Edith watched the men float around Mary. Like a flower in the sun, she pivoted to entertain each man who showed her attention, but she obviously had a favorite. Kemal Pamuk dazzled with his rakish charm and seductive words. He turned Mary's head with every smile just as they turned Edith's stomach.

"Mary has more suitors tonight than the Princess Aurora," Father chuckled.

"Will she judge them sensibly?" The Dowager quirried.

"Oh, no one's sensible at her age. Nor should they be. That's our role."

"Father, do you like Mr. Pamuk?" Edith asked. Matthew and Napier were clearly trying to maintain Mary's attention and failing miserably.

"I don't dislike the man. Why?"

"Mary is very infatuated with him. I just don't want him to take her... interest with more intent than she means." Pamuk seemed to catch Mary's eyes, nodding for her to follow him. She did.

"Well, couldn't she mean it?"

"Not in the way he thinks, no," Edith said, gesturing to Mary disappearing after Pamuk into the other room.

"Hmm, I'll keep an eye on him," Father grumbled, looking with concern to where his daughter disappeared.

"Oh Robert," Cora said, "you know Mary is sensible."

"And I know young men often aren't, my dear. It doesn't hurt to be cautious. I hope she knows that."

"Of course she does. Don't worry so much," Cora smiled as Edith slipped away to speak with the two standing men who had been abandoned rather suddenly and rudely by Mary.

"Mr. Napier, Cousin Matthew," Edith smiled. "I see you have been left behind."

"Yes," Napier said. "Our powers of fascination appear to be wanting."

"I understand completely," Edith said, glancing at the other man. Matthew hardy did more than smile to her absentmindedly before returning to watch the door Mary had disappeared through. "I wanted to thank you again, Mr. Napier, for helping me today."

"It was truly no trouble. I enjoyed our conversation."

"We hardly had time for one before you returned to the hunt," for Mary went unspoken.

"No," Napier admitted, a red flush creeping into his face, "but I would like to change that. You seem to have a number of opinions on the Albania crisis."

"That I do."

"Do you often dabble in politics?"

"Well-"

"You should have had me stay with you if you needed the help today, Edith," Matthew suddenly said, looking at her instead of the door.

"I couldn't hold you. You were more interested in Mary," Edith said irritatedly. Must he show interest in her now of all times?

"I would have stayed if you asked me too."

"You should know, I rarely ask people to stay. I find that most make their own decisions on what they want, and then you let them go if that choice isn't you."

"Edith-" Matthew began.

"Ah, look! Mary is back with Pamuk," Edith exclaimed, gesturing to the door. Matthew's gaze shot from her and returned to Mary in an instant. "What were you saying, Matthew?"

"I- just, I-"

"Yes?"

"That- that walking tour. We must go when the weather is good."

"Wonderful," Edith nodded. "Let's bring your mother. She has spoken to me so much about it, I'm sure she would want to attend as well."

"Of course. How nice that would be," Matthew muttered, going off to grab a drink from William and presumably further follow Mary. Edith glanced around the room. Father seemed to be watching Pamuk and Mary with concern at their disappearance. Even Cora seemed a little worried. Good.

"You seem to know your way around a spat, Lady Edith," Napier said, watching Matthew storm off.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Mr. Crawley, Mr. Pamuk. Should I be worried that I'm next?"

"That depends. Have you done something to deserve it?" Edith teased. "You'll find I can debate about many things I'm passionate about."

"Like Albanian Independence?"

"And more besides. I support a welfare state, women's right to vote, and with the constitutional crisis in parliament there is much more to debate and discuss."

"Do you keep up with parliament?"

"I am an avid fan of the Times."

For a while, Edith let herself forget about Pamuk and the dangers of the night. She let all the worries melt away as she spoke to the handsome Evelyn Napier about politics and world affairs. She enquired about his work for the London Conference, and he in turn asked her opinions. They spoke about general sentiments and various propaganda pieces released by either side of the issue. Napier in particular praised the articles by Edward Crow which made Edith beam with joy and pride she disguised as agreement.

As the night drew to an end, Napier asked over several of the sources she had used, unknown to him, as the basis of her Edward Crow articles and requested she send them to him. Edith agreed if, in turn, they could continue to discuss politics in future. It was truly rare for her to find anyone she could discuss these matters with so freely.

"I would like that very much," Napier smiled warmly.

Soon after, the grandfather clock struck ten, and the ladies all bid their good nights. Cousin Isobel, Matthew, and the Dowager all had cars come to take them home. The gentlemen staying the night began going up soon after. Pamuk summoned Thomas and Napier called for his own man to attend him. Watching them disappear down the guests hall, Edith felt all positive feelings leave her and be replaced by cold dread. How soon would Pamuk come back up that hallway and find his way to the room beside hers? To Mary's room?

Anna helped them undress in Mary's room. Gently she pulled pins from Mary's updo and help remove her dress. Meanwhile, Sybil kept up a stream of questions.

"How was it? Did he like you? Did they like you? Did you have a good night?"

"It was tolerable," Mary said happily. "And yes, Sybil dear, they all liked me. Need you even ask?"

"And what about you, Edie?"

"I enjoyed it well enough. Mr. Napier makes good conversation."

"Yes, I saw him speaking with you. Poor man has a soft spot for cast off ladies," Mary scoffed, pulling off her gown and allowing Anna to unlace the corset underneath.

"Pardon me, I forgot all of them were for you tonight," Edith barbed back. "It was hard to remember with how much interest you showed Pamuk."

"The Turk? You like him Mary?" Sybil asked worriedly.

"He makes good conversation," Mary retorted. "Much better than Cousin Matthew at any rate."

"I thought you liked talking to him."

"He is paltry game when compared to men like Mr. Pamuk. And Mr. Napier," Mary added absentmindedly. Edith looked at her sister as she began to brush her hair, letting it down for the evening. No man should see her with her hair down until she was married. One could see her tonight, and not by her will. She had to say something.

"Mary," Edith said, "I know you won't take this well from me, but do be careful with Pamuk."

"What? Too much man for you, Edith?" Mary said dryly, continuing to fuss with her curls.

"I think he's "too much man" for any of us. I saw how he looked at you Mary. I didn't like it."

"I doubted you would," Mary said, moving to take off her gloves and jewelry. "You tend to turn sour on anyone who is sweet on me."

"Mary," Sybil pleaded. "I'm sure it isn't like that."

"It isn't," Edith protested. "I'm worried about you Mary. If he tried anything, took any advantage-"

"I would never," Mary snapped suddenly," never let a man take advantage of me. Do you think of me a girl who lets herself be seduced? Spoiled?"

"Oh Mary, no!" Sybil exclaimed.

"I would never say that!" Edith cried. "I'm not saying this because of you. I'm saying this because of him. I saw him becon you out of the room, Mary."

"And you think something happened?" Mary sat still and sharp as an iron blade.

"I'm asking if he did something, not you," Edith said firmly.

"Get out of my room," Mary ordered coldly. "Nothing happened, and I will not be interrogated like some tart on the street corner."

"Mary," Sybil pleaded. "She didn't mean-"

"Out!" Mary barked. Edith stood as gracefully as she could, pulling a frantic Sybil with her.

"Let's go, Sybil. Mary needs to be alone."

"No! This is all a misunderstanding," Sybil protested.

"I doubt it," Mary stared directly at herself in the mirror, not bothering to look at them.

"Mary," Edith turned back one final time. "I know you don't believe me, but I am worried. About him, not you. If anything happens, anything at all, please come get me."

"You would be the last person on earth I would call," Mary stated. "Now get out."

Edith nodded, turning to Anna who fluttered behind her mistress in distress. "Anna, don't bother coming to my room. Sybil will help me tonight. Goodnight, Mary." Mary didn't reply as Edith closed her bedroom door, leaving Sybil and Edith standing alone in the hallway.

"Edith!" Sybil spun on her in anger. "Why did you do that!?"

"You know why. I was worried."

"And you showed it by saying that?!"

"How else was I supposed to say it?!"

"I don't know!" Sybil cried. "I-I don't know. I don't know if Mary will forgive you for this."

"Maybe. But I don't think I could have forgiven myself if I didn't say anything and something happened to her."

"I know, Edie. It's who you are," Sybil said. Her voice quietied from anger and shock to a dull acceptance. "Why are you so sure Mr. Pamuk will do something terrible?"

"I would tell you if I could describe it without sounding mad," Edith shook her head. "Just call it a premonition. He is up to something."

"I trust you. I wish I didn't, but I do. I just don't know what to do now," Sybil said frustratedly. "Do I hope nothing happens so you're wrong and Mary is safe but hates you? Or do I hope something small happens so you're proved right and you and Mary can stop fighting?"

"I think it would take more than that for Mary and I to stop fighting, Bil."

"You know what I mean. Don't make light of this. Now, do you really need my help getting undressed?"

"It's an evening gown, Bil."

"Alright. Then let's go get you out of it and end this terrible day," Sybil nodded resolutely and began marching them down the hall to Edith's room. There she helped her out of her gown and let down her hair. She struggled to unlace the corset correctly and making a twisted knot of any and all strings she could. But at last Edith was dressed in her nightwear, and Sybil slipped off to her own room with a worried glance. She had asked if she could stay, but Edith didn't want her here. She didn't want her little sister to be near any part of this.

Edith lay there, counting the seconds. When would he come? Eleven, midnight, later? She listening for every sound. What echo was the wind and what was his footfalls? Each breath was torture. Each blink took effort, and the silence was filled with a cacophony of questions in her mind.

What would happen tonight? Would Pamuk be so bold now that the house was watching him? Would he blackmail Thomas? Would Thomas come to her? Would she be stopping an attack tonight, interrupting it, or seeing its grizzly end? Would she even be able to take part in any of it? Even carry a body across the length of Downton for a sister who currently hates her and would hate her more for being right? She didn't know.

All Edith could do was stay awake, silent in the dark for minutes or hours as she stared at the peach canopy of her bed. The night dragged on forever until, in a moment, it all stopped. The wait was over. Someone had knocked at her door.