did anyone else notice the sudden drop of hostility after the season 2 finale between edith and mary? i mean, both of them kind of cooled their heels during the war, but all of a sudden they seemed positively domestic. good story fodder? absolutely.

XXX

Ah, through the open door

Is there an almond tree

Aflame with blossom!

Let us fight no more.

Among the pink and blue

Of the sky and the almond flowers

A sparrow flutters.

We have come through…

She adjusts a flower in her sister's hair, smoothing the veil a bit compulsively.

"There," Edith says encouragingly, but Sybil is oddly distant. She exchanges a look with Mary, who sits on the bed, fiddling with Sybil's bouquet, a bit absentmindedly. Normally Edith and Mary would have been at each other's throats, but if Edith didn't know better, she'd say that Mary looks defeated. She's putting on a good show, but something has dulled in her eyes in a way that Edith doesn't like, for all their bickering.

"You look beautiful, darling," Mary puts in. Sybil flicks a smile at them and sits at her boudoir, staring at herself in the little mirror. She looks like the very picture of a bride, Edith thinks with a familiar pang of wistfulness. Sybil and Mary will both be married soon, while Edith adjusts veils and arranges presents and stands by the wall. Her mother and grandmother cluck pityingly when they think she doesn't notice, and her father just sort of sighs. Edith is not the pretty sister, that's for certain.

But she does notice things. Namely, the way her youngest sister looks like she's about the walk down the aisle to a guillotine, not the man she loves.

"Sybil? Are you all right?" she asks after a moment. "Sybil?" Abruptly, Sybil bursts into tears, horrible ragged sobs that Edith has never heard from her strong, efficient sister before. With an alarmed glance at Mary, they both go to either side of her while she weeps.

"What is it?" Mary demands, almost frightened, Edith thinks. "What's wrong?"

"I shouldn't - " Sybil gulps, then dissolves into tears again, helplessly. Edith fishes around for a handkerchief. "It's nothing, it's stupid," she says thickly, taking the handkerchief. "It's just - "

"Just what?" Mary interrupts insistently. Edith glares at her. It took time, with some of the soldiers, and the same kind of patience has to be used with Sybil now. They had to trust that you were willing to listen, that they could talk, or they'd clam up and you'd have to start all over again.

"I know - I know Mamma's been ill," Sybil manages haltingly, staring determinedly at the ceiling with brimming eyes. "But I had so hoped - I just - I wanted Papa to, to walk me down the aisle. I wanted Granny to be there, and Matthew, and Aunt Rosamund." She glances at her sisters, then away again quickly. "I wanted them to be happy for me. But I see now that's not going to happen." Her face crumples.

"Of course it will," Edith says with as much conviction as she can muster while Sybil cries quietly. "We're here, aren't we?" she adds, indicating Mary and herself.

"We survived a war, darling. I daresay we'll survive you marrying the chauffeur," Mary adds.

"Please don't think I'm not grateful you're both here," Sybil says hastily, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief. "I am, truly."

"We're your sisters," Edith says firmly, and Sybil laughs wetly.

"And it only took a war and a thousand other ghastly things to act like it," she comments with a wobbly smile. "Mamma has her Little Women at last." Mary rolls her eyes.

"Hardly," she retorts wryly, but her eyes as they catch and hold Edith's in the mirror are a little bright. "We really were awful, though." Her gaze is steady, if ever so slightly guarded.

It's as much of an apology as Edith is going to get, and not a very good one at that, but her throat hitches all the same.

"Not too awful," she amends and Mary gives her the slightest of nods.

They sit, three sisters, at peace.

XXX

poem by d. h. lawrence.