Anthony sat at the very front of Downton Church, perfectly attired in full dress uniform, right arm hanging in a crisp, neat sling, shaved and groomed immaculately. He also looked exactly as the Dowager Countess had just (loudly) described him: "as though he was waiting for a beating from the headmaster".

His nerves had been worsening over the course of the last few days before the wedding. He had told himself it was just natural pre-marriage jitters made worse by his PTSD. He thought back to the previous occasion when he had waited for Edith at this exact place for this exact purpose, and the magnitude of what he was about to do hit him...again.

He closed his eyes.

He filtered out the murmured chatter of the congregation and thought of the last few months.

...

Anna hadn't been surprised when Anthony and Edith had suggested coming to therapy together. In fact, she thought it was an excellent idea. In the next session, they had explored Edith's belief that Anthony didn't really love her, her lingering pain that he had jilted her, and her fear that he would leave her once again.

That had been a very difficult time for them both, but especially for Anthony. He couldn't stop apologising. At one point he even went down on his knees to beg her forgiveness. He had reassured her that he really had wanted to marry her, very much, but that the intervention of her father and grandmother, and what he thought was their reasonable antipathy towards the wide difference in their ages, had been too vicious for him to ignore. That caused its own problems for Edith and her relationships with Robert and Violet, which resolved themselves in the usual way: Violet didn't exactly apologise but instead made some witty remark which both expressed and masked her fondness for Edith and her remorse for her actions; whilst Robert had tried to explain his motives. He failed, apologised, and called her 'my darling girl' which masked his general neglect of Edith, a failing he usually managed not to acknowledge to himself although it was all too plain to Edith.

In the session Edith and Anthony had with Anna after that, she had tried to bring out the positives of their relationship. This had been much easier, as they talked about their shared love of old cars, how passionate they both were about social justice, and how similar their personalities were...that was, until they started to discuss sex.

"Sir Anthony, your concerns about your age...are they proved or disproved by your physical relations? Because, you know, don't you, that there is a wide range of help available nowadays?"

"I'm sorry?" The blank incomprehension on his face would have been comical, thought Edith, if it weren't so tragic.

"How are things in bed?" Anna reiterated more assertively yet as decorously as she could.

"Well, erm, that is to say..." Anthony spluttered red in his embarrassment.

"We haven't" said Edith flatly.

For the first time since either of them had known her, Anna looked properly shocked.

"You haven't?!"

"No."

"Ever?"

"Not even when we were engaged previously" stated Edith, her face blank.

Anna paused. "Would you like to say any more about that?"

"We weren't...aren't married" answered Anthony, though his eyes betrayed him. This was not the whole story.

"Sir Anthony, we are in the twenty-first century. Couples who sleep together before marriage are the norm. There's no shame in it. It's abstinence that is almost unheard of. Are there any physical problems...er, down there that Lady Edith should be aware of?"

"NO, I mean, it's just that...well, as far as I'm aware…but there hasn't been..." Anthony was digging himself deeper and deeper into a hole.

"If there's something wrong, Anthony, just tell me!" It came out more annoyed than Edith had intended, but it had the desired effect: it made Anthony talk.

"I'm old, Edith! Every image of the male body you see in the media, on adverts, or just walking around in the summer for God's sake, is toned and fit and young! I couldn't bear it if we'd slept together and you compared me to your Cambridge boyfriends and...and...and found me lacking. And now...I'm a cripple with a hideously scarred and deformed shoulder. I couldn't face seeing the disgust in your eyes."

"Did you think you would be able to avoid sex altogether after you were married? Or were you content for Edith to be disappointed or unfulfilled, so long as you'd got her?" Anna played Devil's advocate.

"I didn't know what I was going to do!" Anthony forced out through the tears that he couldn't now control.

"Anthony, I know how old you are. I'm not expecting you to have the body of a 21-year-old. And it isn't firm pecs and a six-pack that turns me on. It's you. It's your eyes and the way you look at me. It's your smile, and your sense of humour, and your unfailingly polite manners, and a thousand other wonderful things." Edith put her hand on his, and although he took it in his good one, he couldn't bring himself to look up at her. He shook his head a little.

"You deserve better. You should have all those things and youth and the expectation of a long marriage too."

"We don't live in a perfect world, Anthony. No one is perfect. If what you've told me is the worst I have to put up with, then I will be a very lucky woman indeed."

He still wasn't convinced, but doubt and hope had crossed his face.

"Think about what sort of marriage you both want. Talk to each other. Because all marriages take work, and I think yours will be a great success...if you let it" concluded Anna.

...

That evening, Edith insisted on watching Anthony undressing for bed.

"Does it have to be tonight, Edith? We've both had a trying day."

"I am going to stay here and see my fiancé naked before he has a chance to find some excuse to wriggle out of it, and that's all there is to it."

He sighed, but knew she was right. As he undid the buttons of his shirt, she could see his trepidation increasing. She tried to reassure him.

"Anthony, it will be fine. I love you."

"After you've actually seen it you may not though."

"Don't be a silly goose. Of course I'll still love you."

Realising he had to go through with it, he slipped the shirt over his arms, and then pulled his undershirt over his head. His dead arm flopped uselessly down to his side, his back as straight and his head held as high as when he was on parade. His eyes, however, were closed as though he expected her to deliver the coup de grâce at any moment.

Edith's face crumpled in pain. His right shoulder was deformed and miscoloured, it was true. There were places where there should have been bone, but it had been so damaged it had to be removed. His left arm was muscular, taut with tension, and firmer than the right which, in comparison, looked older, weaker. Scars from both bullets and surgeons' blades crosshatched the skin. God alone knew how much physical and mental pain he had been through.

She reached up, her hand whispering across his shoulder reverently, causing him to flinch. He turned his head away. But her fingers didn't stop at the shoulder. They continued to his chest worshipfully tracing the muscles' contours. When he opened his eyes in confused astonishment at the movement but didn't stop her, she indulged in massaging the broadness of him possessively, with eyes half closed with want. He found her touch amazingly erotic. Still, he could not believe that was her intention.

"Edith. Please. Don't pity me."

"I'm not. I'm afraid I'm just enjoying admiring you."

"Admiring?! I'm hideous!"

"No! What happened to you was hideous. But, you must understand, it isn't just the wound that I see. I know you went out there to serve; not for the money...you were a volunteer...and not for the glory. I see the courage of a man willing to risk everything in order to fight evil."

Quietly, breathlessly she continued.

"I don't just look at your shoulder either. Your chest is...quite distracting. I...I want to know what it feels like to have your bare chest pushed up against my naked breasts."

Anthony stared down at her. Although he had not been able to stop himself lusting after her ever since he'd found her kneeling before him in the desert expecting him to execute her, it had never occurred to him that she would ever feel the same way.

Partly to obey her request, partly to test her feelings, to see if she really meant what she said, he pulled her close to him roughly without warning. Confirming all his wildest hopes, her eyes showed surprise not shock, and after a moment they were filled with desire not disgust. He'd excited her and pleased her. The thought made him dizzy with possibilities.

Completely in a trance, and trying not to think in case thinking broke the spell, he pulled her even closer, leaned to her, and kissed her.

Edith knew from the start that this kiss was different. He was as gentle as ever, but there was an intimacy that was not present before. Anthony was giving but he was also taking...no, that wasn't right...he was asking permission to take but with a new confidence and a command that turned her legs to jelly. His left hand found its way behind her head, while she held his shoulders, yes, both of them, to prevent herself collapsing and because she couldn't get enough of the feel of his tall, solid body.

With each moment Edith became more certain that she would not frighten him away if she truly expressed her need of him, and Anthony became more convinced that Edith really wanted him. He begged entrance by tasting her lips delicately, she admitted him eagerly causing him to move his arm to her back so he could lift her closer to him. She moaned her approval. The sound kicked him in the gut, while crackles of sensation electrified his body.

"Oh my dearest darling, my love! Dear god, how I love you! How much I want you!" he declared, still holding her close.

"My Anthony! My glorious, noble, sexy Anthony!"

That pushed him over the edge, he lost touch with all reason. He claimed her mouth again with more force than he intended though with less than he would have liked. Their frantic kisses were interrupted only by their desperate efforts to undress each other. When they reached boxers, knickers, and T-shirts, he made her squeak with delight by lifting her one-armed and almost throwing her on the bed. She propped herself up on her elbows, panting as she watched him crawl menacingly slowly onto the coverlet towards her, a dark fire lighting his eyes.

Abruptly he slowed his pace by dancing fairy kisses up her leg from ankle to thigh. By which time Edith was feverish with lust for his touch.

"Please, Anthony. Please!"

"Are you really sure? I'm afraid I've been very remiss in planning ahead."

It took her a moment to figure out what he meant.

"Oh! Precautions, yes? I had an implant put in before Michael...well, anyway, it's okay."

"If you want me to stop, you need only say." He saw it in her eyes then: his gentlemanly caution was beginning to hurt her; it made her doubt the sincerity of his feelings. It was another major hurdle crossed when he recognised it, and wanted to reassure her, but also that he believed every word he uttered. He didn't just say it to please her.

"I will stop if you ask me to, even though it might very well kill me to do so. And perhaps we could try again another night? What I mean to say is, if you stop me it doesn't have to be forever. It doesn't have to be the end. Just that you're in control. I don't want you to go any faster than you want to, or to do anything you don't want to, anything you might regret."

"Oh god, Anthony, why do you have to be so bloody honourable?" she cried. He held her then with more affection than passion as she let her terror that he might bolt out through her tears. But when he was sure she was calm once more, he began kissing her neck tentatively.

"I do love you so much, Anthony. I always have."

It was said so quietly that he wasn't sure whether he'd heard it or imagined it.

"I love you too, my lovely Edith."

He kissed her lips chastely, letting her take the lead, which she did very soon cuddling him fiercely. He was just getting back into the swing of it, when she pulled back. Fear clutched his heart. Had she had second thoughts?

But his panic was doused when he saw what she was doing: reaching behind her to release her bra, and shyly baring her breasts to him.

Anthony stopped breathing for longer than was good for him. God help me he thought. He reached out with his good hand, then stopped himself. Looking up at her he asked "May I?"

"If you're going to ask permission for everything, we won't get very far tonight!"

"I'm sorry, Edith, but I have to ask at least once more before you drive me completely mad, otherwise I will accuse myself of assault afterwards. I need your permission." He looked at her with such entreaty in his eyes that she began to see it from his point of view.

"It's just that I'm not used to being so respected. Michael never asked, not before, not during, never."

Anthony stiffened slightly. "It has been demonstrated, I believe, that Mr Gregson was not a gentleman."

"But you are."

"I do my best."

"Then, yes, Anthony, I want you to make love to me. You have my permission to throw all caution to the winds and ravish me in whatever ways please you" she grinned at him, happy that she had fulfilled his request and made him blush. "I mean it. Is that plain enough for tonight?"

"Yes" he rasped "though I repeat, I will stop if you..."

He got no further because she had simultaneously kissed him and brought his hand up to her breast. Instead she was treated to an agonised moan as he gently but firmly pressed her down on her back on the bed, letting his lips worship her all down her neck to her rosebuds. Then she too was lost to him.

He truly made her his own then, kissing her back up her torso as he positioned himself to take her.

"My love, I am yours utterly, now and always."

At last, after so many years, they were one. She remembered every moment of deep happiness, every blissful touch, every whispered declaration, how strong he was, how reverent was his touch. As she neared her summit she vaguely registered that his rhythm had changed, realising that he was controlling himself to ensure she came first, and then she was flying through space, keening to him, and screaming her joy.

Her climax triggered his, he too yelling his love for her far louder than he meant.

With her arms around his head, she held him to her chest until she felt him relax into sleep, and she allowed herself to join him there.

...

The organ began to play and the church filled with the sound of a hundred people trying to stand up in the pews.

Anthony opened his eyes, private smile playing on his lips. He took his time standing and confidently taking his place looking ahead over the altar rail. This is right he thought. This is how it should be. His butterflies were still in his stomach, but now they were ones of excitement not fear.

Edith and Robert had arrived at his side. His eyes widened when he saw her, an absolute vision in cream silk and satin.

"Good afternoon" she muttered, and he saw that she was a victim of nerves as well. He took her hand, kissed it adoringly, and smiled at her.

"Good afternoon, my sweet one."

Rev. Travis was slightly miffed that neither bride nor groom looked at him at any time during the service preferring instead to gaze into each other's eyes as they made their vows.

...

And they lived happily ever after.

Oh, my dear friends. The last couple of weeks have felt like my ship is sinking all over again. Of course, I'm happy if Edith is going to be happy with Bertie, who seems like a nice enough bloke and probably going to become the next Lord Hexham. Robert's comment about 'if she's happy, I'm happy' really made me angry. Bertie couldn't care less if he has Robert's blessing because he's a 'young chap with his life ahead of him'; but Anthony really needed it. Robert's changed his attitude but it's too late. We aren't told, but in canon all I can see is Anthony wasting away his lonely life at Locksley, and that's tragic. He really didn't deserve that.

So, I've still got Sir Paddington to finish, and I did have about five new stories being written up, but it feels more and more like I'm shouting into the wind. I don't want to be the embarrassing, mad uncle of FanFiction and Tumblr, always going on about Sir Anthony. That would be boring for everyone. If you want me to keep writing, please do tell me. Otherwise, perhaps it's about time that I get a life.