Edith imagined how the week could have dragged on, the days seeming endless as she waited to become Lady Strallan, forever under the watchful eye of her anticipating relatives. Before their 'first attempt,' as she and Anthony had come to call it, Edith was forever being told what to do and how to feel, when she could and could not see Anthony, what she should be thinking, when to eat and what to eat to avoid puffiness. It was interminable.
The week before their appointment with the registrar could have easily been just as tedious and nerve-wracking, but it wasn't.
"The beauty of having done all of this before, is that no one seems to care about the insignificant things," Edith mused, sprawled on a blanket with Anthony under a great oak in the park. It was one of those lovely days of early summer when the air isn't yet thick with heat and the grass is still cool and damp with spring rain.
"Oh?" he asked sleepily. His eyes were closed as he ran lazy circles on Edith's ankles where they rested in his lap. She was leaning against the trunk of the tree as he stretched out in front of her.
"Last time no one would have dared let us alone. I was ushered into a separate house, quarantined from you for days except for well-attended dinner parties, and even then we were barely allowed to speak. Don't you remember? It was awful."
"Quite," he agreed. Dropping his voice and looking at her sideways he said, "It is rather remarkable what we've gotten away with this week."
Edith smiled. They'd spent every day together, either at his home talking and reading, or walking the shops or the park, Edith picking out a few little trifles to be shipped to Locksley for their return. Even better were the times when they secured a proper couple of hours to, as conservative society put it, get to know each other.
"Married or not, I think this has been the best week of my life," she sighed. She pulled her feet from his hands so she might kneel and, placing a hand on either side of him, lean down to kiss him. A passing group of women tittered as they inadvertently witnessed the display, but Edith just shrugged. "That is exactly what I'm referring to."
Anthony pulled his old pocket watch from his vest and handed it to Edith as she leaned into his side. She read it with a smile, "Twenty hours, and forty minutes. How did you know I was going to ask?"
"Because, sweet one, it's been roughly seven minutes since that last time you checked and I knew you were due. Why don't you hold onto the watch for now?"
"You won't miss it?"
"Not with you around to keep me informed." Edith poked him in the ribs, relatively hard, trying to get a rise out of him.
"Ouch," he muttered, "That violent streak is getting worse, I believe. Will my amiable, patient Edith return after we're married?"
"You'll find out in twenty hours and thirty eight minutes," she said. And when his smile wasn't reaction enough she kissed him again, and again, and again.
The day went all too quickly, and while they were left alone during the week, the eve of even a second wedding seemed too much for the Crawleys to ignore. Anthony was sent home after dinner, and Edith was sent upstairs for a bath and bed, as though she were in school again. Her parents had even come to bid her goodnight.
"I'm so happy for you, my darling girl. I said you were being tested, and perhaps you were. Now you'll appreciate the good all the more and weather the bad with a bit more courage. It wasn't all for naught, Edith. Remember that," Cora said in her most maternal tone. It was the one that soothed Edith when she was frail and infuriated her when she was not, but it was her Mama's, and she would never tire of hearing it.
Hours later, Edith was sitting on the great windowsill, her forehead pressed to the cool glass as she watched the breeze move through the trees lining the street. Anthony had told her to keep his watch. "I'll be here to get it back tomorrow," he had said. Edith knew it was his promise to return, to never let her down again.
She checked it; well after two in the morning. She knew she should rest but each time she climbed into the cold, empty bed her mind would start racing. Mostly it was the thrill of finally getting what she wanted—the only thing she had ever wanted. But a fair part of her restlessness, she recognized, was fear. When she closed her eyes she couldn't fight the memories of that first attempt.
She checked the watch again, shifting it to the moonlight so she might see it better, to double check she had the time right and that the watch was indeed working. It was. This side of eight hours and she and Anthony would exchange their vows. They would walk to the office together, their family and friends in tow, and they would say the words. Anthony told her they were already married in his mind, "in the ways that count." She knew he meant it, and that he was right.
Edith held onto that thought, clutching the watch in her hands as though it confirmed everything was real, and her stomach flipped all over again.
A faint knock at her door caused Edith's heart to drop, worried somehow it was Anthony coming to say goodbye and break her heart once more.
She opened it with shaking hands and gaped at a rather worn looking Mary, standing barefoot in her nightgown and playing nervously with her long, dark braid.
"I didn't think you'd be sleeping. I didn't wake you?" Mary asked.
"No, no. I haven't sat still all night," Edith said quickly, snapping to and opening the door to let Mary in.
"I know this is Sybil's territory, but seeing as she's in Dublin and I'm here, I thought I'd check on you. You seemed a little tense after Anthony left."
Both sisters were guarded, awkward, so unused to anything other than moderately civil conversation. Edith gestured to the bed and they both sat stiffly, unsure of where to look.
"I was. I am, though not for any conventional reason."
"Well I would offer you the standard reassurances, but this is not a standard pre-wedding anxiety."
"He won't go again," Edith said, unintentionally defensive.
"I know. I know he won't." Mary's tone was curt. But taking a deep breath she began again. "I came to talk to you."
"Oh?"
"Edith, I know we haven't always been kind to each other. It's no secret we've never been friends, but despite all that, I really am very, very glad for you.
Edith was so unused to any such speech from her older sister all she managed was a simple, "Thank you."
"I know," Mary continued, though she was clearly having a difficult time, "that you and Sir Anthony have had your share of complications. And I know I'm partially culpable, if not largely so. That day at the garden party, Edith, I had no idea."
"You did, you had every idea. But it doesn't matter. And I'm just as much to blame for that as you. More so, probably. I think it's safe to say you and I have always been our own worst enemies."
"I suppose that's why we're so good at being each other's enemies," Mary said with a sad laugh.
"We're both grown, we needn't be in competition anymore. It's all in the past now."
The sisters studied each other for a long minute, unsure of how to operate in the unprecedented exchange.
"Friends?" Mary finally asked, her face and expression as cool as she could manage. "At least until Sybil comes home to relieve us?"
"I'd be very glad for it," Edith replied.
The sat in an uncomfortable silence for a moment, neither sister feeling overly affectionate. Apparently the friendship part would take some getting used to. Mary shrugged as if to shake the emotional conversation off and looked away.
"Well, as a friend, and your married big sister, might I offer you any advice on married life? Or perhaps," she said in mock solemnity, "on your impending wedding night?"
Edith laughed nervously and looked down and her hands. "No, thank you, I'm quite alright."
"Come on," Mary jeered, elbowing Edith lightly. "You needn't be shy."
Edith turn to her slowly, a less-than-remorseful grin on her face. "I wasn't."
It took a moment before Mary caught on. "What?" she gasped, "No. Who?"
"Anthony, of course. Who else?" Edith answered casually.
"When, I mean—how did you find the time?" Mary's eyebrows were arched and her eyes wide.
"No one ever notices when I'm gone, do they?"
Mary turned her eyes to the floor, unable to hide her shock. She was fighting a smile, unsure whether to laugh or plug her ears. "I didn't think he had it in him," she muttered almost to herself.
Edith's face fell as she whispered, "Be nice."
"I only meant, I always thought of Sir Anthony as the absolute image of decorum and etiquette," Mary softened.
Edith nodded once and explained, "Anthony is the picture of honor. He is, and always has been, the perfect gentleman." Then, dropping her voice slightly she said coyly, "Except in certain places… Including his bedroom, and two of the guest rooms, and specifically the desk in his study."
Mary's face grew even more alarmed for a moment, at a total loss for words until the sisters made eye contact. Edith's expression was the strangest mix of shame and satisfaction. And then both women burst into laughter.
"Oh god, I don't think I want to hear anymore," Mary managed.
"I know you and Sybil think you're the rebels in the family, but I'm defiant in my own way. I just don't get caught," Edith said as her cackling died into little exhausted giggles.
"Thank god, or Papa would have shot your groom on the spot," Mary said gravely, taking a deep breath.
And then they broke into another fit of screeching laughs.
Each time they managed to talk one of them would say something clever and they'd peel off into a joyful delirium again, realizing the reason they'd been so good at fighting is because they were well-matched when it came to wit. And before long Edith realized she wasn't nervous anymore, just exhausted and brilliantly happy.
When Anna came in at eight to rouse the bride, she was pleasantly surprised to find Mary and Edith asleep, together, curled up under one blanket like little girls.
"They'll never believe this downstairs. I wonder if it'll snow today too," she muttered to herself as she crept back out of the room.
A/N: I know it's all a little too happy. There are hard times to come, I'm sure. But certainly they have all suffered enough that they can enjoy a little 'joyful delirium' for a bit, eh? As for the unmentionable that happened in Episode 3.5-I am currently refusing to acknowledge it ever happened.
Thanks for your reviews, but more so, thanks for reading!