Richard Clarkson downed a whiskey and ran a hand through his hair before rearranging his white coat and slamming the glass on his desk to pour another one.
He was a calm man; he always had a mild temper even as a child in Edinburgh. There were times of course when he had to show the tough side, with his dumb interns back when he was in Scotland trying to teach them how to cure people rather than kill them, during the Boer war where a second could mean life or death and he had underlings as well as patients under his wings but in normal life he was usually unruffled.
Until Isobel Crawley came along. Her and her 'Alice in Wonderland' character who thought she would change the faith of the entire world and those who inhabited it. That petty, childish, loud, meddling, outspoken and quite frankly mad woman. The dowager was right, that heroine complex of hers made her utterly unreasonable and the only person on the planet who could boil his blood in less than 60 seconds.
He couldn't really remember what the fight was about. He could only remember them calling each other less than flattering names, the hurt in those big dough eyes and her slamming the office door shut with such a bang he thought it was going to unhinge itself. How dare she call him backward thinking?
He opened a journal, maybe some reading would calm him down and distract him. Only he only saw her face looking like she was about to cry instead of medical jargon. God damn it. He slammed the book shut and took a deep breath, feeling like the biggest idiot…damn it Isobel!
His brain was in full tilt and that was because of her. She was infuriating but he was honest with himself. She was absolutely beautiful; her clothes were fashionable and pretty yet practical. Her hair was like silk and smelled like heaven on earth, her skin was soft and fair in contrast with her cherry coloured lips and her figure was…maybe not a good idea to dwell on that, it might get him into embarrassing situations – but the main thing was her big brown eyes. Large chocolate coloured puddles of emotion with a gold hue to them which let him read her like an open book. They would flash when she was angry, sparkle when she saw her family and friends, laughed when she was amused (often by him), widened with curiosity at anything or anyone new she encountered and filled up whenever one of their patients suffered or died or when she was hurt…hurt by him.
He looked outside and felt guilty, it was raining cats and dogs outside and Isobel was still supposed to be in but had left the hospital after he made her fly off the handle he hoped she was safely home. His gut suddenly dropped and a shiver ran down his spine…he'd just had a horrendous feeling. The clock struck 10 and he made his way to the Grantham Arms, he wanted to get drunk but he doubted the hospital would be the appropriate place.
He took off his hat and coat before shaking his head quickly and wiping his face from rain water. He rubbed his hands and headed towards the bar, enjoying the cosiness of the small place with its smell of cigarettes and soft lights.
"And how is our good doctor this evenin?" greeted the bartender cheerfully.
"Just one of those days…" sighed Richard pointing to the bottles of whiskey behind the tall man as he loosened his tie.
"Ah…" the bartender sighed knowingly, he would never dare tell the gentleman he looked like he was having girl problems. Lord knows it was thanks to the Scotsman that Billy, his youngest son was alive after falling from that damned tree, all the village knew their favourite doctor was sweet on Mrs. Crawley and they knew it was not their place to speak of it but nobody could help a smile when they saw them walking together.
Isobel Crawley wiped a tear as she stormed out of the hospital, she would not let him have the satisfaction to see how much he had upset her. She was furious. How dare he call her meddling and unreasonable? She only wanted him to talk to a couple, the husband was hurt and the fraught relationship with his wife was not helping. She knew he was good at giving advice and that they would give weight to his words. She bloody well knew he was no marriage counselor but that did not mean he would be sticking his nose in.
How could he speak to her like that? He was just a stupid doctor who thought he was like god like every other doctor she had met – including her dead husband. He was old fashioned and cool, sometimes too cool for her liking. How could he be like that? How could he be a doctor and not care? And how dare he bite her head off like that? She was not his maid or daughter – in fact …ugh! If this was his idea of courting than she was doubting his sanity.
He had arrived at her home on a rainy morning, cheeks flushing and lips running with a bouquet of roses and lilies telling her that he would never have thought that he'd meet a woman who would make him think about a committed relationship but she was special. She was beautiful, smart, funny and had a heart the size of the empire and he would be honored if she'd let him show her how much he loved and appreciated her before giving her the sweetest kiss she had ever received.
Well there goes the courtship! She was so sad her ducts just would not obey orders and stop shedding tears. At least she could blame the buckets the sky was shedding on her. She crossed her arms protectively around her, she was freezing and wet and it was dark which made her feel a bit uncomfortable as all the light there was, was the light coming from the street lamps on the pavement.
She saw a small figure running in her direction. It was Billy Jones, his father ran the pub and his mother was a seamstress, she had used her services a couple of times and that was when she had met Billy, a small fair haired boy with a big toothy smile and a penchant for trouble. "What are you doing here Billy? It's late your mother must be so worried! Let me get you home."
"Evenin' ma'am!" he caught up to her with a wooden box in his hand.
"What have you got there?" She asked with a smile as she heard soft sounds coming from the box.
"Kittens ma'am, Jimmy got them but he could only keep two at the farm so let's hope mum won't throw me out for having brought these in."
"I doubt she will throw you out but I think she may be a little cross for staying out this late and not telling her about the kittens. What happens if you cannot keep all of them at the house?"
The boy shrugged and Isobel chuckled as she started to think up excuses for the boy to spare him a strip down.
AN: This is just a little plot bunny who would not leave me alone. There's only another part but I would really appreciate it if you found time to review and let me know what you think :) I would also like to thank all of those who are following my other story - Lots of love to all 3