Ch. 1 – A day

The floorboards of her room were terribly creaky. Edith had never noticed before. She'd never spent a great deal of time in her room other than to sleep. Growing up, she'd always felt confined enough wandering the extensive grounds of Downton, let alone within the four solid walls she paced between now. And later, if she could manage it she was always at Locksley with Anthony, or in the village, or on a drive. Just this morning she'd had the promise of a life with him. Now here she was again, in this room, in this house. She felt sick with loss all over again.

The moon was high and bright, illuminating the space when she so badly longed for darkness. It laid a silver hand over the familiar rugs and her messed bed, and the mirror she'd stood before that very morning with her sisters, when she was so full of love and happiness she thought she may burst. Her closets had mostly been emptied, her spring clothes being packed for the honeymoon. Her vanity, once full of perfumes and jewelry and hairbrushes, was now bare. Her wedding dress had been removed by Anna, along with any other reminders of the day. Her room now seemed as silent and dull and hollow as she felt.

"Anthony," she muttered, feeling another surge of tears coming on, "Anthony, Anthony." Climbing back into the bed, Edith buried herself in the sheets, wishing she could drown in them, and cried until physical exhaustion mercifully forced her to sleep.

Breakfast the following morning was silent, everyone in the household afraid to move as though it may unleash some of the disappointment of poor Edith's wedding. Even Cora, Mary, and Sybil joined the gentlemen rather than having trays in their rooms. There was a sense that they needed to be together to get by. They were reverent, restrained, and utterly at a loss. When Edith entered the dining room, everyone looked absolutely stricken. She ignored their pitying stares.

"You came down," Mary stated dumbly, unsure of what else to say to Edith.

"Yes. As I said to Anna, the spinster aunt always takes breakfast with the family," Edith muttered bitterly. She was dressed, but her hair was in an untidy knot and she wore no makeup or jewelry. Cora pulled a chair out near her, gesturing for her daughter to sit, but instead Edith walked to the buffet and helped herself to a cup of tea.

"How are you holding up, Sister?" Sybil asked tentatively. Edith cast a withering glance at the inane question.

"Well," said Matthew, attempting to be protective over his sister-in-law, "I say dash the coward. If I ever come across him, Edith, I'll—" but Edith cut him short, slamming her cup and plate down on the table, causing everyone to jump as tea splashed onto the linen.

"Don't you dare say one word against Anthony," she warned, her voice low and raw. Tears immediately welled over her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.

Robert threw his napkin onto the table and leant back. "Surely you aren't defending what he's done?"

"You have no idea do you, any of you, what Anthony's done?" She asked, looking at each of them incredulously. "Anthony loves me, desperately. He's told me and shown me so many different ways. But none of you see that, and he's never, ever believed he deserves me. And why should he? When you've all done your best to prove he's right. Still you give him no credit." She paused, ensuring they might hear her. "He chose yesterday to leave, the way he did, because he knew the scandal and the embarrassment would insure I couldn't pursue him afterward. He exposed himself to scorn and ridicule and denigration, and probably lost the few friends he valued, because he believed I could and should do better than to marry him."

"Please don't be angry with the world, my Darling," Cora tried, but Edith stopped her.

"I'm not angry with the world. I'm angry with you," she said through tears of ire and frustration and heartbreak. "I spent months, years even, trying to convince Anthony that I love him. He is the best person I've known. He is monumentally kind, and gentle, and patient, and he noticed me when the rest of you cast me aside. He appreciates and encourages me, which is more than you've ever done. And what did he earn with his love and goodness? Your contempt. He deserves infinitely better than what you've all done by him."

She took in the surprise in their expressions and laughed derisively. "Do you think I don't know? The comments and the jabs: Granny always asking if he can keep up; Mary's coldness; the way you all refer to him as 'Old Sir Anthony, dull as paint;' Papa refusing to say he's happy for us." She gestured to each culprit as she quoted them. "You were all so determined he was wrong for me, you convinced him of it as well. And to what end? Do I look happy now? Is this what you wanted for me?"

Edith clutched at her stomach in an unmistakable gesture of grief and pain, looking away as she momentarily lost the battle with her shattering sobs. Cora reached out for Robert as she fought her own tears, and a quick glance around the table found everyone else in much the same state. Mary, Violet, and Robert were brave enough to watch as Edith broke down. The rest stared into their laps, taking in her words.

When she was able, Edith turned back to them and said in an impossibly small voice, "As long as I live there will never be a thing on this earth I love so well as Anthony Strallan, and you've frightened him away. Probably forever."

No one dared speak as Edith finished. She braced herself against the end of the dining room table with two white fists and hung her head in exhaustion and sorrow. She didn't try to stop the tears that fell from her face onto the table. After a moment she looked up with new resolve. She wiped quickly at her face and took a single breath to steady her voice.

"I want to go to London," she demanded firmly. "I don't want to open the house, I want my own small place, only a maid and a cook will be necessary. I'd like to take Anna with me as lady's maid and housekeeper, if she'll come. Perhaps she won't mind being closer to Mr. Bates. And I don't want to see any of you for a while."

"What will you do in London?" Lord Grantham asked. He didn't attempt to argue with her, and his visage was undeniably sad.

"Anything I can to feel useful and to distract myself from the fact that I have lost everything I hold dear," Edith replied, her tone grave and scornful, her message absolute.

"Edith, darling, I am so, so" Mary began in a whisper but Edith cut her short with a simple, "Don't" before stalking out of the room.

It was decided by supper that Edith would leave within the week, Anna as her escort. Lord Grantham contacted George Murray to inquire after properties and was very lucky to find that the Hammond family was leasing a 'modest' place near the Crawley London house. Robert made all of the arrangements himself.

Most important to him of these arrangements was Anna. "Please," he pleaded with her in the library, "I implore you. Go to London with Edith, see to her needs whatever they may be. We don't want her wallowing alone. Your main responsibility is her. If you find you need someone else to manage the rest, we will arrange it. Just see to it that she isn't alone."

"I promise, your Lordship. You needn't worry."

"She won't suffer," he said, half demand and half plea.

Anna, ever wise and gentle cocked her head slightly and assured, "She won't suffer alone, milord. Never."