Violet spotted Isobel entering the small church and made the decision to follow her. Something was wrong with the woman, Violet was certain of that, and it wasn't just the hideous shock of Matthew being alive while a German spy had tricked them all. Violet drew up her questions as she walked to the church. How could someone as clever as Isobel and as devoted of a mother make such an error? Isobel was no fool, and she wasn't forgetful, and her story to the family that she'd forgotten about the scar on Matthew's leg was only going to pass muster until people saw it. Mary was trying very hard to not scream in rage at Isobel over that, she had told Violet that Matthew had shown her the scar and it wasn't the sort of thing a mother forgot. Not a mother like Isobel Crawley. There was no way Violet could believe that Isobel genuinely thought the man was her son Matthew.

Which led to the next question, why would Isobel participate in such a monstrous farce? Oh, she could see some of it, Isobel had a kind heart and the poor man had been crippled. If she had identified the wounded man as a spy, Violet had no doubt that the poor fellow would have spent months in a substandard hospital for prisoners of war where his injuries would have been ignored. It wasn't in Isobel's nature to condemn a man, and sending a badly injured man to a prison camp was something that even Violet found unpleasant. But there was sparing a poor fellow an unpleasant end, and there was calling him your son and encouraging him to marry your son's fiancé. We will talk, Violet thought as she entered the quiet church, because I need some answers.

Isobel was seated in the front pew, in front of the alter. She looked up, and smiled, although Violet rather got the sense that she was in a sort of quiet misery. "Violet… why are you here?"

"With your son risen from the dead and the depths of Africa and arriving this afternoon on the train, I thought perhaps it was time to give thanks for our…. Awkward miracle." She sat down next to Isobel. "It is a miracle, you know. However difficult it is for our family."

"It is," Isobel agreed. "It is a miracle that Matthew is alive. And yet…" She wiped her eyes. "Knowing that he's coming, that in just a few hours, I have to explain to my son… that I mistook a German spy for him… I doubt very much that he'll forgive me."

Violet saw the truth in an instant. "Good heavens, Isobel, if you're going to lie, at least try to make it believable."

"What?" Isobel sputtered.

"Exactly what I said," Violet snapped. "He showed Mary the scar on his right leg. She said it was clear as day, well healed but still, the scar of someone that had been savagely bitten by a dog."

After a long moment, Isobel nodded. "He was lucky it healed cleanly. It wasn't even that big of a dog, but he was only four and Reginald and I were both worried it would affect his walking but once it healed he never even limped. Children are resilient."

It was the sort of story that almost begged to be told and Violet shook it off, knowing it was meant to distract her from her purpose. "You knew that man wasn't your son." She hesitated, because she wasn't without sympathy, and because she suspected what might have been in Isobel's thoughts. "He was grievously injured, and he was pretending to be Matthew and one of your flaws is a kindness of heart that can't be denied." She gave Isobel a sympathetic look. "I can understand not wanting to harm an injured man. I can understand not wanting to see someone that looked so much like your son sent away to a prisoner of war camp… And I can understand how allowing him to lie kept the reality at bay. If he had assumed Matthew's identity… well, we're all quite agreed it's a miracle Matthew is alive. You thought Matthew was dead but you didn't want it to be so you let this imposter pretend. Is that why?"

"I…" Isobel looked down at her hands. "I knew that man wasn't Matthew. But… no, Violet. That's not what happened."

"Then you need to explain what happened," Violet said quickly. She struggled to not sound harsh. "I'm trying to understand why you… allowed this fraud to linger when you knew. If you were in denial over how likely it was that Matthew was dead, I can at least understand that…"

Isobel nodded. "I was in denial, I won't deny that… and as time passed, the lines blurred but..." She seemed to pull herself up, as if coming up for air. "That it was Africa, makes me realize that a higher power was somehow involved." She smiled suddenly, although Violet got the sense that she was struggling to maintain her control. "Matthew was born in Africa, did I ever tell you that? Reginald and I went to South Africa as medical missionaries. We had been married for twenty years at that point and we went because we knew we'd never have children and we wanted to devote ourselves to helping the natives. We had just settled into our clinic routine in Johannesburg when I realized I was with child."

"Are we walking down this particular road for a reason?" Violet asked after a moment.

Isobel narrowed her eyes. "Yes, Violet. Matthew is coming home this afternoon, and I can tell by how he's spoken to me on the phone that he's been convincing himself that I must be senile as the only plausible explanation for this and it's not. And you think I latched onto a man who just happened to look like Matthew and allowed him to take Matthew's place because I couldn't cope with Matthew's death." She daubed her eyes. "I assure you, I'm not senile or in denial. But I have told Matthew a lie for his entire life and now I have to deal with it."

"And what is that lie?" Violet asked.

Isobel sighed. "That he was an only child. Even Reginald was surprised. Matthew was born, and the nurse was cleaning him off when it all just started up again, my labor. The nurse put Matthew in the bassinet by the bed and then… Marcus was born. Reginald was so pleased. So was I. We'd wanted children for so long, and then we suddenly had two identical little boys." Her voice suddenly hitched. "Then I started bleeding. Reginald told the nurse to take Marcus to the nursery, we hadn't prepared supplies for two, and to fetch some things for me. It was least two hours before I was out of danger. I was just holding Matthew for the first time and had it in my head that I should hold Marcus as well and Reginald sent the nurse to the nursery to fetch him and… Then that nightmare started."

"The baby was taken." Violet said, feeling a rush of sympathy for Isobel. It was a brutal blow for any woman but worse for Isobel who, Violet often suspected, would have liked to have been surrounded by children and grandchildren.

Isobel nodded. "We called the police, but the Boers never had much love for the English. They kept insisting one of the natives took the baby as a sort of evil sacrifice but that didn't make any sense." Isobel sighed again. "There had been a woman at the clinic, a German woman, who had miscarried. She had disappeared the very night, almost at the same time. She'd given us a fake name, the Boer women often did, but her German wasn't the sloppy Boer German, she spoke with that upper class type of German you don't expect in South Africa. She reminded me of me, truth be told. She had been told children weren't possible, and her husband desperately wanted a boy to be his legacy. I was certain she had taken Marcus but no one would help us…" Isobel daubed her eyes. "When we left Africa, we both decided not to tell Matthew about Marcus because we were quite certain we'd never know the truth of what happened. And in a way, I told you the truth just now. I knew, as soon as I examined that man with Dr. Clarkson, that he wasn't Matthew. But I didn't say anything because I knew he was my son."

Violet considered the possibilities. "Are you certain of this, Isobel?

Isobel nodded. "We talked, Violet."

Early spring, 1917

Isobel made her way down the long hallway. Matthew had been moved from the ward to a private bedroom, to better facilitate what little recovery he could make. He was filled with despair, she could see that, and she regretted that she was likely going to make it worse, but it had to be done. The bandage had to be ripped off, they had to acknowledge the truth between them.

He was sitting up in bed, holding a book, his expression sad and despairing. The wheel chair was close by. She wasn't worried, she knew from Clarkson and Sybil that he'd only just begun learning how to manipulate himself from the bed to the chair. And she wanted a captive audience for what she was about to say.

"Good afternoon, Mother." He set down the book. "Have you come to check on me?"

"Yes… and to talk with you. Privately." She closed the door carefully, glad for once that the abbey was so solidly constructed. Even though they were on the first floor, where the servants and nurses roamed on patrol, no one was going to hear them. She took a seat next to the bed. "What is your real name?"

Panic flew across his face, only to be replaced by an even deeper despair. "I… I'm Matthew. I'm your son."

"No," she said gently, "you're not Matthew." She touched his right leg despite knowing he couldn't feel it. "Matthew had a deep scar on his calf, from a dog bite. You don't." She switched to German, to make it clear. "You took Matthew's place. How did that happen?"

He lowered his eyes in defeat. Isobel didn't take any pride in that, she suspected she had taken the man's one last lingering hope, that he could at least not end up as a prisoner of war in his state. Finally, he said softly, "We captured him. He was trying to get a wounded man back across the lines. He would only tell us his name and rank and… my captain started laughing how… how he looked like me. Then he and the colonel decided to send me back in his place since I speak English, so I could spy and sabotage the English. But… once I was with the English, I couldn't figure out any way to get word to our side and there was nothing to sabotage and… then I was wounded."

"Is Matthew dead? Was he killed when the decision was made for you to take his place?" She braced herself for the answer.

He flinched back. "I don't know. We'd had to knock him out to get his uniform. The captain… he didn't believe in taking prisoners but the colonel was a merciful man." He hesitated. "You should check the POW lists but…" He looked away, obviously not wanting to say it. "He was alive when I crossed the lines but…"

Isobel steeled herself. "If you were to be a spy, then Matthew would never have been registered as a prisoner." Matthew was dead, she told herself, and now is not the time to collapse in grief. "The mercy in this," she said softly as she took his hand, "is that you didn't kill Matthew. Do you understand why I say that?"

After a long moment, he nodded. "I… my mother and father… they fought a great deal about me. I don't look like either of them. Father would call me the African cuckoo in the nest when he had drunk too much. My mother insisted I be schooled in England, which my father hated but allowed and when I balked at going to Cambridge instead of the university in Cologne, she finally told me the truth…" He gripped her hand and it was as if she knew what he was going to say. "She did a terrible thing."

"She did," Isobel agreed, because she couldn't lie about how she felt, "but I understand why she did it."

He nodded. "She had lost a child, she and Father were traveling, visiting his holdings in Johannesburg. She went to an English maternity clinic… her grandmother was English so she didn't have the prejudice that the Boers did and… the doctor's wife had twin boys the same day she lost her child." She could see him turn white from emotion. "My father… was very demanding, Mrs. Crawley. He expected a son, to inherit the barony. She was desperate. There was a baby boy in the nursery, she took him because he was a twin, the mother wouldn't be completely devastated. But then she began to feel guilty. She wanted me schooled in England because she wanted me to know who I really was…" He clenched her hand. "I'm sorry… this must be a nightmare for you…"

"I've had better days," Isobel agreed, "but if this war has taken a son from me, it's brought another back. You didn't answer me before… what did your mother name you?"

He smiled slightly. "Jupp. Jupp von Rostenburg." Then he hesitated. "What… what did you name me?"

"Marcus. Your name is Marcus Crawley." She shook off the shock in an instant. This is dangerous, she reminded herself, no matter who he really is, if he's found out, he could be executed as a spy. "But you must be Matthew, at least until the war ends. I can protect you but you must accept his place here and remember the things I tell you. You've made mistakes but they've been ignored because of your injuries but you must listen to me, and be very careful."

The despair returned to his expression. "I can hardly run away."

That allowed her to be firm. "There are worse things… Matthew."

Isobel was quiet for a long moment. "I couldn't… I couldn't turn him in. He'd done nothing but follow orders and he'd never passed any information to the Germans. And I watched the lists from the Red Cross like a hawk and so did he, and when the war ended and Matthew's name never appeared… we accepted the hand fate had dealt. He was still in the wheelchair then, and Germany was in chaos and… I didn't see the point in upsetting the family."

"Yes, the situation now is so much less upsetting now," Violet said dryly. Still, she supposed it wasn't as awful as it could be. George, at least, wasn't a German.

"When he regained the ability to walk… I think we both took it as a sign that having him be Matthew was a good thing." Isobel smiled slightly. "They really were very much alike. He was trained in law like Matthew, he liked the same sorts of activities and books…"

"He had the same taste in women," Violet said after a long moment. "Or did he?" That was the crux of the matter.

"If," Isobel's voice took on a harsh tone, "you're suggesting I told him to marry a woman to maintain the lie, I won't lie, I did. And Lavinia wasn't happier for it, now was she?" She looked down at her hands, wringing them. "He liked Lavinia, but he didn't love her the way Matthew loved her. And he fell in love with Mary when she was trying so desperately to nurse him back to health. He loved Mary." Isobel gave Violet a harsh look. "And if you would think about it beyond Mary and Mary's embarrassment, you'd see that. If you think I'm not upset and devastated over what a mess I've made of her life, you're wrong. I just… It wasn't dishonest. He loved her, he wanted to marry her. He told me, the day George was born, that he was going to tell Mary once she was recovered from the birth. He didn't want to cast a shadow over his son's life by telling a lie."

They were twins, Violet thought with amusement, with the same sense of honor and the same tendency to not understand that others didn't possess that sense of honor and often didn't appreciate it. "That would have been a mistake."

"I agree," Isobel said easily, "but it never happened. And I thought, on that dark day, that I was putting both of my sons to rest, that they were both gone. And now Matthew is on the train, on his way home, and I have no idea what I am going to do."

"Because," Violet realized, "you're considering not telling him." She could see why. Matthew had never been a man who sought out unpleasant truths. He would be looking for ways to forgive, so that he could get past the reality that he'd been replaced in their hearts. Mary had already told them that he was struggling but trying very hard to find reasons to not lay blame. If her own thoughts went to the idea that Isobel might have found it easier to deny his death with a pretender in place, it would surely occur to Matthew as well. "I'll trust your judgement then. I was going to recommend letting him get settled back into his life before you shatter everything he knew about you." She gripped Isobel's hand gently. "This is your story to share, not mine. Until then, I will be silent. And I will support whatever decision you come to."

"Thank you," Isobel said. "I need to be certain I do what's best for Matthew and I need to see him, and to see how he is before… I tell him the truth. I need to be certain he's real. Oh Violet… I don't deserve this miracle."

"Perhaps not but regardless, you have it, so be wise with what you do with it, Isobel." Violet let herself smile. "And remember my earlier advise. Work on being sincere when you lie. Matthew was never a suspicious man but he has a clever brain and will see through you if you lie as poorly to him as you did to me."