Chapter 3 – Grey Clouds & Bluer Skies

Isobel Grey looked around the modest school house, which had been, once again, transformed into a place fit for a celebration. It had been only a few short years since they'd been here to celebrate the Carsons, but her life had, once again, taken several unanticipated turns. Uncertainty, it seemed, was the only thing one could be certain about.

She considered the happy, mingling crowd, wondering where the best place for her would be. Regretfully, Violet Crawley had only stayed for the church service; as her friend often reminded all who would listen, she wasn't getting any younger. However, they had sat together, waiting for the ceremony to start, chatting together in hushed voices, their head inclined towards each other.

"I'll not have to plan a single social event this summer if the staff keeps marrying each other," Violet intoned, feigning an air of innocence.

"I think it's rather progressive, don't you?" She retorted. She suddenly felt more like herself than she had in months. Violet was good for that, and she deeply appreciated it, though it would embarrass both of them if she said it out loud. Still, it was quite nice – and rather novel – to feel happy again. Even briefly.

"Do you think you ought to be here, Cousin Isobel?" The other woman seemed to understand what she was thinking.

"I do, in fact, believe I should be, Cousin Violet. Life does, and must, go on, until the end. And I am quite happy for Mr. Molesley. He's found his way, it seems, out of a life of service and boyish mishaps, by choosing his own path. I applaud him for it," she grinned at Violet, trying to ignore the heaviness on her chest, the loneliness that was always creeping in at the corners.

"How horribly democratic of you, Cousin Isobel," Violet had huffed, and then the music had begun, and Isobel had been, uncharacteristically, glad to be observing rather than leading, or speaking.

And now, looking around the beginnings of the reception, she wasn't quite sure where to take herself. She hated to admit it, and no one person made her feel this way, but as her grandson grew and the years stretched out between the present and Matthew's death, especially since Mary and Henry had gotten married, she felt a little…superfluous to the residents of the Abbey. Not unwanted, or uncared for, never; just not…needed. She really didn't belong there any longer, even if her sweet George would be the heir to it all someday.

She had belonged somewhere, for a short while, with Dickie, as Lady Grey, and even if it wasn't exactly what she –

Stop it, now. Dwelling will not change things, nor will feeling sorry about things that cannot be changed. Lady Grey or not, I think I'd like to find Mrs. Hughes, and Mr. Carson. Sit with them.

With a destination in mind, she felt less rudderless, less lost. The grief and regret and loneliness could be pushed aside for a moment or two, at least. She searched the room and her eyes found Elsie Hughes, who was standing with her husband, laughing up at him. Isobel caught her eye and smiled. The woman grinned at her and seemed to understand. She gestured for Isobel to join them.

She was headed towards the housekeeper and her husband when a voice to her left stopped her.

"Lady Grey. I'd not expected to see you here. You are looking well."

She turned to face Dr. Richard Clarkson and attempted to compose herself. She had wondered if he would attend, but she should have known better. Of course he would be here. And now, when confronted with his presence, her stomach was a snarl of anger and sadness and frustration.

She could not forget that this man had been her friend, and a good one at that, for a decade and a half. She knew he had, at some point during that friendship, harbored feelings that were deeper, more hopeful, than that. She knew, despite the fact that she had been blessed with two very different, but very happy marriages, he was the man of her acquaintance who respected her the most.

She also knew that she could not look at him without thinking of the death of her second husband.

"And yet, here I am, Dr. Clarkson," she answered, and realized she was being rather abrupt. She was trying to get better at that. Dickie had gently, slowly, helped her with that during the nearly two years they'd been married. She may have learned it, eventually, had he been around long enough.

"What I meant to say, Dr. Clarkson, is that I wouldn't miss Mr. Molesley's wedding for anything," she made herself smile and was gratified when the doctor's face softened in response. "You may have forgotten, but Mr. Molesley was the very first person I met in Downton. I wish him all of the happiness he can make with his new bride."

"Ah, of course, he was your butler for a time. How could I have forgotten?"

"Well, as you are not the chronicler of my life, Dr. Clarkson, I don't think you've the responsibility to remember all of the finer and lesser-known details of it," she retorted, and, similarly to when she had been whispering with Violet Crawley, she began to feel more herself. She noticed Elsie Hughes looking their way, and nodded, even managed a smile.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, partially hidden under his moustache. "That's certainly faire, Lady Grey, and certainly puts me in my place."

"You misunderstand me, Doctor, but that does tend to happen with us, from time to time, at least. And let's dispense with that title, shall we, between us, at least? 'Lady Isobel' shall do just fine. Sometimes, that feels a bit too much, if I am completely honest about it," she was being forthright; while she cared deeply for Dickie and was very contented being his wife, she never felt comfortable with her title.

"Lady Isobel, then, it will be," he paused, and when he spoke, his voice was as grave and quiet as she'd ever heard it. "I'll not mar this happy day with talk of death, especially not to you. But, Lady Isobel, I want you to know, not a day has gone by since it happened, that I've not wished I'd gotten there sooner, or it had been slightly less serious, or that there'd been signs…" he trailed off. "What I mean to say, is that I am glad to see you here, celebrating, today, Lady Isobel."

She let herself think, for a brief moment, how well her name sounded in his voice. Then she shook her head, and smiled. "On that note, Dr. Clarkson, I do believe I'd like some lunch, and some punch, in that order, if I might."

"I'll walk you over to Lady Mary's table," he proffered his arm, which she accepted with a split-second of hesitation.

"I'm not heading over there. I'm going to sit with Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson, and whomever else they've determined worthy," she smiled, and it felt like the real thing. It had been a while.

"Well, I am happy to report they've deemed me worthy, as well," he replied, and his smile broadened.

"So we're heading in the same direction, then, Dr. Clarkson," she answered.

"It would seem so, Lady Isobel," he retorted. "It was bound to happen, sooner or later."