Isobel sat at her writing table sighing. She had just finished her miserably limited correspondence, mostly informing people that she was not getting married after all. What was disturbing most to her though, was the fact that she wasn't sure what bothered her most; the humiliation of a cancelled engagement or the fact that she was not marrying Dickie.
He was a nice man who professed to love her, she did not want anything to do with him or his ilk in the first place but he proposed to her in such an eloquent fashion… She had thought about it, after Matthew died, she was on her own in all ways that counted and he was willing to be there.
Did she love Dickie as he loved her? Probably not but marriage at her age couldn't very well be expected to run on love and desire, or could it?
Could she look on with affection on a man who was ready to spend the rest of his day with her? Why not? He was a kind man after all.
Why was she relieved then? Why couldn't she ever say 'I love you too' on the numerous times he made his sentiments clear? Why was it that she did not miss him?
She missed her son every single day when she woke up she still saw his face. She missed her family when she went to Manchester to gather the last of his remaining papers… she missed sparring with Violet and her conversations with Richard Clarkson.
Doctor Richard Clarkson.
She was confused about this man. Sometimes he kept his distance and acted like nothing more as an acquaintance, sometimes he said things which went deeper than anything Violet or even her own son would have dared to go, yet she would never think of begrudging him that. He could make her temper boil and drive her absolutely mad when he ignored her or was being stubborn, he could be incredibly sweet too when he made an effort and made her look like a flustered little girl when he fixed her intently with a hypnotic blue gaze.
But did she love him?
She always thinks about the proposal she had turned down when she proudly told him her metaphorical plate was already full and was too proud of it to take him on too. The question which keeps whirring in her mind was 'was that the right decision?' 'would you have accepted him if you could go back?'
It was too late for that and she knew it. Still, she could not deny she was missing him - terribly.
The pen hit the desk.
She loved him.
AN: This just wouldn't leave me until it got written down- thought I'd share. I would love to hear your opinion on this and maybe...if you would like one about Richard? Let me know!