Doctor Clarkson was in the Grantham Arms nursing a tumbler of whiskey. The Hospital had been chaotic today. A broken arm, a birth and rash of rashes from the primary school! On top of that Isobel was in Manchester! While he had whiskey at their home he wanted to switch gears and get his mind off of his job. The first sip had him sighing, the second sip had his shoulders relaxing. The third sip brought shouting, behind him he heard raised voices. John Drake was shouting at another tenant farmer that Clarkson couldn't remember the name of who started shouting back. The barman bellowed and setting down his glass he went to intervene.
Peter Wells Richard's mind supplied as he moved closer. Mr Wells had taken great offense as to what Mr. Drake had said and wrapped his hand around a bottle which he brought down on the edge of the table. The bottle smashed and Peter was left holding the neck of the bottle with a jagged edge waving towards Mr. Drake. Clarkson moved over and grabbed Peter's wrist disarming him. Simultaneously time John Drake had grabbed the first thing he could see which was a candle in a jamjar. He flung the contents at Peter and in doing so hit Dr. Clarkson as well. Both men cried out, Peter more so than Dr. Clarkson. More bystanders came in and separated everyone.
Richard's cheek burned, some of the wax had hit him there. Someone handed him a glass of water which he dipped his handkerchief in before bringing it to his cheek. He quickly went outside to check the others. John Drake was unhurt, Peter Wells had slight burns to his face from the candle wax. Once Clarkson had deemed he would live he was taken away.
He begrudgingly trod back to the hospital and cloistered himself in his office. On the wall near his washing basin was a mirror and he inspected himself for damage. The burn on his cheek was small however, there had been other damage. He went to a shelf and retrieved the items he would need to treat himself.
Isobel Crawley was placing a stack of charts on Dr. Clarkson's desk. She had come in early, off the first train from Manchester and she was in a good mood. She hummed a tune to herself as she squared away the files. Dr. Clarkson was livid, he had been getting stares all morning. Suddenly the hospital was where he wanted to be. He could secure himself in his office and shut out the world.
Isobel was still lost in her own world and was unaware that the occupant of this office and her lover was behind her. Richard took in the form of Isobel and most of his bad mood evaporated. Her hips swayed to the tune she was humming and Richard found it hypnotizing. He must have made some noise for she turned and saw him. Last night he had discovered that some of the candle wax had landed in his mustache and had hardened. His only recourse had been to shave it off.
He expected her eyes to go wide and her mouth to fall open in a shocked gape as most of the villagers had done but she didn't. She merely smiled broadly and strode over before brushing her finger over his top lip, "I've always wanted to know what you looked like underneath...I like it."
She ended her sentence by kissing him, Richard felt her lips touch the skin of his top lip and he shivered. Perhaps there were benefits to candle wax?