"Tom, Matthew, I have given you over a month to consider your positions. If you feel that being a member of the League is too dangerous for you, now that you have wives and the responsibilities that come with them, say so. I will not blame you."
"No!" Tom's accent grew broader as he spoke with more emphasis. "No. I want to continue with your work … our work, Anthony."
"Thank you, Tom. Matthew? How about you?"
Mr Crawley looked up into Anthony's eyes. "I'm sorry, Anthony. I just … I can't just slip away like I used to. Tom's got the excuse of the Militia Reserve, but … Mary and Robert! They are already beginning to ask questions. When I married, I didn't realise that it would lead to a choice between the League and the Crawleys, but that is what it has become. And as Robert's heir, well, I feel I have only one option, but if I can ever do anything to support you here in England, Anthony, you only have to ask."
"That is fair enough, Matthew. If your wife and father-in-law are making things difficult … well, I know what they are like! And that would, in time, become a danger to all the League. I believe you are making a very wise decision. But I may take you up on that offer of help! Now, come, join me in a toast: to the League!"
The three of them smiled, and drank, and the awkwardness was broken.
"What about you, Anthony?" asked Matthew.
"Me?"
"You are going to be a married man soon. How will that fit into your double life?"
"Ah. Well, my fiancée is, shall we say, much less of a social butterfly than your own esteemed ladies." Matthew pulled a face at that, but Tom chuckled. "I … I hope to be able to confide in her and possibly even ask her to help, in a back-room capacity. She could work with you, Matthew."
"That would be marvellous" exclaimed Tom. "Do you think, you know, in time, we might consider offering Sybil the same sort of role? She would be keener than mustard, and it would make things between us so much easier, I can tell you. I swear she thinks that I am plotting to burn down the Houses of Parliament whenever I come on missions with you."
"Gosh!" muttered Matthew. "If you are all going to enrol your wives, we'll double the League at a stroke. But don't, for God's sake, tell Andrew ffoulkes: his wife would tell all of Europe what we're up to!"
…
They were seated together in the phaeton, which was secluded under dense beech trees. The horses had had an invigorating run out to the wilds of Chelsea, and were now contentedly munching oats in their nosebags. Their passengers were still awkward with each other, unsure of themselves and anxious of what the other thought and felt.
Anthony was holding her hand in both of his, listening to her talk about Mr William Blake's recently published poem with a dreamy look of complete adoration in his eyes. She thrilled to that look, and basked in it whenever he bestowed it on her. Sybil had already good-humouredly teased her about her love-struck swain.
"I'm sure Mr Blake must have read Miss Wollstonecraft's book, he so perfectly illustrates her ideas!"
"That may well be the case, my dearest. Blake shares the same revolutionary views as we do concerning the position of women in society."
"Do you know him?" her eyes brightened at him causing his pulse to quicken.
"I do not. I have merely subscribed to his publications. When we are married, you will have access to all of his works."
"Oh Anthony! I can hardly wait. We will be so very happy!"
"Are we not happy now, my sweet one?"
"I do hope you are."
"Of course I am, my darling." He kissed her hand to prove it. "And you? Are you happy?"
"I am, happier than I have ever, ever been."
He saw something in her face then, a shadow of sadness as she spoke, and took his chance. Perhaps he could find out what had so isolated her on the journey back to England from France.
"Really? Happier than ever before? What was so bad before we met?"
He face clouded instantly and her eyes fell.
"It wasn't so bad …" she shrugged and was silent.
"Come now, you wouldn't have said that if there wasn't something to tell."
When she still didn't seem to want to say anything, he gently encouraged her: "I am to be your husband, you know. I want you to feel that you can tell me anything."
"I have never been … I mean …" she stammered, and then went on "Well, Mary has always been my parents' favourite, and she's so beautiful, one can understand that, but … but she's so cruel and spiteful with it, so proud. I have never been able to match her in anything, or deserve any of the love bestowed on her. Perhaps I have acted foolishly when her taunts became too much to bear. But I have never intended to hurt her. I wouldn't wish pain on anybody. But I might have occasionally wanted her to feel just a little of what I have had to endure. Still, none of that matters now, because I have you."
He smiled at her, keeping his thoughts masked.
"You do indeed, my dearest. You have me now and forever. I am yours."
She smiled so sadly then, saying "I do so love you Anthony! I couldn't bear it if I lost you."
Anthony carefully and reassuringly put his hands on her shoulders.
"My love, what is this? Edith, listen to me. I fell in love with you at first sight. I've always known that you were a woman in a thousand."
…
"Am I getting slap-dash, Stewart?"
Anthony's loyal man stopped preparing his employer for attendance at Lady Waterman's dance with the Crawleys, and looked at him with some concern.
"Sir?"
"Am I becoming careless? Distracted by my, er, wedding, perhaps? Are the missions as well planned as they used to be?"
"If I may say so, sir, I believe that you are being even more meticulous than before. You are taking more time over details that you once would have treated more confidently. Perhaps you are trying to compensate for your fear that your thoughts are sometimes, understandably, elsewhere."
"Really? Mmm, well, I don't know which is worse." He pulled at his tied silk neckerchief only for Stewart to rearrange it once more.
"Are you worried about anything in particular about tomorrow's mission, sir?"
"Nothing that we haven't faced before, no. The Marquis de Toussaint and his family are not due before the Committee for another three days. I'm told that Paris security hasn't been terribly tight before sentencing since the rescue of the Crawleys. They appear to focus their strength after the court sessions, seemingly they think that I will concentrate on last minute rescues now. However, I don't want to become lax. Tell me if you think I'm losing my grip, won't you, Stewart?"
"Certainly, sir. However, that has not yet even occurred to me."
He stood back and running a professional eye over his master nodded to him to signal completion.
"I believe you are ready for this evening, sir."
"Am I, I wonder?" Anthony murmured, and he wasn't speaking of his cravat. "Edith, of course, is a delight, I enjoy Robert's company, dolt though he occasionally can be, but Cora … She is reticent to the point of obstruction in the organising of the wedding, even though it's my money she's spending. It's strange. It's worrying."
"You have faced the wrath of the French army, Sir Anthony. I think you can face the Countess of Grantham."
…
The dance had, despite Anthony's misgivings, been quite enjoyable. Robert was on form with amusing anecdotes, Cora was the consummate wife, smoothing her husband's rough edges. And Edith smiled and blushed, causing his stomach to dance with nervous excitement. He convinced himself that his fears had been unfounded.
He had taken the opportunity of Edith's visit to the ladies' powder room to help himself to another glass of the perfectly adequate champagne that Viscount Bradford was serving, while allowing himself a little pride that he had a far superior vintage in the cellars at Loxley. As he stood watching the dancing, he was, of course, aware of Cora's approach, but allowed her to make the first move.
"Sir Anthony, might I have a word?"
"Of course, Lady Grantham. I am at your disposal."
"I think it is rather warm in here, as well as too noisy. Take a turn with me on the terrace?"
Anthony gallantly offered his arm to the Countess and led her through the french windows to the walkway beyond. It was certainly quieter and cooler there, with only a few guests taking the air: a perfectly acceptable setting for a conversation concerning marriage settlements, or whatever it was Cora wanted to discuss. Master strategist though he was, Anthony was totally unprepared for what Cora said next.
"There is something that I believe you should know before your marriage to Edith, Sir Anthony. You know what happened to us, Robert and I and the three girls, when we were in France? Of course you do, the whole of England has discussed it at length. But perhaps you do not know how it came about?"
"It was the madness of the revolution, was it not, Lady Grantham? The power-hungry zealots in Paris? You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, surely?"
"Those were all factors, yes. But it was Edith who instigated the insanity."
Anthony stared at her.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You see Mary had drawn attention to herself when we were hosting some Austrian diplomats. One of them attacked her in her room, and then died himself from a mixture of Absinthe and opium before he could … complete the act. My maid and I covered it all up, of course. If the events of that night had become common knowledge, and in such a delicate political situation, it might have caused all sorts of havoc. And that, we believed, was that.
"But then, a number of representatives of the Paris regime came to visit. We didn't invite them, you understand. We weren't even informed that they were coming. I think it was all to do with the commandeering of foreign-owned estates, although they didn't say so. It is my belief that they were inspecting the property covertly. They invited themselves to stay a night as they couldn't return to Paris within one day's travel, and it was during drinks after the evening meal that Edith told one of these so-called servants of the Republic all about the Austrian diplomat and how he died. I have no idea what Edith intended to achieve by doing that, but the official related it to his seniors. Very soon, the story was in the hands of Robespierre himself, and he found a very convenient excuse to take our lands and house from us, and charge us with collaboration with Austria to boot.
"So you see, Edith is, and probably always will be, wilful and lacking in judgement. Not an appropriate wife for someone such as yourself."
Anthony stared out into the darkened gardens, then cast his eyes downwards.
"How do you plan to explain the cancelling of the wedding?"
"We will let it be known that Edith has called off the engagement."
"But that will blot out all her chances at making a marriage at all!"
"She has so very few chances anyway. There will be no shred of scandal attached to you, Sir Anthony."
It was that remark that finally decided him. He straightened up and bowed slightly in Cora's direction.
"I am very grateful to you, Lady Grantham, for telling me this. May I assure you that it is something that I will be happy to forget after Edith and I are married. I trust you will be good enough to do the same."
Before Cora could respond, Edith joined them.
"There you are! I do hope Mama hasn't cornered you about the guest list. This evening was meant to be a bit of a rest. It seems we've talked of clothes and flowers and food and guests until we're blue in the face!"
Anthony looked at her gravely, then gave his fiancé his arm. "Certainly not, m'dear. Your mother has been … very interesting company."