Decorations were going up at the Abbey, strands of garland with beautiful blooms of red. She was tired yet happy, her son was going to marry. Every mother's wish is to see their child marry and start a family. It was happening with Matthew and Isobel was delighted. She had nearly lost him in the War and now he was walking again about to take a wife. Her head pounded and she quietly asked Carson if she could have some tea. There were rehearsals and guests to prepare for.
Lavinia came to her side and she felt better, these past few days had been a flurry of activity. Generally Isobel thrived on activity but this was different. Instead of bustling about a hospital it was in drawing rooms. There was subtle infighting over the wedding, she could feel the tension! Cora had been cold, no doubt since Matthew could be seen as stealing Mary's thunder with Sir Richard Carlisle.
The tea helped lift Isobel's spirits and she went to the next task with dealing with the wedding. Her headache came back full force when Tom and Sybil announced their intentions! This wedding couldn't come soon enough!
Isobel's thoughts on the wedding were soon overshadowed by illness. First Carson, Lady Cora and Lavinia. The knowledge that he was coming gave her strength. She went with Lady Edith to await his arrival. She too felt unwell yet she didn't think it was flu. The days of eating on the run and not sleeping in preparation for the wedding was her main suspicion. It wasn't until she collapsed a day later and was carried off that she knew she had been very wrong.
For two days she had vague memories, someone held her hand. A cold towel caressed her brow and her throat and nose burned from vomiting.
"mother?" A voice asked.
She just wanted to keep her eyes closed yet the voice was incessant, "Mother?"
She groaned just to get the voice to be quiet. With her acknowledgement she heard shuffling and a deeper voice, "Can you hear me?"
The voice was smooth and not her son's she cracked open an eye and saw the color blue. The blue belonged to the doctor. With her eyes open the men withdrew slightly, she recognized the squeezing on her arm as a blood pressure cuff and remained still.
She heard snippets of the conversation, "Fever gone...weight loss...dehydration."
The blue of her son's eyes came into her field of vision. Both men in room had eyes the color of the sea however her son's were augmented with dark circles and the whites were bloodshot.
"What's happened?" She murmured.
The two men exchanged a look and she knew that something dire had transpired. "Who?" She demanded.
Matthew sat next to her, "Mother, Lavinia died."
She couldn't talk, she couldn't cry she couldn't even seem to breathe! She had just been preparing for a wedding, she had just dined with the young woman! Her son wasn't going to marry there was to be no happy ending.
"I'm tired." Was all she could manage and she closed her eyes.
She heard the doctor's clipped, "matthew" and footsteps leaving. It took all her strength to roll over onto her side. Her breathing hitched but she found she couldn't cry any tears.
It took days for her to regain her strength, Matthew never seemed to leave her always ready with a sandwich. Doctor Clarkson came to check on her progress and relieve Matthew so he could eat.
Isobel was still in daze and it wasn't from the flu, or from the death of Lavinia it was from what she had felt. Something that she thought she had buried.
After ten days he found her, "What is it? You've been avoiding me, what have I done?"
"Nothing." she answered truthfully.
He shook his head since there was something obviously wrong and he was clueless as how to help.
"I remember." She said softly.
"What? What do you remember?" He asked desperate to know what he could do, or if there was something he could do to fix their friendship.
"I remember I was in the hall when I realized that I wasn't just fatigued. When I fell to the carpet I knew it was Spanish Flu. Then I remember you picked me up and carried me away and I thought how lovely it was to be in your arms and I felt comforted that it would be where I would die."
She turned to him and found that he was still, frozen in place listening to her words. "I don't want to love you." She finished.
Richard found his own voice, "Do you hate me?"
Her eyes burned, "No, I don't hate you. I made a promise not to love anyone ever again and I don't want break my promise."
She turned away from him and he knew she shouldn't be receptive to any advances. He took a deep breath, "When you're ready, come and talk to me."