"We've just heard that when the police tried to arrest Michael Gregson at the Sketch building, he resisted, ran to his office, and shot himself."
"He's dead then" she said bluntly.
"I'm sorry" said Charles, not sure what to say for best.
She turned and wandered blindly into the small courtyard behind the embassy where Mrs Carson kept chickens. Anthony watched her go, his face a picture of misery.
After a delay which lasted too long Charles said "Don't you think you should follow her?"
"Me?"
Charles Carson was not usually one for sarcasm, though he was severely tempted on this occasion.
"She needs you."
"I am not what she needs. She needs a young man who can give her everything she deserves. She's grieving for such a man."
Charlie didn't often lose his temper either.
"Grieving for that little runt? I don't think so. And what things does she deserve? Things like loyalty? Protection? Love? All things that, over the last few days, you have demonstrated you have in abundance, and far more than ninety nine per cent of all the men she could have chosen, Sir Anthony, young or otherwise. And the fact remains that she chose you."
The two men regarded each other as Anthony looked like he'd been slapped around the face, then as he lived through centuries of self-doubt and external criticism as he weighed Charlie's words, and, with a struggle, eventually won. He smiled at Charles as his world view shifted back to how it had been during that blissful month in Yorkshire, and he made a decision.
"Thank you, Mr. Carson."
Charlie put a fraternal hand on Anthony's arm, just as the telephone in his office began ringing.
"Excuse me a moment."
Anthony pulled his shoulders back and walked out to the courtyard with his chin set, as another phone rang in Richard's office.
Edith was staring at one of the chickens as it scratched in the earth.
"Sweet one" he murmured tenderly.
"Is it very wicked of me that I feel nothing? No, that isn't right. I feel pity for him. He set in motion a series of events that led to his death simply because he fancied me. I hex every man who gets involved with me, not that there've been many..."
Anthony put his arm around her.
"Now, shush, you are not to blame. Michael made a number of ill-informed choices, and they were all his responsibility, not yours. He could have told you he was married, but he didn't. He didn't have to send you here, yet he did, and he certainly didn't have to kill himself rather than facing the music. You have done nothing wrong."
Edith cuddled him needing the comfort he offered.
"A man is dead because of me."
"That man is dead because he was selfish and cowardly, not because of you."
She lifted her head to look at him appraisingly, then buried it back into his chest.
"I almost got you killed" she moaned in a very tiny voice. Anthony's stomach did somersaults; she had been worried about him!
"You did no such thing, my dearest darling. You didn't ask me to come out here and...and, what was it your sister called it? 'Play soldiers'? Because that is exactly what I've been doing, isn't it?"
"If that's how you play soldiers, I'd hate to see you do it seriously."
He laughed, a lovely bass chuckle, a sound she longed to hear again and again. She could feel the reverberations through his chest. She snuggled up closer to him. When he spoke, the sound of his voice soothed its way through her chest into her soul.
"I made the decision to travel here, because I knew that if I didn't...well, there was no question about it. I had to come. I just had to. If, when I got here, I found the only way I could buy your safety was with my life, well so it had to be. If you had been killed, I would never have known another moment's peace, so I wasn't risking much really."
The silence was broken only by the scrabbling of the chicken, and muffled voices from inside the offices. Anthony bent his head down to see her, and found her weeping.
"Oh, darling Edith! I know you need to cry, but he really didn't deserve your grief."
"I'm not weeping for Michael. I pity him, but any grief I might have felt for him evaporated like water during that week in captivity in the desert" she said, as the tears subsided. "I'm crying because I can't conceive of a life without you. We will soon have to return to Britain, and then there will be no more reason for you to be my...friend than there was after the abortive wedding, and...and I can't bear it." Her eyes closed on her misery once more. Anthony's heart nearly burst with love.
"My sweetheart, what can I do to reassure you that the future can be whatever you want it to be? I will do anything you ask of me. After all I risked my life for you, got myself shot, sacrificed my conscience, faced up to the PTSD to come here and stay here until you were safe, got very near to compromising my friends and former colleagues in the corps..."
"You'll be willing to...to try again? Do you really mean that?" she whispered.
"Yes, I mean it. I meant what I said at the top of the path too. I love you. I always have. Walking out of our wedding was the biggest mistake of my life. Everything I've done was worth it to save you, but it will be even more meaningful to me if it gives me a chance to put that mistake right."
She gazed into his eyes both excited and scared. He saw it and couldn't stop a smile forming as he withdrew his arm to kneel on one knee.
"If you can find it in your heart to forgive me for my past mistakes and the hurt I have caused you, will you marry me, and let me spend the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you?"
"Yes! Of course! A thousand times yes!"
Edith's tears returned bearing joy rather than fear. Anthony stood to hug her, although not as tightly as he would have liked since his wounds were complaining. He breathed in the scent of her. He pressed mild kisses into her hair, working his way to her ear, her cheek, pausing before kissing her mouth with the utmost reverence.
It may have begun gently but very soon the kiss deepened, turning wild and then tender by turns, both lovers lost in the happiness they had rediscovered, whispering sweet endearments, reacquainting themselves with each other's lips, and the wonderful feeling of being properly together once more.
So it was that Mrs Carson had to 'cough' three times, each time louder than the last, before they became aware of her presence.
"I'm very sorry to interrupt love's fair dream" she said with obvious pleasure and approval, "but Richard needs to talk to you both. It would seem that a bit of a fuss has been kicked up back home."
"Oh dear, I was worried this might happen" said Anthony.
"What kind of fuss?" asked Edith.
"The Sketch published the whole story with all the details in an effort to distance themselves from Gregson and his actions, but they omitted to check with Scotland Yard or the Foreign Office first. To make things worse, your family learned what had happened from the paper. Your father is demanding an inquiry."
"How typical of Papa that his first instinct is to defend the family honour rather than wanting to know how I am."
"I'm sorry, hen, but I think it would help get Richard and Charlie out of a hole if you could speak to the Foreign Secretary." Elsie was pointed in her words. Edith caught her meaning.
"They've both been extremely kind to me. Of course I'll talk to him if it'll help."
She hurried back inside, Anthony watching her every move. When she'd gone, he turned to Elsie.
"What can I can do?"
"Charlie has been bothered by the Army. He and Richard have the details. Could you talk to anyone to smooth feathers?"
"Of course. And, Mrs Carson, after that could I ask your advice about where to buy a ring around here?"
This chapter is dedicated to dear Lady Spotted Horse, who said that part of Vanilla? was based on this story (although I can't see it, she's made it so much her own), and who has been a absolute brick and good friend through all my recent upheaval. Thank you, dear lady.
We're nearing the end here, and then I'm going to be presenting another historical/canon tale, but please do tell me what you think of this one - it's the reviews that keep me going! Thanks.