A/N: And here´s the next bit. The plot thickens somewhat...
Ellie987: Thank you for pointing out the age-mishap. Elsie´s supposed to be 53, but I miscalculated 10 years. That´s what you get from mucking up the timeline for every other chapter.


Chapter 6
Awkwardness and a letters
Early May 1913

Isobel discovered that getting Dr Wellington alone in a room was turning into quite a challenge. Apparently he was as expertly avoiding her as she had shied away from his company in the last weeks. But one afternoon, as she was passing his office, she found him sitting there by himself. Through the glass window of the door she saw his tall frame bowed over the desk, busy filling out status cards. She had talked the matter over at length with Elsie. The latter had even gone as far as to ask Charles about Wellington´s puzzling behaviour. Unfortunately the butler couldn´t make them any wiser, not knowing himself what the reason was. Deciding this was probably the best chance she was going to get at finding out, she knocked briskly on the door before stepping in. He looked up a little bleary-eyed at being torn away from his work, but when he saw her close the door behind her with a decisive click he rose to his feet, his composure instantly stiffening.

´Can I have a word with you?´ Isobel asked calmly.

His jaw stiffened and he stood even taller. ´I´m rather busy at the moment, nurse Crawley,´ he informed her coldly. ´Can´t it wait until another moment?´

´No, I´m afraid it cannot wait,´ Isobel replied, a note of impatience in her voice now. ´The matter is too important to be delayed.´

´Very well,´ he relented, his unwillingness painfully apparent. ´What is so urgent then?´

´It is obvious that you are harbouring some feelings of dislike for me,´ Isobel told him, having rehearsed this line countless time already. ´And I very much would like to know what the reason is.´

´Please tell me you´re not one of those woman who insist on being ´liked´ all the time and who´ll throw a tantrum if someone doesn´t?´ he cut back haughtily.

Trying not to show her fury, Isobel looked him square in the eye. ´You´re avoiding the question. And don´t patronize me. When we first met you were behaving perfectly cordially towards me, until you found out what my name was. And I want to know why that is.´

If possible the look in his eyes became even harder. ´You really don´t know?´ he asked icily.

Feeling a little startled by the fact that he seemed to actually acknowledge the fact that he disliked her, she shook her head. ´No, I don´t. So tell me please!´

He opened his mouth as to reply, but closed it again after a moment of hesitation. This decision appeared to take a lot of his self-control and Isobel noticed that his hands were clenching in tight fists. The strain was also audible in his voice.

Almost growling he replied: ´I´m not going to enlighten you. I refuse to be manipulated by your antics again.´

Looking at him in utter confusion, Isobel was momentarily at loss for words. And before she could string a few coherent words together, their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door, which opened a second later to reveal Elsie´s face.

´I hope I´m not disturbing you?´ she asked.

´Not at all!´ Wellington replied, his face filling with relief. ´How may I help you?´

´It´s actually Mrs Crawley I´ve come to see,´ Elsie replied, eyeing the man in front of her curiously. She wasn´t strictly lying. She had come to invite Isobel over for tea. But it was also a perfect excuse to stop by at the hospital and investigate a little after the new doctor she had heard so much about and to see for herself if the man was really acting so abhorrently towards her friend. There was definitely ´an atmosphere´ in the room, she noticed instantly as she stepped inside. Isobel´s eyes were practically shooting daggers at the man standing next to her. It all begged for some clarification.
´It´s nice to meet you…´ She paused, looking imploringly at Isobel.

´Oh excuse me,´ Isobel finally managed to gather her thoughts together. ´Elsie, this is Timothy Wellington, our new doctor. Dr Wellington, this is Mrs Elsie Hughes, the housekeeper at Downton.´

´Nice to meet you.´ Elsie shook the offered hand and thought to herself that at least the man wasn´t bad to look at. If one went for that type.

Meanwhile, Timothy Wellington was eyeing the woman in front of him with some interest of his own. So this was Elsie Hughes, the woman Charles had been mooning after for years, if he were to believe what Richard had told him. Well, the man had good taste, he had to grant him that. Smiling slightly at Elsie and trying to ignore Isobel as much as possible, he said: ´Well, you must excuse me, I…´

But once again the door of the office opened to reveal Charles and Richard, deep in conversation.

´… so in the end I decided to adopt the same precaution and didn´t reveal any personal information myself.´ Charles finished. Upon seeing the small gathering in the office he abruptly fell silent. ´Dr Wellington… Mrs Crawley… Mrs Hughes…´ he greeted them uncomfortably.

Much to her aggravation, Elsie felt herself blushing slightly. It was ridiculous really. She was so very used at being around Charles. There were days were she saw him literally every hour of the day, save for the six hours she slept in her bed. But on the rare occasion that she did bump into him unexpectedly, he still made her heart skip and her stomach flutter. Looking aside she noticed that Isobel was smirking. Now why was that?

Rewinding the last bit of his conversation in his head, Charles attempted to do some damage-control. How much had everyone and Elsie in particularly heard and what could they have guessed from it? Trying to calm his nerves somewhat, he realized that it couldn´t have been a lot.

Richard looked around the small circle and didn´t even bother to hide the wide grin that was forming on his face. ´Well, isn´t this nice?´ he commented sardonically.

´Hello! Is anyone in here?´ A light voice carried through the corridor and a second later, the small office became practically crowded as Maureen Thornton, the postal mistress came in.

Isobel watched in amazement as the easy grin disappeared from Richard´s face and was replaced by a look of great discomfort and… insecurity. She would probably have never believed it, if she hadn´t seen it for herself. There was nothing left of his charm and confidence. The doctor was obviously very ill at ease in the presence of Miss Thornton. She caught Elsie´s gaze and raised her eyebrows questionably.

Trying to hold back the grin that threatened to spill, Elsie looked away from Isobel and caught Charles´ eyes instead. That turned out to be a mistake as he almost imperceptibly rolled his eyes.

For a moment forgetting all fractions between them, Isobel and Wellington just looked incredulously at each other.

´Mrs Thornton…´ Richard eventually managed with some difficulty. ´What brings you here?´

´I´m doing the rounds,´ Maureen Thornton explained, indicating the large bag on her hip.

´But doesn´t your assistant usually do that?´ Elsie asked frowning.

´He´s indisposed at the moment, I´m afraid,´ Maureen replied, smoothing a heavy strand of black hair away from her forehead. ´Nothing too serious,´ she added hurriedly. ´Just a case of stomach flu from what I´ve gathered. But he´ll be unable to work for the rest of the week.´

´And that leaves you up and about, crossing the whole village on foot,´ Richard exclaimed rather exasperated.

Maureen glanced fleetingly at him. ´I don´t mind,´ she answered in her soft voice. ´I like a walk on a fine day like this. And finding you all here together saves me half of my walk to be honest.´ Reaching into her bag she took out a handful of letters. ´Let me see…´ She handed both Timothy and Charles a brown envelop and Elsie a white one.

When much later, the six of them discussed this very moment over a glass of fine port, they agreed that at this moment the cat could have come out of the bag, altering the course of events.

But it didn´t happen. For the three recipients, each of them knowing very well from who the letter had come, were so embarrassed that they hastily shuffled the letters in their respective pockets and handbag, never once looking at one another.

´Well, I´d better be off then,´ Maureen said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. ´Have a nice day.´ She smiled friendly across the room, her eyes lingering only a second longer on the face of Richard Clarkson.


It was definitely with a feeling of apprehension that Timothy Wellington opened the letter he´d received earlier that day. After all, what could one expect from a woman who requested a ´man who could weather the madness´ in her ad? Complying to the rules of the bet, he´d written a short, cordial letter, indicating that he was interested in learning more about her. This hadn´t been a falsehood. He was interested in finding out what sort of woman would write an ad like that. He just wasn´t expecting very much in terms of receiving a sensible answer – let alone a sensible person behind the ad. He´s been sparse with personal details about himself, only divulging that he was a medic. To protect himself from surprises of any kind he´d chosen not reveal his last name and sign with his second name.

And so he began to read:

´Dear Gregory,

You cannot imagine my relief at receiving a far more sensible answer then my silly ad had given cause to. Perhaps I should start with doing some explaining. I acquired the help of a good friend in composing the ad. When we were discussing my various character traits that should be exploited in the ad and what sort of preferences I had regarding any possible candidates, the conversation became somewhat frivolous and resulted in the advertisement you have obviously read. However, this ad was never supposed to be published. With my friend´s help I eventually wrote a more substantial and serious one. Unfortunately I send the wrong ad to the magazine by accident and I do not think I can really convey my mortification in words when I discovered what happened.
But perhaps it is all for the best. I have had some considerable difficulties coming up with an adequate way of describing my personality, but now I have the disputable ease of mind to know that my actions have spoken for themselves.

In the course of trying to restore some semblance of a good first opinion, allow me to share a little bit about myself. At least I can boast on honesty regarding my age. Asides from that it looks like I must conclude that good fortune has not completely deserted me yet – in the advertisement I intended to post I stated a preference for a man with an interest in medicines or science. You can imagine my happiness on discovering your profession. I have been widowed for ten years and my late husband was also a doctor. We were stationed in South Africa for a great many years and there I was trained as a nurse. Currently I am employed as a nurse in a local village.

I´ve you are not too put off by my recent antics and what I imagine can only be perceived as mixed impressions, I hope you still feel inclined to continue our correspondence. Please know that I am.

Sincerely,
I.

Shaking his head and chuckling softly, Timothy lowered the letter. This woman turned out to be nothing he´d expected. She was charming and witty, with - and he was very relieved to conclude so – just the right amount of sensibility. Feeling very inclined to continue this correspondence with her, he resolved to write a lengthy reply the moment he found himself at leisure.


His dislike of Isobel Crawley was deeply rooted. Spurred on by his recent experiences at London Hospital he often felt he could barely stand to be in the same room with her. The resentment for her actions, even after so many years, was still vehement.

Still, he had to acknowledge that she was a very capable nurse. In the six weeks he´d been at Downton Hospital now, he had observed her closely as she moved around and tended to the patients. At first he had tried to find fault with her, anything that would back up his disapproval of her. But he found little to none. She could be opinionated and headstrong and she was definitely a force to be recognized with, but if he were honest with himself he found that if she´d been anyone but Isobel Crawley, he would have only admired those qualities. It was obvious, even to him, that she was very passionate about her work. It was her calling, her destiny almost to tend to the injured and sick.

Although he attempted very hard not to dwell on it, sometimes the memory of their first meeting resurfaced. He had liked her very much upon first appearance. Her knowledge and experience had captivated him instantly and he´d been duly impressed with her quick thinking in dealing with Mr Austin. He had liked her and his disappointment when he discovered who she really was had stung. It only made him resent her more and curse the evil trick fate was playing on him.

And yet, sometimes he thought that it was rather a challenge to resent a person who had so many redeeming qualities. She would be so much easier to hate if she wasn´t who she was, or rather, how she appeared. He couldn´t quite comprehend how this on the outside amazing woman could be the same person who had ruined his dreams and plans so thoroughly. He realized that a person could chance – that perhaps she had changed in the almost thirty years that had transpired between his last dealings with her. Perhaps he was the fool for holding on to his grudge for so long.

And perhaps if the business at London Hospital hadn´t happened, he would have found it easier to forgive her and move on. But as it was, he discovered that there was some comfort in his vendetta against her. If it hadn´t been for her, he wouldn´t have had to leave his position in a modern and progressive hospital in the capital of Britain and bury himself in a small village in the north of country, where the only consolation was the fact that he know worked alongside a friend. Given his latest misfortunes, he often wondered what would have happened – how his life would have turned out if it hadn´t crossed the path of Isobel Crawley all those years ago.


So, no secret, hidden passion... yet!

Please let me know what you think!