A Kind of understanding.
Warning: This one shot contains 2012 CS spoilers; based on scenes between Isobel and Clarkson because I have hopes for them too. It is also so far AU and imagines that Clarkson went to visit Isobel after they returned from Thirsk fair.
Isobel Crawley sighed as she poured herself some tea. Since Ethel had left and Moseley was in Scotland she had had to fend for herself a bit but she was no stranger to that.
The day out at the fair had been highly enjoyable and she had sensed what Dr Richard Clarkson had been about to say before he was called away to attend to Thomas; she realised that Richard had been in her thoughts quite a bit recently and she enjoyed his company but was there likely to ever be anything more than that? Isobel considered him a good friend but she had known many friendships between men and women spoilt by romance although she had also known good matches come from the same basis.
She sensed he had been glad to be called away as she sensed he thought he was about to make a fool of himself. She was shocked to find herself wishing that the call had not come and the conversation had continued to flow. She knew that they could talk because she, as a doctor's widow, had more understanding of his life and what was required of him than most women of his acquaintance did.
Isobel did care about Clarkson, of course she did; in fact she had been quite indignant about the fact he had not been heard with regard to Sybil for the dear sweet girl might still be alive had he been paid attention to.
Isobel sensed he had been on the verge of proposing marriage before she had said effectively that she had no intention of remarrying.
Isobel sighed as she sipped her tea.
She closed her eyes for a moment as she thought. She could do a lot worse, Richard was handsome in a not obvious kind of way, soft spoken and compassionate. He really believed in what he was doing as did she with her good causes. She could talk to Richard and she found herself wishing she had asked him back for a light supper.
No, she was too old for all that courting nonsense surely. But she could not pretend that there had not been times in the last few years, since she had come to Yorkshire with Matthew, that she had missed the feel of a man's arms around her. Why did the thought of Richard Clarkson's mouth on hers send shivers through her?
Matthew was old enough to cope with her getting involved with another man after all; in fact he would encourage her as would Mary. Isobel knew Matthew worried about her sometimes and was sure that the idea of his mother having a man to look after her would make him feel better.
But there was no need to tell anyone yet; she needed a good talk to Richard. She needed to find out what he had been about to say before Jimmy had come to fetch them to see to Thomas. Isobel suddenly felt incredibly nervous about the idea of being alone with him. Had she maybe been a tiny bit in love with him for a while and not realised?
Richard Clarkson sighed as he drank his coffee; he felt that the untimely intervention of having to see to Thomas had prevented him making a huge fool of himself with Isobel.
But he could not get her out of his mind. He liked her immensely and she was not unattractive; in addition to the fact that she understood the requirements of his life being a doctor's widow. None of the other women of his acquaintance understood him in the way Isobel Crawley did. He had often wondered what it would feel like to hold her in his arms, press his mouth against hers – he felt shivers go through him at that thought. No, he could not leave things that way. He had to go and talk to her now despite the lateness of the hour.
Isobel was dozing off when she heard the knock at the door. She jolted out of her reverie; her pounding heart was almost in her mouth. Was it bad news? Had Mary gone into premature labour?
Still she opened the door; it was raining out and Clarkson stood on the doorstep pulling a dripping wet coat around his slender form.
"Come in," Isobel exclaimed," you will catch your death."
She stood aside to let him step into Crawley House and closed the door behind him.
"Thank you Mrs Crawley,"
"After the time we have known each other can't you call me Isobel, Dr Clarkson?"
He smiled, "As long as you agree to call me Richard, when we're alone."
"Done," Isobel smiled, trying to ignore the fact that shivers ran through her when he spoke her name.
"Take your wet things off and I'll make us some tea; if we have coffee we won't sleep."
He hung his wet coat over the radiator and smiled as he heard Isobel bustling about in the kitchen.
She emerged ten minutes or so later carrying a tray with two cups and saucers with spoons, tea, sugar and milk.
"You didn't replace your maid then?"
"No. Ethel went to be near her son and to be honest I can get on well enough without one; I always did before Matthew was summoned here,"
She set the tray down and poured him tea; he added milk and sugar.
"I apologise for the lateness of the hour Mrs... Isobel," he corrected himself, "but our conversation at the fair earlier, before we were called to see to Thomas, well I haven't stopped thinking about it since especially not since I had some coffee and sobered up a bit."
"I've been thinking about it too," Isobel took a sip of tea and cleared her throat," I may have given you a wrong impression; I didn't mean I would never marry again but that it would take someone rather exceptional."
"I quite understand Isobel; I have never been exceptional to any woman which is probably why I'm still single," he sipped his tea.
Isobel reached out and touched his hand; Clarkson tried to ignore the fact that the touch sent shivers through him. He had realised over time that she was the woman he wanted beside him for the rest of his life but he would not be putting pressure on her.
"Richard, you are a lovely man but I have seen far too many friendships between men and women destroyed by romance; I value your friendship and I would hate to see it destroyed."
"So would I Isobel,"
He was holding her hand now and Isobel was trying to ignore just how good it felt.
"Isobel, I have tremendous respect for you and the last thing I want is to ruin that but I can't stop thinking about you."
"I've been thinking about you a lot too recently; to be honest when you asked me to come to the fair with you I was incredibly touched and quite excited."
"I can't believe I was brazen enough to ask," he laughed.
"I have missed certain aspects of marriage since Reginald died; Matthew and I have a good relationship but obviously that isn't the same thing. I miss just sitting down to talk of an evening and although I don't necessarily miss the physical aspect I do miss being held sometimes,"
Richard had not let go of her hand and she looked into his eyes where she saw something she could not quite read but it was not lust, just high regard and she sensed he had a need for comfort too. Matthew and Mary were away and would hardly bat an eyelid anyway; Mary seemed far more concerned with destroying Edith's romantic hopes than hers. Isobel had liked Sir Anthony Strallan and had been deeply sorry when their wedding came to nothing.
"Isobel," Richard whispered, "would it be brazen if I asked if I might hold you for a moment?"
"No," Isobel whispered, "in fact I miss it and since you are such a lovely man I would consider it a privilege."
They stood, having finished their tea, and he took her in his arms. He drew her close to him and held her tightly making Isobel acutely aware of the pounding of his heart against her and the raggedness of her own breathing. Whatever she had expected to experience she had not envisaged such a conflicting maelstrom of emotions.
"Richard," she whispered.
"Sssh!" he whispered. Isobel found herself hoping he might kiss her because she was enjoying being held by a man and she found she wanted him to kiss her but she did not like to ask; she was having enough trouble getting to grips with how she felt right now. Who said romance was the province of the young? Isobel found she was feeling like a young girl in anticipation of a kiss and she realised she was enjoying it.
Richard found it incredibly sensual; holding Isobel in his arms aroused emotions he had forgotten how to feel and he could not bring himself to let go of her yet.
His mouth descended to hers and she was aware of how much she was trembling as his lips brushed hers.
"Oh Isobel," he whispered, "may god forgive me but I have to do this,"
He kissed her so hard it took her breath away and she began to gently stroke his back as she melted against him. She kissed him back shocked by how hungry she felt as his mouth explored hers. When the kiss broke she realised he was trembling.
"Richard," she murmured.
"I've waited quite a wee while to kiss you Isobel; I'm not about to propose marriage on the strength of a kiss because all that is as foreign territory to me but I would be gratified if you and I could well court, official or not, that's your choice. I think you are an exceptionally special woman and I learnt during the war that one must make the most of every moment,"
He continued to hold her and Isobel realised she did not want him to let go but in the end he did.
"Goodnight Isobel," he whispered.
The rain had stopped.
"Goodnight Richard," she whispered, "I shall see you tomorrow."
A/N: So far this is AU but I have a suspicion that one day it won't be.