AN: It hasn't been a great couple of days here, folks. UK politics just now has meant I spent this afternoon in a mire of helpless, shaking, tearful rage. So, in the interests of doing something a bit more productive, I'm sharing something that might give a couple of people a couple of minutes' enjoyment.

This little one shot was actually sketched out as I was writing my fic 'The Sadder But Wiser Girl', and is notable for featuring neither Anthony nor Edith! I wanted to know more about Anthony's parents and their marriage, and what that might have been like… and this was the result.

Six months after their wedding, Sir Phillip and Lady Strallan hit some stumbling blocks…

(For the purposes of this fic, I'm pretending that J.S. Mill's The Subjection of Women, from which both Nancy and Phillip quote here, was published in '68, rather than '69. Forgive me?)

Locksley, November 1868

"Hello, my darling!" Nancy Strallan halted in the library doorway, her cheerful smile fading as she saw her husband in his accustomed armchair. "Whatever are you doing sitting here in the dark?"

"I was waiting for you."

"Waiting for - " Stopping as she noticed the lack of an answering smile on his own dear face, she changed direction and asked instead: "Phillip, whatever's the matter?"

"It's the twentieth today."

Nancy frowned. "Yes, I know. I - " Her face fell as realisation struck. "Oh, Phillip. The school visit." She removed her hat and held it in front of her, apparently unsure what to do next. "I'm sorry. It just… slipped my mind. Georgina Blake sent round a note this morning, asking if I'd like to go with her to her Phil. and Lit. Society - and you were gone so early this morning and… and I suppose that we just… lost track of time."

Phillip did not move, simply looked up at her. "Well, that's that, then."

Nancy inhaled, an odd expression crossing her face. Quickly, she crossed the threshold, and shut the door behind her. "I sense that I am about to be scolded," she commented lightly, as she reached for the box of tapers on the mantle-piece and began to light the gas lamps.

"I'm sorry you view it in those terms."

"How else can I view it?"

Phillip stood and went to the window, and drew the curtains. This done, he stayed where he was, hands clasped tightly behind him. After a moment, he spoke again and his voice was cold and brittle. "I don't often request that you accompany me to county events, you know. One would think that once or twice a year would be manageable."

Nancy began to pull her gloves off, trying to ignore the fact that her hands were shaking. "Haven't I already apologised? I forgot. It wasn't intentional." Seeking to absolve herself, she pointed out, "I doubt the children even noticed. They would have been eager enough to see you - they barely know who I am."

"Oh, really?" Phillip snapped, whirling around. He gestured towards the occasional table, where a vase of flowers and a covered plate stood. "Flowers for you, cut by the children from the garden they have started growing at the school." With a jerk of his hand, he uncovered the plate. "Scones, baked for you by the older girls in their cookery lesson. They had heard that you have a sweet tooth."

Nancy lifted a hand to her mouth but Phillip had not finished. "I have a duty towards these people, and as my wife that duty is yours too! They ought to be able to depend on our care, Anne!" He shook his head as she flinched at the use of her full name. "And instead, you were off gallivanting God knows where, with God knows whom!"

"As I have said," Nancy stated, voice trembling as she tried to keep her temper, "I was at the York Ladies' Philosophy and Literature Society with Georgina Blake." Her lip curled. "But I suppose that that is not appropriate any more, either? I suppose that the county would be scandalised by the idea of a baronet's wife with half a brain!" Sweeping him a low, sarcastic curtsey, she sneered, "Please, forgive me, sir - I shall ensure, in future, that I restrict myself to smelling salts and securing an heir!"

Twin red flags of fury were burning in her husband's cheeks. "If it please you to paint me as the cruel, domineering husband, my dearest one, then so be it, but you are fully aware that that is not what I meant." Bracing his hands on his desk, he leant over it. "Our station in life provides us with many privileges, but those privileges come with obligations, and if we abandon them, if we refuse to do right by those who depend on us… then we become no better than the Louises and the Marie Antoinettes of this world! You must understand that. I thought you did." He sighed, weary and defeated. "Had I realised that you did not, I might have - " Phillip managed to stop himself just in time.

"You might," his wife finished quietly, tipping her chin back to blink back cross tears, "have thought better of marrying a common country curate's daughter?"

"My dear, I - "

"No," she interrupted, voice shaking. "I perfectly agree with you. Will you excuse me? I must go and change for dinner."

"Nancy…"

The library door shut with a quiet, reproachful snap behind her.

Dinner was taken in utter silence. Jamieson the butler had never known so quiet a dinner, not since his master had married her ladyship, anyway. Usually, mealtimes at Locksley were accompanied by conversation and debate and laughter and - sometimes - gentle, promising flirting. Not tonight.

As soon as pudding had been removed, her ladyship excused herself and Jamieson, serving brandy to Sir Phillip in the library, heard her quiet footsteps tapping disconsolately up the staircase.

When Phillip woke in the early light, the other side of the bed was empty. "Is Lady Strallan already down?" he asked Jamieson in the breakfast room.

"Yes, sir." Jamieson's look was sidelong. "Her ladyship left about half an hour ago."

"Left? Did she say where she was going?"

Jamieson winced at his master's sharp tone and piercing glare. "I am afraid not, sir. She said that she was going out and - " Jamieson blushed and finished, somewhat unhappily, "and that she'd see us when she saw us. I - I felt a little uneasy at the time, sir, but I - I couldn't - "

"Couldn't forbid her ladyship from leaving." Phillip pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. "No, of course not. Thank you, Jamieson."

"Sir."

As Jamieson reached the threshold, he was halted by a sudden, anxious question from his master. "She - she was… in her usual good spirits when she left, I trust, Jamieson?"

"Oh, yes, sir." Jamieson turned and gave a small bow. "Quite as cheerful as ever she was."

Phillip forced a smile. "Good. Good. That'll be all, Jamieson."

"Thank you, sir."

She wouldn't have gone far. Of course she wouldn't. His wife had a temper, but she didn't hold grudges and she didn't make decisions on impulse, either.

Phillip tried to ignore the prickling in his gut and the persistent dry sourness in his mouth. The morning had been well enough - he had managed the accounts, done some reading - but now it was teatime, and beginning to rain outside, and still she had not come back.

He had behaved like the worst brute in Creation, last night. He had scolded. He thought at one point he might have mentioned Marie Antoinette. Marie Antoinette, for God's sake! And all because he had been feeling neglected and embarrassed by her absence at what, really, had been a trivial afternoon engagement.

And now… now, she mightn't come back at all.

"Hello, Jamieson!" He'd have recognised that sweet, friendly, trill anywhere. "Heavens, it's raining cats and dogs out there! I came back through the orchard and told Mr Samuels to go home early - no use whatsoever him catching a chill just for the sake of a bit of pruning!"

For a moment, he sat perfectly still, stunned by his own relief, and then, at the sound of her boots clicking down the library passage, he managed to stir himself and rise in time to say, as she entered, "You're home. Thank the Lord!"

"Oh, hello. Yes, I am." Avoiding his eye, Nancy pulled the pin out of her rain-splattered hat and took it off, then began removing her gloves.

"Where in God's name have you been, sweetheart? I was worried sick!"

She still wouldn't look at him. "That wasn't my intention, I assure you. I - I spent the day at the school, if you must know."

"I beg your pardon?"

Nancy blushed and her next words came out in a rush. "Well, I went to apologise for my absence yesterday, and to thank the children for their lovely gifts… and then Miss Dawson - you know, the headmistress? - asked me if I'd like a tour of the classrooms, and by that time it was getting late, so I stayed for luncheon with the children, and then I read with the little ones. They're terribly bright." She tipped her chin back solemnly and added, very slowly and clearly, meeting his eyes for the first time, "But… I want you to understand that I went because it was the right thing to do, not because - because I'd been scolded into it. I… I didn't want you to think that I was doing it just to get back on your good side. If I hadn't stayed so long, I wouldn't have ended up saying anything to you. I promise." She turned aside and laid her gloves down on the side table. "In any case… I'm very sorry I'm late for tea. I hope you haven't been waiting for me too dreadfully long."

Phillip approached, very slowly. "It is… I who should be apologising. And not for something as trivial as a cold pot of tea, either." Very carefully, he lifted her cold hands, one after the other, and kissed them. "Yesterday," he murmured, "I said some unforgivable things to you, my darling - "

"Phillip…"

"Let me finish. I said some unforgivable things to you, which I should not even have thought, let alone allowed to pass my lips. I… was jealous, if you must know."

"Jealous?" she whispered and he nodded.

"Mmm. Of course, I do believe that we have a duty towards our tenants and that we them our attention, but… I do not believe I would have been so rude if… if I had not been so damned envious of your Phil. and Lit. Society, that it seemed to distract you enough to make you forget me." He shot her a wry glance. "And I am fully aware that that is not what happened, and that thinking it makes me sound like a callow, greedy youth but…" He sighed, shrugging. "I told you when I proposed that I was a selfish, selfish man, Nancy."

"No." His wife shook her head. "Never that, Phillip."

"You are much too easy on me," he sighed. "In any case, I want to make one thing very, very clear: I have never and could never regret marrying you."

Nancy pulled one of her hands from his grasp and brushed away a tear from beneath one of her. "And here was I, wanting to tell you precisely the same thing. Darling, you were absolutely right. I should have been there with you. I don't want to be a wife who… simply takes and gives nothing back - one of those women who live aimless, purposeless lives. I… I am so glad to be Lady Strallan, with all the duties and obligations that that entails."

"And I am honoured to be your husband. I was cross and overbearing and - "

"And I was cross because I knew you were right." Nancy chuckled lightly. "What a pair we are! Now, how did you spend your day?"

"Oh, a book I had ordered from Hatchard's arrived this morning, so after I had met with Robertson, I permitted myself an hour or two of leisure to read it."

"Oh? What is it?"

"A most interesting and instructive volume." He lifted it from the window-seat and handed it to her. Nancy looked at the cover for a moment and then blinked up at him, nonplussed. On the frontispiece, in plain black type were the words The Subjection of Women.

"You're reading John Stewart Mill?" Nancy whispered faintly.

"Yes." Phillip turned away to pour her a cup of tea, then remembering how long it had been standing, halted, fidgeting awkwardly with his hands as he replaced the pot on the tray. In a slightly embarrassed voice, he coughed, "He's the MP for City and Westminster, you know. Made rather a lot of noise about the Reform Act last year - wanted to change some of the wording."

Nancy let out a small, choked laugh. "Yes. I know."

Phillip's mouth quirked. "Of course. He… shares a lot of your views, as I understand it."

"He does. And… are you enjoying what he has to say?"

"His arguments are… very persuasive. I found one part particularly striking - may I?" He extended his hand for the book and Nancy returned it mutely. For a moment, he was silent, scanning through pages, until he reached the passage he had been seeking. "Ah, here it is…" He cleared his throat and began to read aloud: "'It is the sole case, now that slavery has been abolished, in which a human being in the plenitude of every faculty is delivered up to the tender mercies of another human being, in the hope forsooth that this other will use the power solely for the good of the person subjected to it. Marriage is the only actual bondage known to our law. There remain no legal slaves, except the mistress of every house.'" He lowered the book, shamefaced. "It occurred me, while I was reading, that - that this had some bearing on - on our life together."

Gently, Nancy tugged the book from his hands and softly kissed his cheek. "You've never treated me that way, Phillip. I have no complaints to make of you save when I am feeling sulky and caged, and most unjustly blaming you."

Her husband's face creased unhappily. "I don't wish you to feel that you are living in a cage."

"I know. It isn't your fault. It's simply… before we married, my life was so - so - "

"Carefree," Phillip finished, shrugging his shoulders.

"No," Nancy sighed. "My life was so full and now - I have the house to run, my charity committees every couple of months, entertaining… and that's it. You - you are so busy, all of the time - darling, that isn't a criticism," she added hastily, as her husband's face fell even further. She shook her head. "You talked of envy, a moment ago. Well, I get jealous of you, too. You… you don't talk to me about the farms, or the finances anymore. Not in the way you used to in your letters. You went to that farmers' market last week and I'd have loved to come too, but y-you didn't invite me and I didn't want to presume - "

"I didn't want you to feel obliged to come to those silly things, and I thought you would feel that way if I asked," Phillip sighed. "I - when we married, my intention was never to tie you down, to - to completely fill your life up with me and nothing else."

Nancy nodded. "So… when you did ask me to be at the school visit… I ought to have realised that you truly thought it important."

Phillip's expression was sheepish. "I haven't been terribly good at making myself clear, have I? Yes, I wanted a wife and a wife's support, but… I wanted you to have the time to… to pursue your own interests, too - art, and books and - and politics, even, if you wanted and - "

"Darling, if I didn't want to be tied to you, then I would never have accepted your proposal! I married you because I hoped that together, we might be better - more than we each were on our own. Where does Mill - " She opened the book again and began to flick over pages. "Here!" she exclaimed triumphantly, and pointed out a passage to him:

On the contrary, when each of two persons, instead of being a nothing, is a something; when they are attached to one another, and are not too much unlike to begin with; the constant partaking in the same things, assisted by their sympathy, draws out the latent capacities of each for being interested in the things which were at first interesting only to the other; and works a gradual assimilation of the tastes and characters to one another, partly by the insensible modification of each, but more by a real enriching of the two natures, each acquiring the tastes and capacities of the other in addition to its own.

"You've already read it," Phillip realised.

With a nonchalant shrug, Nancy nodded. "Last month." Leaning up as if about to impart a great secret, she confided, "It's been on the bookshelf in my day-room ever since."

"You mean that I needn't have bought another copy?"

Nancy's mouth twitched. "No, my darling."

"Well," Sir Phillip said firmly, "that is the final straw. I - I would like your companionship, Nancy, your true companionship. More than anything. What - what would help us achieve it, do you suppose?"

"I - I would like to visit the Home Farm with you tomorrow." She smiled. "And… well, I - I understand that the Liberal candidate's meant to be r-rather a good speaker. He's holding a public meeting on Wednesday. W-will you escort me?"

"For you, I will endure even the Liberal candidate, my sweet one - and what's more, I shall try my very hardest to enjoy it." His look became almost impish as his arm wound around her back and reeled her in. "Now come here, Lady Strallan. You're soaked through."

"It started raining on the walk back." Nancy could hear her voice shaking - but not with fear. Never with anything like it, not around Phillip.

"Mmm, I can see that. Only one solution." His voice was low as he pressed two kisses to the base of her neck over her blouse, neatly lining them up along her collar-bone. His fingers were already working at the buttons. "We must get you out of these wet things, my dear."

"O-oh?"

"Indubitably." The base of her spine tingled at the low rumble of his voice. "I'd be considered a frightfully neglectful spouse if I allowed you to catch a chill, now, wouldn't I?"

Jamieson, coming up to refresh the tea tray some ten minutes later, found the library door firmly locked.