"Are you sure you're feeling up to it, dearest? It's not too late to call," Anthony offered, rubbing his wife's petite feet as they were propped on a pillow in his lap. They had eaten their breakfast on the sofa in the day room, the dining room chairs being too uncomfortable for even one meal.
"No, I really do want to go. Normally I wouldn't be so keen, but Mary seemed particularly eager that we attend. It's just the garden party. I will plant myself in the shade of the tent and be perfectly fine."
"And you'll tell me the moment you're uncomfortable?"
"Anthony, my dear husband, don't take this the wrong way, but I am days away from having your child and I am never not uncomfortable. It's one afternoon. Whether I'm achy and sleepless here or there is no matter at this point."
Anthony sighed. "I wish there was something I could do for you."
Edith smiled appreciatively and reached for his hand. "You're wonderful. Anyway, Dr. Clarkson doesn't think it should be too much longer now."
It was the last week of May, and Edith had been having more and more difficulty sleeping at night. The weight of their child pulled on her back and ribs, and pressed into her hips, and everything seemed to ache. She slept little, between the discomfort and the absolutely absurd number of times she had to haul herself out of bed and into the bathroom every night. And her darling Anthony, she knew, was suffering for her.
"Well if you're serious about going, we should be leaving soon."
"Alright," she sighed, swinging her feet to the floor and holding her hands for Anthony to hoist her off the couch.
Large as he knew she felt, Anthony thought she'd never looked better. He'd seen enough pregnant women in his life to know that this late stage is usually accompanied with swelling and waddling and other such things. But Edith—his exquisite, placid, darling Edith—exhibited none of this. Her swelling was limited to that of her great belly, perfectly and symmetrically round with their child, and she moved with a grace that was almost emphasized by the pregnancy, not hindered by it.
Of course, if Anthony tried to explain this phenomenon to his beloved wife, she would arch a brow and roll her eyes and kiss his cheek and thank him for his effort. Anthony decided, pregnant or not, Edith would never believe herself to be as beautiful as she actually was.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked, kneading her lower back with both hands.
"You, my love. Always."
Edith laid a hand on his shoulder and smiled admiringly. "I think we're going to be alright."
"How do you mean?" he asked, puzzled.
"I love you, of course. But the fact that I can stand here, the size of a planet, with your child stretched into my ribs and pressing on my bladder and my bones, knowing full well you put her there, and still be dizzy with love for you, well that says something."
Anthony laughed lightly, his joy undermined only by the helpless sympathy he felt for her, before taking Edith's hand in his and kissing it softly. "I take full responsibility. And I don't envy you a bit, my Edith."
"Now, let's go before I change my mind, alright?"
As they waited for Samson to pull the car around, Anthony pulled a little package from his morning jacket and handed it to Edith.
"What's this?" she asked skeptically.
"I realize you've forgotten what day it is, but I have not."
"And what day is that?"
"It's our one year anniversary."
"It is not! Our anniversary isn't for another week," she said impatiently.
"Not our wedding anniversary, dear one," he whispered close to her ear.
Edith blushed despite herself and unwrapped the small, flat box. "Stationary," she said, looking up at him. "It's charming."
"I ordered a whole crateof it. I want you to start writing to me again."
"What?"
"I used to love your letters, back before the first attempt, and I think it's a shame they should stop just because we spend most of our waking hours together."
"We spend our sleeping hours together too," she pointed out.
"Indeed. But I still miss your letters. You know, we've a legacy in writing of our lost year. I'd like to make a new one now that we're together, and happy. I'll write to you too. And we can leave them in various locations, and that way we'll be sure to say everything we want to every day."
"You're the most foolishly romantic man I've ever met. No one would ever guess, but you really are," Edith said breathlessly, pitching her arms around his neck. "Thank you for this. It's lovely, really and truly. It's brilliant."
"Good, so we'll start tonight?"
"Agreed," she said, letting him from her grasp only when Samson pulled the motor to a stop before them.
The moment Carson opened the door at Downton, Edith knew something was amiss. For one thing, he greeted her has 'Lady Edith' instead of 'Lady Strallan,' per his usual, impersonal custom. For another, he smiled, really smiled at her.
"You'll find everyone gathered on the terrace, Milady," Carson said jovially.
Edith managed a thank you through her confusion, even as she frowned at the suspicious arrangements of white roses and pink peonies and stargazer lilies and blue hydrangeas in the great hall.
"Something is going on," she muttered to Anthony, taking his arm as they moved for the back lawn.
"I believe you are correct," he replied, equally as bewildered.
When they reached the terrace, Edith was astounded. There, all clad in white and cream and beige and tan, was the entire Crawley family, Tom and the girls, and Anthony's sister from London, Aunt Rosamund, about a dozen old friends from the village, and the Lesters. Anyone, really, who had known Edith and Anthony as Edith and Anthony. And every one of them was applauding as the couple arrived, and smiling gaily. In the tent was an absolutely marvelous spread of food, and a great three-tiered cake with sugar flowers.
"What on earth?" Edith muttered, trying to put it all together. She paled slightly, gripping Anthony to steady herself.
He was about to ask if it was just the surprise, when Cora stepped forward, both her hands held out to the Strallans. "We never got to throw you a proper wedding party, and we figured what better time than now," she gushed, pulling both of them down the lawn to their waiting guests.
"We would have done it on your actual anniversary, but extenuating circumstances being what they are, we didn't care to risk it," Mary added, conspicuously eyeing Edith's largely pregnant belly.
"Are you surprised?" Tom asked, kissing Edith on the cheek. "It's been a helluva time keeping it under wraps."
"I'm speechless," Edith stammered, greeting the rest of her eagerly waiting family.
Anthony, usually of few words among a large group, simply said, "It's very, very kind. Thank you."
Mary, leaning in to kiss Anthony's cheek whispered, "Don't tell her I said, but it was Granny's idea."
The party was lovely. Anthony's sister, who was very like him in her warmth and humility, was quite doting on Edith, lamenting she didn't get down to see them more often. "I will have an excuse now, of course," she smiled, rubbing Edith's stomach with a wink.
During the toasts, Mr. Lester relayed his utter confusion that fated night, one year ago, when their dinner party was broken up. All the attendees laughed at his retelling, particularly the description of everyone's reaction when, fifteen minutes after Edith and Anthony's parting, Lord Grantham returned and announced they were engaged to be married. The Strallans, who'd never even thought to ask what happened after they left, were in stitches.
Matthew and Tom officially welcomed Anthony into their self-proclaimed 'Band of Brothers,' and thanked him for helping "even out the teams of Crawleys versus In-Laws." Though it was partly in jest, Edith knew how touched Anthony was that he had such excellent friends in the young men.
As Robert stood, champagne glass in hand, Edith's breath hitched slightly and she gripped Anthony's leg under the table.
Robert began his speech with a contemplative frown. "It's remarkable what can happen in one year. No matter how much I experience, or how old I get, it always surprises me. In the past year we've seen old friends come home at long-last," and he gestured to Mr. Bates, who was standing in the back with the rest of the staff. "We've seen a great many changes on this estate, and many others in our village. The Grantham House won the cricket match for the first time in far too long," to which there were many enthusiastic cheers. "We've welcomed a new arrival," and he smiled at little Sybil, who was gurgling in Cora's arms, "and we've experienced great loss."
He paused as all remembered dear Sybil for a moment. Edith's eyes instinctively flashed to Tom, who picked up Madeline and kissed her hair.
With a deep breath, Robert continued. "But we are here today to celebrate a marriage. And one, I am man enough to admit, that was far, far overdue. When I look at my daughters, and granddaughters, I am heartened, because I realize that some things never change. Family, friendship, love—those are the things that endure. Edith and Anthony, you are a testament to the power and patience of love, and I congratulate you on reminding us all what is of true value in life. Here's to you, and to the next year, and many, many more."
Robert raised his glass as to a collective "Hear-hear" from the rest of the party, before waving his hand and saying, "Anyway, enough of this sentimental nonsense. Let's cut into that cake, eh? It is raspberry, I believe Anthony, in honor of your first dinner with us."
Only a small few understood the joke, but those who did laughed heartily, Anthony most of all.
As the party parted Edith stood, as quickly as she could manage, and made her way to her Papa. She'd never been prouder, in that moment, to be a Crawley. "Thank you, Papa. That was lovely," she said, trying to hug him. Robert awkwardly took her hand in both of his, kissed it, and patted it softly as mumbled a few embarrassed words and excused himself.
Edith turned to Cora. "How a man can say something as sweet as that and then be too shy to hug his own daughter is beyond me," she grumbled with a laugh.
"It's not that he's shy," Mary said, coming up behind Cora. "It's that he's afraid if he squeezes you too hard he might send a baby skidding across the floor."
Edith laughed. "Poor Papa, he always was nervous about such things, and cursed with three daughters no less."
"And only granddaughters to boot," Mary added.
"For now," Cora said, reaching a hand to Edith's tummy. "Maybe we'll get a grandson yet."
"Not this time, Mama," Edith smiled, looking down. "I know it's a girl."
"You know no such thing. I was certain Robert was a girl and Rosamund a boy," Granny said, joining the others. She winked at Edith to ensure it was all in good humor.
"Well we'll find out soon enough regardless, I should think," Cora concluded.
Edith nodded distractedly and looked for Anthony. He was standing with Matthew, Tom, and his sister, laughing. She saw mostly his boyish curls, and the broad span of his back, but as he looked to his right at something Tom was saying, she caught a glimpse of his eyes and that wonderfully lopsided smile. She tried to imagine being there, in that moment, looking at anyone else in Anthony's place and simply couldn't fathom it.
Anthony seemed to feel her eyes on him, because he turned, glancing over his shoulder, and caught her staring. With a quick word to the others, he came toward her.
"Hello, wife," he muttered, taking her in his arm as she laid her head against his chest.
"Hello husband."
"Eight years, almost three proposals, two weddings, and one baby on the way and I can finally make it right."
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't you remember the last time we attended a garden party here?"
Edith smiled fondly. "Back when I was a child and you were shy and Mary was…"
"Pure evil," he muttered.
"Yes, indeed," Edith laughed. "When you were first going to propose but ran away instead."
"Well, if today is about reparations, as I suspect it is, let me make mine as well."
"Go on then."
"Be my wife?"
"I'll think about it," she said coolly, holding him tighter.
"Perhaps Mary's evil nature is a genetic quality?"
"Oh Anthony, I'm yours completely and you know it."
"I didn't always, but I'm glad to say I do now."
In a rare public display, Anthony took Edith's chin in his hand and kissed her sweetly, and passionately, on her soft and waiting lips.
As the sun faded behind the trees and the cool early-summer evening settled on the happy party, Edith and Anthony said their goodbyes. Making their way to the waiting car, Edith sighed.
"That was perfect. Thank you."
"Don't thank me; it was your Grandmother's idea. I was just as surprised as you."
"Yes, but you've made them change their view of me. I'm not sure how, exactly, but I know you have."
"Perhaps," he allowed, taking her hand in his. Anthony was surprised to find it somewhat clammy as she tensed and let go.
"Are you finally going to tell me what's wrong?" Anthony asked gently. "You've been strange all day."
"I'm fine," she said, looking away.
"Not very convincing, dear one," he muttered. They had come to a stop in the entry, the footman waiting with their things.
"Anthony, it's alright. I'm just having some pains," she hissed, less out of annoyance and more out of determination, as though saying it was nothing made it so.
"How long have you been having these pains?" he asked, working hard to hide his panic.
"Not long," she said. Finally meeting Anthony's eyes, her shoulders dropped as she conceded. "It started this morning. They're about every fifteen minutes now."
"Every fifteen minutes? Oh lord, are they really?"
Edith nodded solemnly.
"I don't know whether to be annoyed at your stubbornness or impressed that you've silently been in labor all damn day," Anthony said, his tone also somewhere between awe and frustration. His swearing was not an angry response, she knew. She smiled apologetically at him. "What on earth are we going to do with you?" he whispered fondly, kissing her forehead.
They held each other for a moment, smiling like fools at one another, until Edith flinched and bent slightly. One hand snapped to her belly as the other braced against Anthony's good arm.
"For now," she suggested calmly, working to steady her breath, "you might go fetch Mama and Mary, and perhaps ask Carson to call for Dr. Clarkson. And if Tom would be so good as to go get Anna, I'd like her with me."
"Don't you think you should stay here? Should you be travelling?"
"No, I'd much, much rather be home. It's a short drive, we have plenty of time still."
Anthony was steady, but energized. Edith even thought she detected a little giddiness. He kissed her temple again as the contraction passed and she straightened. "Alright, my love. Hold on. I'll rally the troops."
A/N: In the next installment we will finally meet the much anticipated Baby Strallan, and find out who gets to pick the name. :)
Thank you so, so much for following this story. I'm having such fun writing it and reading all your lovely reviews. Thank you! (And sorry, Baron, to draw out the suspense. :)