SPRING
Our reception would have been nothing like this.
Isobel Crawley glanced around the school hall with its pastel paper garlands and long tables filled with pastries and sweets, artfully set as was the groom's way, but simple and understated, as was the bride's. A gentle smile crossed her lips as she regarded her daughter-in-law's gallant attempt at disguising her disapproval which was a loving exhibition of the young woman's dedication to Charles Carson, which was second only to his to her.
No. Our day would have been more formal. Her gaze drifted to her lap as she pictured the terrace outside the sitting room of Cavendem tastefully decorated with urns of white and blue hydrangea, Lady's mantle, and fragrant white peonies. Lily of the Valley. I would have carried a small posy of Lily of the Valley…
She shifted in her seat, her own thoughts suddenly making her uncomfortable. Don't be silly. Get a hold of yourself. Giving her head a shake, she smiled brightly at an approaching Cora Crawley.
"Mind if you keep you company for a while?"
"Please." Isobel patted the seat next to her.
The pretty woman inhaled deeply, her eyes scanning the room. "It's very them, wouldn't you say?"
"Oh, yes. I was just thinking that myself." She nodded at the bride who beamed up at her new husband. "It was a lovely thing you did the other night, giving Mrs. Hughes her say. I was quite impressed with how she handled things."
"The poor woman. She was being railroaded, and I love Mary, of course, but there was something rather wonderful about watching her be put in her place. Anyone can stamp their foot and make a scene, but Mrs. Hughes has such a…"
"Quiet gentility." Isobel offered.
Cora nodded. "Very aptly put. It was like watching a rose bloom in spite of a bitter frost." She met Isobel's eye and they both began to laugh. "That was a rather harsh description of one's own daughter…"
"She thought she was being his champion."
"Goodness knows he has been hers." Cora's eye was drawn across the room to the tall gentleman so clearly captivated by the beautiful woman at his side. "I don't know how we could have missed it all these years, but he looks at Mrs. Hughes with absolute love."
Isobel's shoulders sank as her eyes followed the gentle brush of Mr. Carson's hand along the inside his new wife's arm, his look tender and worshipful as he glanced down at her before guiding her towards a new group of well-wishers.
"I envy them."
Her utterance had been so soft Cora wasn't certain she had heard her right.
"What did you say?"
Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile onto her face as she shook her head, "I should be going."
Standing, Cora reached out and placed her hand on Isobel's arm, quietly offering, "It isn't too late, Isobel."
Smiling sadly, Isobel whispered, "Isn't it?" before darting away, briefly stopping to bid the newlyweds goodbye before heading home to an empty house.
SUMMER
Isobel found Mary's presence in the churchyard unexpected, but it didn't take much deduction to determine the reason for her daughter-in-law's afternoon visit to Matthew's gravestone. Waiting until Mary was out of earshot, she leaned down and ran her fingers over the word Husband on the cool stone. "I've not spent much time with Mr. Talbot, but he does seem like a lovely fellow, and I have no doubt he loves her very much. You can see it every time he looks at her."
Her fingers moved to the word Father as she continued, "Goodness knows she doesn't do things by halves, so she will have given great though to George's well-being and the future of Downton before making this decision. I know both her and George's happiness would be your absolute priority, my boy, because you had the most generous heart. Always caring more about those around you being happy."
The word Son now covered by her gloved hand, she closed her eyes for a moment, Matthew's voice sounding in her head with the question, "Are you happy?"
Turning her neck to the side, she looked skyward, her hand resting against her throat as she gave a light shake to her head, "I'm not. No, I'm not."
"Mrs. Crawley?"
The warm Scottish brogue of Mrs. Hughes surprised her and she fought to regain her composure, discreetly wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye. "Mrs. Hughes."
"I'm sorry, but are you alright?"
She managed a warm smile at the housekeeper. "Quite."
Regretting having made her presence known, the petite woman apologized. "I didn't mean to intrude. I'll leave you be."
Isobel took a step towards her. "No, you aren't intruding. Please don't go. There's something I'd like to ask you, if you have a moment?"
Mrs. Hughes regarded her with kind curiosity. "Of course."
"Are you happy, Mrs. Hughes?" The question came out with a more desperate tone than she had intended, but she was relieved to be met with a grin.
"Yes, Mrs. Crawley, I am very happy. The happiest I have ever been, as a matter of fact."
"I apologize. You must think me quite mad."
"I would never think that."
She motioned towards a small stone bench nearby and the women were soon seated in the shade of a large elm. "This happiness is because of your new life with Mr. Carson, I take it?"
Mrs. Hughes blushed, but nodded. "It is. I am finding married life quite…wonderful." Smiling brightly she continued, "Of course you know what I mean having been married yourself."
"Yes, I do, well…I mean, I was a doctor's wife and a mother and my life revolved around my husband and child, and it was busy, oh, and lovely, of course, and I have the most wonderful memories, but now…"
Mrs. Hughes reached over and gently patted Isobel's hand. "I think I know what you are asking, Mrs. Crawley. What is it like being newly married at our age?"
Isobel let out a sigh, nodding with appreciation.
"It's the small, simple things I think I find the most enjoyable. Sharing the newspaper over a cup of tea before we leave in the morning, or feeling him squeeze my hand to wake me when I've fallen asleep on the settee with a book before bed." A playful smile filled her face as she admitted, "And there is no sweeter sound to my ears than the racket of his snoring." Earning a chuckle from Isobel, she added, "And for all the strands of gray in my hair and the lines on my face which seem to multiply daily, I often catch him looking at me as though I were the most beautiful thing he has ever seen and no matter how badly may day may have gone or how weary my joints are, just that look makes it all go away because I feel absolutely loved, Mrs. Crawley."
Letting out a small sigh, she murmured, "How wonderful."
Squeezing Isobel's hand, Mrs. Hughes gave her a knowing look as she offered, "It is and I highly recommend it."
Mrs. Hughes words stayed with her as she made the short trek home. The look the new wife had described receiving from her husband was not foreign to the widow, nor one she knew only from the distant past; it was the look of absolute love she had received countless times from the man who had so ardently wished to marry her.
Having made her way into the house, she stepped in front of the mirror to remove her hat, only to stop short as she took in the weary face reflected in the glass.
"My God, you fool. You terrible, terrible fool."
FALL
Her posy of Lily of the Valley rested on her lap, his hand squeezing hers as their car pulled away from the Registrar's office. Isobel wore a warm smile as she looked up at Dickie, only to find his face was filled with worry.
"What is it?"
"I am terribly afraid that you will regret today…regret what you've signed up…"
Her fingers gently pressed against his lips as she shook her head. "The only regret I have is having wasted time not becoming your wife sooner."
"My heart feels as though it might burst to hear you say such a thing, but I still don't know why you changed your mind other than the fact that you are the kindest, loveliest woman in the world and you've taken pity on a dying man."
Cupping his cheek, she shook her head, her words simple, but heartfelt as she gazed into his eyes. "Pity plays no part in this, Dickie. I simply realized I was a fool to let go of someone who looks at me the way you do."
"I am unable to look at you with anything less than absolute love, Isobel Crawley."
Returning his loving gaze, she lifted her head and kissed his cheek before whispering, "It's Isobel Merton, and I love you, too."
WINTER
The hospital ward was quiet despite the clock's ticking over to midnight to welcome in the New Year.
Clasping his hand, she lovingly smiled down at her husband. "1947, Dickie."
He was weak, but still managed a grin as he gazed up into the gentle eyes of his wife, whispering,
"Nineteen New Years and we've never missed a kiss. Don't let me down now, Lady Merton."
Having softly pressed her lips to his, she lifted her head to find him gazing up at her. "Even at eighty-one, you look at me like that and I feel sixteen again."
Stroking his cheek, she never took her eyes from his in the minutes that followed. His breathing having grown more and more labored, she lifted his cold hand to her lips as she watched the spark slowly dim in his eyes. Lowering her ear near his face, she could just make out his final words.
"Absolute love."