For Lavender and Hay, with thanks.

Part Three

Richard had barely settled himself at the table to eat the dinner his housekeeper had left in the cool box when there was the all too familiar knock at the door. The meal discarded, he grabbed his coat and medical bag, locked up his house in the knowledge he might not be back till morning, and followed his caller out into the night. He should have known that it couldn't last. In the eighteen years since he had taken over as doctor at the cottage hospital in Downton barely a week had gone by when he hadn't been summoned to the big house. The Earl always sent a car and chauffeur but on particularly worrying nights one of the daughters usually appeared at his door, brow furrowed and panic starting to set in. This evening it was Edith's turn and she continued to talk incessantly as they climbed into the car and took the short ride to the Abbey.

Once they had alighted Mr Carson had ushered him through the great hall and up the staircase that led to the family rooms. While the older man was as proper and professional as always, the conversation infrequent, he looked every bit as concerned as Edith had. They finally came to a halt at the end of the female corridor at the bedroom of the eldest Grantham daughter.

Matthew hovered outside the door, worry etched on his own face as he paced up and down. "Doctor," he greeted with equal measure of relief and fear, a man with the worry of the world on his shoulder.

Richard knocked on the door and was unsurprised when Anna opened the door. She gave him a small smile and nod before allowing him a better view into the room and of the only occupant, then indicating he should step inside. The door closed behind him with a gentle click and Anna took up her position at the end of the bed.

"Thank you for coming, Doctor Clarkson," Mary said with a wane smile.

"Of course, M'Lady." Richard opened his bag and moved closer to the young woman. "I believe you fainted. May I check your pulse?" With her small nod of acquiescence he began his examination.

It took barely five minutes for him to diagnose the problem and settle the young woman's fears. Her husband had re-entered the room as Anna had slipped silently from it, dispatched to fetch sweet tea and biscuits while Richard found himself shepherded back down the staircase to the drawing room by the ever present Butler.

"I'm sorry your Lordship, Mr Carson said you wanted to see me," Richard announced as he found himself standing in the middle of the room with several pairs of eyes staring at him, the Butler disappearing once more into the background. Although he directed his comments at the Earl, Richard allowed his gaze to rest momentarily on the women present before his eyes naturally sought out the woman sat quietly on the sofa clutching her hands. He hadn't expected to see her there but then the days had become blurred into one and he hadn't realised that it was Saturday. His heart almost skipped a beat and he felt the room close in around him.

"I wanted to know how my daughter is, we all do," Robert said, his tone laced with concern.

Cora smiled brightly at him, and he knew she already suspected. A mother's intuition he supposed and he had to force himself not to look in Isobel's direction, knowing that her love for Matthew had triggered suspicions of her own.

"I'm not sure it is my place, M'Lord. Mr Crawley will be down shortly."

Robert opened his mouth, prepared to argue his case that he was her father but his wife shot him a look in warning and he thought better of it. "Then please stay and have a drink. It is the least we can do after dragging you out of your home this evening. Unless we are keeping you from something, someone even." His eyebrow arched in question.

Richard found himself inevitably glancing in her direction, wanting for a second to declare that there would never be anyone waiting for him again in the hope that she would find a way to take him back into her heart. Instead her dark brown eyes glanced up, with a lost dejected look in them, and he could only offer her a small smile. His eyes met hers again as he heard himself say confidently, "No, I can stay."

...

One glass became two as they all waited patiently for Matthew to return to the Drawing room, the conversation turning to the hospital fund raiser and garden party. Once again Richard was forced to relive the reason for his unhappiness. Isobel for her part looked almost sympathetic as he tried to change the subject, unsuccessfully. When the door finally opened he let out a sigh of relief.

Matthew appeared at the door, his hair slightly ruffled, his jacket creased and he hovered there, an idiotic look on his face.

"Is everything alright, Matthew?" Robert asked, bemused by his son in laws appearance. "How is Mary?"

"Mary is pregnant. We're having a baby," he announced without preamble, grinning from ear to ear

Richard saw the change in Isobel immediately, the spark of unashamed happiness that crossed her features, the lightness with which she crossed the room and embraced her son. It was a welcome sight, bringing a beautiful glow to her face.

A smile tweaked at his lips as he envisioned Granny Isobel. In that minute he wanted to engulf her in his arms and celebrate with her, ignoring everything that he had said a few days ago. He knew, if he wasn't so set in his ways, wasn't so worried about what people would say about her, and hadn't been raised by a father who believed in maintaining a person's station at all costs, that they would be side by side, enjoying the moment.

"Thank you so very much, Dr Clarkson," Matthew said enthusiastically, taking his hand and shaking it firmly, breaking into his pipe dream of what ifs.

"I didn't do anything," he protested half-heartedly.

Matthew shook his head. "You gave us the best news we could ever have, the very best."

"As you said I just passed on the news."

"Please have another drink to celebrate."

Carson appeared at his side, topping up his glass and nodding at him, his own thanks in his small smile, as Matthew slipped away.

After a few minutes of watching the celebration carry on around him, Richard moved around the room, his glass still full, until he was barely inches from the woman he had not seen or spoken to for five days.

Isobel stood by the piano, her smile, so genuine moments before at the news, disappearing at his approach, her shoulders stiffening as she prepared to speak to him for the first time in days. She ducked her head, avoiding his eyes as she tried to compose herself. All evening she had been anticipating the moment, torn between needing to know if they could ever be friends again, and dreading the moment when they would have to act cordially while inevitably all eyes would be on them. Now that it was upon them she was fearful that she would fall apart.

"I was just about to leave, go back to the hospital, but I didn't want to leave without speaking to you," he said softly but loudly enough that no one could read more into the conversation. "I wanted to say congratulations, Mrs Crawley, you are going to be a grandmother." As she lifted her head to look at him, he smiled fondly.

"Thank you," she replied hesitantly, her lips quirking up into a smile. "I really can't wait to hold him, or her. I can still remember Matthew as a baby."

"They will be one very lucky child," he offered, awkwardness seeping into the conversation.

Isobel bobbed her head slightly. "And I know Mary will be in the best hands."

Richard shrugged his shoulders,not from embarrassment from from resignation

"Don't be modest, doctor," she chided lightly.

"I would imagine that they will be consulting a doctor in Ripon or York. I would concede that a lowly village doctor is probably not what they want for the heir."

Isobel rolled her eyes with a dramatic flair. "There you go again, putting yourself down. You are a good doctor and you have a personal interest in this baby." Or she hoped he still did. If things had continued on the right path he would be her husband and the child would be his grandchild by marriage.

"I would in light of things be honoured to care for Mary through her confinement. But time will tell." He took a deep breath, torn between not wanting to dredge up the difficulties between them, and wanting to acknowledge that things were not as he wanted. Lowering his voice, he turned slightly, putting his body between her and the family. "We, that is to say, I, have missed you at the hospital."

A weak smile crossed her lips. "I feel that maybe I have been spending rather too much time at the hospital. I am needed elsewhere. There are other demands on my time." Her voice wavered. "I think I am going to take a break from nursing, probably not forever," she offered, knowing in her heart that she would never go back if they couldn't salvage something from their relationship. "It's probably for the best. And now with the baby. . . "she trailed off, before she offered more excuses for avoiding him.

The best for who, he wondered, as she glanced lovingly at her son. Certainly not for him. They worked so well together, she was his sounding board when he doubted the wisest course of action, and he loved having her around. Of course she was also an asset to the hospital. She had learnt basic nursing skills in order to assist during wartime but as the wife of a doctor she had learnt more than some of his newer nurses would pick up in a lifetime. Without her he wasn't sure if his little hospital held the same meaning anymore. Not for the first time that week he wondered if maybe after eighteen years it was time to move on, leaving his home and the village.

"Anyway, Doctor Clarkson, you said you needed to get back, and I wouldn't want to hold you up. Thank you for coming so promptly tonight and for giving us the most wonderful news," she continued with a false bravado, the accompanying smile not quite reaching her eyes.

"I am very glad I could alleviate your fears. Goodnight, Mrs Crawley." He watched as she crossed the room to join her family. It was only the first time they had talked since that night and he already hated the way things were between them. Of course things wouldn't return to normal over night. It was impossible to imagine that they could go from lovers back to friends without some degree of strain.

"Excuse me your Lordship. I need to be getting back to the hospital," Richard started, crossing the room purposefully, once again veiling his personal emotion behind his professional demeanour.

"Really? It's only nine."

Robert placed the glass on the side table and nodded. "There is always paperwork and I have patients to follow up on. Thank you for the drink."

"Thank you for coming so promptly. Carson will show you out." Robert extended his hand and waited for the doctor to take it.

Richard turned to the room, his eyes fleetingly resting on Isobel, before addressing the Dowager. "Goodnight, everyone."

There was a chorus of good nights as he followed the butler to the front door. Outside the chauffeur waited by the car, jumping to attention when the doctor appeared.

"Where would you like me to drop you?" the young man asked, moving to open the door.

He looked between the car and the long driveway that would lead him back to the village, making a sudden decision. "I think I'm going to walk. Her ladyship will probably be in need of your services shortly and the fresh air will hopefully wake me up a little."

The chauffeur looked unconvinced.

"Besides I should probably follow my own advice." Pulling his coat a little tighter around him, he set off down the drive, unaware of the small figure watching him from the drawing room.

Isobel watched him go, her fingers toying gently with her wine glass. It had been harder than she had imagined it would be, trying to remain civil and cordial with the man only a few days before she had envisioned spending the rest of her life with. He was the same man, smiling at her kindly, his hand restless at his side as he tried to have what constituted a normal conversation. Except it wasn't in the least normal because all she could think about when she glanced up was how much she missed his arms around her, his lips against her neck. Then she remembered her anger that he could walk away from everything they had. She let out a sigh as she watched him on his way down the path, walking away from her once again.

"Are you alright, mother?" Matthew asked softly, his hand lightly resting on her arm so not as to startle her. "You've been a little quiet tonight."

She turned, finally returning her attention back to the occupants of the room. "I'm fine, my darling boy. A little tired."

He didn't believe her but he thought better of challenging her further, or dwelling on the sadness that seemed to engulf her. "And our news?"

A real smile lit up her face. "I couldn't be happier. My first grandchild." She paused, glancing briefly towards the window. "You won't find yourselves another doctor, will you?"

Matthew furrowed his brow. "Another doctor? As in a second opinion?" he asked, bemused. "Mary is most certainly pregnant."

Isobel shook her head, lowering her voice. "I know that. I could probably have told you that three weeks ago." In fact she had speculated as much late one night as she and Richard lay sated and exhausted. "What I mean to say, is that Richard, Doctor Clarkson, is a good doctor, he would take good care of Mary and the baby."

"I know that. Mother?"

She shook his head. "You should get back to that wife of yours and I think it's time I went home."

"I'll come and see you tomorrow."

Isobel placed her glass on the ornate side table and crossed the room. "Cousin Robert, thank you for a lovely dinner. I would stay a little longer but I'm feeling a little weary tonight." She had been feeling weary for most of the last week, sleep less than forthcoming until she found herself crying herself to sleep. She would wake after a few hours and sleep for the rest of the night would prove elusive. Of course she couldn't share that with any of them because they didn't know that she was hopelessly in love, or falling to pieces or that she was no longer sure she wanted to stay in Downton.

A few minutes later Carson helped her into the car and she was riding down the drive to another night of staring at the ceiling.

...

Comments, as always, gratefully received.