Chapter The Seventh: In Which Everyone Behaves As Expected
London, Thursday 25th April 1918
"Edith, my dear, may I come in?" Sir Phillip called through the shut bedroom door.
Edith took a last look at herself in the mirror and went to let him in, fiddling with a button on the cuff of her sleeve. Not a proper wedding gown - it wasn't as if their's was a large church affair, after all, and she hadn't had any interest in waiting for some ridiculous confection in ivory and lace to be made for her. The simple rust silk, fashionably cut and easy to wear, was much more her style.
Still, Sir Phillip's wide eyed, impressed look, and soft murmur of, "My dear girl…!" settled an anxiety Edith hadn't even known she'd been feeling.
"Thank you." Edith tried for a smile. "At least I know I shan't disgrace your family today." Under her breath, she added, turning back to the mirror, "Only mine."
Sir Phillip winced. "No word from Grantham House yet, then, I take it?"
"Not yet." She hadn't been expecting it, of course. It had been a rather quiet two weeks on that front, all told - after the initial brouhaha, that was…
"You've agreed to do what?!" Robert Crawley had thundered, on being presented with the news. Anthony had wanted to come with her - had wanted to ask permission, of all things holy! - but Edith had very politely, very firmly put her foot down. Nothing good could come of such a meeting, after all, and very probably something bad might, if it were to take place.
Prepared as she was for such a reaction, then, his middle daughter, standing to the side of his desk as the storm had broken, had been thoroughly unmoved. "Marry Major Strallan," she'd repeated very calmly. "You know we've been getting acquainted - and we don't particularly see any reason for waiting to get things settled." Acquainted. Getting things settled. Even to her practical mind, it sounded rather cold and clinical. But true, nonetheless.
Really, this was just going to be a sensible, practical arrangement for both of them. And good old-fashioned common sense dictated that it would be a great success.
"I forbid it." Clearly Papa did not agree.
"Papa, I'm over twenty-one."
"Over twenty-one or not, Edith, I will not allow you to throw away your life and this family's good name on a - a divorced good-for-nothing!"
"He was the innocent party!"
"I don't care if he's the Sultan of Baghdad - he is not going to marry my daughter!"
Edith hadn't seen any point in arguing any further with him over it. She'd tried that eight years ago, when the idea of university had raised its head, and it hadn't done the slightest bit of good. What had been far more effective, in fact, was behaving quite as if he had agreed - and allowing Lady Strallan to help with the bits she couldn't quite manage herself.
Which, in this case, had led to her current position, readying herself for her wedding in Strallan House's best guest bedroom. Of course, Anthony had arranged it all for her…
Dinners at Strallan House had become commonplace, after the engagement. Far easier to eat there in peace, than stay at Grantham House, where every meal had become a pitched battle."Before we go through," Anthony had said to her, before dinner one night, when they'd been alone in the library waiting for his parents, "I'd like to give you this." As he spoke, he opened a ring box. A clutch of tiny garnets huddled in the shape of a Maltese Cross on the top of the simple gold band. Garnets for constancy, she thought.
Anthony's face was rather anxious as Edith inspected it. "It's not - not worth anything much, I'm afraid, but - it was my grandmother's engagement ring. Mama's mother." He cleared his throat. "They weren't at all rich or - or high up in society, but… she and my grandfather were very happy. I hope - I hope that some of that happiness will be ours, too, eventually."
Edith blinked away tears, struggling to speak. Silently, Anthony passed her a handkerchief. "You don't like it. It doesn't matter. I'll take it away, find something else - it was a foolish idea - "
Edith's hand closed firmly over his wrist, stopping him. "Don't you dare! Anthony, it's the loveliest thought. I'd be honoured to wear it. Now, put it on, quickly - or we'll be keeping your parents waiting for their dinner."
Gently, Anthony helped her slip the ring on to the correct finger before raising her hand to his mouth and kissing it.
"Umm… thank you," Edith whispered.
"Not at all." Anthony's smile was warm. "Thank you, for letting me give it to you."
His face was so kind, and he was so lovely that Edith couldn't help herself: she bobbed up on tiptoes and bumped a kiss against his cheek. "You're a dear - and I do appreciate it."
Anthony had gone faintly pink about the cheekbones. "Well, that's nice to hear."
As they sat down by the fire again, Edith reminded him wryly, "At least you aren't telling me I'm making a serious mistake in wanting to be engaged to you."
"Ah. Your papa's still not come around, then."
"No." Edith huffed. "If anything, he's got worse. I can't even be in the same room with him these days without him trying to convince me to break things off. And as for hoping he'll even attend the wedding, let alone give me away - !" Edith stopped, and Anthony was surprised to see that her eyes were looking damp again. He hadn't thought, with things as they were between Edith and her father, that she'd be too unhappy about such an occurrence. Clearly, he was wrong, and he cursed himself for a fool.
"Oh, my dear, I'm sorry." Gently, he reached for her hand. "You know, if you're having second thoughts, if you'd rather… quietly call off the whole thing, then - "
"No." Her voice was quiet, but firm. "Absolutely not. I'm just… well, forewarned is forearmed, as they say, and… you mightn't want to marry into my family."
"Nonsense." Seeking to distract her, Anthony added, "I've made all the arrangements. Chelsea Town Hall, a week on Thursday."
"Good. Are you away from Town before then?"
"Yes, for a couple of days. Consulting an old university friend for something hush-hush. I'm catching the train up to Cambridge tomorrow morning, but I'll be here again in plenty of time for the wedding."
Edith nodded thoughtfully. "Then… if - if I asked your mother nicely, do you think she'd mind my staying here, just between now and the wedding? I wouldn't ask, only I h-honestly d-don't think I can b-bear Grantham House for any l-longer than I have to and - "
As the tears of released tension began to fall, Anthony came to his knees at the side of her chair and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. His collar was an astonishingly comfortable place to weep into, Edith found a moment later. "Of course," he murmured into her hair. "Sweetheart? Shhh, of course, of course she'd love to have you. Papa too."
"Really?" Edith sniffled, and lifted her head to dab at her eyes.
"Yes." Anthony drew back, trying for a smile. "Look, let's enjoy dinner, and then you can go home, pack what you think you'll need, and come straight back. By the time you get here, Mama will have it all settled. I promise."
Sir Phillip's hum of sympathy drew her back to the present and its own problems. Edith smiled bravely. "It's all right. I - I wasn't expecting him to - to turn up with a last-minute apology, or anything silly like that. Is the car here yet?"
"Just outside. Nancy's gone ahead already, to check things are all ship-shape." Phillip's mouth quirked. "So I think you can guarantee that there won't be a thing out of place by the time we get there."
"That was kind of her. And of you, to let me stay here. I - "
"Now, none of this nonsense, my girl. It's been a delight." Phillip reached into his pocket. "And if you need to repay me, then you can do it by carrying this today. Something borrowed, to sign your marriage certificate." He held out the slim-barrelled green fountain pen that always rested on his desk. "Nancy's wedding present to me - never mind the fact that she's the only one who's ever been able to read my scrawl."
Edith swallowed back tears. "Sir, I - thank you."
"Good." Edith tucked the pen carefully inside her handbag, and Phillip helped her into her coat: plain navy with orange embroideries to match her dress. "Now, my dear," he offered, as he smoothed down the sleeves, "you're more than capable of walking yourself down an aisle, and I've no right to give you away to anyone, but I'll gladly… keep you company, if you'd like?"
Edith squeezed his hand, tightly. "I'd like that very much, sir."
As they began to walk down the stairs, Phillip wondered, "When exactly are you going to cease all this ridiculous 'sir' business, hmm?"
"Sir?"
"That's what I mean. My dear, give up a losing battle and try… well, I don't know." They'd reached the hallway, and paused for Mr Atwell to help Sir Phillip into his own coat, and hand him his stick and hat. "Something more appropriate for a daughter, eh?" Phillip suggested.
Edith tucked her hand under his elbow and kissed his cheek. "Pa, you're a brick."
"Anthony, for goodness's sake, sit down and stop panicking." Professor Charles Hamilton, the groom's best man and one of his oldest friends, reached into the inside pocket of his morning coat and drew out a small flask. "Snifter to steady your nerves?"
Anthony shook his head tightly and continued to pace. Professor Hamilton and Mr Stewart, seated in the pew behind him, exchanged anxious, exasperated looks. The registrar himself watched impassively from behind his desk. Clearly nervous grooms were no new occurrence. "What if she doesn't turn up?" Anthony fretted. "Not that I'd blame her, of course."
Charles snorted. "Nor would I, old man, if this is what she's going to face in her married life." At Anthony's please-be-serious look, Charles's face softened.
"She'll be along. Tradition for the bride to be a bit late, anyway. And isn't your own father bringing her?" Charles smirked, apparently having done as much reassuring as his wicked spirit could stand. "Unless you're worried he's going to run off with her himself, old man - "
Anthony gritted his teeth. "Charles, I promise I will - "
But whatever Anthony might have threatened to do to his wayward best man remained unuttered. "Here comes the bride!" Anthony's mama trilled at the door, and Anthony felt all the blood rush out of his head with relief as he turned to face her. "The car's just drawn up outside, my dear." Anne's hands went to her hips as she noticed Charles's flask. "Professor Hamilton, I hope you aren't trying to intoxicate the groom."
Charles blushed sheepishly, for all the world as if he were eighteen again, and tucked the flask hastily away. "Not at all, Lady Strallan. Just… a spot of Dutch courage, don't you know?"
The registrar coughed politely behind them. "Shall we, gentlemen?"
"Y-yes, of course."
As Lady Strallan slid into her seat, Charles clapped Anthony on the shoulder. "Good luck, old man. Honestly."
"Thank you, Charles. Appreciate it."
"Well, here we are, my dear," Sir Phillip smiled, holding the door of the Chelsea Town Hall open for her. "And here's a small surprise for you." His eyes twinkled as he looked past Edith to a young, dark-haired woman in nurse's uniform waiting in the lobby.
"Sybil!" Edith gasped, and almost dropped her handbag in her haste to hug her younger sister.
Sybil was beaming, cap slightly askew and brimming with mischief. "Well, I couldn't miss your wedding, not just because Papa's being beastly. Darling, you look beautiful."
"I don't, but I'll pass muster! Why didn't I think of wearing uniform too?"
Sybil pulled a face. "Not intentional, only Anthony and I thought the best way of getting me out of Grantham House would be to pretend I was heeding a call of mercy from one of the London hospitals. Papa couldn't argue with something that would help the war effort, now, could he?"
"Anthony thought?" Edith asked, feeling several feet behind in the conversation.
Sybil squeezed her elbow. "Yes, isn't he a darling? He sent round a note for me to Grantham House with the details, to see if I could manage to come and see you married, and we plotted the whole thing between us." She gave another impish smile. "Dr Stone and I have already agreed that he's practically perfect, so I suppose you're allowed to marry him."
"Oh, it's such a lovely surprise!" Edith turned accusing eyes on Sir Phillip. "Did you know about this too?"
"Guilty as charged. Girls need a whole gaggle of their women-friends about on their wedding day - Anthony was very sensible to think of it. Now, ready, my dear?"
"Yes, I think so."
Sybil kissed her cheek. "I'll go and find my seat, darling." She hesitated, and then added, "Only promise that when I marry, Edith, whoever he is, however… surprising you might find my choice… that you'll give me the same support?"
Edith embraced her tightly. "Dearest, of course I shall. I promise."
Anthony could hear her footsteps behind him, along with Papa's measured, steady tread. If he dared, he could turn his head and catch a glimpse of her, but something was freezing him to the ground. Hellfire, he hoped he wasn't about to go to pieces at his own wedding!
Not that there were terribly many people there to go to pieces in front of, of course. His parents, and the Gervases, and Charles and his expectant wife concluded his side of things; quite apart from his own position as something of a social pariah, when one married as hastily as he and Edith, it was rather difficult to find guests who weren't already engaged elsewhere. Of course, Di and Archie couldn't possibly come all the way from America, but Diana had sent him a long letter of congratulations and some silk pyjamas - 'which I'm sure your new bride will find utterly charming.'
Anthony wasn't entirely sure whether she was being serious.
Edith's guest list was barely longer than his own - Dr Stone and her husband Mr Younge, with their three little ones; Lady Sybil in her nurse's uniform; and three more of Edith's university friends: a Miss Grey, tall and thin with a very striking hat of blue velvet; a Mrs Newman, handkerchief at the ready to deal with any weeping; and a Miss Foster, sporting bobbed hair and the smart uniform of the WRNS.
And in a minute, every last one of them was going to see him crack.
But then Edith was at his side, in a rust gown that set her hair and her eyes off to perfection, smiling at him apologetically, and warming him through so that the ice inside cracked and melted quite away. "I am sorry, my dear. Your papa and I got caught in the most horrid traffic." She looked hard at him, at the chewed lip and the slightly disarrayed tie and added, "I hope we didn't worry you too badly?"
"Not at all." Anthony cleared his throat. "I k-knew you'd be along."
Behind them, Charles Hamilton choked on a hastily stifled laugh. Edith's eyes flickered briefly closed in amusement. "Ah. I see." She touched his sleeve. "Thank you for getting Sybil here, by the way. It's the loveliest present you could have given me." She turned a beatific smile on the registrar. "I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting. Shall we make a start?"
"Shall I come and help you change, darling?" Anne smiled as Edith made her way upstairs. "Or at least keep you company?"
"Thank you, that would be lovely." Quite frankly, Edith thought she might need someone to keep her awake, after all the excitement of the wedding, and the good food and wine that had come afterwards, at Strallan House. Sybil had stayed as long as she could, before slipping back home, trying not to look too cheerful, and now it was time for Edith and Anthony to leave too. They'd decided Cornwall might be nice, for a quiet, short honeymoon - and Anne had offered the farmhouse where she had grown up as the perfect place to stay. Peaceful and out of the way - the ideal place for newlyweds to get to know one another. The train would arrive horribly late, of course, but Anthony hadn't been given so much leave from the War Office that they could afford to wait until tomorrow to travel.
Perched on the edge of her bed, Anne offered, "Has your mother… talked to you much about weddings, my dear?"
Edith dropped her earrings.
When she rose to her feet again, having dived to collect them, both she and Anne were blushing. "Oh! Um… yes, thank you." I'm rather better informed than you might imagine, Anne…
Fortunately, her mother-in-law didn't seem inclined to press further on that point. "Jolly good," she smiled instead. "And… darling, if you don't feel ready for a host of children underfoot just yet, there are things you can do to… put it off, for a while. I'm sure your Dr Stone would be able to help there."
"Yes," Edith nodded. "I'm sure she would. But I think Anthony and I have already decided that… children as soon as possible would - would suit us both."
As Edith stepped behind the dressing screen with her going-away outfit, Anne wondered, "And how are living arrangements coming along?"
Edith chuckled. "We've been to see a few houses, but nothing's settled yet. I suppose after the honeymoon, we'll carry on looking - and live at the flat in the meantime."
Anne hummed in agreement. "A shame, but no help for it, I suppose. At least you'll brighten the place up for him, my dear - at the moment, it barely looks like a home at all…"
Privately, Edith had to agree.
Anthony had taken her for tea at the flat the week after the proposal, with his mother as chaperone. Stewart had made every inch of the place shine with polish, in a way the place hadn't done since Maude had lived there.
After tea, when Edith had looked around to her heart's content, Anne rose to her feet. "Well, I'll go and powder my nose - as long as you two don't tell your father that I left you alone." She kissed Edith's cheek.
Anthony was pacing rangily in front of the fireplace. "So… what do you think of the place?"
"It's lovely." Edith smiled hesitantly. "But - "
Anthony interrupted her, almost anxiously. "Don't be concerned. There is a second bedroom, just through there, on the other side of the bathroom."
"Oh. I see." Edith flushed. "Actually, what I was going to ask was… well, are you sure you'd be happy to carry on living here? After M-Maude?"
"No woman wants to start her married life with her parents-in-law, surely. Or in a house owned by them." Besides which, whatever Papa might say, I'm not fit to live at Strallan House anymore. I'm inheriting Locksley under sufferance - best not push my luck any further.
"I wouldn't mind." Edith had gone to peer out of the window, to the street below. "I just don't want you to feel you must live with… unhappy memories."
Anthony shrugged, and did not reply. "In any case, wherever we live, you won't need to be bothered with me unless - unless you want to be."
"Ah." Edith sat down in the window seat, and patted the space next to her. "Can we talk about that?"
"Of course." Neatly, Anthony tweaked up the legs of his trousers and sat next to her. "What is it?"
"Well, it's only that I want you to know… I'm not apprehensive about that side of marriage. Quite the opposite, Anthony." Edith linked their fingers together. "There's nothing about marriage to you that makes me apprehensive. So… let's not worry about the future, hmm?"
Anthony nodded, thoughtfully. "Perhaps… perhaps you're right, about the flat. Why don't we buy somewhere new, together?"
"I'd like that. A house, I think, not a flat. Plenty of space for little ones."
And they shared a smile.
Downstairs, they found Anthony, Phillip and the remaining guests waiting in the hallway to send the newlyweds off.
Anne kissed her son, saying as she did so, "Have a lovely time, my darling."
Phillip embraced Edith. "Congratulations, m'dear. Come for a weekend at home, after you're all settled here."
"Talking of homes," Anne added, kissing her daughter-in-law's cheek, "say hello to the old place for me."
"Good luck, my boy." Phillip shook hands with Anthony, reeling him in with surprising strength until Anthony's ear was a scarce inch from his own mouth. "Make sure she enjoys herself," he added through gritted teeth. "You can't afford to spoil another chance, Anthony."
As if I didn't know that already, Anthony thought, his mouth suddenly dry with apprehension as he watched Edith, laughing, throw her bouquet. God help me manage it. God help me make her happy.