AN: This is the final chapter. I just want to thank everyone who has read and reviewed, it has been so great hearing from you all and I hope you enjoy.
Lady Mary had foolishly thought that nothing could shock her more than Lady Sybil's elopement. That nothing could cause her as much disgust and horror than the thought of her baby sister running away with the help. But this, seeing Edith standing there with a beatific smile on her face and Lord Hexham gazing adoringly at her, was too much. Mary felt as though a cold, clammy hand been thrust down her throat and seized her heart. Edith! Married! To Lord Hexham.
Mary knew how she should respond. That for the sake of her dignity and pride she should yawn and dismiss the news of Edith's engagement with a wave of her hand. That she should raise an eyebrow at Edith's vulgar display of love and change the subject towards the topic of her brand new riding boots. Far more interesting. She felt a cutting and sarcastic comment rising within her. One that would put Edith in her place. It was coming. Any moment now. Just as soon as she could find a way to gain control of her mouth and stop it from hanging wide open.
And yet, she couldn't. She just couldn't. Nothing came to mind. No comment or quip. Edith had won, defeated her in ways Edith was not even unaware of. How could Mary accept Cousin Matthew now? To condemn herself to a life of being outranked by Edith, her children to be outranked by Edith's.
Dragging her eyes away from Edith's aggravatingly happy face and resting them on Cousin Matthew, she saw him staring back at her. His blue eyes penetrated her own, and she quickly averted her gaze. He knew exactly what she was thinking. He knew her, he understood her. And yet he still loved her.
The rest of the family jabbered and squawked on, demanding "why's" and "how's". Cousin Matthew was still staring at her. She stood up brusquely, drawing all eyes to her. Silence fell. Shaking, she stormed from the room and slammed the door behind her. She stood in the hall for a moment, twitching in agitation. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Cousin Matthew watching her, an unreadable expression on her face.
"Before you speak," he said swiftly, "I beg you hear me out. I do not come to ask why it is you felt that Lord Hexham had made an offer, nor do I come to plead for you decision about us,"
Mary watched as Cousin Matthew's face turned cold and hard.
"I only come to tell you this," he continued, "If you do anything, or say anything to put an end to Cousin Edith's happiness, then I can assure you. It will not be your decision to make,"
DA
Lady Mary had; surprisingly, been only at fault of having a startling lack of sensitivity. A fault that most of the Crawley family could be charged with. The whole scheme had been solely Miss O'Brien's. She had spied the growing affection between both Lady Edith and Lord Hexham, as well has Lady Mary and Mr Matthew. It was quite brilliant, really, to think how changing a single name could bring an unhappy end to two great matches. Well, that and intercepting some letters. One of which was Lady Mary's rejection of Lord Hexham's proposal, although she had not informed anyone of this fact.
Miss O'Brien had been summarily dismissed without reference, and it so it was Miss Baxter who attended Lady Edith on the morn of her wedding. Baxter was of a much more gentle temperament and a far more suitable replacement (despite that rather unfortunate stint in gaol and being dangerously close to being sent to Australia).
A light dusting of snow powdered the ground outside. Edith watched from the window as the grey flakes descended from the sky, each one dancing and swirling as though celebrating the happy union of Lord Hexham and Lady Edith.
Lord Grantham was certainly dancing for joy. Lady Sybil having eloped, Edith's engagement to one of the grandest men in Britain could not have come at a more fortuitous moment. She had swept the Crawley family up from almost certain ruin and back to it's rightful place. For the first time in her life, Edith was truly the beloved daughter. It was to be expected really.
After all, one daughter had eloped, and the second was stringing along a man for whom she felt genuine attraction for. Being a mere Countess was clearly unbearable when her despised younger sister was to be Marchioness. No wonder the middle daughter had risen in his esteem.
He had not told anyone, but Lord Grantham had read the poems. He had first heard of them on his way to Scotland, and reading the outpourings of his daughter's heart had taken the anger from him. Sybil had fled the family, and Edith had denounced them to the world. He could feel no fury. Only dismay at how he had failed his daughters, especially Edith. And when he returned empty handed, only to discover Edith had accomplished what all thought impossible, he knew that he had misjudged his daughters all along.
Sybil was willing to give up luxury for love. Edith could battle heartbreak and rise victorious. And Mary, God only knows what Mary was. He only hoped her youth gave her time to correct her faults. But Edith, Edith had done everyone proud. Her house, her family and herself. Which was why he threw aside custom and held a large and lavish wedding. One to rival Princess Charlotte's. He spent a mint on her trousseau. Not raising a single eyebrow at the silks, satins, furs and muslins that filled her wedding chests.
"Only suitable for the Marchioness of Hexham," he said.
Edith took particular delight in choosing her wedding clothes. A fine apple green silk pelisse trimmed with white fur and silver embroidery, a matching bonnet and fur muff for the ceremony and a green gown underneath to wear to the bountiful wedding feast being held at Downton after, for which hundreds of fowl, pigs and cows had laid down their lives.
He even offered to have it done by special license, though Edith insisted on marrying in the church where she was baptised.
As a result, Edith had to wait longer than she or Lord Hexham would have liked to finally marry. Not only did the wedding take time to plan, it was deemed prudent to wait until the scandal of Sybil's elopement had died down somewhat. Or at least, for Lord Grantham to stop spitting every time he merely looked at a coach. Edith insisted on having her sister at her wedding, and Lady Grantham supported her. Especially when news arrived that Mrs Branson was expecting. And despite Lord Grantham's reluctance, transport and clothes had been provided as the coupled could afford neither.
Lord Grantham had been sending Mrs Branson a small allowance, under the justification of not wanting them to turn up one day begging for money. In truth, he simply could not bear the thought of his youngest living in poverty.
Another reason for postponing the wedding was Mrs Pelham. Although initially pleased with the match, she was shocked at the scandal and threatened to cut Lord Hexham off completely should he go through with it.
"You may do as you like mother," he replied coldly, "But you will find that no one else will," and he was right, high title and high pockets indeed. Realising this; and realising breaking with Bertie will result in only herself losing the prestige of being the mother of a wealthy Marquess, she put aside her morals. The scandal would not rob Lord Hexham of his wealth nor title. As a result she not only withdrew her threat but also resolved to welcome Edith into the family with open arms. Even if for no other reason than that she had read Edith's poems. Edith having assured her that she meant to continue writing, she felt it prudent to be nothing but devoted to her daughter in law.
The final reason for holding off the wedding was Lady Grantham. Having one daughter flee the nest, she felt that losing Edith so soon after insupportable. And so she kept Edith with her a bit longer, under the pretext of preparing Edith for her role of being a Great Lady. Admittedly, this was necessary as Edith's education in that respect had been sorely lacking.
But finally, the day arrived. And so it was with great pride that Robert sat by Edith's side in the open topped carriage. As the snow descended, Edith was glad of her fur trimmed muff and wedding clothes. A carriage with a roof would have been more practical, but Robert was eager to show his glowing daughter to the world. Her wedding clothes cost a fortune, as did the carriage and decorations, but Lord Grantham didn't mind. He was determined for all eyes to be on the future Marchioness (and not the pregnant coachman's wife waiting in the church).
Despite the cold, villagers turned out by the dozen to cheer the bride to the church. Edith beamed the entire journey. Waving and laughing with sheer delight. A Lady should probably attend her wedding with more decorum and grace, but Edith was never particularly graceful.
In the Church, the congregation stood and turned to watch the bride enter. The doors swung open to see Lady Edith and her father haloed by snow and sun. Soft sighs filled the church. At the altar stood her groom, smiling broadly. Edith resisted the urge to her run into his arms, but instead slowly glided down the aisle. She focused on keeping her steps measured, and not skipping. Finally reaching the altar, she passed her muff to Mrs Branson and turned to face Lord Grantham. He took her shaking hands in his own and gave them a gentle squeeze.
"Good morning," she whispered quietly.
"Good morning," he replied.
As the service began, many eyes filled with tears. Lord Grantham's, Lady Grantham's, Lady Mary's (although for a slightly different reason). Lady Rosamund and Cousin Matthew exchanged proud smiles, and Mrs Branson leaned lightly against her husband's chest. She smiled as Branson wrapped his arms round her curved belly, rubbing it gently.
Neither Edith nor Lord Hexham could keep their voices steady as they repeated their vows. Edith spoke quietly, desperately trying to suppress the urge to laugh. She was too happy, too delighted to simply stay still and say her vows. She longed to jump and laugh and fling herself into Bertie's arms. Finally, they said their 'I do's' and they were permitted to kiss. In front of the congregation, the kiss had to be more chaste than Edith would have liked. But she still found great pleasure in it.
Breaking away, Bertie leaned down to whisper into her ear "I love you so very much," before kissing her hand and facing the congregation. The couple sailed down the aisle amidst a sea of congratulations and well wishes. He stopped to kiss her once more at the Church door. Edith looked around curiously for the carriage, until Bertie pointed out to her a shining new phaeton.
"My wedding gift to you," he explained. He then lifted her into the driver's seat and, quite willingly, handed her the reins.