A/N: Thank you all for continuing to read! You've been so wonderful and generous. I can't tell you how glad it makes me!

Anthony seems to have decided enough is enough when it comes to Crawley-Family interference. :) And he is justly rewarded for it in the end too. Enjoy!

"Well, let's dispense with the formalities and get down to business," Lady Violet suggested, stirring some milk into her tea.

"Is it so hard to believe I'd pay you a call for the sake of your company?" Anthony asked pleasantly. "We used to be quite frequent visitors before the war, if you'll recall."

"Anthony, that was eight years ago. And before you married my Granddaughter. I think we're past formal invites for the sake of social propriety. No one could accuse you of scheming, but I know you have a reason for coming here today, without Edith. As pleasant as you are to chat with, why don't you end the suspense?"

Anthony smiled warmly and nodded. "Very well. I wanted to talk to you about Edith."

"So I gathered."

"And," Anthony said firmly, "About the row you had the other day."

"Oh, I don't know that I'd chalk it up to more than a little disagreement," Violet scoffed, uncomfortable with Anthony's forthrightness.

"But you see, to Edith it was much more than just that. It's so important to Edith that she have the support and approval of the family, and she left dinner feeling quite certain she would never receive it."

"So she sent you here to reason with me?" Violet asked curtly.

Anthony, calm as ever, said, "Edith doesn't know I'm here, and she probably won't be pleased when I tell her. I came because it is important to me that Edith is happy."

"Edith has never done what she's been told, when it matters to her. I'm sure she'll do as she pleases."

"Ah, that's just it. The things that matter to her always seem to meet resistance, don't they? Edith has a tendency to be rather compliant so her feelings are easily forgotten. I understand, I suppose, but I don't believe she should always have to fight for what she wants, especially when it matters to her, as you say."

"What is it you're asking me to do?" Violet asked, neither admitting nor denying Anthony's mild accusation.

"I suppose I'm asking you to consider Edith, really consider her. I'm not saying you need agree with her on every little thing, of course." Anthony paused, glancing up from his biscuit to gage Lady Violet's mood. Deciding it needed to be said regardless, he straightened a bit. "But perhaps you could be less dismissive of her, and not take her for granted."

Violet was quiet for a long time, unused to being called-out in such an honest and blatant manner. Anthony was not playing games, nor was he creating conflict. The stuttering, stooping man she once thought bumbling and dull was staring her directly in the eye and pleading on behalf of his wife for little more than some human regard.

"I see," the old woman mused, looking at him sideways as she mulled over his words. "I would never consider Edith submissive," she finally said.

"Oh neither would I. But don't mistake her silence for indifference. Edith cares, very much, and though she hides it fiercely, I believe it hurts her that she gets no credit with you, or Robert and Cora for that matter, and until very recently from Mary either."

After another contemplative moment, Violet sighed. "Mary had the beauty, and Sybil the headstrong sweetness. Edith, obedient and self-reliant child that she was, never needed attention like the other two."

"Everyone needs some degree of attention," Anthony argued gently. "I think Edith's spent enough time waiting for it."

Violet narrowed her eyes, not in a menacing way, but one that suggested she was coming to a realization. "You care very much about her?"

"More than anything. More than I thought was possible," Anthony answered quickly. His assurance in the matter stunned her.

"I underestimated you, Anthony."

"I underestimated myself. And Edith as well, I think."

Lady Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham, and Sir Anthony of Locksley Park examined one another for a long time with only the sound of their respective tea cups clinking against their saucers to break the silence.

"It's not that I have trouble admitting when I'm wrong," Violet finally qualified, "But that it does not usually come up. But I will admit that Edith has too often been overlooked. All great families have an outsider or two, you see, and I'm afraid Edith is ours. Even when Sybil ran away with the chauffeur she wasn't as 'out' as Edith always has been."

The words cut Anthony, which surprised him. Knowing how remarkable Edith was, what a gift it was just to be in her presence, he suddenly felt the searing rejection she'd experienced most of her life as though it was his own. To think the talented, charming, vibrant woman he'd married spent so many years feeling inadequate and unloved sent a pain through him that he would not soon recover from.

"But," Violet continued, "I assure you she is still part of the family, and while we may not always, god know, comprehend the things she does, she will always be that. You have to know, Anthony, that every fight we've given Edith has been with the intention of protecting her."

"And how can you presume to protect something you don't attempt to understand?" Anthony shot back without thinking. Immediately regretting his words, he dropped his head to the side and took a steadying breath. "I'm sorry."

Lady Violet looked scandalized for a moment, and Anthony waited for an icy retort. But it didn't come. Instead, her grey eyes flashed away in an attempt to hide the emotion in them, as her gaping mouth clamped shut.

"You're not wrong," she finally admitted, folding her shaking hands in her lap.

Anthony, in the many years the Strallans had known the Crawleys, had never seen Lady Violet look so remorseful. Had it been anyone but Edith he was fighting for, he would have felt terribly guilty. But it was Edith that they were discussing, his Edith, and he was not leaving until all was remedied.

Deciding he couldn't possibly lose any more favor with the old woman, Anthony laid everything out before her. "I love Edith completely and deeply and profoundly. I realize it is uncouth to say as much, but there you have it. I wouldn't be here having this conversation with you if I didn't. All I'm asking, Lady Violet, is that you endeavor to not make Edith feel so unwanted and so alienated from the family. Because I know how much she cares about all of you, and I can't bear to see her suffer."

"Very well," Violet muttered. Her expression was somewhere between fear and awe.

Anthony felt relieved to have spoken his mind without too much repercussion.

"Why weren't you this assertive two years ago?" Violet asked suddenly, something akin to admiration in her voice.

"Because, if you'll forgive my language, I was a damnable fool."

"And what's changed?"

"I can't say, exactly, but I have a feeling the answer lies somewhere with your middle granddaughter."

"No doubt," Violet agreed quietly. "No doubt about that at all."

When Anthony returned home that afternoon he found Edith and Mary sitting on the floor of the room which was to be the nursery. It was a bright room, with a deep window seat and floral molding at the ceilings. Edith had picked a wonderfully warm yellow for the walls, which paired nicely with the white woodwork. The sisters had various fabrics laid out before them, and some wallpapers, and Edith was holding a corduroy bunny in her lap.

"Hello," Anthony called from the doorway. Edith looked over her shoulder with a great smile.

"Oh, darling, just in time. Help me up, would you?" Edith asked, holding out both her hands.

Mary, thinking Anthony might struggle with only one hand at his disposal, hopped up to help. Before she'd even straightened her skirt Anthony had taken the room in three great strides and effortlessly pulled Edith to her feet as though she were a stray branch he was moving from the path.

"Getting everything ready for the baby?" he asked conversationally, unabashedly kissing his wife. He couldn't bring himself to care that Mary was present, not after his tea with Violet. And she didn't seem to mind a bit.

"I'm rubbish with fabrics and things, but Mary picked these out, what do you think?" Edith asked, gesturing to the sweet taupes and creams in various patterns.

"Lovely," he smiled. "Thank you for helping my wife, Mary. I'd do anything in my power to make her happy but my knowledge when it comes to linen and paper is rather ghastly."

"I've got to do something to keep busy I suppose," Mary sighed. She arched an eyebrow at Edith and added, "We don't all have husbands who are joined to us at the hip."

Edith leaned into Anthony, aware that for the first time in their lives Edith had something Mary wanted instead of the other way around. But there was no animosity over it, no quarreling like they would have done as children, only a silent and mutual appreciation of life's luxuries.

Wishing to change the sentiment Mary took a deep breath and clapped her hands together. "Well, I'm going to go. Matthew and Papa have been working with Tom and the tenants around the new setup and they'll be home soon. Matthew will want to talk about it, I'm sure."

"We'll see you out," Anthony said, moving to hold the door for Mary and Edith, but Mary stopped him.

"Oh, please don't bother. I know my way around by now. See you soon," and she was gone.

Anthony looked around the empty room again before turning back to his wife. Edith was watching him with a knowing grin. The afternoon sun filled the already yellow room and cast gold light against her profile, giving the illusion that she was literally illuminated from within. Her hand pressed against the small of her back and her cream blouse, tight over her belly, made her beautiful skin seem ever richer.

He ached with love for her.

"What on earth did you do today?" she asked.

"I had tea with your grandmother. Lovely woman, not at all intimidating," he said in that dry, sarcastic humor he had.

Edith's eyes widened. "You did? By yourself? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you weren't invited, my pet," he answered, stepping closer to her with a devious smile.

"I see. And what did you and Granny talk about over your tea?"

"You, of course," he muttered, leaning down to nibble her neck. Her bobbed hair smelled of lavender and brushed just so against his face. He could hear her breath hitch just a bit when he pulled against her hip with his hand and kissed her ear.

"Me, of course? Anthony, were you dueling with Granny on my behalf? I wish you wouldn't bother. The woman will never change and that's just fine."

"No dueling, and no bother, and it's not fine, but I think we may have sorted a few things," he rattled off, distracted by her hands as one wrapped around the small of the back and the other slipped into his sling.

Edith pulled her head away from him for a moment so that she might look into his eyes. "Thank you, whatever you've done or said I appreciate it."

"You needn't thank me for being your husband. That's all I was doing."

"I hate to disillusion you regarding the rest of your sex, but I don't believe most men feel the same way you do about the role and duties of 'husband' Anthony," she smiled.

"Well why didn't one of them say something and save me all this trouble? Scoundrels."

Edith laughed heartily. "I love you madly."

"I'm glad," he whispered seriously, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to Edith's.

They held each other for a long while, both utterly aware that no matter what they had, whatever they were told, and regardless of which shade of tan the baby's bedding was going to be, everything that mattered in the world was between them now—each other and their child.

"Dearest?" Anthony asked gently, peering down at her with a droll raise of his brow, "Lovely as these fabrics are, would you care to examine the linens on our bed with me before Mrs. Bass lays out supper?"

"We're not eating for at least another three hours," Edith replied.

"Precisely," he growled into her ear. His voice, thick and husky, sent a thrill through her and she melted at her very core.

"I suppose I could be amenable to that, yes," she teased, turning primly and walking out of the nursery. He held her greedily from behind as they moved down the hall toward their room, pressing against her while they walked. Her smell, the warmth of her through her grey sweater, the way she fit against him so easily—he was done in by her, always and in so many ways.

In their room Edith turned to him, flushed and eager. She slipped his cardigan from his shoulders and began on the buttons of his shirt. He watched her bite her red, full lip and momentarily losing patience, interrupted to kiss her voraciously. Letting go of his usual reserve, he did not toy with her today. He urged her mouth open and ran his tongue along hers before she pushed him back gently. He pulled slightly on her bottom lip as they separated.

Edith, breathless and rather caught off guard, gave him a deliciously daring smirk. "You keep this up and you might send me into early labor," Edith warned jokingly.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," Anthony said before continuing where he left off.