A/N: Thank you all so much for the enthusiastic response to this story. This is not as fluffy, and I decided to take a slightly different track here with Anthony and Edith. Hope you like it. Two more chapters after this, I think.

Edith recovered first. "Lovely to see you, too, Anthony." No response. "Anything else you'd care to say, preferably without swearing?" Edith waited expectantly as Anthony continued to stare at her, dumbfounded.

She saw it first in his eyes (still bluer than any eyes had a right to be) as comprehension finally dawned on him.

"Did I say that out loud?" he choked, aghast at his lapse in manners.

Edith caught her upper lip caught between her teeth, raised her eyebrows (she hadn't lived with Mary all these years and not picked up a thing or two), and nodded slowly. Embarrassment and frustration flitted across his features as Anthony passed his hand over his face with a weary sigh, looking much older than she knew him to be.

"Please forgive me, Lady Edith. That was inexcusable, and I certainly meant you no offense. Now, if you'll allow me, I will go and find accommodations in another part of the train. Please accept my apology, and I wish you well," Anthony said stiffly. He began to leave the compartment, but was brought to a halt by a single word.

"No."

"I beg your pardon?" Anthony sounded flummoxed, and just a bit annoyed. "'No'… what?"

"No, I won't allow you, you don't get to leave. You don't get to walk out on me again." Edith's voice remained steady, but she leveled Anthony with an icy stare. "Twice was quite enough. No, this time I'll be the one leaving. You can remain behind and enjoy your solitude." Edith rose from her seat, preparing to make a dramatic exit.

Those sorts of things always looked so impressive in the films. Edith had imagined this scene on more than one occasion: she would sweep out of the room after delivering a soul-stirring, impassioned, crushing rebuke, slamming the door behind her, leaving Anthony crumpled in her wake. What really followed was far less awe-inspiring. Edith needed to gather up her coat and scarf, and one of her gloves had wedged itself between the back of the seat and the seat cushion. She dropped her purse onto the floor, and as she bent to retrieve it, her hat fell forward over her eyes. By the time she straightened up and had all her things, a full thirty seconds had elapsed, and she was face with a new problem: it was a pocket door, not a hinged one, so slamming it was problematic. And her hands were full, anyway. And Anthony had remained where he stood, blocking her escape. Edith realized she had been thwarted, and was now left to try and salvage her pride yet again. Bollocks.

She heard a sound emanate from Anthony – did he just snort at her?

"You said that out loud."

Edith compressed her lips into a tight line, doing her best to ignore the growing amusement in Anthony's eyes. Damn!

Anthony was doing his best not to laugh. There really was nothing funny about the situation, except…well, meeting your ex-fiancé by accident on a rainy night in the last available train car and greeting her with an expletive, then watching as she attempted to escape with all the finesse of an elephant in a china shop while swearing under her breath…actually, it was absurd. He sobered upon seeing the vexation on Edith's face. He was all too well aware that Edith would think he was laughing at her, and nothing could be further from the truth.

Anthony sighed. It was time to put this to rest, once and for all. "Lady Edith…Edith…please stay. Please. I'd…I would very much…I'd be obliged if you would stay and talk with me."

Edith was suddenly exhausted. The façade, the act, the never-ending need to pretend, to protect the precious areas of her life; it had all become tedious and overwhelming. She looked over at Anthony, who was watching her intently, and came to a decision. She had just been wishing for the opportunity to talk with Anthony one more time, and here he was. She decided not to waste it. She gave a short nod of assent and sat down again.

Anthony released the breath he didn't know he was holding, and took the seat opposite. They both of them spent some time adjusting coats and luggage, all the while wondering who would start the conversation. What had seemed like a good idea a minute ago was now looking doubtful, but neither one of them wanted to back out. There were things that needed to be said, and they both knew they might never get another chance.

Anthony started. "I never meant to hurt you. I hope you know that." In retrospect, it was not the best way to begin.

"But you did, you did hurt me. Maybe you didn't mean to, but you did. And you publicly humiliated me," Edith said, working to keep her voice from wavering. "Did you honestly think that it wouldn't hurt, that I would just smile and wish you well? Did you think that everyone would have forgotten about it the next morning? That everyone in the church wouldn't think I was pathetic, or start whispering about my virtue? What exactly did you mean to do?"

Anthony was silent for a moment, and then said, quietly, "I meant to spare you. And, truth be told, myself. You would not have been happy, not in the long run. And I couldn't bear the thought of your hating me for the duration of our marriage."

"I see. So, to possibly save yourself the possibility of pain possibly sometime in the future, you chose to definitively cause me pain in the present, at the altar. Yes, it's all clear now. Thank you so much, Sir Anthony. I feel so much better now." Edith silently gave thanks for her grandmother, without whom she may have never known the gift of sarcasm. It was the only thing saving her sanity at the moment.

This was going badly, very badly. Anthony made to speak, but Edith cut him off.

"Now, this is when you tell me how you did it for my own good, how you wanted me to be free to have a good life with a good young man. How there was no future with you, aging and crippled. Oh, you let yourself hope for a while, but, when it came right down to it – at the zero hour, as it were – you just couldn't be so selfish. So you released me, set me free. The ultimate act of love. Is that about right?"

Anthony was stung by her derision, but calmly said, "I could not give you what you have now."

She barked out loud at that. "'What I have now'? What do you know about what I have now? I have no husband, no home, no standing in the community. I have no education beyond what a governess taught me. I have no future, unless you consider taking care of my parents in their old age a future." Edith was fairly trembling with rage. "You're wrong, Anthony. You gave me everything I have now." How dare he?

Anthony was quiet for a heartbeat. He looked Edith fully in the face, saw the hurt and anger and accusation there, swallowed the lump in his throat, and softly replied:

"You would not have Marigold."

The only sound in the compartment was the rain against the window.