It amazes me how sometimes writing can be difficult, every word and paragraph a struggle and at other times,a story just writes itself and I'm just the typist. This is one of those. I was suffering with a portion of Life Is a Journey and this popped into my head and I had written in no time. It isn't as involved as some of my other stories and maybne that's the difference. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think;-)

"Lord Grantham, I wonder if I might ask a favor of you," Dr. Richard Clarkson said as he entered the library at Downton.

Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham rose from his desk and met the doctor half way across the room. "A favor?"

"Yes a rather large one, I'm afraid," the doctor replied.

Robert furrowed his eyebrows, wary of what was next. "You may Iask but I might not agree," he said finally.

Dr. Clarkson took a deep breath before continuing, knowing he might be tossed from the house momentarily. "Of course. Its just… well, I wonder if you would call on Sir Anthoy Strallan?"

"What?" Robert bellowed.

"Robert, whatever is the matter?" Lady Grantham asked as she strode in from the opposite end of the room. "We could hear you all the way in the salon."

"Dr. Clarkson…he…" Robert was too angry to speak clearly.

"I'm afraid I've imposed with my request, Lady Grantham. I had come to ask a favor of his Lordship but I see that it was too much to ask." The doctor shifted as if he were about to leave.

"Wait," Robert said loudly. "I want to know why you ask such a thing…how you could ask it of me?"

"I knew you likely wouldn't agree but I had to try," Richard Clarkson began to explain. "He's not doing well and I thought perhaps you could help."

"Of course we'll help if we can," Cora Crawley said, not understanding who the subject of the conversation was.

"Cora…" Robert warned.

"But Robert, we must help when we can."

"Yes but.."

She gave him an indignant look and Clarkson sighed. "Lady Grantham, it is Sir Anthony Strallan that needs the help and I knew my request would most likely be denied but I thought…"

"You were right," Robert said abruptly. "Why on earth would you believe I would do anything to help him now, after what he did?"

"Robert wait," Cora Crawley's soft voice sounded. "Let Dr. Clarkson explain."

Robert sighed as he glanced at his wife. Seeing her expression, he calmed down. "Yes, of course."

Clarkson cleared his throat and began again. "Since that day when he walked out of the church, he's been …well, depressed. It is much worse than when he came back from the war. It took a long time for him to adjust you see…his arm and all. I don't know if he told you but he also suffered shell shock. I suspect that is why he walked out like he did. The stress was too much…" Clarkson paused to let his words sink in. "I'm violating his privacy by telling you this but I feel it is necessary. He… well…he's quite despondent."

Cora spoke up. "Despondent? You mean he regrets what he did to Edith?"

"Oh I know he regrets it, Lady Grantham. He… well, when he arrived back at Locksley, I was called. He walked back…on his own…through the fields, not along the road. And … well, apparently he wandered a bit. By the time he arrived home, he was in terrible shape. Stewart helped him and convinced him to rest. Stewart said he shook the entire time, so he called me."

Robert eyed him thoughtfully. "I can imagine he was upset."

"Yes but this was so much more than upset. And while he does try to stay busy, he's cut himself off from everyone…lives like a hermit. And lately…he's getting worse. So I thought, hoped that perhaps a visit from someone in this house, a word of care… I thought it might help his state of mind."

"What sort of word Doctor," Cora asked.

"I'm not sure…something encouraging or perhaps forgiveness…maybe something as simple as that you understand why he did what he did. He says his actions are unforgivable, you see. He…"

"What?" Cora asked, her blue eyes piercing him with her concern.

"Well, he…cries. He told me his heart broke when he walked away and he may as well die. He even asked me…"

"He didn't?" Cora responded, shocked.

"Are you saying he's trying to end his life?" Robert asked.

"I think that's what is happening…he hasn't said so but the signs are there."

"And you think we could help?" Cora's look of concern was genuine.

"I do. Just to know he has been forgiven might go a long way…"

"But he is forgiven," Edith Crawley said from the doorway.

Robert and Cora looked at their daughter worriedly. Clarkson turned and nodded his acknowledgement of her arrival. "I think it would help him to know that," Clarkson suggested.

Edith looked from him to her parents and then down at the floor. "Dr. Clarkson, might it help if I went to see him?"

"I didn't want to suggest it, had no expectation that you would even consider it but, yes…I think it would be very good for him, assuming you aren't going to …"

"No, I don't want to make him feel any worse. I thought…well, perhaps if we could talk it would give him a chance to explain more I can tell him that I have forgiven him." She looked at her father. "May I borrow the car this afternoon?"

Robert nodded numbly, awed by his daughter's strength. "Will you drive yourself or should I have…"

"No, I'll drive myself over. I want to give him the time he requires to explain and for me to assure him that he is forgiven." Three pairs of eyes watched as she turned and exited the room, headed out on her mission of mercy.

"I'm not sure he will want to see you," Stewart said as he opened the door to Edith. "What I mean to say is, I know he will want to see you but I'm not sure he will allow it."

"Well, we just won't give him an opportunity to say otherwise, Stewart. Is he in his library?"

"Yes, Lady Edith. Shall I announce you?"

"No thank you. I think it is better to surprise him. That way he can't say no," she smiled as she crossed the hall to the door of the library.

"Stewart, I told you I don't want to be disturbed," Anthony snapped as he heard the door open.

"That's too bad," Edith said as she closed the door behind her.

Springing to his feet, Anthony looked like he was seeing a ghost. "Lady Edith…"

As Edith took in his pallor and his eyes that appeared much too large for his head, she felt crushed. He looked even worse than that first Christmas after he came back from war. His clothes hung on him like sacks and his face was drawn and gaunt, making him look years older than he was. "Really Anthony, I think we are past all the lord and lady nonsense. Aren't you going to ask me to sit?" He stood gawking at her, looking as if he wasn't convinced she was real. "No, well…I'll sit anyway." She sat on the divan, in the very same spot she had occupied three years before when she called on him after seeing him at her grandmother's house. Looking up at him, she sighed. "Please sit, Anthony. I'm craning my neck looking up at you."

He seemed to snap put of his fog and settled in the same chair as he used that same afternoon. He looked better then than he does now, Edith thought; and I thought he looked terrible then. "I came to see how you have been and to tell you how I have been," she said evenly.

"Um yes…right…I…I'm alright."

"No you're not," she replied bluntly. "You look like I feel…all used up."

"What?" His eyes flickered, his sparkle almost igniting.

"You can't have been taking very good care of yourself. I think you were looking much better during our engagement. Happiness becomes you, Anthony."

"I don't…" straightening up a little in his chair as if he was trying to regain some dignity, Anthony continued. "I suppose it becomes most people," he said meekly.

"You haven't been happy though, have you…since you left me that day?"

His head tilted to one side slightly, his eyes beseeching her to tread kindly. "How can one be happy when his heart was ripped from his chest?"

"Then why did you do it?"

"As I told you that day, I couldn't do that to you. You deserve someone younger, more capable of making you happy."

"Yes well… I was happy that day. So much has happened since that day, so much that had proven that to me…proven how right I was when I said we could be very happy. But you wouldn't believe me. Why Anthony? Why couldn't you trust what was between us?'

"You're so young…so beautiful and I'm old…used up as you say." There was no life in his words, no passion, nothing.

"Funny. I don't feel young." She sighed again and watched him quietly. "A lot has happened since you last saw me Anthony. I did meet someone else. I fell in love…or so I thought." She saw the effect her words had on him as he glanced away, looking like he might be sick. "But you see, it didn't end well. I'm leaving for Switzerland next week with Aunt Rosamund. Mama and Papa thing we are going to brush up on our French. I suppose that says a lot about how much thought they give me, since one wouldn't normally go there to learn French. It is a good place to keep a secret though."

Anthony looked at her miserably, his eyes blank. He wasn't processing what she was saying. "Aunt Rosamund knows, of course but I haven't told my parents or anyone else for that matter. So you are the only other one who knows."

Anthony looked at her dully. "Knows?"

"Well, there's the doctor too but…"

"Doctor?" he asked, suddenly more energetic. "You are not ill, are you?"

"Ill? No, although I suppose there are some who might wonder…me getting involved with Michael as I did." Anthony frowned at her, obviously not comprehending. "I'm pregnant, Anthony. I'm going to Switzerland to have the baby and then give it away."

His brows furrowed. "What? Why?" he asked with teary eyes.

"Michael is already married. He went to Germany for a divorce and then disappeared. And here I am pregnant with his baby. But you mustn't say anything; no one else knows."

"Pregnant? Are you alright?"

"Yes, everything is fine," she answered.

He looked at her, broken. "I wanted better for you…" he mumbled.

"Yes, well…it didn't work out that way. How could it when you were what was best for me?""

"Me? No…"

"Yes, you. I thought I loved Michael and look how that turned out. He got what he wanted and he left me holding the bag, so to speak. You never would have…"

"Certainly not!" he declared, rising from his chair. "Where is this scoundrel? I'll have a word with him…make him …"

"You can't. No one knows where he is and even if he shows up, he's likely still married and I'm still pregnant."

"But…this isn't what I wanted…this isn't right."

"I've learned that we don't always get what we want, Anthony. You taught me that."

He paused the pacing he had begun and stared at her. "I…yes, I suppose I did. Although I wasn't convinced you really wanted me. It seemed…"

"What Anthony?"

"It seemed you wanted someone to look after, someone to …pity."

Edith frowned at him but hesitated, swallowing the denial she was about to proclaim. Finally she spoke. "Pity? No, I never pitied you, Anthony. I did want you to need me; I want to be needed. Then, it gave me purpose when I had none. But now, I have other things that give me purpose but I am no happier. I wanted you, Anthony. I wanted the way you made me feel, like I was the only thing that mattered to you. I still want that."

He looked flustered and confused. "You want…me?" he asked incredulously.

"I've sampled other varieties and you are my favorite. Michael was a poor facsimile of you. And I've met other men that are more my age. None of them make me feel the way you made me feel. None of them look at me as you did. I thought Michael did but I understand now that it was a show."

"Are you saying…what I think you are saying?" He took a step closer to her, fear rampant in his eyes.

"I'm saying that I still love you. I'm saying that I've tried it your way and it has not made me happy. I'm saying …my god Anthony; must you make this so difficult?"

He was down on his knees in front of her, his hand seeking hers, his eyes fixed on her face. "I've been miserable without you, Edith. Could you forgive me?"

"I forgave you long ago. I know what you were trying to do. The problem was that you didn't talk to me, ask me what I felt about it all, trust me to know my own mind and heart. That isn't like you, Anthony. You've always given me that but on that day…"

"I was already riddled with guilt, taking your youth away from you as I was. I had my doubts but when I heard…" he paused, looking pained.

"Heard what?"

"I overheard some comments in the church…doubts about my abilities as a husband and…I panicked."

Edith searched his blue eyes, dulled by too much misery. "Your abilities as a….oh….Well, is there reason to doubt? I mean, you weren't injured…there, were you?"

"No. I haven't had occasion to find out but as far as I know everything is in working order. But I am older, less…passionate. I do know things aren't as they once were….god, I can't believe we are having this conversation…"

Suddenly inspired, Edith became animated. "Then let's find out."

"What?" Anthony looked scandalized.

"Right now, let's find out. It's not as if you would be taking my innocence, Anthony. But perhaps you don't want to…be with a woman who…"

He slid onto the divan next to her, his face a picture of shock and intrigue. "You…you want to…with me?"

"Yes. I've always wanted to…with you," she smirked.

Tears began to creep down his face. "Even after what I did...the way I left you?"

"Even after all that. Kiss me Anthony. Don't think, just kiss me."

He seemed so frightened, so fragile that Edith thought he might shatter. But slowly, carefully he leaned toward her and brushed his lips over hers. Although they separated, he didn't pull away but lingered, as if he were waiting. Edith Crawley was tired of waiting though and pulled him close, kissing him as if her life depended upon it. And slowly, he began to return her kiss.

"Please Anthony, I think you still love me. But I want you to show me."

With great care and tender feelings, he did just that.

They were married three days later and instead of Aunt Rosamund going to Switzerland with Edith, it was Anthony. She had her baby and he refused to let her give it up. Consequently, several months later the Strallans returned to Yorkshire with young Emelia, a happy dark eyed baby who looked like her mother.

Their first stop was at the hospital where they thanked Dr. Clarkson for his interference that day. Dr. Clarkson noted how much healthier Sir Anthony looked and was relieved. Next they stopped at Downton, where Anthony received a warm welcome. Cora and Robert had done the math and thought they knew what Anthony had done for their daughter.

That night, as he climbed into bed with is wife, Robert sighed in relief. "Well, I suppose it ended well enough," he said.

"It would have ended much sooner if you and your mother had not meddled in the first place," Cora chided.

"Yes, I suppose you are right," he agreed easily.

"Of course I am right. And now we will do everything in our power to support them in their marriage."

"Of course, my dear," he said as he turned out the light and rolled over to embrace his wife. But at the moment, it is our marriage that concerns me."

Had one been capable of being in two places at once that night, they might have marveled at the various sounds emanating from the bedrooms of Downton and Locksley, the sounds of happy couples being very happy with one another.

Long Live Andith and Cobert!