Alone at last, it didn't take long for Edith and Anthony to settle on the couch, comfortably knotted with Edith's head on his shoulder. "Your family was quite wonderful tonight," he mused after a while.
"About time," she scoffed, tucking her hand into his jacket so she could hold him tighter.
"It's all behind us now, darling. Let's not allow it to spoil the time we've got, hmm?" He asked, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.
Edith lifted her head to look at him. "What on earth are you doing?" she questioned with a mock severity.
"Resting my eyes. It's been a rather momentous couple of hours, don't you think?"
"Yes, but if you think you're going to rest now you're mad." She reached for his neck, pulling his face down to hers.
The kisses they had then, the way she mussed his hair and gripped his shoulders, the way his hand traveled her back and hip, it was all incredibly healing. The familiarity of each other was certainly there from their years of friendship, and from the few previous encounters of this nature they had enjoyed. But there was also certain newness to it all, because this time they were victors, at last triumphant over their own insecurities and delicate prides.
There was no more room for doubt, no more question of would they or wouldn't they be together. They were here, now and forever.
When Edith untucked Anthony's shirt to feel his bare chest, he didn't protest. Nor did he argue when she slipped his dinner coat from his shoulders and loosened his tie. But she felt him tense when she removed the black sling, and his arm fell limp between them.
"It's in the way," he muttered into her hairline as she shifted into his lap, placing a knee on either side of him.
"Not in the slightest," she argued. Edith lifted his hand and placed it onto her chest, over her heart. "You mentioned once that you still had some sensation in your hand," she hedged, boring into his eyes.
"Yes, I can still feel a bit. I just can't use the damned thing," he said bitterly.
"Can you feel my heartbeat?" She wondered, a smile playing across her face. She pressed her forehead to Anthony's and closed her eyes as they listened to each other's breathing.
"Yes," he finally whispered. "Yes I believe I can."
By way of response, she allowed his hand to slip lower, ever so slightly, still holding it to herself with her own trembling grip, until it rested on her breast, and she pressed against him as their lips met. "One of these days," she managed between kisses, "I'm going to convince you once and for all that this arm of yours is no matter… I love it as much as I love you because it's part of who you are."
But soon they were both beyond words. Edith, who was decidedly inexperienced, found her body arching wantonly against Anthony, longing for the layers of clothing between them to be gone and lights to be dimmed and the house to be empty.
Anthony was not so frantic as she, though he seemed just as eager, which pleased her and gave her hope. His touch was controlled though, reserved. He was enjoying himself, savoring the moment. Edith was so lost in the new sensations she could hardly tell which way was the ceiling and which the floor.
When she quickly hitched up her dress around her hips so as to press closer to him, Anthony pulled away. The break in movement felt to her like a motorcar lurching to an abrupt stop in traffic. She released an involuntary whimper that should have embarrassed her, but didn't.
"Perhaps we should just, take a moment," he suggested, breathless and hoarse.
"What on earth for?" she flirted, locking her arms behind his neck.
"Because, darling, if we don't I'm afraid I won't be able to stop."
"And why should you?"
Anthony simply gave her a stern look and placed his hand on her hip, locking it in place several inches from his body where it had been crushing a moment earlier.
"So you won't even consider it?" She didn't try to hide her disappointment.
"I won't disrespect you in that way, Edith. Not after all we've done through. It would be like growing the most perfect garden, only to trample on it when it finally blooms."
"I disagree entirely. I want to be with you more than anything."
"As do I. And we will be. In a day or two when we're married."
Edith sighed, exasperated. Her shoulders dropped and she looked far away, a gesture Anthony knew so very well. It meant she was thinking, but was far from giving up.
"I just don't see," Edith said after a while, "how it could be wrong to..." But her voice trailed off. To her surprise, she blushed just slightly.
Anthony took her hand and kissed it, patient and kind as ever. "My Edith, it is not wrong. It never could be, when we love each other. This is precisely the way you should feel."
"Then why wait? It will only be a matter of days before we're married. You said so yourself."
"Because it is the proper thing to do."
"Proper?" she shrieked as loudly as she could without disturbing anyone, pushing on his chest for emphasis. "Propriety is quickly becoming my absolute most hated enemy. It's driven us apart so many, many times. No more. I want to know that you're mine, and I want you to know I'm yours, and I do not want you to disappear without us being lovers. I love you, Anthony, please don't deny me this."
He kissed her again, and kissed the tears that had formed at her lashes. Her eyes were so imploring, his wise and good and utterly alive. Nudging her to turn so she may sit sideways, in a less provocative position, he pulled her head to his chest, her tiny frame curling easily against him as he held for comfortingly.
"For as long as I live," he explained, "I will not deny you anything it is within my power to give you. I've gotten so many things wrong, my darling, and I promise I'll do everything I can to keep you happy." Edith tucked into his chest, gathering his shirt into her fist as though he might vanish if she closed her eyes.
He kissed the top of her head and whispered against her hair, "But I will not get this wrong as well. It has nothing to do with social convention. I think we're both beyond that. I simply want our first time, your first time, to be something untainted, unhurried, and private. Not here, on this sofa, where anyone could walk in. And I'm sorry I've made you afraid I might disappear. I won't, I promise, but I'm not going to show it to you in this way."
" You're far better and more patient than I," she said. She looked up, studying his face. She smiled as she patted down his hair and brushed her fingers over his lips. "I'm afraid I've been rather overzealous with your clothing tonight. I'm sorry."
"Never apologize for that, Edith. A little while yet and you're free to be as zealous as you like. In fact, I'll encourage it."
"Will you?" she laughed, raising her eyebrows and cocking her head.
"I know this may shock you, but everything you've been feeling, I've been feeling too, and imagining, and longing for. I just had no reason at all to hope for it until tonight."
"And what a night," she said. "Only five hours ago I was trying to think of the most tedious task imaginable so as to keep my mind occupied and make the days pass until my family would let me be in peace. They've been unbearably kind. I think I almost preferred it when I was ignored," she said without a hint of cynicism. "I've been utterly miserable, but if I even hinted at the fact, I'd be ushered to a garden party or dinner with Aunt Rosamund or a concert with some awful man who said all the right things and had absolutely no substance at all. And I've been writing, of course, but Papa doesn't approve and it's been hard to really devote myself to it when everyone thinks it's simply a phase."
"It's been so difficult for you. I thought you'd be off seeing the world or being courted by scores of suitors. I thought, when I left, that you would be happy."
"It's no matter. I'm happy now. And I intend to continue in the new trend."
They carried on, chatting and catching up on their lost year, and making decisions. They had plenty to sort out in the next several days. Where they should honeymoon, which of Anthony's houses they will live in upon their return, whether or not Edith would continue with her journalism.
Edith almost asked how he felt about children, but decided that she was so content just being with him, children would add to that joy, but wouldn't be pivotal for it. She also knew that he would fear his age would prevent traditional parenting, which of course was ridiculous. But for tonight at least, she had what she wanted and would not push him to face anything more.
It was nearly one in the morning when Edith finally let Anthony go home. They both loathed to part, but as Anthony reminded Edith, Lord Grantham would be none too pleased to find him there in the morning.
"You'll be back tomorrow, though?" She asked, sounding more insecure than she intended.
"Indeed. Call when you wake and I'll come right over."
"I won't sleep. Be here at nine."
"Nine," he confirmed, kissing her once more before heading down the steps toward his car and a rather surly looking chauffeur.
"And don't be one minute late, Sir Strallan, or you will answer to me," she warned, smiling widely at him.