A/N: So there are seventeen days of Christmas right? My apologies for the delay between this chapter and the last. I really *am* trying to be more efficient than usual on this one, truly. As planned there are two more parts, so we'll get to the happy ending soon!

Also, WELCOME to all new readers! If my little scribblings can bring you even a little pleasure, then I am honored. As I am by all of you who have read and supported me for some time. You're really too good to me. I hope you enjoy!

Part IV – Calling Birds

Edith cupped her hands around her specially gifted Christmas mug, toasty with her afternoon tea, and snuggled into her specially gifted Christmas robe. Sure it was 2:00 in the afternoon, but it was also a Saturday. The fluffy mantle was just what she needed to stave off the perpetual chill her house held, as if haunted by the ghost of all the Christmases it had seen over its five decades. Or perhaps the reason she'd been wearing it all day was because the robe was a reminder of her mysterious friend, and that wearing it made her feel almost like she was wrapped in a reassuring embrace.

Which reminded her—she had some investigating to do. She had the perfect opportunity as Marigold had laid down for a nap; a habit she had re-acquired during her illness, which sapped her energy and sometimes rattled her nerves. These days a nap wasn't as necessary, but Marigold had asked to go lie down, and as they said, let a sleeping child lie.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her mobile. She googled the number for Nugent's Tavern, and a few minutes later was talking with the head waiter who introduced himself as Andrew.

"…I'm trying to get some information for a piece I'm writing," Edith used her standard fib. It worked wonders for wheedling information out of people or gaining access places she wouldn't normally be allowed.

"A reporter?" he sounded somewhere between amused and bored. "What can I do for you, Miss Crawley?"

"You have a chicken dish. One of your signature recipes; rosemary and honey lemon."

"One of our house specials," he confirmed, though he seemed preoccupied. She supposed he did have a wait staff to run.

"Well, I guess you would say it is quite popular? A favorite of several of your customers?"

"Mmmm," he intoned.

"You couldn't tell me if there was perhaps one patron in particular who ordered that dish frequently? Someone local, and…" she went with her gut, "male?"

There was a brief pause at the other end of the line.

"Forgive me m'am, but I haven't the faintest idea what you're getting at. We have lots of regular customers, most of them are locals, and I couldn't tell you which gentleman ordered the signature chicken most often even if it wasn't a breach of confidentiality."

Edith felt herself color. He was right. She was fishing for information without any real bait.

"Ok, last question and I promise I'll leave you alone. You received an order yesterday for that chicken, a takeout."

Another brief pause. "Yes. Don't usually do takeout. But the customer was most insistent."

"Right," Edith said, feeling her pulse quicken, "I'm the one who received that chicken. It was a gift. And I wonder if you might tell me about the person who ordered it? Anything at all."

She heard the man's breathing as he considered.

"Well, I didn't take the order. But the man who picked it up… Tall fellow, dark hair. I'd say late thirties. And-not that it has any bearing on this bizarre goose you're tracking-I'm pretty sure he was gay."

Somehow that last fact slapped Edith in the face. She felt the shock of it steal some of her breath away.

"Right. Well, thank you." She mumbled. "I'll let you go…" Edith hung up the phone.

Somehow she just…hadn't thought "true love" was gay. It didn't seem right, bothered her for some reason. She frowned. Somewhere subconsciously she must have decided that her anonymous friend was a man, and something in that lonely subconscious had formed just the tiniest inkling of romantic attachment to that shadowy figure. And now to find out he was gay? She gave a melancholy sigh, and then laughed out loud at herself. What a ninny she was. She could still dig through her clues and unearth a kindred spirit, a bosom friend, couldn't she?

In her hand, her dormant mobile lit and buzzed.

Heck yes I'm on board for ladies night tonight!

But you didn't have to send me an engraved invitation LOL.

It was text from her university chum Gwen. Gosh, she hadn't seen Gwen in ages, even though she really didn't live too far from Downton. But what was she talking about? Edith lifted her thumb to punch in the question when her doorbell rang.

When she opened the door, there stood a postal courier.

"Here you go," he said cheerfully, handing over a slim package. "You have a nice holiday," he said over his shoulder as he hurried back to his delivery truck.

Edith examined the package, suspicion creeping up the back of her neck. She had wondered if the gifts would continue…

This time the card read:

Forgive the presumption. I thought perhaps you and your friends might enjoy an evening out on the town. To that end, a car will be sent to your residence' at 6:30 PM to take you to The Blue Finch in York. Don't worry about expenses; it is all taken care of. Have as many rounds as you like and a full dinner, on me.

As for the little lady of the house; I have arranged for a suitable babysitter to arrive at 6:00, and the enclosed—there was a small envelope with some bills I it—is for the ordering of pizza.

Forgive me if I ask too much that you accept this gift as you have the others. I assure you that your enjoyment will please me very much.

Have fun!

A ladies' night. Oh, that sounded so perfect. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten to be young and reckless. Or rather, with Gwen around, young and terribly silly. Anything but a lone, responsible mum.

Maybe this guy is gay. He certainly understands women…

Her phone vibrated in her palm.

Did you just invite me to dinner in York?

Anna. She would be 'calling bird' number three…

-Ah, yes. I'll explain about the summons later. Can you come?

I'll be there with bells on! It will be so good to see you!

Edith grinned. Now who would be number four…?

Hey sis! I put Tom on kid duty for tonight so we are on! How did you manage The Blue Finch?

-Long Story. Can't wait to see you!

"Mama?"

Edith turned at the sound of her daughter's voice. There she stood, eyes fixed excitedly on the envelope in Edith's hand.

"Did Santa bring us another present?!"

"Erm…yes, sort of. This one is for mummy and Aunt Sybil and Ms. Gwen and Ms. Anna. Santa is sending us to a special restaurant for dinner tonight."

"Oh," to her credit, the girl was only slightly crestfallen.

"Oh but honey, you get to stay here with a babysitter and have pizza and watch Christmas movies. Doesn't that sound like fun? And, you can have some of your special hot cocoa, how about that?"

Marigold nodded, though clearly she wasn't completely won over. Why would Santa brings gifts to a mum and skip the child? Because, Edith thought humorously, he isn't a plump old white-haired bishop, he's a young, thin, dark-haired gay man… But as she thought it, it occurred to her that perhaps the man who had made the order hadn't been the one retrieving it from Nugent's. Certainly the giver appeared to have the money to employ something like a personal secretary… What if he was the one writing the notes as dictated? Perhaps the giver wasn't a man after all… And suddenly she was reexamining everything she thought she knew about her 'true love.' Oh dear, I suppose I really haven't learned anything at all…

X

X

X

Ding-dong.

Edith lurched in the direction of the front door with her hand still at her ear, hooking in her earring. She finished the task and hurried down the hall, throwing open the door to behold:

"Daisy!"

The petite girl broke out in smiles and came forward to accept the hug Edith offered.

"You must be home on break! How's culinary school?"

"It's great! You look fantastic!" Daisy eyed Edith's ensemble approvingly. It wasn't much—just a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a blouse she'd repurposed from her work wardrobe. However, with the right accessories, hair, and high-heeled boots…

"Thank you. Oh Marigold," Edith called down the hallway, "Come see who's going to hang out with you tonight."

There was a rumble of small feet and then Marigold emerged into the living room, Barbie in hand.

"Miss Daisy!" Marigold exclaimed, running to give that worthy a hug. "Mama says we can order pizza and watch Christmas movies!"

"Actually," Daisy moved to the door where she had dropped two large red bags. "How would you like to make a gingerbread house?"

Marigold's enthusiastic assent made both women laugh.

"Thank you Daisy, that's sweet of you."

"Just following orders," Daisy said merrily. "These totes arrived with my sitting instructions and quite the wage! Tell me you have some idea what this is all about?"

"Well, yes and no… You see—"

"It's Santa!" Marigold trumpeted gleefully. "He did bring something for me! He brought my friend Miss Daisy to have a slumber party, and I'm going to make gingerbread!"

And with that, the six year old danced excitedly into the kitchen.

X

X

X

Edith sat in a booth at The Blue Finch, with Sybil, Anna, and Gwen gaping at her.

"But who could it be? Cousin Isobel? Granny? Mama?" Sybil guessed.

Edith shook her head. "I don't think so. Especially not as things stand right now…"

Sybil frowned. "Papa's just being…"

"I've also considered, "Edith continued, ignoring the sting that manifested at the mention of her father, "my coworkers at Horizons or the home. But they couldn't do all this," Edith waved a hand at their posh surroundings.

The Blue Finch, had a vaguely Brazilian theme (the origin if its namesake), but overall it evoked early American jazz clubs—sleek, metallic, and moodily lit. However, as a nod to the season its blue velvet interior was augmented with multicolored Christmas lights.

"Well, if it's not family, and it's not someone from work, then it must be a secret admirer," Anna teased. "It's actually rather romantic."

"And slightly creepy," Gwen opined.

"What do you mean?" asked Sybil.

"'My true love gave to me?'" Gwen quoted. "How do you know whoever it is doesn't want something from you when the twelve days run out?"

There was a short silence as all four ladies contemplated this distasteful possibility, and Edith forbore to mention that there was a chance her mystery gifter was gay. However, the more she dwelled on the idea that this gay man wasn't the sender, the more it seemed the truth. Her silly romantic wishful thinking, she supposed…

"I don't think so," Edith said at last. "I mean, it's just a gut feeling, but he doesn't seem like he's being coercive, just, generous."

"He?" Anna questioned.

Edith shrugged. "The handwriting looks like a man's."

"Edith dear, I hate to tell you this, but so does yours," Sybil teased.

Edith grinned in self-mockery, "I know."

There was a ripple of laughter.

"Well then, let's choose to believe it's a dashing gentleman with romantic intentions who just wants to give you and Marigold a Merry Christmas," Sybil said rousingly.

"What good is it for him to be dashing if he remains anonymous?" Gwen quipped cheekily.

"Come on then," Anna said, over the ensuing ruckus, "If I get to be a part of these 'romantic intentions' I'm going to enjoy myself!"

All four ladies burst into giggles.

XXX

Anthony raised his head at the cascade of feminine mirth, which spilled over the festively lit barrier behind him. A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth that he couldn't keep entirely free of self-satisfaction.

"Sounds like someone is having a good time," Thomas remarked.

Anthony didn't respond, but doused his grin in a sip of his Gin & Ginger. He hadn't exactly planned to spy on Edith's night out, but the knowledge of where she was going to be had proved too much for his self-control. He hadn't been certain she would accept what was admittedly a fairly lavish gift, and he'd reasoned that by coming himself he'd be able to tell whether or not the reservations had gone to waste. To say thanks for his help with some of the arrangements, he'd invited Thomas, who knew him well enough to see straight through his flimsy pretext.

"Why don't you go say hello?" Thomas prompted. "You're obviously besotted."

"Hardly," Anthony replied calmly, though he felt a thrill of recognition course through him at his friend's words. He was besotted. With the memory of the women he knew, if nothing else. And making these gifts to her had stirred something, had reawakened the connection between them, albeit unconsciously on her part, and he found himself drawn to strengthen that bond. For all his arguments of yesterday, his decision to stay away, he'd thought about Edith all night, and when he closed his eyes, she'd appeared in his dreams.

"I just wanted to ensure that she was enjoying herself."

"Right," Thomas scoffed good-naturedly, "You came all the way out here just to check on her."

"It's hardly the North Pole. I'll also point out that the whole purpose of this evening was that it be a ladies night. Meaning she doesn't need to be pestered by a tired old—"

"Partridge?" Thomas supplied. Anthony cracked a smile.

"Something like that," he muttered.

"So, you're just going to sit here, pining, buying me excellent liquor?"

"Yep."

"Suit yourself."

Both men fell silent as they sampled said excellent liquor, only to be assaulted by another effusion of giggles.

"Alright, I'll go get the next!" a thickly accented voice announced, and moments later a striking redhead that Anthony noticed as Gwen from his preparatory social media snooping emerged, walking in sure strides over to the bar.

Anthony watched as she ordered, noting her bright green minidress which showed a generous quantity of her red-stockinged legs and thinking that he wouldn't have minded if it had been Edith to go get the drinks. He smirked at such an animal thought. He'd always found Edith attractive, without any intentions. But if he opened his eyes and Edith's slim legs were before him, he was entitled to enjoy the view, wasn't he? The same went for that beguiling little upturn in her top lip just at her cupid's bow, or those warm brown eyes, especially whe-Hang on! What the devil?!

His brain registered alarm seconds before comprehension. He'd been only idly watching the bar, his mind occupied by more pleasurable contemplations. Just as he had been appreciating Edith's physical charms, so too a lone man at one end of the bar—whose features Anthony could only describe as rodent-like—had been assessing Gwen. He'd edged his way closer to where she was chatting with the barkeep as he prepared her drinks. And as the first of these had been laid down beside her, the man had—Anthony could hardly believe the perversity of it—he'd reached into his pocket and—

Urgency moved him to action. He stood, maneuvering swiftly past tables and chairs to the bar where Gwen had just begun to reach for her martini. Before her hand could fasten on the glass, Anthony snatched it up, holding it just beyond her grasp like some kind of petulant schoolboy.

"Steady on!" the native Yorkshire-woman bellowed indignantly.

"Forgive me, but I think you'll find you want to order another drink," Anthony explained coolly. "I believe this—" he turned to the weasel-nosed man where he hunkered over the bar a few feet away, "is yours?"

The man grinned in what Anthony supposed he thought was a winning manner. "It's not mine. Why don't you stop harassing the lady?"

"Yeah!" Gwen punctuated.

"Funny. After I saw you put something in it, I thought perhaps you'd like to drink it."

Gwen's mouth fell open, her eyes narrowing.

"Put something in it?!" she spat at the ferret, her full fury focused upon him like a shriveling lazer-beam.

Even as she shouted it, two burly gentlemen appeared from nowhere and hauled the villain to his feet. He was marched through a doorway off the bar, where, the barkeep assured them, he would await the police.

After he'd gone, Gwen let out a shaky breath.

"Jesus," she whispered. Then aloud she said. "Thank you."

"I'm only glad I could be there before something dreadful happened."

She shook her head. "I'm with three other girls, so it wasn't like he was going to get away with anything. But it would've put a damper on ladies night."

He rewarded her attempt at levity with a bright smile. Her face, flushed scarlet with rage and fear minutes earlier, was returning to its normal color, and she seemed to be calming down.

"Well, we can't have that. Have you ever tried the Brigadeiro Cake here miss—"

"Dawson," she supplied genially.

"Dawson. I daresay you and your friends would enjoy it. There's nothing like chocolate to banish the beasties."

"How does it do with rats?" she tossed her head towards the doorway through which her attacker had disappeared.

"I'm told that it vaporizes them completely," he said, fixing her with a kind smile.

She returned it gratefully.

XXX

Edith had come to stand in the aisle upon hearing Gwen's raised voice. She'd recognized Anthony Strallan at once, his lean figure with its lanky grace as he plucked the glass from the bar, and boldly dispatched the scumbag who'd attempted to drug her friend like some kind of avenging knight. God, that was so like Anthony. And now he was chatting amiably with Gwen, teasing her, calming her with that inherently generous spirit that she remembered so well. He flashed a familiar sympathetic smile, and she knew exactly how his eyes glimmered with compassion and warmth…

Something painful twisted in her gut. Of all things, she was jealous! It wasn't surprising that Anthony was attracted to Gwen. She was like catnip to men…. Red hair, feisty temper, and enough confidence to light the sun. This wasn't the first time she'd envied her friend's magnetism, but it was the first time it really stung. Because the man she had in thrall was not some nameless hopeful that they would later commiserate over. The man she had in thrall was Anthony.

Though why that should throw her into a tizzy she couldn't quite articulate.

As she watched, Gwen started heading back towards her, Anthony chivalrously carrying half the drinks and a mountain of chocolate cake behind her.

"This is Anthony," she announced. "He comes bearing cake. Think we can find room for him?"

"Good Evening, Sir Anthony," Sybil greeted, a trifle too prim for their surroundings.

"You know him?" Gwen queried.

"Oh, yes. Anthony is-an old friend," Edith said, feeling her cheeks color.

At the sound of her voice, he directed his sterling blue gaze upon her. Edith felt a current of sheer contentment melt through her, like standing before a fireplace after playing in the snow. His eyes were the same—just as kind, just as merry, just as enchanting. And the genuine pleasure writ on his face at seeing her replaced the tight envy in her stomach with a light fluttery sensation.

As for Anthony—he realized his memories had never quite captured the vibrancy of Edith. She fairly glowed, from her coy little dimples to her shining brown eyes. And as for enjoying the view—her legs were clad in denim it was true, but it displayed her shapely legs to charming effect, and her deep red blouse floated around her slender arms and dipped to reveal an enticing stretch of breastbone-where glittered-his breath caught—a familiar silver bird.

"Sir Anthony, please join us," Anna was urging.

He tore his gaze from Edith.

"Oh, no, I couldn't-." He demurred. "I'm actually here with a friend. He's—"

Thomas was lounging in their booth, watching the proceedings with an amused eye.

"Oh, well, he can come too!" Gwen waved him over.

With his cat-like grace, Thomas eased out of his seat and stalked over to join them, a glass in each hand.

"Thomas?" Anna greeted. "I thought that was you." To the rest she explained. "He dated my brother for a while in secondary."

"Rather broke my heart," Thomas commented without melancholy.

"Yes, well, just because he's my brother doesn't mean he has any sense," Anna replied warmly. "Looks like you've been…"

The chatter continued as the party moved back to the girl's booth, and chairs acquired to accommodate two new additions. But Edith stopped listening as her mind raced. She recognized Mr. Barrow from the real estate office. But she'd never have guessed he and Anthony were friends. And if Anthony was here with Thomas, did that mean…? It had been seven plus years, maybe somewhere in that time Anthony had….

Thankfully, Anna asked before she had to. "So, are you and Anthony….?"

"Oh! No. Nooooo," Thomas asserted, eliciting a mockingly indignant look from Anthony. "As is evidenced by your brother, I don't go for the aristocratic selfless type."

He punctuated this last with a sly glance at turned questioning eyes towards him but he showed no more signs of having made any particular communication with her at all. He turned away and she found herself frowning at the back of his head, his dark locks cropped neatly at his nape… Her mind stirred at a thought. A tall, dark, ga- Just at that moment, Anthony bent to say something and her train of thought rattled off course. Her calculations were replaced by a languid fuzz—as if someone had toppled her antenna and now all she got was gray static. Due to the crowded nature of the booth she and Anthony were crammed almost on top of one another, and in order to speak to her over the din, he had to bring his mouth even closer. She could feel his warm breath glancing over the sensitive contours of her neck and earlobe. It was a delicious sensation, sending little currents of awareness crackling through her. This was something about Anthony she didn't remember. She'd been attracted to him before but it hadn't been this…electric. Then again, he'd kept her at a fairly strict arm's length, and he'd never put his lips so close to places she was now wishing he'd taste…

Edith looked up from her sensual stupor and met her sister's keen gaze. Of all of the 'birds' gathered tonight, Sybil was the only one who knew what she and Anthony had been to one another. She lifted an eyebrow and executed the subtlest of winks.

"I'm so sorry, what was that?" Edith managed to mumble, shifting from her sister's eyes to Anthony's brilliant blue ones.

"I was just remarking on your necklace. Is that a turtledove?"

"Oh," Edith drew a finger over the small silver bird. "Yes. It was a gift. There's one for me, and one for my daughter Marigold."

Marigold! Anthony rejoiced. A name at last! But the alluring private smile she'd displayed as she explained her gift swiftly hardened, and she diverted her gaze. It took his alcohol and lust-fogged brain several seconds to figure out what had caused her sudden anxiety. Marigold. She was afraid of what he might think about her, and the circumstances of her birth. Worse, she was bracing herself for his censure.

"Well, turtledoves are symbols of eternal love," he said gently, "and it's clear you love your daughter very much."

Her jaw relaxed and she met his eyes once more. "I do."

Anthony's heart began to thump in his chest. Sitting there, gazing up at him with such trust, such fondness, such welcome, he found her utterly entrancing. Her ready willingness to rekindle their former relationship called out to something lonely and longing within him, and he leaned into the gentle comfort she offered; golden-haired and glimmering, and smelling of warm vanilla…

"Er," Anna's voice penetrated the soft brilliance that was Edith, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I've got to use the loo."

Anthony blinked, realizing that he must've been staring at Edith like a simpleton for God knew how long.

"Oh, yes, I'll go with you," Edith murmured, shuffling past to the end of the bench.

Thomas leaned over and muttered, "How's the 'check-up' going old man?"

Anthony smirked good-naturedly, but his eyes followed Edith's retreating form.

XXX

In the bathroom Edith wet her hands and brought them to her flushed face. My goodness, that had been… Fantastic, exhilarating, intoxicating… But God, she hadn't seen the man in years, hadn't exchanged more than five sentences with him. She didn't even know if he was the same person.

But she did know. The Anthony she had known would stand up for Gwen like he did. Would support her even after she'd conceived a child out of wedlock… She smiled to herself. Her mysterious "true love" couldn't have known what a gift they'd given her by sending her to The Blue Finch tonight. Anthony Strallan was back in her life. And this time, she wasn't going to let him slip away…