I might make this into a series of non-chronological oneshots about Isobel's history. Ofcourse it is shameless publicity of my many Isobel Theories.

And Happy Birthday to ellie987!

Getting on a Train

"Are you sure I should be doing this?" Isobel asked her father as they headed down the crowded station platform, her small suitcase clutched in his hand, trying to see if they could find her companion, "Are you sure you want to let me?"

The swift- some might say reckless- glance he cast her over his shoulder answered for him; no, he was quite sure she shouldn't be doing this, but they were both very well aware that she wanted to very much. She followed him on through the people assembled on the platform.

"Is there anyone who could possibly object?" he asked with an ill-disguised grin as they emerged from the crowd of quite frantic bodies and were able to walk side by side again.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Well, there is the small matter of Mother for a start," she reminded him, "And Thomas. So that's two people before we've even left our house! What will you do if Tom takes it into his head to thrash Reginald to within an inch of his life for insulting me?"

Her father winced a little.

He's not insulting you," he pointed out, "Unless you call being made an honest woman an insult. But I imagine I'll have to patch Crawley up a little if your brother gets over-excited," he conceded, "Anyway," he continued on a brighter note, "Can you really see your brother going to the trouble?"

"No, not really," Isobel admitted.

They had come to a halt at the bench on the correct platform and sat down to wait for Isobel's escort. Fiancé, she corrected herself. She smiled at her gloves folded in her lap. After a few moments she became aware of her father's eyes on her.

"Are you sure?" he asked her gently, "It's not too late to back out now, you know, if you change your mind."

She fixed him with a very steady gaze.

"Father, I love Reginald."

"I know you do, only I felt it's my duty to check. I know you would never do anything hasty, only I..." he looked at her thoughtfully, unable to quite articulate his intention, "I need to know that you're sure," he finished rather hopelessly.

"I love Reginald very much," she repeated, "Mother refusing to acknowledge our engagement only made me realise that all the more. I promise you won't regret harbouring me- the fugitive that I am."

"Crawley is the best of men," he replied calmly, "And a promising physician. Of all the young scoundrels in the world, he is the only one I would be willing to let elope with you."

She fixed him with an exasperated glance.

"I'm getting on a train," she told him once again, "Just getting on a train with a young man of my acquaintance. The fact that I intend to come back married to him is secondary at the moment."

If she wasn't very much mistaken, she thought she saw something like a tear in her father's eye. He stood up quickly, looking around the platform.

"Speaking of his being a scoundrel, he ought to be here by now," he reminded her, "And I can't see him. Though I dare say that's because I hasn't got his hat on. That boy is far too fond of his own hair."

So am I, Isobel thought vaguely, standing up. Her father was still straining his eyes, looking down the platform.

"There he is!" he cried, "Confounded man. Crawley! Over here!"

He waved his arm to the young man to join them. So much for staying inconspicuous. Isobel beamed at him rather shyly as he approached. Reginald inclined his head to her and shook her father's hand.

"I am sorry I can't accompany you both," he father told them, "But I do fear it's more than my life's worth."

"I understand perfectly, Sir," Reginald told him.

Charmer, Isobel thought rather weakly to herself. She caught Reginald's eye and raised her eyebrows at him.

"Look after her, Crawley."

"I will, Sir."

"You had both better be going," her father told them, "Or the train'll be off without you."

Reginald took Isobel's case from her and lifted it into the train, then took her hand and helped her in too.

…...

They got a compartment to themselves. That was what came from bringing an eccentric with you to see you off. Not that she minded in the slightest.

She wasn't usually one for too much affection- at least not in public- but now that she'd been left alone with him, all she wanted to do was touch him. Sitting beside each other, she rested comfortably under with her head under his chin and his arm wrapped around her waist. And it didn't matter; they were going to be married, after all. What did it matter what anybody else thought? His sister and her husband, who lived in London, had agreed to witness the marriage, all the documents were prepared. Isobel was seized by a feeling that was unusual to her; that nothing could go wrong.

Sitting there, watching field upon field roll past them, wrapped in Reginald's rather protective hold, she felt so very happy.

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