Edith thanked Lord Hexham as soon she could. Lord Hexham quietly informed her (out of anyone else's earshot) that he felt it was his duty to have done something for her. After all, it was he who had encouraged her to climb the tree. And therefore, at least some of the blame for her resulting injury must lay on his shoulders. Edith laughed and reassured him that she bore him no blame. Indeed she did not even blame herself.
"I rest all blame entirely," she announced gravely, "on the tree,"
Lord Hexham chuckled in reply. "And of course the tree cannot defend itself. Very beneficial. One cannot wish for more from a scapegoat,"
Despite having agreed that the entire affair was the tree's fault, Lord Hexham remained dutifully by Edith's side when possible. There were enough eligible gentlemen at the ball (Cora had been obliged to invite Lord Merton's odious sons,) to satisfy the other Ladies. Lord Hexham only stood up for a dance twice, when he was absolutely obliged to. Once with Lady Mary, to please his hosts, and once with Miss Lane Fox, who had been abandoned by Lord Gillingham.
The ball was actually a rare occurrence in that for once, the Gentlemen outnumbered the Ladies. And so Lord Hexham's decision to keep Edith company was looked on not as discourteous towards the other Ladies, but very honourable indeed.
Sadly, Lord and Lady Grantham had no doubt come to the conclusion that their efforts to make a match between Mary and Cousin Matthew were fruitless, and so it was Cousin Matthew who escorted Edith into dinner that evening. Lord Hexham was given to Mary. Not that Edith found anything particularly disagreeable about Cousin Matthew. Indeed, she found his presence very enjoyable. She was just rather disenchanted that even when Lord Hexham had dedicated himself to keeping her company and her parents still thought Lord Hexham was enchanted with Mary.
This was an unpleasant experience for two reasons. One, it showed Edith that very little will convince her parents that she was not completely inferior to Mary. The second was that it implied colossal stupidity on her parents' behalf.
Or at least, Edith hoped it was stupidity. A mild panic seized her, and mid-conversation with Cousin Matthew she found her eyes slid towards Lord Hexham and Mary. They were talking politely, but Lord Hexham's head was back to her, so she could not see how he felt about the conversation. She bit her lip and tried to discretely keep her eyes on them without being noticed. Lord Hexham turned back towards his plate. He was laughing! Edith felt her heart thud.
'Oh God', Edith thought desperately, 'He's laughing! Why is he laughing? Are they laughing at me? What if Mama and Papa are right and Lord Hexham is just using me?'
Her eyes flickered to her knife and fork before anxiously settling on Mary and Lord Hexham. If she were to kill herself this moment, would anyone present take offense? It would certainly be less mortifying than being forced to have Lord Hexham reveal it was her sister he loved. And to witness Mary walk down to aisle to marry him would be most distressing.
Lord Hexham looked up and beamed at her. Edith managed to return a feeble grin back. Following Edith's line of sight, Cousin Matthew leant in to gently whisper into her ear. "I have seen that look on a man's face many a times," he murmured, "And it always means he is in love,"
Edith sighed . "Men do tend to wear that look around Mary,"
Cousin Matthew turned to face Edith and raised his eyebrow. "Well, I have not yet seen Hexham look that way at Cousin Mary yet. But I do reiterate, I have often seen it on his face since his arrival," he smiled warmly, "I'm sure of it,"
Cousin Matthew's confidence in his opinions was only to increase after dinner. Lord Hexham approached Edith and pleasantly enquired as to whether it would be possible for Lady Edith to bestow him with the pleasure of this dance. Cora, who was sitting by Edith's side frowned in concern. But the dance was slow and the Doctor had advised Edith to put some weight on her foot.
And so Lord Hexham lead Edith out to the floor, giving her his arm in order to assist her walking. They took their place at the head of the dance, and waited for the music to start. Despite the pain in Edith's foot, she found herself less concerned for that and more preoccupied by the lack of conversation. The previous times they had been in each other's company had been incredibly easy and natural. Yet as they danced, Edith felt increasingly tongue tied. In fact, Lord Hexham was barely looking at her. He only seemed capable of shooting her quick, sheepish grins.
As the silence wore on, Edith grew increasingly nervous. She frantically tried to think of a interesting conversation starter, or at least a witty observation. Why was it that she could never think of anything brilliant to say when she sorely needed to, and yet when she was alone she was full of clever comments. Only for no one to be there to hear them. It was most vexing.
"So-" she began.
"How do you like the..." Lord Hexham trailed off and nodded for her to continue. Edith blushed and pleaded him to say what he wished first.
"I was just wondering if you liked this dance,"
"Very much so," Edith said, "Although I do prefer a livelier dance, such as the Scottish Reel. It is a pity I can only dance to slower measures tonight,"
"I would very much like to see you dance more," Lord Hexham said earnestly.
Edith laughed in reply. "Believe me, your Lordship, my steps are nothing to take pride in. I can skip about my bedroom with ease and preciseness well enough, but put me in a ballroom for all to see and my feet become flippers," Edith blushed lightly at having mentioned her bedroom.
Lord Hexham did not seem to mind. "I understand what you go through. I remember when I was twelve, my cousin and I were jumping our horses. My mother was at Brancaster for a visit and my Uncle Hexham told her that she should watch me. By that point I was a rather accomplished horseman. And yet the minute I felt my Mother's eyes on me I tensed in my saddle and my mount shied away from the jump three times,"
"What is your mother like?" Edith enquired politely.
Lord Hexham hesitated over the question "I don't suppose that you have much knowledge on the character of Lady Macbeth?"
"Then she must have been delighted when you inherited," Edith said without thinking, immediately regretting her words.
He chuckled. "Oh certainly, but I suppose she can excused her indiscretion. She and Cousin Peter barely ever saw each other,"
"Well that's better than Mary's reaction to our Cousin Patrick's death. He was a lieutenant in the Navy. When we received news that his ship had sunk, all Mary could do was complain about having to wear black," once again, Edith was regretting her words. She didn't want Lord Hexham to think that she was catty about Mary behind her back. She was, (as was Mary), but she didn't want him to think that.
"It's frustrating, isn't it," Lord Hexham mused, "when we see the people we love being disparaged,"
Edith thought on Mary's response to Patrick's death. The way only she and Papa seemed to see Patrick as a member of the family who tragically died young, and not Mary's ticket to becoming a Countess. Or how they had critiqued Cousin Matthew for remaining a lawyer. And only two nights ago, when Mary had called Lord Hexham deadly dull.
"It is frustrating," she agreed.
DA
The next morning the most distressing news was received. Lord Hexham's mother had taken ill. Not seriously, but Lord Hexham was anxious to see she was well cared for and immediately began to prepare for the journey back to Brancaster. It was with quiet dismay that Edith watched Lord Hexham oversee the packing of his luggage. He was ready to leave by the afternoon.
The household waited to see him off, wishing him a safe journey and his mother a speedy recovery. Lord Hexham graciously thanked Lord and Lady Grantham for their hospitality. As he approached the sisters, he took a tentative step towards Edith and pressed a small, paper parcel into her hand.
"It is a mere trinket," he whispered, "But I would be honoured if you were to wear it and remember me as you do,"
Edith murmured her thanks and undid the package. Inside the paper lay a tiny rose quartz, cut into the shape of a heart and hanging on a slim silver chain. It was nowhere near as grand or expensive as the pearls Lord Hexham had gifted her with earlier. Yet the sweet simplicity of the gift, coupled with the tender look in Lord Hexham's eyes as he nervously waited her approval made Edith want to sob.
"It's perfect," she admitted hoarsely, unable to comprehend the emotions welling within her.
Lord Hexham let a relieved smile spread across his face, before bidding the company one more farewell and boarding his carriage. Edith found herself rapidly blinking back tears as the vehicle rode off into the distance, gradually shrinking until it disappeared from sight altogether. One by one, the household returned to the house, leaving Edith to gaze into the distance. She was rather harshly dragged from her reverie by a comment from her father.
"Oh dear," he said, "Poor Edith is besotted. I do hope she won't be too disappointed. Yet it is a tale too fantastic to truly believe, even for her,"
Edith's lips thinned as she tried to prevent her father's tactless words from affecting her too greatly, no matter their sting. Cousin Matthew lingered by Edith's side and gave her a brotherly squeeze on the arm.
"Have no fear old girl," he reassured her, "I have no doubt as to where Hexham's feelings lie. In fact," Matthew whispered, "I'd wager that before long we will all be calling you Lady Hexham!"
"To be quite honest Cousin Matthew, I think that I would be overjoyed with simply being Mrs Pelham," Edith admitted, surprising even herself.