Most of the Crawleys returned to Yorkshire after the excitement over the unexpected arrival died down. Anthony wouldn't hear of traveling for at least two weeks, if not longer, so Gertrude and Cora stayed in Carlingford to lend the new parents a hand. It was well into February when a rather exhausted but well-adjusted Edith and Anthony brought their daughter home to Locksley for the first time.

"Welcome home, ma Belle," Anthony said softly, setting her car seat on the floor of the foyer as Edith trudged in behind him with the baby bag and moses basket.

Edith smiled. Anthony had immediately and inexplicably started speaking to his daughter in French about twenty minutes after she was born. It didn't take long for the proud father to shorten Isobel to Belle, 'His beauty,' he had explained. At first Edith was opposed, but when Gertrude and Cora picked up the nickname she realized the battle had been lost. And her daughter was indeed a beauty, so Edith accepted it.

Gertrude followed after, arms full of bags. "Gert, I can get those," Anthony offered distractedly. He and Edith were looking down at their daughter, still sleeping, arms around each other's waists.

Gertrude watched them skeptically for a moment, the dreamy little pair so enamored with their child. "No, no. You two enjoy this moment of peace and tranquility while it lasts. Your little bundle of love there is sweet while she's sleeping. In thirty minutes she's going to wake up hungry and you'll have to hear about it. I give it until dinner tonight before she's running this entire place."

"She is decidedly the boss," Anthony conceded.

Without looking away Edith observed softly, "Must be hard for you to give up the position as family crank and dictator, Gertie."

"Oh, well," Gertrude sighed sarcastically, coming around to look at the little pink object of their discussion. "It would be probably, if I didn't love the bug so damn much."

Edith laughed lightly. She was practically glowing from contentment, and Anthony had never seen her look lovelier despite the dark circles under her eyes.

"Alright, I'm going to finish unloading the car," Gertie said, moving toward the door again. But Edith quickly reached out and snatched her arm, pulling Gertrude to her side.

"No," Edith said, pulling Gertie's arm around her so that she had Anthony on one side and his sister on the other. She laid her head down on Gertie's shoulder. "No, just let me enjoy this for a minute—my family all together, back home where they belong."

"Oh, rabbit," Gertrude whispered, kissing Edith's hair as Anthony's hand patted his sister's shoulder.

As Gertrude predicted, it wasn't long before the demands of a new born broke them all from their little moment.

By the time Edith and Anthony's first anniversary came around, all of Locksley was quite infatuated with the girl, who was looking more and more like her father by the day. Her hair was so blonde it was nearly white, and her large eyes were the same shade of sea glass as Anthony's. She had inexplicably dark eyelashes, which Edith said was a blessing from Mother Nature Herself, and anyone the Strallans ran into in town practically went to pieces over her.

"There's no doubt denying the paternity of this one," Gertrude laughed, playing with Belle. Gertie had the baby on Edith's bed, making faces at the little one to make her coo and smile. Edith was sitting at her vanity getting ready.

"Paternity, no. But I'm starting to wonder if I'm really her mother," Edith quipped, pinning back her hair.

Gertrude laughed. "Oh no. She may look like Anthony, but I'll bet my life she has your attitude."

"I have an attitude?" Edith asked, one eyebrow quirked, turning in her chair to eye Gertrude.

"Oh, you're going to deny it?" was the older woman's response. "Keep in mind, rabbit, that by attitude I mean gumption and maybe a hint of stubbornness, possibly even obstinacy?"

"Right," Edith snorted, "and no one would ever accuse a Strallan of being pig-headed."

"Well, regardless, I think our little Belle here is going to rule the roost."

"She already does," Edith laughed. Closing the lid on her jewelry box she stood suddenly and turned to face Gertie. "Well?" she asked, holding up her hands, "How do you like me? Will I do?"

Gertrude sat up, absently offering a knuckle for Belle to gnaw on. At four months she was always in search of something to gum.

Edith was wearing a tight-fitting dress in a shimmery sort of gold fabric. It had cap-sleeves and a high neck, but dipped low in the back and fell mid-thigh, offering Edith's usual combination of modesty and allure. Her wavy hair was slightly more controlled and pulled back on one side to reveal the diamond studs Anthony had surprised her with months earlier. The only other bit of jewelry she wore was a simple tennis bracelet, borrowed from Mary for the night.

"Oh, you'll do just fine. Though I have a feeling you could wear a burlap sack and he'd be pleased. Where are you going anyway?"

"I don't know. He wants it to be a surprise. Silly really," Edith said, blushing.

"Oh, tosh. It's your first anniversary. Let him make a fuss, and then you can go right back to the boring old couple you always were."

"Boring indeed," Edith huffed. "Well, I have a few tricks up my sleeve tonight. He's not the only one with surprises." Edith slipped on her heels and walked over to the bed, scooping up her daughter.

"Do tell," Gertrude urged.

"Nope," Edith said, pressing her nose to Belle's head as she nuzzled her. "Tonight, for perhaps the first time ever, Anthony will be the first in the loop. We'll tell you all the details of the evening tomorrow at breakfast."

"Very well," Gertie sighed.

"And you, my darling daughter, will be very good for your Aunt Gertie, and Mummy and Daddy are going to miss you terribly while we're away." Handing the baby back to Gertrude Edith said, "I've managed two 6-oz bottles, they're in the fridge, but if you need more her formula's in the baby bag. We should be back long before her 2-am feeding, so don't feel like you need to stay up or anything."

"Alright. Run along now. You know how Anthony likes to be on time."

"Thanks for watching her, Gert."

"It's no trouble, love. Now go."

Anthony was waiting by the door, both their coats in hand, in his best navy suit that made Edith's knees go a little weak. When he turned around he gave Edith a strange smile that made her falter.

"Is it too much?" she asked looking down. "I'm finally not horrified by my post-baby body, and I wanted to do something special, but I don't know where we're going, so if it's not right I can go change."

"Edie, you're perfect," Anthony breathed, still looking a little stricken.

Edith melted into a giddy smile and dropped her head as he moved to help her into her coat.

"Did you say goodbye to Isobel?" Edith checked as they moved out the door.

"Of course."

"And, we're not venturing too far are we? I mean, I'm not worried but—"

Anthony cut her off, wrapping his arm around her waist as they walked to the car. "Not too far, and I know you're worried, but for once I'm telling you we'll be fine. And we'll be home in time for Belle's feeding so you won't need to pump."

"Oh, do talk about more my breast milk, darling, it's so romantic," Edith pleaded sarcastically.

"You had romance on the agenda tonight? Pity. I wish you would have told me," he said dryly, earning a pinch from his wife.

Dinner was at one of the finer restaurants in Grantham, not overly pretentious but utterly delectable. When the server said, "Your dinner will be up right away, Dr. Strallan," Edith frowned at him suspiciously.

"No menus?" she asked.

"No, pre-ordered," he said, trying his best to remain aloof.

"I'm intrigued," she said. She didn't have to wait long, however, when the waiter brought a loaf of French bread and a block of cheese, farm-fresh from Ireland, on a wood cutting board, and two bowls of beef stew.

"Beef stew?" she asked quietly, looking at the table.

"The first dinner we ever shared," Anthony explained, beginning to wonder if perhaps he should have ordered lobster tail or steak tartare or something more elaborate.

"I know that, you idiot. It's lovely." When she looked up at him he could see in her eyes his idea was a success.

"I do love it when you use those endearing little pet names for me," he joked, digging in.

They laughed through much of the meal, and talked. They talked now like they had that first night, as if there wasn't enough time in the world to say all they had to say to one another. Of course, the majority of their conversations now ended back at thoughts of their daughter.

"Well," Edith sighed after a while. "I'm fairly stuffed, but I may just have room for something sinful. Did you order dessert as well, my oh-so-thorough husband?"

As if on cue, the server brought out a pint of balsamic ice cream from Murphy's.

"How in the world did you get ice cream shipped from Dublin?" Edith shrieked, not bothering with the chilled bowl and scoop but digging straight into the carton.

"I am a man of many talents, sweet one."

"Mmm, I'll say," she agreed seductively, pressing her knee against his under the table.

"If I'd known a little pint of ice cream would get you in the mood, I'd have had the cellar freezer stocked a long time ago." To this Edith laughed heartily before getting distracted by what was arguably the best ice cream in the world.

Dinner was followed by a stroll through their own orchards, where they ended up at a bench in a small and intimate little alcove created by some plum trees that had grown together. Not quite being summer, Edith had her coat on and Anthony's over her lap, his arms enfolding her.

"I feel like Jane being embraced by Rochester in the garden," she sighed, nuzzling into him. Then laughing at herself she added, "You make me say the most maudlin things."

"It's a fine book. No shame in referencing. Speaking of books," he said, as though the thought had just occurred to him. Edith sat up as he reached for something under the bench.

"What is it?" she asked, confused.

"Your gift," he answered, presenting a small box wrapped in gold and ivory.

"This was planted here?! How did you know I'd want to walk in the orchards? What if I had asked just to go straight home?" she demanded playfully, fingering the package with delight.

"Darling, this may be our first anniversary, but it is not my first date with you."

"Well what is it?" she asked, holding the gift in her lap.

Anthony frowned at her and laughed. "Well the easiest way to know that might be to open it, love."

As Edith pulled gingerly at the ribbon and slid a finger under the seam of the wrapping he explained, "It seems I'm quite missed at the English department, and still able to pull some favors. Even from the press, if you can believe it."

Edith had no idea what he was talking about until she unfolded some tissue paper to reveal a beautifully bound, hardback book. The image on the jacket was a silhouette of a bird on the branches of a tree, some leaves falling, and the branches spelled the words "September Song." Edith ran her fingers reverently over the embossed, curling letters at the bottom that read "Edith Crawley Strallan."

"Oh, oh god," she stuttered, "Oh, Anthony."

"I was so proud when I got this from Reggie Swire at the University Press I almost didn't wait to give it to you. This is the very first copy that came off the press." Anthony was beaming, both from his own triumph and his wife's.

"Anthony," Edith squeaked, pitching her arms around his neck.

"I'm so, so proud of you my love. Really and truly, I don't know where you came from, but you are remarkable."

Edith ignored his flattery, having learned long ago it's best not to argue with him however over-generous he was with his praise. Instead, she ran her nose affectionately along his jaw and kissed his ear. After a few moments of quiet, warm nuzzling and murmured affections, Edith was of a mind to reward her husband for an anniversary well-done.

"Thank you, for everything," she said, setting his coat and the book aside to straddle him in one fluid motion.

"Edith, you wild girl, whatever am I going to do with you?" he asked in mock exasperation.

"I have a few ideas," she said, nibbling his ear and stealthily reaching between them for his trousers. Just as Edith had learned not to question Anthony's praise, he had learned that to rebuff his wife's advances was generally a futile effort.

"What would Jane and Rochester say?" he teased, helping Edith with her nickers at her insistence as she leaned up.

"Mm, well if they knew you like I did they wouldn't judge."

"Darling, no one knows me like you do," he said, though his sentence was rather stilted as Edith took him in hand.

"Anthony, what you said at dinner, about being a man of many," she groaned as she sank on to him, "Mm—talents."

"Ye-yes?" he asked, pressing his head to her shoulder as she gripped his neck, rolling her hips against him.

"It's true," she said, fighting the urge to whimper as they moved together, Anthony doing what he could to thrust up with Edith's weight pinning him to the bench.

"If, if you, mmm, say so," he muttered, his hands roaming the bare skin of her back beneath her coat.

"You are an above-average golfer," Edith began, causing Anthony to frown at her strange choice of subject even as she tightened her muscles around him. "You speak three languages. You can cook better than most men, I'd say."

"Edith, where—what the hell are you talking about?" he asked as kindly as he could manage.

She wanted the timing of this to be perfect. Picking up her speed and working her thighs to get more out of each up and down motion, she continued. "You've a talent for being a husband, patient and attentive, and you're good to your family, our family. You've a talent for seeing my every need, even before I do."

"Eed," he groaned, and she felt that he was close, his hands digging into her hips and his movements becoming more erratic. Sensing her own climax, she kissed him deeply. That did the trick.

Just as they came, together and climactically, Edith added, "And you've a talent for getting me pregnant, it seems."

Riding out their release, Edith felt Anthony's body still long before his heart did. He stared blankly at her heaving chest for a moment, mouth slightly parted. He was still inside her when Edith bent her head, forcing him to make eye contact with her.

"You're—that's what you meant, right? That we're?" he tried.

Edith, the devious little minx that she was, enjoyed the challenge of trying to perplex her almost too-brilliant husband. Taking in his ragged breathing and rather dazed expression, she began to wonder if perhaps the announcement and the lovemaking simultaneously was a bad case of overkill.

"Sorry, I suppose I should have told you when you had a little more…composure," she muttered.

"But I thought," he said, reaffirming his grip on her hips, "I thought that breast feeding made that impossible."

"Wives tale," she shrugged. "I should have warned you. Especially since we seem to be setting some kind of record as the single most sexually active married couple in history."

They watched each other a while longer, the news still sinking in.

"Anthony," Edith prodded gently, finally kneeling up and releasing him. His mind seemed a little slow at the moment, so she took the liberty of tucking him in and doing up his trousers. "You're starting to make me nervous, and that's not easily done these days."

"Oh, oh my sweet girl, I'm sorry," he said, "I was just surprised. I am surprised. It's soon."

"You're telling me. I literally just got my waist back to its original size."

"I'm rather fond of your waist at any size."

"Even pregnant, all stretched and huge?"

"Especially then," Anthony smiled, kissing her sweetly.

"You're pleased?" she asked, unable to hide the hope and need in her expression.

"Oh, honey," he heaved, pulling her tight against him, "Oh, it's just… brilliant. Can I expect this every year? I mean, so far we're two-for-two."

"Maybe, at least for another five or six years," she giggled, kissing his cheek.

"Mmm," he agreed, "Or perhaps just go until we fill all 34 rooms?"

"Capital idea, Dr. Strallan."

"Speaking of children, I'm suddenly quite eager to check on the one we already have."

"Agreed," Edith sighed, removing herself from his lap and straightening her clothes.

Back in the house, Edith asked Anthony if he might grab some snacks and meet her upstairs. "Between feeding one child and growing another, I might eat us into poverty," she laughed.

Setting a tray of fruit, crackers, and cheese in their room, Anthony snuck into their daughter's room to find his wife. Edith had already changed from her dress into some lilac pajama bottoms and a white camisole. She was standing at the far window, lit by the moon and the dim nightlight by the crib. Isobel was in her arms, nursing, and Edith was humming as she swayed left to right, humming. And there was something about her delicate hands, the rings on her finger, and the way they looked, holding his child.

The silver-blue of the moonlight cast against Edith's pale skin giving her a ridiculously ethereal effect. Anthony watched her in complete awe, as if she were a ghost, or an angel. He thought of her book, a renewed pride surging through him, and of the titular story.

September Song, the story of two ghosts, wandering the world, unseen and alone, unaware of what they're missing until they find each other.

Anthony's heart fairly ached with the poetry of it all, of what Edith had cultivated in his life. And, no mistake, it was indeed poetry. From the first moment she stepped into his office, not even two years ago, he was changed. She brought Gertrude home, brought him children, infinite loyalty and goodness and love.

"Are you feeling sappy again?" Edith asked in a teasing whisper, bouncing their daughter—his Belle, his beauty—against her shoulder to wind her.

"Sadly, yes. You've caught me," he said, though his voice cracked. Edith laughed through her nose, handing a now sleeping Isobel off to him.

After a few moments—Anthony watching his daughter, Edith watching him—she leaned in to wrap herself into his chest beside their child and asked, "What are you thinking?"

Anthony looked down at his Edith, his thumb running affectionate circles on her shoulder, and searched for the words. All they had been through, all they had changed, all they had become together. He thought back to those first moments of their meeting and compared the image to this, their family, and said the only words that could possibly express it all.

"How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart."

A/N: That's it, dear readers! (Sorry for the over-abundance of fluff here at the end.) I can't believe this story stretched as long as it did. Even more remarkable is that you, dear friends, stuck with me through the whole thing! Thank you, thank you so much for all the reviews, PMs, and support. I still feel fairly new to the FanFiction world and you've all just made it so pleasant. I love our little Andith community, and I can't wait for all of your stories to keep coming.

I have another Edith/Anthony story in the works-not nearly as long and quite different in tone but it will be a few weeks. I'm 17 days from graduating with my MFA (but who's counting?) so summer will be grand.

Thanks again,
Eleanor