AN: Sorry
Having washed and changed, Edith felt recovered from her ordeal by dinner, where she was once again sat by Cousin Matthew and far from Lord Hexham, who was chained to Mary. After dinner, Edith found herself being intercepted by her mother or Granny whenever he attempted to converse with Lord Hexham. In comparison, they seemed to do everything possible to push Mary towards him.
With nothing to do, she began to peruse a discarded ladies magazine. She immediately turned to the poetry and story section. Pieces of fiction sent in for a sum of four shillings and the honour of having your name in print. Edith noted the address for which to send submissions to and committed it to memory. It would be grand to be a published author or poet, although her name certainly could not be printed. It would be quite unsuitable, especially when taking into account the subject of many of her works.
She also kept one eye on the couple all evening, waiting for a chance to engage him in conversation. At one point, a feather perched in Mary's hair came loose and she excused herself to attend to it. Edith was just about to join him, when Cora appeared at Edith's side and dragged her off to make a four at Bridge with Granny and Sybil. As she sat with them, Cora politely enquired as to what Sybil planned to do with herself.
"I think that I shall go for a ride after breakfast," Sybil said lightly.
"And you, Edith dear?" Cora asked.
Edith replied that she was not quite sure, though her eyes slid over towards Lord Hexham.
"Only I was just wondering," Cora said in a remarkably light voice, "that it might be nice if we were to call on Granny for tea, if you would have us Mama,"
"Oh yes dear, that sounds perfectly splendid," Violet agreed.
"And I would like you to go to Ripon with me in the morning Edith," Cora added, "To find a new bonnet. One to replace the one you ruined today,"
Her time thus monopolised, Edith conceded to their wishes without a voicing a word of protest, although there many in her mind. The trip to Ripon passed swimmingly enough, albeit with the sense that something was going unsaid. Edith's hunch that Mama was not saying something was proven to be true at tea with Granny.
Having exchanged greetings and kisses; and tea served, Violet cut straight to the point.
"Now, Edith dear. I feel we must discuss your dalliance with Lord Hexham,"
Edith blushed, "I am sorry for the event yesterday. I assure you that nothing untoward happened, so you need not worry about me losing my virtue,"
"It is not your loss of virtue that concerns us, my dear. We fear you may very much be in danger of losing your heart,"
"My heart?" Edith repeated.
Cora lay down her cup and placed a hand upon Edith's. "Sweeting, Lord Hexham has been most courteous towards you. But it will not do for you to read so much into it. In all probability, Lord Hexham and Mary will soon be engaged and when the time comes, I do not wish for you to feel much saddened by the event,"
Edith spoke in a harsh, clipped voice that betrayed her desire to sound calm, "And what makes you so certain that Lord Hexham holds any interest in Mary?"
"Mary is sure of there being an attraction," Cora told her calmly.
"Are you sure that Mary is not lying? I think she knows as well as I that Lord Hexham holds no affection for her, and she is simply trying to save face,"
"Edith," Violet said in a reproachful voice, "Such jealousy does not suit you,"
"If you think that I am jealous in regards towards Lord Hexham's feelings for Mary, then your are quite wrong, for I assure he has none," at this, Edith stood up and glared down at the two, "But if you think I am jealous that you clearly care for Mary more than me, so much that you wish me to swear off Lord Hexham in Mary's favour then how can I fail not to be?"
"Edith!" Cora cried, "Stop putting on such an exhibition and listen to me,"
Edith did as she was bid, and obediently sunk back into her chair.
"Mary was born to be a great lady Edith," Cora continued calmly, "That is her role, and she has been preparing for it ever since childhood. I know there is a coldness between you two, but surely you do not wish to deprive your sister of her birth right,"
"Birth right," Edith repeated numbly, "Lord Hexham is not Mary's birthright! And he is most certainlt not a pawn tht can be pushed around to give Mary a title. Nor is Cousin Matthew," Edith's fists clenched in her skirts and her voice shook, "And neither am I. I am your daughter,"
"I am aware of that Edith,"
"Are you?" Edith barked incredulously, "For you seem quite cocntent for me to give up a great match and spend my life as a spinster,"
"There is time for you Edith," Cora reassured her.
"This is my time Mama. Please don't make me give Lord Hexham up," she pleaded "I want no other man but him,"
"You are certainly in too much of an ill humour to be sensible," Violet said sternly, "We will discuss this another time. Have some cake,"
Edith had no wish to stay and eat cake, instead she took the cake in a napkin and stormed out. She could not deny that she felt hurt. Not only did her family seem incapable of believing that a man such as Lord Hexham could ever have an interest in her, they seemed determined to make her feel the same. And worst of all, to some extent they had.
DA
Edith awoke the next morning the find her mother already up and in conference with Mary. They sat in the Drawing Room, furtively discussing a matter that was clearly of great import. She curiously poked her head into the breakfast room and the billiards room, wondering where Lord Hexham had gotten to. Unable to find him she entered the drawing room to quiz Mama and Mary on his whereabouts.
"Mama, where are the others?"
Mary snapped up her head in annoyance, "Not now Edith," she hissed.
Edith had decided that when it came to Mary, the best thing to do would be to pretend she was a fly. It's buzzing was aggravating, but unimportant and not something she was required to pay any attention to whatsoever. She repeated her question, staring over Mary's head.
Cora turned to face Edith. There was an oddly pitying expression on her face. Edith tried to put no stock by this, but she felt the familiar stirring of nerves in her belly. Keeping her face firmly set, Edith waited for Cora's answer.
"Your Papa has gone to call on some tenants, and Lord Hexham left last night,"
"What?" Edith asked quickly, "Why did he leave, was something wrong?"
"His mother has been taken quite severely ill-"
"Oh no," Edith gasped and sunk down into the nearest chair, "I trust it is not too severe,"
"Edith," Cora told her gently, "Before he left, he asked O'Brien to pass on a message for him,"
"What did the message say?" Edith asked, quite dreading Cora's answer.
"Mary was the first down, before O'Brien came to attend to me, and so she was the first to receive the message," at this, Cora turned to face Mary, who straightened her back and looked at Edith haughtily, rather like a cat eyeing a mouse so scrawny and pathetic that it was barely worth her time tormenting. Not that it stopped her from doing so.
"O'Brien informed me that Lord Hexham passed along his apologies for he must attend to his mother at once. And," Mary said slowly, in a voice that suggested the words she was saying tasted like a particularly peculiar and exotic dish, slowly savouring each syllable "That he wished me to know of his most sincere admiration for me, and to accept this small token of his esteem," having said this, Mary produced a ring.
The white gold metal was highly polished and shone brightly, and in it's centre sat a glorious Burmese Ruby. Round and smooth, it looked rather similar to a drop of blood.
"Oh," was all Edith managed to say. Although a part of her screamed to leave and preserve her dignity, every other part, from her hair to the tip of her toes had to be certain that this was not a mistake. "Are you quite certain Lord Hexham meant you?" she asked.
Mary exchanged and exasperated glance with Lady Grantham. "Quite certain, I assure you," Mary informed her coldly, "For I checked myself,"
It felt like a stab to the gut. Edith quietly excused herself. She stumbled from the room, gaining pace as she walked. She roughly brushed past Papa, who turned to address Cora.
"Poor thing, she must have been quite smitten. I should have a put a stop to the whole business, but I thought that even she would know that Lord Hexham could never truly form a tendre for her,"
Quite numb with shock, she returned to her chamber, whereupon she collapsed to her bed. Overwrought with emotion, she burst into large, hurt filled sobs, before dissolving into tears. She wailed and choked and gasped, not caring who might overhear. She did not care that the staff will think her woodwild, nor that her family melodramatic. She did not even mind that her family had been proved right and that she was forever destined to be a pathetic, if occasionally useful spinster at best. What grieved her to her very heart and soul, was that every warm smile and soft word Lord Hexham had sent her way was false.
To think that a man who had the appearance of such honesty and amiability, such kindness, could turn out to be such a cad! Edith dragged herself to her vanity and stared hard at her reflection.
"Stupid, foolish girl!" she berated herself, to think a man such as Lord Hexham could ever love her. She, who had been singled out at birth to be the maiden aunt. Anger rose within her. Anger at having been used. Anger at having been betrayed. Disgust at the thought of having to watch Mary walk down the aisle whilst the rest of the family beamed on, her own heartbreak neglected.
For of course she may not have heartbreak, or at least, if she insisted on being so trying as to feel such a thing, she must keep it to herself so as to not inconvenience others. She had been assigned the role of useful spinster and spinsters do not feel love. Nor should they wish to. Edith was not born to be a great Lady, nor a figure of devotion. She was to remain in the background and prove herself useful when necessary.
Well, Mama and Papa may have been proved right in that Lord Hexham could never truly love her, but she would never fulfil their expectations of her. She pulled out her quill as well as opening her portfolio, selecting some of her more accomplished poems to be sent to the magazine, in the hopes of getting them published. What's more, she did so under her own name! If her parents did not wish for her to write and publish works lamenting her state as the unloved child, then they bally well should have loved her more and not have given her cause to do so.
She then sent a second letter, informing her Aunt Rosamund of her eagerness to join her in London. Far from it that she stay at Downton and try to make herself helpful to the others, when they have not once ever shown an inclination to be helpful for her. She resolved to not stay in the damned house longer than necessary, and instead to join her aunt in London. Two unwed, lonely ladies enjoying their wealth in the shining capital. A spinster always invites pity, but a spinster who shows no dissatisfaction with her state is not quite so pathetic and unfortunate as a spinster who feels her fate keenly. Better for her to find some enjoyment in life and become a lady of pleasure.
Although, Edith knew that she would perhaps always mourn the missed opportunities afforded to her sisters. She thought it would have been a very fine thing indeed to have a husband and children. To find someone who would always love and care for her. Someone to rely on when the tides of happiness were low and support in return. For someone to be her companion, lover and friend, until her dying day.
Still, it is always better to enjoy life by making the most of the one you have, rather than wasting it by pining away for some distant dream. Even if, for a just moment, that dream had been so very beautiful.