HAPPY EAST DAY, E/A & S/T shippers! It's EAST Alliance Day 2014, marking the one-year anniversary of this story, which I started last year for EAST Alliance Day :oD While it's coming along slowly, it is coming along, and we're starting to get into some of the "meatier" portions of the plot, which does include a bit of *angst* for one of our couples, but I hope despite that, you still feel the strong love that is growing and felt between them both. Also, we got some "bromance" for one of my fav DA Brotp's: Tom/Edith. Anyway, THANK YOU for continuing to read and follow this story, to both Sybil/Tom and Edith/Anthony shippers (and everyone else who reads) and I hope you enjoy and please, continue to share your thoughts, as they really help with knowing where to take this story! Enjoy, and again, HAPPY EAST DAY!

Chapter Nine

"She's in there RIGHT NOW!?"

"YES!" Tom hissed into his mobile. "She just…floated into the office, barely giving my glance, and before I could say anything more than just her name…Michael closed the door!"

Tom groaned and ran his hand over his face, glancing for the hundredth time towards his editor's office. He looked at the clock on the wall and frowned. Thirty minutes; they had been there for thirty minutes. He expected raised voices, perhaps angry shouts, but it sounded so quiet in there! WHAT were they talking about!?

"I honestly had no idea she was going to be doing this," Sybil's voice filled his ear again.

Tom forced his eyes away from his editor's door. "She didn't say anything as she was leaving?"

"She was gone before I had even gotten up! I thought maybe she had gone out for a coffee or something."

"God, this could be my job, Syb!" he groaned into the mobile, lowering his head into his hands and cradling it.

"Oh Tom, I doubt—"

"No, I'm serious! I was the one who suggested she submit her work to The Guardian, I was the one who gave her article to Michael, and if something goes wrong, I am the one who will be facing the consequences!"

"I don't see how you can be held responsible, you simply made a suggestion, you didn't force your editor to put Edith's article in print, and quite frankly, he should have at least provided you with a warning that he was going to run with it, though he should have said something to Edith—"

"Yeah, well he didn't, and as nice as it is to hear, love, your opinion doesn't count."

He winced as soon as the words left his lips. Fuck.

There was a pause, before he heard Sybil murmur, "...I was just trying to help, Tom."

He groaned, feeling like the world's biggest prick in that moment. "I know, I know you were, I do, and I'm sorry I said that, I—"

"Tom?"

He groaned again, but this time out of annoyance for the interruption. "Not now, Edna," he muttered, glancing up at the blonde who was just now hovering near his desk.

"I should go—"

"NO! Wait, Sybil, don't hang up, I'm sorry—"

"This really can't wait—"

"NOT NOW, EDNA!" he practically roared, causing the woman to jump, her hands flying to her chest in surprise.

"Look, it's alright," Sybil assured him. "You're under a lot of stress, I get that, and I'm not helping by keeping you right now."

He hated how that sounded, and hated that she even thought that. He opened his mouth to protest further, to tell her that no, she was the best help to him in keeping him grounded, she always had been, and yes, she was right, he was letting the stress of the situation get the best of him, but then he heard the sound of the phone being jostled on Sybil's end, and her muttering, "Oh shit, I didn't realize that was the time! I'm going to be late for my class! I have to go!"

"Syb, I lov—"

She had hung up.

Tom closed his eyes and lowered his head, the mobile falling away from his ear. Fuck, fuck, fuck! It didn't help that he wasn't sitting there by himself either, because though it was subtle, he could not miss the distinct sound of a woman clearing her throat to get his attention, and he wearily looked up to see that Edna was still standing there, though perhaps for the first time since he had met her, she was not giving him one of her dazzling smiles.

"Mr. Gregson wants to see you, in his office—now."

There was no room for argument, not that Tom would dare at the moment. He tried to give Edna an apologetic smile, but she was having none of it, not that he blamed her. He shouldn't have yelled at her, it was unfair to take out his frustrations on her or Sybil.

He rose from his desk and followed Edna as she led the way, not that she needed to. It oddly reminded Tom of some poor sod being led to the executioner's block (and he was playing the part of the "poor sod"). Edna stopped halfway, and Tom nearly ran into her. She whirled around and gave him an icy glare. "I don't appreciate being shouted at!"

He winced. "Edna, I'm sorry—"

"Whatever problems you and your girlfriend are having, you keep them to yourself!" She whirled back so quickly, her hair actually hit him in the chin.

Tom frowned, an uneasy tremor washing over him at her words. Problems? He and Sybil weren't having "problems". He was upset and worried just now, and had said something horrible and stupid, but…but that didn't mean they were having "problems".

…Did it?

Now's really not the time; get your head in the game, Branson!

Tom took a deep breath, lifted his chin, and moved past Edna to Michael's door, knocking on it lightly and waiting for his editor's voice, "Come in!" before turning the handle and entering.

"You wanted to see me, Michael?" he asked, more so because it was the sort of thing someone would ask, even though he had a pretty good idea what this was about.

"Close the door," was his editor's answer, and Tom silently groaned, taking that as not the best of signs. "Have a seat," was Michael's next instruction, and that was when Tom noticed that the other chair facing his editor's desk was presently occupied—still—by his girlfriend's sister.

"I trust I don't have to make introductions?" he heard Michael joke, and Tom turned his eyes then to his editor, who was chuckling to himself and didn't…look…upset…

His eyes went back to Edith, who remained where she was seated, her hands neatly folded on her lap, and her eyes looking down at them. He wanted to hiss her name, just have her look at him to give him an idea if everything was ok. Oh God, was everything ok? Surely if Michael was going to give him the sack, he wouldn't do so in front of Edith?

"Well, Miss Crawley here emailed me yesterday via The Guardian's main website, expressing her…" Michael paused, as if trying to decide what the best adjective to use was. "…Concern, at seeing her work published without any 'warning' that it would happen."

Edith snorted, and Tom didn't blame her. If Michael had been present when Edith first saw her article yesterday, he would have used a much more colorful adjective. He felt he should say something, so he cleared his throat slightly and looked at his editor, "well, I was surprised as well, I thought you were just going to look at it and get back to me, I didn't realize you were going to print—"

"Yes, Miss Crawley and I have discussed this already," Michael interrupted, though much to Tom's relief, the man didn't look annoyed. Rather…intrigued…by the whole thing, and from what Tom could see…he looked most intrigued with Edith. "I do apologize, to both of you, for the surprise, but…" he looked back at Edith and smiled at her, a smile that was very different from the ones Tom had observed him giving to others. "…I just couldn't help myself, it was perfect and I knew it would be the perfect addition to the Sunday paper, the very thing we needed and were missing, and it will truly separate us from our competitors!"

Tom's eyebrows rose as he listened to Michael's excitement. He glanced over at Edith, who had her head lowered and was blushing slightly at the praise, while still trying to look stern, though he could tell that his editor, in all his charms, was starting to break through that stony armor she had put on when she confronted him this morning.

"I was just saying to Miss Crawley, that this is what The Guardian needs; something for the intellects who read our paper and are proud to be Guardian subscribers, but also something that will educate our readers, especially those who don't have a knowledge of classical literature! It will be popular with both men and women, young and old—as I said, it's perfect!"

Edith coughed then and finally lifted her eyes back to Michael. "Thank you, Mr. Gregson, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but still—"

Michael held his hands up in a surrendering gesture, and finally sat back down in his chair behind his desk. "Yes, yes, I know, I understand, and I do apologize Miss Crawley for that 'nasty surprise', though I hope you will see that it was a good decision, because we've already received three emails this morning, all positive about the article, and I'm very sure we'll be hearing a great deal more!"

Edith didn't look so convinced, from what Tom could tell, yet if she had something to say further, she chose to keep it to herself. As for himself, Tom still wasn't quite sure why Michael had asked him to come in, unless it was to make that "apology" of sorts. However, Michael must have read his mind, because he turned then and looked directly at Tom. "I asked you in here, Tom, because I'm hoping you can help convince Miss Crawley to accept my offer."

Tom's eyes widened. His offer? He looked over at Edith who was blushing again and squirming just slightly in her chair. As much as he wanted to hold onto his job, Tom knew that he should side with his friend, no matter what. "Well…no offense, Michael, but…I'll not go against Edith—"

"I understand, but hear me out!" Michael interrupted, his excitement never lessening. "All I'm asking is a 'trial run'…we publish a few more articles on various classics, invite the public to send in their questions, sort of create a…'in-print book club', if you will. Miss Crawley could even give hints as to what the next book she'll be discussing is at the end of each article, so if readers want to jump ahead and prepare themselves, they could! I think it will be a tremendous success!"

Tom couldn't deny…he did like Michael's idea, and he could see it being a success as well. But he wasn't the person Michael had to convince, and when Tom looked over at Edith, noticing the way she was chewing on her bottom lip, it was obvious to him that she was still unsure. Ignoring his editor completely, Tom asked her, "What do you think, Edith?"

She lifted her eyes to him, and he could see the struggle. "I…I don't know," she answered honestly. "I mean…maybe, but…I don't have Mr. Gregson's confidence, I don't see how it could be a 'tremendous success', and…" she looked at Michael. "To be quite honest, Mr. Gregson, I feel as if you're just saying all this so that I won't file some kind of lawsuit on you for going behind my back and publishing something without my direct permission—"

"I understand that, Miss Crawley, meaning I understand your misgivings, but please know, I am being 100% sincere when I tell you…I really, really think this is going to be something great, and I really want you to come on board with it."

Tom looked back at Edith and saw her frown as she looked back at her folded hands; she was clearly trying to make up her mind on what to do. He would try to buy her some time. "How long of a 'trial period' are you talking?" he asked, looking at his editor.

Michael turned his attentions back to Tom. "Well, this isn't your 'typical' sort of article; we want to dedicate at least…what, three weeks, would you say, to each book?" he asked, looking at Edith, but then turning back to Tom before she could answer. "And then maybe have the week that follows, focused on questions from readers, that Miss Crawley would answer, so in essence, like a 'typical' book club, it would be one novel a month, I suppose…and that would be part of the trial, to get an idea of how long—"

"You say that you want readers to send me questions," Edith interrupted, looking at Michael with some confusion. "How…I mean, are you talking about them sending questions…here? To The Guardian? And…someone forwards them to me?"

Michael's smile widened even further then. "Actually…we could provide you with a workspace, and you could…come here?"

Tom's eyes widened and Edith's jaw dropped. She turned and looked at him, and then back at Michael. "You mean…come and…and be a part of the writing staff here? At The Guardian?"

"Yes, though I should say that…sadly, this wouldn't be a full-time position, as it's a special column that you would be writing, so you probably wouldn't need to make the commute as frequently as Tom does, I know," Michael chuckled, glancing at Tom then. "Once or twice a week, I would think," he clarified for her.

Edith blinked and then turned her face towards Tom. Tom was just as surprised, simply in the sense that he hadn't thought that Michael would go so far as to actually offer her a proper desk there. But then again, he hadn't had the same "vision" that his editor had, to what Edith's column could be.

"Tom?" Edith said his name and rose to her feet, looking at him expectantly. Her hands were fidgeting, a trait he knew she had when she was trying to make a decision. She turned then to Michael and asked, "do you mind if we…?"

"Oh! Oh yes, of course! I'll just…" he grabbed his coffee mug and rose from his desk, pausing at the door to grin at the both of them, especially at Tom, a look that was full of high expectations, before finally turning on his heel and closing the door quietly behind him.

"Oh God…" Edith groaned, sinking back down onto the chair once again, her hands coming up to cover her face. "I wasn't expecting this, honestly, I…I thought it was over, I thought after I made my displeasure known, they wouldn't want to have anything to do with me—"

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming here?" Tom asked, crouching down next to her.

Edith winced and looked back at him apologetically. "Sorry, I…I honestly hadn't made up my mind about whether to come or not until this morning."

"He said you sent him an email last night!"

Edith groaned. "I did, but…I didn't think he would respond back so quickly! I went to the newspaper's website and clicked on his name and…in an hour, he replied back and invited me to come to the office to talk more, and…and I kept debating about it throughout the night, and then—"

"You got here not long after I arrived—were you on the same train?"

Again, Edith looked a little guilty. "I…I didn't want to say anything—I didn't want to worry you! I honestly thought I could slip in, talk to him, and then I would be on my way! I didn't think I would still be here," she groaned. "Tom…I'm so, so sorry, I—"

"It's alright," he sighed, putting on a smile to ease her. "I was surprised, but…well, no harm done." Which was true, as far as he could tell. Michael didn't seem upset at all by Edith reaching out and contacting him, and in the end, it was Michael who had invited her to come up to London to talk further. Which led to the big, unanswered question…

"So…" Tom looked at her. "What are you going to do?"

Edith threw her hands up into the air. "I don't know! I mean…this was just some kind of hobby, something to occupy myself with, that's all! I never expected it to amount to anything!"

"But you must have thought there was a chance when you let me offer your article for him to look at—"

"Offering you my article to show him was one thing; actually seeing it in print, and being offered a job is quite another!" She rose from the chair then and began to pace the room. "I don't know, Tom, I mean…you're the journalist, not me!"

"I wouldn't sell yourself short," Tom argued. "You're a good writer, Edith, really!"

She made a face at his compliment. "Beginner's luck," she muttered.

He couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Maybe…but knowing you, you'll only get better."

She chewed on her lip and looked back at him. "Do you think I should accept?"

Tom shook his head. "I'm not going to say anything, I don't want to influence your decision."

"Tom…" she groaned, but he held up his hand and shook his head.

"I'll stand by your decision, no matter what Michael wants, but it has to be, completely, your decision."

Edith sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. She wandered over to the far side of the office, stopping to gaze at an old photograph of London that Michael had framed on the wall. Tom watched her but remained silent, allowing Edith the chance to contemplate her options.

"I would be mad to turn it down," he heard her murmur. "It's the closest thing to a proper job that I've been offered since I came to Oxford."

He nodded his head, though she had her back to him. "But you shouldn't accept something out of a sense of…'obligation'."

She looked over her shoulder at him. "I've taken advantage of yours and Sybil's hospitality for far too long, and have contributed very little."

"Edith—" But she waved her hand at him and turned back towards the photograph.

There was a brief pause, and then she turned around to face him fully. "I'll do it."

Tom's eyes widened with some surprise. He opened his mouth to say something, to ask her if she was sure, because he couldn't shake that she was doing this more out of a sense of "duty", than out of a general desire to write, but any chance he had of saying anything was robbed when the door burst open and Michael gasped, "You will!?"

Good Lord, how long had he been standing out there, listening?

Edith swallowed and squared her shoulders, facing Michael and nodding her head perhaps more vigorously than necessary. "I will, yes. At least…at least for the trial period, which we still need to discuss!" she was quick to add, but Michael was just too happy to notice.

"Of course, of course, absolutely," he beamed, setting his coffee mug down (which Tom noticed was still empty) and moved to where Edith was standing, holding out his hand and eagerly taking hers and shaking it. "Welcome aboard, Miss Crawley, The Guardian is very happy to have you!"

A few more handshakes and promises to be in touch later, Tom and Edith found themselves standing outside Michael's office, both looking a little dumbfounded at everything that had just happened.

"I…I must be overwhelmed," Edith finally murmured. "I mean, you would think I would be ecstatic; my first job in—"

"Are you sure about this?" Tom asked her, putting his arm around her shoulders and leading her away from Edna's desk, who was trying (and failing) to look like she wasn't paying attention. "I meant what I said earlier, Edith, don't do this out of a sense of 'obligation'—"

"I'm not, really, I…" she swallowed and glanced back at Michael's closed door, before turning and looking back at Tom. "It just all seems so…surreal, really. I…I came here because I was upset, and I expected to walk out of here with nothing, not even an apology really, and yet…now I have a job. Complete with a desk!"

Tom did smile at that, and did feel genuinely happy for her. She deserved this, especially after all the crap she had endured in the past. He just hoped that she was happy too.

"Well…since I'm here, maybe I'll do a little shopping for some proper 'work clothes' before heading back to Oxford."

Tom's smile faded slightly then, his mind going back to the conversation he had had with Sybil just before he went into Michael's office. "When you get back and see Sybil, will you…" his voice faded then, wondering how much he should reveal.

Edith's brow furrowed. "Will I…what? Is there something you want me to tell her?"

Tom sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets, forcing a smile as he looked back at Edith. "Just…that I love her and miss her, very much."

Edith smiled and nodded her head, before leaning up and kissing Tom's cheek. "I will, I promise, though it never hurts to ring and tell her that yourself."

He sighed and nodded, knowing she was right, but grateful she would pass the message on for him. Right now, he wasn't sure if Sybil would accept his phone calls. "Thanks, Edith."

She smiled and gave his hand a squeeze, before finally turning and leaving the office altogether.

"She's quite lovely…"

Tom turned, surprised by his editor's voice, not realizing that Michael had opened his door.

Tom couldn't help but frown a little, taking note of how Michael's eyes lingered on Edith as she walked away, similar in some ways to how he had noticed Michael looking fondly at her earlier, during their meeting.

Michael sighed, sounding rather wistful, before stuffing his own hands into his pockets and turning back towards his office, before looking over at Tom and nodding his head. "Excellent work on the weekend protest, by the way."

Tom's frown faded and a smile slowly lifted at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you, Michael; and I have a few more pieces that I thought we could run this week, as follow up—"

"Excellent, excellent," Michael answered, his tone dismissive, though he was still beaming and sighing. He turned then and went back into his office, and Tom stood there, his frown returning, and deepening further.

He knew that look all too well.

It was similar to the look Tom had, whenever he thought about Sybil.

In Oxford, the person whom Tom had been thinking of was thinking about him, and it showed.

On Mondays, Sybil assisted Dr. Strallan's first-year class, and was trying to properly file the various papers handed in by students into the accordion folder her professor had given her, but she was being far too clumsy, dropping things, and by the third quiet, but distinct curse that he heard, Anthony lifted his head and asked, "is everything alright, Miss Crawley?"

Sybil looked up, her face a deep shade of crimson. "Yes, sorry—sorry, I um…everything's fine—SHIT!" she groaned, as the folder itself slipped from her fingers, causing all the papers inside it to scatter and spread across the floor. "Sorry!" she apologized, though Anthony wasn't sure if it was meant for dropping the folder, or for the swearing.

"It's alright," he told her, meaning it as he bent down to help her retrieve the papers.

Sybil shook her head. "No, no, I have this Dr. Strallan, there's no need—"

"Let me help you, Miss Crawley," he assured, a bit of an amused chuckle to his voice, done more so to put her at ease.

Sybil bit her lip, but eased back a bit, allowing him to help her gather the papers. "Just hand them to me and I'll organize them—I'm sorry again about—"

"Miss Crawley…is everything alright?" he asked her, holding several papers in his hands and looking at her with some concern, but trying not to be too obvious.

Sybil blushed deeply. "Yes, yes, everything's fine—I'm just a bit of a klutz today, that's all," she attempted to joke, despite her own embarrassment.

Anthony didn't buy it. In the time he had known Sybil Crawley, from when she first came to Oxford and took his first-year class, to the present, where she was completing her Masters and working as his assistant, he had never known her to be "a klutz". Not to mention she came to his class five minutes late; she was always punctual. No, it was something else…

"So, what did you think of Edith's article?"

Anthony was shaken from his thoughts by Sybil's question—or to be more precise, by the mention of her sister's name. "W-w-what?" he stammered.

Sybil smiled and finished picking up the last of the papers. "I asked Edith, when she returned from your meeting, how it all went, but she didn't say much—only that it went well."

Anthony wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was he disappointed that Lady Edith hadn't said anything further? That she hadn't mentioned him? Or…was he simply being a fool? Thinking—believing in some sort of…attraction…that simply wasn't there, all just a…a figment of his own imagination.

"Dr. Strallan?"

He shook his head and put on a smile. "Sorry, I um…I liked her article, very much," he answered at last. "I thought she made many excellent points, and I was pleased to see the sources which she used in her research, and I recommended a few others to her as well."

Sybil smiled at this and nodded her head as if pleased by what he had said. "And…did you offer her any advice? For the future, I mean?"

Anthony blushed. "Well…to a point. She wasn't sure if she would be writing further, since…well, I'm sure you're aware that The Guardian published her work without her knowledge that they were going to do so…"

Sybil groaned and rolled her eyes, confirming with Anthony that yes, she was all too aware.

"She apparently rose early and went into London to confront the editor," she told him, causing Anthony's eyebrows to lift in surprise. "I didn't know anything about it—she didn't tell anyone."

Anthony couldn't help but wonder if he had anything to do with that decision, not that he had told her she should go and confront the editor, but he had encouraged that she try and talk to the person in charge…

"Yes, well…because of this, she wasn't sure if she would still be writing for them, so we didn't discuss a great deal beyond her present article," he explained.

Sybil's face fell. "Oh."

"We did make arrangements to meet again tomorrow evening, however," he explained, his own cheeks warming as he recalled his and Lady Edith's plan to…meet. A meeting, it is as simple as that, like a meeting you would have with any of your students! Though Lady Edith wasn't a student…

Sybil's eyes widened at these words, and that frown suddenly lifted. "Oh?" she murmured, her face lighting up, looking exactly the opposite to how it was a few seconds ago.

"Yes, well…she simply wanted some…some advice on possible books to discuss for the future, though I don't know why she doesn't simply ask you, I'm sure you would be a much better help—"

"NO!"

Anthony practically jumped at the rather forceful word.

Sybil coughed. "I mean, no…no, you're quite wrong, Dr. Strallan, you are the PERFECT person for my sister to speak to!" At this he blushed very deeply.

"And you can recommend to her far better sources than I could—really, there is no comparison," Sybil was quick to add, a bright smile on her face. "And um…you said you're meeting tomorrow evening?"

Anthony was still blushing, but tried (with some difficultly) to not let it show. "Um…well, yes, we are, at half-past six."

Sybil nodded her head. "At your office?"

Now Anthony was truly blushing. "No…no um…at the café where we met yesterday. That way…that way we could…have some food as well…it just seemed to make sense…" Lord, he was rambling, and he winced at how boyish he must sound. What was the matter with him? He was never this tongue-tied!

Sybil continued to beam and hugged the folder and all its papers to her chest. "Well, I'm glad. I think you'll be a great help to Edith, if I may say so."

Anthony smiled and nodded his head, though in truth his head was swimming with all sorts of thoughts. A great help? Of course, she meant in terms of helping her sister with her writing. What else could she mean? Yet…was there something about the way Sybil was smiling? Something…"knowing"?

"Well, I should get these filed and organized properly, and I'll drop them off at your office later, as I know you have appointments to keep and your next class will begin in fifteen minutes."

Anthony forced a smile and nodded. "Yes…quite so," he murmured, though how he was going to manage to concentrate now, when his mind was swimming with thoughts of seeing Lady Edith again, he wasn't sure. Lord help him…he was bad as some of his young, raging hormonal first-year students!

"WHY didn't you tell me that you and Dr. Strallan were going to be meeting tomorrow night?" Sybil demanded, hovering around her sister as Edith attempted to hang her new purchases in the tiny wardrobe that filled a corner in her little bedroom.

Edith groaned. "Honestly, Sybil, I…I didn't think it was worth mentioning!" She avoided her sister's eyes, because Edith knew that if Sybil caught her gaze, she would begin to…detect something. "Besides, I honestly didn't think after today, I would still necessarily have a column to write for! And the way you make it sound…" Edith fixed her sister with a look. "It's just a meeting, you know. That's all, a meeting! From the way you go on and on, you would think it was…" She didn't dare finish that sentence.

A Date.

"…Would that be so bad?"

Edith whirled around and stared at her sister with wide, shocked eyes. "Sybil!"

"Is it because he's older?"

Edith felt her face grow hot. "I…no, I mean…yes, he is older, but…but no, it's not about…about his age—"

"I would admit that if you were a student of his, that would open up a great many 'ethical questions', but since you're not—"

Edith waved her hands in the air. "I'm not going to have this conversation," she muttered, turning her focus back to the wardrobe in front of her, and her back completely on her sister, mainly so Sybil couldn't see how red her cheeks had become ever since Dr. Strallan's name had been brought up. Upon entering the flat, Sybil was ready, launching herself at her and demanding to know all of the details about hers and Dr. Strallan's meeting at the café yesterday, and why she hadn't said anything about her upcoming meeting with the gentleman on Tuesday evening. Good heavens, why was her sister so insistent? Was Sybil worried, because this was her professor, and feared that by meeting with him, she was somehow preventing him from helping Sybil with her work?

…Or was it something else?

"There's still so much that needs to be settled," Edith muttered, more to herself than to Sybil who was still hovering in the doorway.

"You mean with Dr. Strallan?"

Edith's face was burning. "No! I…" she closed her eyes and silently counted in her head to calm down. "No, I meant with The Guardian; we—meaning that editor of Tom's and myself—didn't really get a chance to finalize how long this 'trial period' is going to be, or when I should pop around at the office. He said once, perhaps twice a week, but it should probably be established when I'm expected…unless…unless there's far more freedom to this job than I'm aware…" she mumbled. "Gracious, it's been so long since I had a job when I could make choices like that…I suppose, if there are no protests against it, I'll simply go in when Tom goes in, that makes sense, don't you think?"

She turned her head to get Sybil's opinion, only now her sister was being the quiet one.

Even though Sybil had started pressing her with questions the second she had walked through the door, Edith did manage to explain (very briefly) her meeting with Michael Gregson, and mention that Tom had been present. Edith had smiled at that, and not for the first time thinking how glad she was to have a friend in the Irishman. Rather like the brother I never had, she thought to herself, and upon glancing at her younger sister, couldn't help but grin, thinking that perhaps one day, the "never" would be replaced with "in-law".

"Sybil?"

"Hmm? Oh…yes, that makes perfect sense," her sister answered, putting on a smile that Edith knew was more for her benefit than any other reason. Sybil then entered the room and came up to the wardrobe, and began to fuss a little as she gazed Edith's clothes. "What do you think you're going to wear tomorrow night?" she asked, as she ran her fingers along the various dresses that were hanging.

Edith frowned, more so because it wasn't lost on her how quickly Sybil had changed the subject. It was rather like the way she had noticed Sybil's face fall, ever so slightly, when she had mentioned that she would be getting a desk at The Guardian. As mad as it might sound at first, was Sybil jealous that…well, that she would have the opportunity to spend some time with Tom, whereas she wouldn't? Or was it something else?

"You know, he asked me to pass on a message to you," Edith remembered, and felt it very important now to say.

Sybil didn't look up from her task. "Dr. Strallan?"

Edith groaned and rolled her eyes. "No—God, Sybil, what is with this fixation!? Do YOU have a crush on him?"

Sybil's face paled and her eyes went wide. "What!? NO! No, of course not—"

"Oh, of course not, hmm?"

Sybil groaned. "While yes, I do think he's very handsome and charming—"

Edith opened her mouth to reply, and then closed it, thinking better to keep her opinions to herself, especially since her opinions agreed with Sybil, but she didn't want to bring further attention to her…her…

…Her growing attraction for the literature professor.

Oh sod it; you can admit that to yourself, can't you? You've been attracted to him ever since he played "white knight" to you on that rainy Friday evening!

"—Dr. Strallan is…well, he's my mentor, which…in some ways is like a 'father-figure', and…" Sybil looked back at Edith and Edith couldn't help but feel a small sense of triumph at how uncomfortable her sister seemed to be by this conversation. Good! Now she knows what it feels like.

"Anyway, my heart is spoken for," Sybil concluded.

Edith's smile did soften at that. "And that was what I was trying to tell you," she explained. "Tom, silly; Tom asked me to pass a message on to you. He wanted to remind you, as if you needed reminding, that he loves you and misses you, very much."

Sybil's eyes widened slightly. "He…he said that?"

Edith frowned. "Of course, why would you ask…?" she paused and looked at her sister closely. "Sybil…is everything alright between you two?"

Her sister waved her hands in the air and flashed a pretty smile. "Yes! Yes, of course," she answered, a bit too loudly in Edith's opinion, but Edith chose not to comment further. After all, what did she know about love and relationships? Based on her last experience, the answer would be "absolutely nothing".

"Well, I still think you should wear something 'nice' tomorrow; after all, it is a 'business meeting'," Sybil went on, continuing to rustle through her sister's wardrobe. Edith sighed and knew that it would just be for the best if she allowed her sister to have her way, at least this time, and so collapsed back on the bed and nodded her head to Sybil's various suggestions, mentally tuning her out and allowing her mind to wander ahead to the following evening, when she would venture back to that café and sit down with Dr. Anthony Strallan, to tell him all about her meeting with Michael Gregson, and the job The Guardian had offered her, and how she was both secretly excited, and not-so-secretly scared to death by it.

And there was also the issue with her family. She really would have to tell her parents if her name was going to be appearing in a newspaper on a regular basis, even if it was only temporary. That was a conversation she was most definitely not looking forward to having…

Still…despite how…overwhelming it all seemed…she couldn't help but smile.

She had a job, even if it was only temporary, she did have a job again, and…even though she had only written one article so far, she rather liked the idea of writing. Maybe Tom was right? That there could be two journalists in the family? And yes, she did like the idea of consulting with Dr. Strallan, sitting down and talking and discussing books with him; she had lost track of the time the other day, and felt very sad when their time together had ended.

…Just like she had felt sad when they had parted at that party, this past Friday.

…And after their brief and mysterious meeting the Friday before, when he had come to her rescue.

...In fact, if truth be told…Edith was quickly discovering, in the brief time she had known the gentleman, she didn't like parting from Anthony Strallan's company at all.

And despite the cautious "warnings" she kept giving herself, she couldn't deny that her heart beat a little faster, at the thought of seeing him all over again.

Coming Next...

Tom and Sybil get some much-needed couple time, and Edith has her "meeting" with Dr. Strallan...