It had been the worst day of her life.

The weather had been glorious, he had looked so handsome in his three-piece suit, and her summer frock looked really very good on her she was sure. Perhaps not quite so grown up as Mary's, nor perhaps as up-to-date in fashion as Sybil, but she knew that Anthony didn't care about things like that. She had thought that he only cared about more important things, about them, and perhaps about her…just a little. Even a little would have been enough.

Now, the world was at war. And Anthony had broken off any contact with her. He'd left the garden party wearing a false smile that didn't hide the hurt in his eyes, murmuring only polite platitudes. When she had tried to telephone Locksley, Stewart had answered her increasingly desperate enquiries with the utmost care, as though he was being told what to say and being watched to make sure that's all he said.

Mary had been so coldly triumphant as she had raised her glass to her mockingly. It chilled her soul. What had she told Anthony? Edith wasn't going to give Mary the satisfaction of trying to find out from her, but it tortured Edith nonetheless. Anyway, Mary had suddenly become distraught herself only a little while after, and Edith knew to keep well away from her when she was like that.

There was no possibility that she could slip away to try to see Anthony today, but tomorrow she would go round to Locksley in person. She would apologise for whatever it was Mary had said, and at least make her peace with him. This time, on the verge of war, was not a time to be in conflict with the man you loved.

So when Carson came to fetch her after dinner, telling her that there was a telephone call for her (quietly so only she could hear), her heart leapt as though tons of worry had fallen from it. She could only just manage thank Carson and walk out to the hall with decorum rather than running.

"Hello?"

"Lady Edith?" It wasn't him, and her heart fell.

"Er. Yes, speaking."

"It's Stewart here, Sir Anthony's butler. I'm sorry that I couldn't talk freely earlier."

"Oh Stewart, thank you for calling back. I guessed Sir Anthony was…"

"He was monitoring every word I said. I fear something has happened…personally I mean. I know that the wider world has its own troubles."

"You are totally right, Stewart. My sister, Lady Mary, said something to Sir Anthony, and he wouldn't speak to me afterwards. I fear she's poisoned his mind against me. Slandered me even. I don't know what to do to convince him that…that I do truly care for him." Despair had made her trusting, although she knew Stewart, like Carson, would prefer to have his nails pulled out than betray his master.

"I hope that I am doing the right thing. The mood he's in at present, Sir Anthony would have me shot for what I'm about to do."

Edith was silent. If she said anything she might put Stewart off. She murmured encouragingly.

"Sir Anthony has enlisted, re-enlisted actually. He'll be returning to the Intelligence Corps. He's due to leave for London on the 2:30 train tomorrow afternoon. He has told me not to admit anyone before he leaves."

"Oh!" she sobbed.

"But someone might happen to be on the station just at the time he'll be there, just a coincidence sort of thing."

"Thank you, Stewart. God bless you for this."

"…Yes, Sir. Coming, Sir…"

The line abruptly went dead.

.

It was easy to get into the village the next day. Everyone was so preoccupied with the war that they didn't notice her slip out. She left so early to make sure she was at the station in time, that she actually had more than half an hour to wait in the waiting room.

The envelope in her pocket dominated her thoughts. She had spent half the night writing it and rewriting it. Would he even consent to taking it? If he took it, would he read it? Even if he read it, would he believe her? What could she say to convince him?

There were other men in khaki gathering on the platform. She left the waiting room and stood to one side. No one noticed her. No one ever did.

Except him.

Stewart came from behind the station carrying a kit bag. He quickly scanned the platform and saw her. Then he nodded to her, just once. Her heart was beating so fiercely that she was sure everyone could hear it.

Then he walked out.

Tall, handsome, and in uniform.

She gasped quietly, her heart going hollow with love inside her. His lips pursed as though he were deliberately concentrating on what needed to be done now, and definitely not thinking about anything else, anything he might have left unsaid, anything he may have left behind.

This was her moment. She was more frightened than she'd ever been.

Somehow, she took a few steps towards him, and he glanced around at the movement. Then he too, was frozen, eyes wide.

Before he could have a chance of running away again, Edith walked right up to him.

"Sir Anthony, I was sorry you were called away from the Garden Party yesterday. This is such a dreadful business." She pointedly started with politeness and generalities, although she omitted to clarify if the 'dreadful business' referred to the war or to their parting.

"Yes, quite." He was guarded, cautious, and yet there was a sad, pained expression and that gentle look in his eyes that had become more and more affectionate recently. She thought she probably had it in her eyes too. She forced herself to push forward, lowering her voice.

"I wanted to explain…about my sister, Mary. She and I…well, we don't always get on as sisters should. I have wounded her, I admit, and yesterday, I believe she took her revenge out on you. But I deeply regret any hurt she, or I, may have caused you. That was not my intention, truly."

"Really."

Still, he would not unbend. She heard the train whistle in the distance, and in the panic of her last few moments with him, she threw caution to the wind.

"Anthony" she whispered, so only he could hear, "you are the world to me. Please, for God's sake, come back safely! Even if you hate me, come back! I don't have time to explain, so" she thrust the letter into his leather-gloved hand "please, please read this. I love you so. God bless you, and keep you safe!"

She had done all she could. If he would not listen, then she had to accept that she had lost him. She turned away so he would not see her tears.

She felt a reverent touch to her cheek: he'd removed his glove to touch her. She looked back and saw the love shining in his eyes once more.

"You love me?" he breathed, his voice broken.

"Yes" she shrugged.

"Oh, Edith! I love you too. I love you so desperately! Dear God, I've made such a mess of this."

"Just come home. Please. Come home to me."

"Nothing in the world could stop me, not now I know you do care for me."

The train had pulled into the station, causing bustle around them, but neither Sir Anthony nor Lady Edith were aware of any of it.

"Sir" Stewart urged.

There were no words. Anthony put his other arm around her waist, pulled her to him so that she was totally in his embrace, and kissed her fervently. He let go only at the very last second when the Station Master blew his whistle, climbing into the carriage and taking his kit bag from Stewart as the train started moving again.

They watched each other until the train disappeared out of sight.

"My lady, can I take you home?" asked Stewart with compassion.

"Thank you Stewart" she murmured, "thank you for everything."

...

It would appear that Spring has come, and with it my sap has risen. I can't stop writing.

Or it might be the poisoning of Mr and Miss Skripal literally 2 minutes walk from my home in Salisbury that has reminded me that time is finite, and I have so many stories cluttering up my head, I really ought to put ass in gear and get them written. Life here has calmed down a bit now, but there are still far too many soldiers and policemen and 'men in black' milling around looking nervous. I will be happier when they've all gone home.

Thank you for reading.