, gave every sign of caring what Edith thought. She knew her eldest daughter well, she liked to think, and while she knew she was biased and hadn't always addressed her children's various bad habits, or acknowledged some of Mary's worst behaviors, she did know that her eldest daughter wasn't the living glacier she pretended to be.
One of Mary's worst qualities was her selfishness. However, Mary was also loyal if you came to mean something to her. Cora could have pointed out a dozen times Mary had demonstrated that to Mr. Carson, and her treatment of Anna since the maid had helped them with that wretched man's body could not be overlooked. Mary Crawley understood loyalty, if not perhaps affection as well as she should.
Cora wanted to tell Edith that her willingness to help Mary go to France in secret when she'd been in such horrendous jeopardy had meant more to Mary than Edith understood. She wanted to point out to Edith that Mary now put more weight into Edith's opinions than her actions may have indicated. Unfortunately, just as Cora had grown as a parent, she had also lost a certain amount of confidence when she'd lost one of her children. Having Edith brought back to her meant the world to her and now she was both hesitant to upset her second daughter too badly, worried about disturbing he new peace between all of her daughters, and simply unsure of how to explain Mary's complicated mindset to anyone, let alone someone with such history with Mary as Edith had.
Instead, she smiled.
"I'm just happy to see all my girls getting on. I don't know where the time has gone. Sybil will be debuting in no time at all, then what shall I do when all my girls have married and left home?"
"Make Papa take you on holiday."
Edith prompt answer made Cora laugh and she leant forward, delighted in the mature laughter she was sharing with her daughter.
"Well, without three daughters to support, we can likely afford it!"
Edith nodded back and Cora cleared her throat, deciding this was the perfect time to broach her topic.
"I really came over for two reasons."
"Yes?"
"First, to check on you. Not that it's necessary; you've more than proven yourself happily married, haven't you?"
Cora was infinitely satisfied with the violent blush that overtook her daughter's face.
"Mama! For the last time, Anthony and I were just reading-."
"In his lap?"
"It's comfortable!"
"For him, surely very comfortable."
"Mama… Stop it. You sound like Grandmama!"
"Oh, I don't know what I did to deserve that!" Cora laughed and patted her daughter's cheek. "Enough, though, I won't tease anymore. You're obviously well, and you said you won't be late for dinner tonight, so I only have one horridly awkward thing to bring up."
"Yes?"
"Mary wants to get married in London, darling, and I know Anthony doesn't usually do the season, but we'd both appreciate if you'd make an effort to be in town for as many of the events as possible."
Edith's expression instantly wavered.
"Oh, Mama, I'm not sure."
Tea was served then and Cora took a moment to pointedly ignore Barrow as he brought it in. Edith, she noted, made a point to thank him, but not rub his presence in her mother's face. Lady Strallan poured the tea herself, as gracefully as Cora had taught her, and the countess let out a sigh as her daughter went on.
"It's not that I don't want to be there. Or I don't know why it's important, rather."
Cora raised an eyebrow at the latter statement, but Edith went on with that occasional obliviousness she sometimes demonstrated.
"It's simply that I don't know if we can. Anthony's already been away from Loxley so much this year, and entirely for us."
"He did what any honorable gentleman would have done."
"Yes, but he still did it. You know that there will be just weeks of events between Mary's love of entertainment and her husband's politics."
"Yes, and I wouldn't ask you and Anthony to appear at all of them, but if you were in London, at least for the last month or so, it would be much more convenient for everyone, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, but there's also Addie to consider. Her health is always at its worst in winter and England is terribly damp. Then there's the bad air in town."
"Yes, but London is warmer than Yorkshire."
"True, but this is our first Christmas as a – a family." Edith flushed. "I know Anthony's looking forward to having a proper Christmas here with Addie."
Cora's father had been a consummate salesman. She knew when to make her arguments and when they would hinder her. So, instead of pushing further, she smiled. She'd bring it up again at dinner, then wait a few days, and bring it up with Anthony. The key was to apply pressure properly, and without it seeming as if it was pressure.
"Of course, you do, darling, and isn't it sweet of him to care so much?"
Cora exchanged a few more pleasantries and went on her way, already planning to speak to her husband and her mother-in-law. Holderness had very generously offered to slip her husband some of the money for the wedding, given how it would be held in London and in such grand style as Mary and her future husband wished. His only request was that they make sure they rallied all of the family's connections for his nuptials.
Knowing how close Mary had come to ruin and her suffering, knowing her failure with Edith for so many years, Cora Crawley was utterly determined that she would never fail one of her children again.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Oh Anthony, what happened?"
Anthony Strallan flushed deeply as his wife rushed down the stairs towards him, her smooth brow creased and her delicate mouth just slightly open in upset. He did his best to turn up a half-smile for her, but it turned into a crooked grimace.
"Nothing to worry about, sweet one, just a bit of minor trouble in one of the fields."
"Well, I'd hate to see major trouble. Anthony, your clothes."
Anthony turned and caught sight of himself in the hall mirror. He was compelled by honesty to give his reflection a little nod of chagrined acknowledgment. Reaching down he stuck a finger idly through the four in tear in his tweed jacket. Blinking, he removed a food long section of bramble from between the fabric and the lining.
"Well, that explains a few things…"
"Anthony?"
"Sir Anthony?"
"Good gracious, sir!"
The baronet sighed as he looked up. Mrs. Walsh, Mr. Kerr, and Stewart had joined his wife in the hallway. Only Stewart was remotely useful. The footman at the door was just a young fellow and knew nothing to do in this odd position he found himself in beyond standing still and holding Anthony's sodden, muddy coat. Anthony's valet, at least, was useful.
"Sir Anthony," Stewart immediately knelt down and helped Anthony out of his shoes, rolling up the cuffs that were muddy to the knee with nary a blink and a perfectly level voice. "shall I draw you a bath?"
"Yes, please."
"Very well, sir."
"I -."
Anthony had leaned over slightly to reassure his wife when she'd rushed up to him. Now, as he attempted to stand to his full height again he stifled a groan. Automatically, one of his hands pressed behind him where flank met spine.
"Oh, this is quite enough."
"Sweet one?"
And just like that Anthony, who'd quite enjoyed watching Edith go from his darling sweetheart to a wife, watched her suddenly become Lady Strallan.
"Mrs. Walsh, call Dr. Clarkson."
"Now, sweet one, that's entirely unnecessary-."
"Addie's taken sick at school."
"What?"
All of Anthony's attention, which had been fixed on avoiding further fuss and humiliation, swung around and he straightened despite the pain to fix his wife with a worried, incredulous look.
"Why didn't you say so? I'll call Waters-."
"Water is already bringing the car around, Anthony, and you're in no shape to gather Addie up from school. I don't want to wait…"
"No, no, you shouldn't make her wait, not if she's sick but – did they say what was wrong?"
Anthony felt out of his depth suddenly as worry overtook him. They'd talked about Addie's health not responding well to the cold and damp, but she'd done so well in early spring in Downton. What if autumn at Loxley was too much? He knew he should have considered it further, but the lure of home-.
"Your car, Lady Strallan?"
Percy, the new footman who'd gratefully handed his master's coat off to Stewart, cleared his throat and announced from the door. Edith stepped forward and kissed his cheek.
"Anthony, as soon as I get back you will tell me what's wrong. For now I'll trust you to take care of yourself while I go get my sister."
"Yes, of course…"
Anthony couldn't argue for his own presence when haste seemed the best option, but he found himself neatly outmaneuvered as soon as the agreement fell from his lips.
"Good. Stewart, please see Sir Anthony to that hot bath, then bed, and if Dr. Clarkson gets here before Addie and I get back, I trust you to refer his services where needed."
Anthony found himself being nudged upstairs and kissed upon the cheek as his wife breezed off.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Thomas Barrow didn't wait to be asked, but ignored Mr. Kerr's soft sigh and Mrs. Walsh's harumph as he quit Loxley's hall and met the silver car in the drive. As soon as the car door was opened, Lady Strallan set a bucket out and Thomas pushed it aside with his foot.
"Shall I take her, ma'am?"
"I c'n walk." Addie's voice was a raw rasp and her face was the color of three day old oatmeal. Thomas gave her as skeptical a glance as such a statement deserved, but did at least wait for her sister's nod before gathering her up with a grunt.
"Excellent. A vast accomplishment, moppet." Thomas dropped his voice to mutter back at her, frowning again as he noted how small and light she was for her age. It had been getting better but… had she lost weight in the last few weeks? He raised his voice. "Charris drew Miss Addie a bath, Lady Strallan, I hope it was not presumptuous of me to order it."
"No, that's a fine idea."
Addie didn't protest and Thomas turned and entered the hall, his employer on his heels as he carried her up to her room. Awkwardly, he settled her down on the floor and looked into the girl's face. She looked up with exhausted eyes and managed a weak smile.
"I tried the lunch they make there. It's – it's alright. It'll stop soon. There's nothing left."
Her clothing was mercifully free of stains, but that was just another sign of how disturbingly used to dealing with such a situation the child was. Beyond that? Thomas' eyes caught a dozen other tiny details. The way Addie kept her eyes fixed very carefully on his face as she spoke, as if working not to look away. The way her clothing looked too neat. Shouldn't the pleats in her skirt be disturbed if she'd been sitting much of the day?
"Thank you, Barrow, that will be all for now."
With her sister stepping forward and nudging the girl towards the bath, however, Thomas found he could do nothing more. Feeling helpless and hating it, he quit the room.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Anthony attempts to hover anxiously had only increased the level of mischief he'd already done to himself. When Dr. Clarkson did arrive, some ten minutes after Edith, he found he had two patients. Just as Edith had expected, Addie was downright belligerent at the idea of needing a medical examination for throwing up. Equally, Edith was relieved when Dr. Clarkson didn't insist but instead asked if they could talk for a moment about her meal diary. Before the wedding, Cousin Isobel had promised to have a word with the kind Scotsman about Addie's bad experiences with medical care. It was a relief to find the man had listened and to see Addie at least willingly talking to him.
Then Edith discovered that she had a second difficult patient on her hands.
"Anthony what on earth!?"
Her husband was laying shirtless on the bed and, from the back crest of his left hipbone to halfway up his ribs, he was a mass of lurid purple and black bruising.
Flushing darkly, Anthony tugged at the covers of their bed. Dr. Clarkson, in a gesture of Victorian Solidarity, assisted. Flustered, the good doctor bristled and spoke with deep medical authority.
"Lady Strallan, this is a private medical examination!"
Equally flustered and deeply worried after a difficult day, Edith met pomposity with all the asperity it deserved.
"Yes, heaven forfend a married woman see her husband unclothed! I assure you, the bruise is shocking, the – the topography it is situated upon is familiar."
The good doctor made a noise somewhere between a cough, a laugh, and a splutter. Out by the kitchen door a tomcat waiting for scraps paused and sniffed the air, disappointed that no-one local seemed to be in heat. Anthony just blushed violently and looked torn between smugness and embarrassment. Edith ignored all of it and walked over to sit on the bed and take her husband's hand.
"Anthony what happened?"
"How is Addie?"
"Sleeping peacefully. We'll try some beef tea and dry biscuits later. Now stop stalling, Anthony Phillip Strallan! I thought you were just going to check a length of fencing?"
"I was, darling."
"Then…?"
"Well, with – there's a lot of work to settle on an estate this time of year. What with the harvest either in or coming in, and there was a hedge row in rather bad shape I wanted a look at down by one of the drover paths…"
His wife stared at him.
Dr. Clarkson rummaged through his black gladstone bag industriously.
Anthony turned slightly on the bed, then winced as pain shot up and down his back, causing the muscles in his thigh to cramp painfully. Edith's eyes welled with tears that were as much stress as sympathy. It proved immaterial because her husband took one look at his young wife's concerned features and caved like an unsupported mine shaft.
"The reason the path's in such terrible shape is that one of your father's tenants has been sneaking his beef out of his pasture to graze in one of mine."
"What?"
"I would have given the man a chance, had he asked nicely, you understand. His land's poorly situated to graze and with this rain his only decent pasture has been flooded." Anthony hurried to explain, as if he believed an injustice on his part explained Edith's appalled expression. "I don't want you to-."
"Anthony, did a cow step on you?"
"Um, a steer, and he didn't step on me-."
"Anthony."
"He rather just headbutted me a bit. Largely because the lad driving him and the others bolted when he saw Nelson and myself and realized he was caught and he spooked the beasts when he took a dive through a weak point in the hedge."
"Sir Anthony."
"It really isn't so bad, sweet one..."
Turning away from her husband and towards the doctor, Lady Edith Strallan shot the man a look that had the Dr. Standing up that much straighter. Though he wasn't himself young enough to remember Lady Violet Grantham in her youth, he was old enough to have known her before her strawberry blonde hair went entirely to silver, then to frost. As such? He was aware of just how much Lady Violet, Lady Rosamund, and Lady Strallan resembled each other. Long experience had taught him to obey that look.
"Dr. Clarkson, how is my husband?"
"Right here, darling."
"How, not where."
Catching the blue eyes of the baronet he saw a strict instruction to minimize. Looking back into the golden-brown gaze… he saw a familiar promise of painful retribution if anything less than complete honesty was produced. Knowing very well the forgiveness ratio that existed between Strallan men and Crawley women was vaster than the oceans that the British Navy sailed, Dr. Clarkson thoroughly proved his intelligence.
"Your husband has severely pulled a muscle in his back, possibly detaching it slightly from his ribs, though I cannot be sure."
"Yes, but-."
"He's also bruised his kidney. If he should continue to have blood in his urine past tomorrow, or if the color should darken or change any, call me immediately."
"It's not life threatening!"The baronet huffed, clearly unhappy with this rank betrayal of doctor patient confidentiality. "Sweet one, it's painful, but I shall be right as rain in a few days."
"With adequate rest, he shall, Lady Strallan, you really shouldn't worry overmuch."
There was no sympathy or soothing the look that followed.
"What precisely might be the instructions for adequate rest?"
Taking the better part of valor, Dr. Clarkson clicked his bag closed and stood, clearing his throat and refusing to meet the severely aggravated baronet's eyes.
"Bed rest until tomorrow afternoon, and then no going about outside and as little movement up and down stairs as possible for a week. In a fortnight it should be as if it never happened, unless he did detach a muscle, then it shall take somewhat longer."
"Then we shall see you again in seven days, barring anything untoward. Thank you for coming out, doctor."
Clarkson quit the room with a few hasty words of goodbye, glad to be free of Sir Anthony's wounded glowering. Which left Edith to turn to her husband, who had the ability to look adorably sheepish and mulish at the same moment. Edith had never seen that combination before.
"Edie, darling girl, you really are fretting-."
"Don't you dare say, 'over nothing'."
"No, it's just-."
Edith sat down beside her husband again, then though better of it and slipped from the bed to her knees. With her husband laying awkwardly on his belly it put them at much the same height. She leaned in for a gentle, quick kiss and he looked at her as if he had no idea how to respond.
"I love you, Anthony, and I don't want to see you hurt."
"And I don't want to distress you with such things. You're my wife. It's my duty to protect you for the unpleasantness of – of – well, all unpleasantness."
"Oh, Anthony."
"I want to see Addie."
"Well, I'm not waking her up and you're not getting out of this bed."
His face creased in worry.
"But if she's unwell – I can't have her thinking I don't care dearly. I should be with her…"
"You really are the dearest man." Edith's lips turned up and then she paused, opening her mouth and then biting her lip.
"Yes?"
"Just… just a thought…"
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"What do you mean they won't be here?"
"It's not their fault, Cora."
"I went down there this afternoon specifically to make sure that Edith didn't conveniently forget our dinner arrangements again."
Lord Grantham held in a wince at that little reminder. It had been awkward enough to find his daughter cuddling with her husband, who his old friend, during after dinner drinks. At least then there had been a book involved and they'd likely been reading it, bluestockings that they both were.
It had been far more awkward to have Edith and Anthony both arrive at another dinner engagement with identically flushed faces, mussed hair, and a lipstick smudge lingering behind the gentleman's ear. No-one present had been even slightly deceived as to why they were late. Not the least because Robert had asked Carson to telephone and he'd told the whole room that the Strallans had left Loxley at a perfectly reasonable time a good twenty minutes before the newlyweds had shown up. Add that to the mud on the tires and it didn't take a great genius to know that the car had spent some time parked somewhere and, with no chauffer, well!
Robert was determined not to think about that, so he moved on quickly.
"It's not a matter of forgetfulness, Cora. They've had something of a day over at Loxley, apparently."
"Oh? The telephone call was from Loxley?"
"Oh, they won't arrive in that dreadfully obvious condition again, will they Papa? Lawrence shall be here any moment."
Robert looked up and sighed as both his daughters entered the library. He sent a momentary prayer of gratitude towards heaven. His mother had called earlier to say she wasn't feeling up to a formal dinner and would be unavailable of the evening as well. Small mercies…
"And we'll be very happy to have your fiancée here, even if the party shall be slightly smaller."
Cora's soothing, echoed by Sybil, just produced a stronger frown, so Robert stepped in.
"Can't be helped." He grimaced. "Poor old boy found out how Johnston has been managing to keep four steer so well fed on my worst pasture this year."
"What does one of your tenants have to do with Sir Anthony and Edith coming to dinner?"
"Johnston's been sneaking the beef onto some of Anthony's pasture with his own. He apparently has his boy watching the fields. As soon as Anthony's stock are there, he goes back and gets his own, then takes them back of the evening before they'll be noticed."
"And, Papa less agriculture, more information!"
"Agriculture is how our family has supported-."
"Robert."
"Yes, Cora…" Robert huffed. "The boy panicked and spooked the cattle on a narrow part of the path and Anthony got knocked into the hedge. His back's out and he'll need a few days to heal from the bruising."
Mary absorbed that for a moment, frowning and nonplussed, before she let out an irritable sigh.
"Only Edith and that man could manage to cause this much annoyance in the most absurdly humdrum way possible."
Robert caught his wife's eyes and held in a smile. Then, quite unable to resist, he chuckled and reached out to gently pat his eldest on the shoulder.
"Well, at least it will be a funny story for the other guests, hm?"
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"No, I'm fine here."
"Are you sure?"
Addie pushed her nose further into Polly's fur. Her puppy was growing very well, and she was justifiably proud of the lanky mound of reddish-tan and black fur her puppy was becoming. As she lost her puppy coat it became obvious that she was going to be rather fluffier than the average German Shepherd. Addie felt this was a good thing, as she was quite happy to brush her as much as she needed. She had a special brush and comb just for the job now, because Edith hadn't been happy when she'd caught her using her own. Really, she didn't see a problem. Her hair was almost the same color as parts of Polly's fur, even!
"Is Anthony alright?"
"Just bruised and terribly sore."
"Tell him I'm sorry he got run over by a cow."
"Butted by a steer."
"Trampled by a buffalo."
Edith snorted in laughter as Addie escalated things and Addie bit her lip as her sister smoothed her hair.
"Are you sure you won't take any beef tea?"
"No. Tomorrow."
"Addie…"
"I can't everything still feels…"
Addie pulled a face and her sister sighed, but didn't press any further. Edith did lean down and kiss her cheek, and Addie returned the favor. Polly, good dog that she was, barely moved. Petting at her puppy, Addie closed her eyes hard as the door shut and she listened to her sister's steps fading down the hallway.
Petting at Polly, she sighed when the puppy squirmed around to face her, then turned over. In short order Addie was laying back against the pillows and Polly had migrated underneath the covers with her. Looking up at the half-tester's short canopy, Addie murmured to her pet as Polly settled her head on her chest. Stroking between her upright, oversized ears, Addie repeated the same mantra she'd been repeating to herself since she started school.
"I'm not weak. I'm not sick. I'm not less. I'll win. They will lose."
Closing her eyes in the dark, Addie added quietly.
"I'll solve my own problems."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"And you should have seen that miserable whore's face."
Sarah O'Brian hummed with deep and entirely false sympathy as Lady Flintshire went on in her usual vein. Self-pity and rampant bitterness were the usual fare when preparing the other woman for dinner. A meal served up with vitriol between the spouses, if not taken separately.
"Not that anyone else seemed to care that she as making a mockery of herself. The whole place could see every bone in her ankle through those thin stockings and that skirt was a good two inches higher than acceptable. Did anyone give the ladies dressed as ladies proper due? No, they made over her as if she was something more than some industrialist's latest floosy."
Sarah had had a great deal to think of since returning to London. Oh, part of that was dwelling on the unfortunate position her life had fallen into. Part of it was the constant maintenance that Lady Flintshire's fragile ego required in order to remain in her good graces and to keep the woman from disgracing herself more than she already did, lest it reflect poorly on her lady's maid.
The rest?
Well, Liam would have to keep. Sarah had decided that the best option for revenge at Downton would have to come at a distance and Good Lord had at least provided one way to make trouble. The young man was obviously a loon. He could only hold onto his sanity by the skin of his teeth for so long before it all fell apart, and Sarah knew that she could use that to her advantage.
All she had to do was make sure that she kept some pressure on the new footman. Eventually, when he snapped, he'd do it somewhere public. It could end up being a pub or a family dinner. At which point all her hopes would be for nothing. It cost her little to post the boy a letter every day or two, ingratiating herself and wheedling into his mind as his only friend.
O'Brian had done it before many times. What had it gotten her? Years of friendship with the downtrodden and forgotten of the service world, forgiving their foibles, and what did they do? They turned on her, just like Thomas Barrow. As if every wrong thing she'd done didn't have his greasy fingerprints on it right beside her. As if she deserved some grief that he didn't. They both knew all too well that her sins didn't compare to his!
And the quality were worse. Years of toil. All that time spent, so long devoted to that woman. As if Lady Grantham would have had half the social success she'd had over the years with O'Brian and other maids creating that perfect image she so flawlessly used.
Sarah O'Brian was tired of being used.
Let everyone else suffer for once.
If she couldn't have a grand revenge?
"I don't suppose you've heard anything else out of Yorkshire, O'Brian?"
Let it be an endless series of small reckonings. Unrelenting. Irritating. It wasn't what she wanted, but she'd take what she could get. Sarah O'Brian was painfully used to that.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did."
"Really? I don't suppose it should surprise me that you got something sooner than I did. I only hear from my aunt or from cousin Cora or cousin Robert when Shrimpy feels like telling me that they've called. If he can be bothered to speak to his wife even that much."
"I know, my lady, it's terribly disrespectful. I just don't understand how they could treat you so."
"Of course not, O'Brian, you always understand, but what have you heard?"
"Well, it seems Dr. Clarkson's been over at Loxley a lot." That much was true.
"Oh, trouble in paradise?"
"No, it just seems that Lady Strallan's been a bit under the weather. I suppose nothing too surprising."
Susan Flintshire was no genius, but let nobody say she was slow on the uptake where gossip was concerned. Her watery little eyes lit up.
"Oh, well… I suppose it's not a shock. They did marry ever so quickly and we do know all about poor Edith's sad origins."
"Oh, but it's still a happy thing, I'm sure. Unless we're wrong. I'd hate to spread rumors." Sarah demurred and got her hand patted as the woman turned to smile at the mirror.
O'Brian also admired her handywork. It took skill to make Susan Flintshire presentable.
"Of course you would. Besides, it is happy. They did marry, even if… in haste, and at Sir Anthony's age I imagine he wouldn't want to wait, not for an heir. Especially after the late Lady Strallan's troubles."
"Oh, I hadn't thought of that."
"And, besides, he'd want to get Edith settled quickly. I mean, with her being so much younger than him and her head all full of those silly ideas from university in the States… what better way to see her acting like a proper wife than a baby or two or three?"
"Keep her occupied and close to home."
"Exactly!" Lady Flintshire smiled, but her eyes brightened. "And the Chetwoods are going to be at dinner at the Gervas' tonight too. I can be the very first to offer my public congratulations."
Smiling with the exact same feral curl to her lips as the woman around whose neck she was settling a string of pearls, O'Brian sighed.
"I'm sure they'll be very happy to receive it."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
More Author's Notes: So, there we have it!
Mary – is engaged and feels like she has everything she wants laid out in front of her. She's got goals. She's happy, and she's planning a gigantic London Wedding. What could go wrong with the whole family FINALLY working together?
Anthony – is really working on what amounts to being a step-dad, but it's *new*. He's never been a dad before and he doesn't quite know what he's doing, though he has a lot of confidence. This… could be a problem. Not to mention that, honestly? He's got some buried jealousy issues towards his late father-in-law that even he can't quite see clearly due to how close he is and how tied up it is in his considerable fatherhood/pregnancy related trauma.
Edith – is becoming a wife! That said? Edith is also young and has a thousand things she wants to do. Is she mature? Life has forced her to be. That doesn't change the fact that she is still in a situation where it easy for her to get overwhelmed or feel her place in things is being trivialized.
We'll see where it goes from here!