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...
Edith ran down the path as fast as she could. She nearly tripped at one point, because she could not see for tears.
No, don't do this! Don't waste these precious minutes he's given you on getting hurt and ruining it.
So she slowed just enough to make sure that her footing was stable, and fell into a pace that was fast enough but which she felt she could keep up without flagging. All the way down the path, she kept thinking about what she could do to help Anthony.
Behind her, the gunfire faded into the distance until she couldn't hear it any more. She risked a glance behind her, but because of the curve of the hill she could now only see boulders.
If I can get to the British Embassy, I can get them to contact the garrison here, and they can mobilise and rescue him. Yes! Everything will be alright. It has to be.
She ran and jogged with the sun rising and becoming hot. She was again grateful to Anthony for making her wear the robes to stop the sunburn.
She made the road, and looked up again. Still nothing but the rocks.
It was safer here in a different country. She risked trying to thumb a lift, but there were few vehicles and none of them stopped.
She kept running though she was getting tired now, but the thought that she could save Anthony's life kept her going. The town was not large, and she asked for directions from a shopkeeper in her broken command of the local language. He waved his arms indicating that the British Embassy was a few streets away. As she turned the corner she knew she had the right one, even though it was just an ordinary terraced house like all the others, because it had a small Union flag fluttering on a pole over the door.
She sprinted up to the door with a sudden, desperate energy, and banged at it like a demon until someone came to the security hatch.
"Please, you must help me. I'm Edith Crawley, the journalist."
The hatch had shut before she had finished speaking, and she could hear a lock being turned and a bolt pulled back.
"Come in, Lady Edith. I recognise you from your picture in The Sketch." The man closed the door and began to introduce himself.
"I'm Charles Carson…" Edith interrupted him.
"Please listen. This is very urgent. The man who saved my life is still locked in a gun battle with the insurgents who kidnapped me. We have to get someone up there to help him. Can you get hold of the army?"
"Yes, of course." He became very efficient, and strode purposefully leading her to an office off the entrance hall, while asking her a number of pertinent questions, such as how many insurgents this man was tackling and what he was armed with. On the wall was a map of the local area.
"Show me where he is, my lady."
Edith looked at the map and found the road she'd taken, and then the path up to the pass.
"There."
Mr. Carson picked up the phone and pressed a speed-dial number.
"And when did you last see this man?"
"Just after dawn."
He looked up at the clock: quarter to eight. It had taken Edith nearly an hour and a half to get to the Embassy. There was no way that two clips of ammo would have lasted that long. His eyes darted at Edith, his expression giving nothing away.
Edith was totally focussed on the official, and what he would say to the army. She listened quietly but with her eyes boring into him, willing him to convey the urgency of her request. After asking for a patrol to get to the spot Edith had indicated as quickly as possible, the man asked "Can you provide him with…" he paused, glanced again at Edith. "…any assistance?"
"You mean, pick up the body?" asked the captain on the other end of the line.
"I should think so, wouldn't you?" he answered. Then he listened for a while, before speaking to Edith again.
"Can you give a description of the man they are looking for?"
"Six foot four, dressed in black robes, with very blue eyes and blond hair and beard. His right arm is paralysed. His name is Major Sir Anthony Strallan, Intelligence Corps."
The man's eyes widened at this but passed on the information without further comment, and soon he put the phone down.
"They are going to send a team up there right now."
"Thank you. Thank you."
She'd been holding herself together just until she achieved her aim. Now she deflated like a balloon with exhaustion and worry.
Mr. Carson guided her down into a seat, and finally found time to introduce himself properly as the senior Envoy. There was a voice in the hallway and Charles went to speak with whoever it was. Then a woman with a Scots accent stood by her side, giving her a cup of tea, which she drank gratefully. Charles came back and sat by her with a clipboard. He introduced the lady as his wife, Elsie, who left the room saying something about getting a bed and bath sorted out.
Charles apologised for the questions he now had to ask her, urging her to tell him what had happened with him asking for clarifications where needed. And so she did: the kidnapping, her imprisonment, the attempted execution and Anthony's rescue, their escape up into the hills, the pursuit by the insurgent group, the ambush, and her run to the Embassy. She told him some details, such as Anthony's discharge, she kept what had passed between them to herself.
"It's just as well he isn't a serving member of the armed forces, my lady. As it is, yes, technically he committed murder, but we both know that they deserved it, and with the state of affairs over there…well, it's pretty lawless, and no one is going to be that bothered about pursuing 'justice'. But if he had still been an intelligence officer in the British Army, then he'd be facing a Court Martial."
Edith gasped wondering whether Anthony had worked that out (of course he had; Anthony was always about ten moves ahead of everyone else) and whether he would have acted the same way despite that. She knew the answer to her question before she'd even finished the thought.
"Well" said Charles standing to go over to the desk, "I suppose the next thing is to send word back home that you're safe."
Edith panicked. "No! Please don't! At least not yet."
Charles looked down his nose at her. Somehow it conveyed both a paternal concern as well as a hint of suspicion at not following accepted protocol.
"May I ask why not, my lady?"
Edith stuttered as much as she dared about her suspicions concerning Michael's involvement in her abduction, while looking at the floor. It all sounded so far-fetched and too much like a cheap thriller now she came to say it out loud to someone not involved. But when she glanced up Charles' face was wearing a very serious expression.
"Very well, Lady Edith, I will honour your wishes. But I hope you will allow me to make a few discreet, preliminary enquiries?"
Edith agreed to that, somehow knowing that she could trust this official whose manner was so stuffy he seemed to be a hundred years out of date, but whose efficiency and knowledge of the local situation spoke of much greater depths and abilities.
"Thank you for all you've done. I don't know what I might have been pushed to if you hadn't let me in, or not believed me."
"You are very welcome, my lady. Now may I suggest that I take you upstairs to my wife who will show you to a room where you can clean up and rest."
...
The bath had been heavenly, drawing all the aches from her muscles. Elsie explained that the Embassy had a generator for water, heating, and cooking since mains electricity was so haphazard. She had been as kindly concerned and as admirably organised as her husband.
Now Edith was lying in the bed dressed in the warm cotton nightdress Elsie had left out for her. She had taken the blood-stained robes and burnt them, and put Edith's own clothes in the washing machine. A fresh clean outfit awaited her after her rest.
But she couldn't sleep.
What had happened up at the top of the path?
Was Anthony still in danger?
When would the Captain return?
What news would he bring?
Her worries stirred around her head and her heart, only just in check.
After about an hour she could stand it no longer.
...
"You look so much better, lass" said Elsie meeting her on the staircase.
"I feel much better, thank you, except for...well..."
"I know, dear. You need to know what's happened to him. He sounds like a very remarkable man."
"He is, he really is."
Mrs Carson summed Edith up in a few appraising looks.
"Would you like something to do while we wait, to keep yourself occupied? The Foreign Office always assumes that diplomatic wives are willing and able to run an embassy, which is a huge house and business premise combined, all by themselves! Don't tell them, but of course I can! Nevertheless I could use a bit of assistance just this once, if you were willing."
"I think that would help. Thank you Mrs Carson."
"Just 'Elsie' is fine, dear. The Ambassador is returning tonight, so there will be about six for dinner including you. Are you up to peeling four pounds of spuds while I sort out the joint?"
"More than up to it. And 'Edith' is okay for me."
"Oh, I couldn't do that! Charlie would disapprove!" she exclaimed, although her smiling eyes undermined her words.
"So tell me about your Major" asked Elsie innocently.
Edith began to weep. Immediately Elsie had her arms around Edith's shoulders.
"There, there, hen. Let it all out."
So Edith did. They went down to the kitchens, and as she did the potatoes, she talked about the whirlwind romance, and the jilting, and how she felt meeting him again in the desert.
"When I thought I was about to die, he was the only thought that comforted me at all. He gave me the strength to face it."
"And it was the thought of you that gave him the strength to risk his life and hold off those thugs to allow you to escape."
Edith nodded quietly.
The telephone rang, and Edith and Elsie shared a look. By the time they'd got to the front hallway, Charles had answered it and was speaking in subdued tones. The conversation was short. He replaced the receiver and looked up to the two women.
"Lady Edith…"
"Tell me!"
Charles came round and held her hands. She began to weep again.
"I'm sorry. The Captain went to the top of the path. He found six bodies all insurgents, none of them matched your description of Sir Anthony. We fear he may have been captured."
Edith's tears turned into full sobbing, as Elsie and Charlie hugged her.