December 7: What Madness is This?

Pairing: Edith/Michael

Rating: K+ mostly for language on Sybil's part and general angsty stuff

Early in the morning, there were nearly a dozen men and one twenty foot tree in the main hall of the Abbey. Edith wondered every year where the tree came from and how, every single time, they managed to fit it through the front door.

"It's a rather round tree this year," Cora remarked. Everyone in the family was standing around the it, recently set in its stand, erect and quite bushy.

"There are a lot of branches," Sybil said, pretending to professionally inspect the large spruce. "But there's a hole on that side, and I think the top needs just a bit of shaping — "

"Thank you, Sybil," Cora finished. "I do see there are a lot of branches. I hope that you didn't discard too many of the ornaments, we don't want the tree to look bare."

"Of course not," Sybil said.

"You did bring a lot of bags down from the attic," Edith said.

"Yes, Tom and I were very productive," Sybil said proudly.

"I bet," Edith said.

"It's not like you helped at all," Sybil shot back.

"Girls, that's enough," Robert said sternly.

Both girls fell reluctantly silent. Edith noticed Sybil was giving the dog a very dirty look. She smirked: she knew what had happened up in the attic with Tom and Gwen. The fearless Sybil being cowed by a dog had sent Edith into hysterics the previous day, when Sybil relayed the afternoon's adventure to the rest of the family.

Mr Carson tapped Edith's shoulder. "There's a telephone call waiting for you," he told her.

"From whom?" she asked. Suddenly, a thought popped into her head: what if it was Michael?

Quickly she added to Mr Carson, "Never mind, I'll figure it out." She slipped away, hoping no one, especially her father, would detect her absence.

One of the stationary home phone sets was located just by the front door. Edith picked up the phone (which was so elementary in design that it was still connected with a cord to the handset) and answered the call.

"Good morning, Edith," Michael began.

"Hello Michael," Edith replied. She knew what he was calling for, and so far she did not have the answer either of them wanted to hear. Papa had not relented yet.

"Edith, I don't want to push you, and I understand if you don't yet know want to do — "

"Michael, I do want to stay with you for Christmas, but my father is fixated on keeping me here. I don't know what to say to him to make him give up and let me go." Edith felt tears fill up in her eyes and her throat grew hoarse.

"Edith, listen to me, just listen," Michael said calmly through the receiver. "It is not the end of the world if he doesn't let you come. I'll still love you no matter where you are for Christmas. Do you understand?"

"I do understand," Edith said. "But all I want for Christmas is to spend time with you without Papa or anyone else watching. That's all I want."

"That's what I want as well," Michael said back. "But love will find a way."

"Edith." Papa's voice broke through the sweetness of the moment. Edith pulled the phone away from her ear and turned to face Papa.

"Who are you talking to?"

Edith hesitated: she wasn't looking forward to Papa's reaction, but what else did she have to be afraid of? "I'm talking with Michael," she said to him.

"Oh, Edith!" Papa began to grow red in the face. "Haven't we beaten his horse to death by now?"

"No, we have not!" Edith yelled back, not bothering to listen to what Michael, confused to what was happening, said. "It's my decision, and I'm a grown woman. You can't tell me what to do with my life simply because you don't like Michael."

"Edith, I've told you before, my impression of Mr Gregson has nothing to do with not allowing you to stay with him."

"Then why is it that you won't let me? I trust Michael fully, and he respects me. My safety isn't something that you need to concern yourself with."

"Of course it is," Papa countered. "I am your father, and no matter how old you are, I will always be concerned about your safety."

"Edith, are you alright?" Michael sounded somewhat panicked. Edith turned away from her father and put the receiver back to her ear.

"It's nothing, Michael, I'm just speaking with my father," she told him.

There was a very brief pause on the other end, before a short intake of breath. Michael said, finally, "Edith, can I talk to your father, please?"

"What?"

"Just hand the phone to him. I'd like to speak with him."

Edith frowned, but turned back to her father, who was also frowning a bit. She ignored his glower and said, "Michael wants to speak with you. Just please be polite to him."

Papa was stunned, and judging from his face alone, perhaps even flabbergasted, but he took the phone from Edith. She backed away.

"Yes?" Papa began. Edith heard Michael's greeting on the other end, but she couldn't determine exact words. He seemed to be talking very diplomatically, as Papa hadn't lashed out yet. But the anxiety was eating her away, and she couldn't bear to stay any longer. She didn't want to be struck down by any bad news. She left her father standing in the front hallway alone and joined Sybil for breakfast.

"So," Sybil said shortly.

"So what?" Edith returned.

Sybil chewed on corner of her piece of toast and shrugged. "Don't be like that. I was just trying to start a conversation that's all."

"You need to come up with a better conversation starter," Edith said. She poured herself some tea.

"Matthew's going to be going to New York for some business stuff," Sybil commented.

"I know," Edith said. She looked up at Sybil and realized that her sister was wiggling her eyebrows as if hinting at something forbidden.

"What are you doing?" Edith asked crudely.

"Mary's going to be so electrified when she sees Matthew again," Sybil said, grinning. "She hasn't said anything, but I bet she misses him like crazy."

Edith brought her voice down before whispering harshly, "What the bloody hell are you on about?"

Sybil kept on grinning like a young boy with too many secrets.

"Sybil, you are absolutely mental," Edith said, enunciating every word.

There was a lapse in the conversation. Edith kept one ear turned towards the door, tense at the thought of her father angrily raising his voice even once. She realized she was gripping her fork so tightly her knuckles were turning white, and she released the utensil before Sybil could see.

"You know, I dunno how good your chances are," Sybil mentioned out of the blue.

"Of what?" Edith said.

"Dummy," Sybil said with a look that conveyed 'stop acting like you don't know what I'm talking about'. "The thing is, what with Mary and that other wacko newspaper guy, I don't think Papa is too enthusiastic about you being so close to someone else who works in news."

"Michael is the exact opposite of that megalomanic that Mary got herself tied up with," Edith retorted.

"I know that, and I think everybody else does. But Papa is just reluctant to accept that. He doesn't want you to go off to New York for an unspecified amount of time because some dickhead decides to blackmail you."

Edith was about to lash out, but Sybil raised her hand. "Wait. Stop. I realize that Michael is not that type of person, and your reasons for staying with him are completely different. But I'm just saying there's a good reason behind Papa's hesitation. If he was something other than a newspaper editor, I bet you'd already be packing your bags and booking that train ticket to London."

For some bizarre reason, Sybil's speech seemed to ring true with Edith. Obviously, Mary's business with Richard Carlisle had left Papa in a frenzied panic, and becoming well acquainted with another man in the same business was perhaps not a move Edith would have made if she could help it. Was taking her holiday with Michael too much for Papa to really handle? God, how was she to know? Was she truly supposed to choose between spending time with her loved one or keeping Papa's blood pressure under control?

"Edith," Papa said, appearing in the doorway. Both girls turned to look at him, and Edith wondered if the pressure in her eyes could be see from where he was standing.

"Come out here," he said. "I need to talk to you."

Edith nodded grimly as she slid her chair outwards, then stood up. She followed Papa like she was being led to the gallows.

Papa stopped right next to the tree, and Edith stood, apprehensively, in front of him. She was rigid with nerves, and wondered how on earth was she going to relax. She wished she had something to hold on to.

"Edith, I just want to tell you that, for Christmas, I want you to be happy. That's all I want," Papa started.

"Please, just tell me something new," pleaded Edith. She didn't want to hear empty words of her being happy for Christmas when Papa wouldn't let her near Michael.

"Alright, then," Papa continued. "I was hoping very much that you would stay with us for Christmas, but if you do want to stay with Mr Gregson – ahem, Michael, I mean – then you are free to do so."

Edith was astonished beyond measure. What had Michael said to Papa to make him surrender? No, that did not matter – she could be with Michael for Christmas! She threw her arms around Papa and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you, Papa," she cried, "thank you so much."

"Yes, I know, but I have something else to say," he added. Edith pulled away.

"If there happens to be any 'funny things' going on while you are in London, and there comes to be any evidence of it, then I will do everything in my power to make sure you do not contact Michael again. Am I clear?"

"Yes, like crystal," Edith said.

She ran back to the telephone to tell Michael.