Here we go again. Thanks for all the lovely comments for the last chapter. As always I won't answer all of your questions, because, well… *Spoilers* But it's great of you to ask them anyway. So, please keep asking :-)

Chapter 10 - Sapphire

"...a blue sapphire, source of strength, source of strength and eternal hope." Anita Diamant

London, 1920

Isobel had known from the moment her son had invited her for dinner in the very heart of West End of London that he must have an ulterior motive, but since she couldn't fathom what he planned, she just decided to get along with it. The absence of Mary should have alarmed her, but she didn't really think about it. Since her last meeting with Dickie her head was literally in the clouds. He was always on her mind and she hoped spending time with Matthew would distract her until she could see him again. A short trip to London gave her the chance to do something she hadn't done in ages, something that she regretted ever since Dickie had returned to her life. Matthew was taking her out for dinner to the Criterion Restaurant, and she saw her chance to wear the jewellery Dickie had given her in Paris. She never dared to wear them at the Abbey, but London was different and in case Matthew would notice the gems, she had prepared a fitting excuse for their existence.

Since Rosamund was travelling across the continent, Matthew had arranged for the two of them to stay in her house at Belgrave Square. It was a nice change to have Matthew around again without having to share him. It reminded her of their life in Manchester after Reginald had died. To her amazement Matthew had quickly come to terms with the news about his father's previous marriage to another woman. He hadn't mentioned the subject again and she was glad for it. After all Dickie's advice to leave the past in the past was reasonable.

Sometimes she found herself wondering, if one day she could confide in Matthew about her relationship with Dickie Merton. It was a pleasant dream to think that one day in the future the two of them didn't have to hide and could lead a life that wasn't stained by secrets meetings, lies, and deceit.

Of course, she wouldn't tell Matthew the whole story. There was no need for him to know anything about the time she had spent with Dickie in South Africa when her heart still belonged to someone else… Sometimes she thought the few months she had spent with him were the distant memories of another woman, someone who had been young and foolish enough to think she could everything she wanted without having to pay for it. There was also no need to tell him about France. Their adventure in France had been crazy, totally unreal in retrospect. Matthew carried his own painful memories from the war and didn't need his own mother to share hers with him.

When the maitre of the Criterion led them to their table, she couldn't believe her eyes. The person she recognized at a table near the window front was none other than Sir Alexander Ferguson. She stopped dead, causing another waiter to struggle with his tray when he almost ran into her. She realized how Matthew had fooled her and had set them up for dinner, probably with Alexander's knowledge and support, and the mere idea filled her with anger.

As soon as Matthew noticed her hesitation, he went back to her and whispered, "Mother, please…."

"How dare you?"

"Mother, I beg of you. We…. the two of you need to talk this out."

She shook her head and looked her son straight into the eyes. "No, we don't. There is nothing to talk about. It was all said and done a long time ago!"

"Mother, he's here to make amends." He sounded desperate and she noticed his eagerness to make things right between the two people that were left from his youth, but she was stubborn and wanted to leave. She glared at Alexander, saw the satisfaction written all over his face and realized, how he must have prayed for her to react just like that. If this dinner failed, he wanted it to be her fault. She should take the fall in this game - and lose a bit of her son in the process.

She scoffed. "He doesn't know the meaning of the word - and for that you can take my word!"

Matthew gently touched her elbow, "Mother, please, stay here. For me…"

It was her pride that won. If she left, she would be the loser. She would allow Alexander to walk away as the winner and as if there was one thing she hated, it was surrender.

She clenched her jaws and gave Matthew a long, hard look. "All right, but don't tell me later, I didn't warn you!"

Paris, 1918

He entered the apartment trying to make as less noise as possible, which wasn't easy with Ruggles' weight around his aching shoulders. Everything from the hat on his head over the several small jewellery cases and the revolver in his pockets seemed much heavier than minutes ago on the street. Sneaking inside, trying not to miss any detail around him felt a bit like it had felt in South Africa, when he could never be sure, there wasn't partisan around to ambush him.

Something was wrong in the apartment, he sensed it, and it scared him. He moved along into the living room. It was empty, but there was unused porcelain, fresh cake, and a teapot on the table. One of the chairs lay on the floor. Isobel had promised to welcome them back with tea, but she was nowhere to be seen and he also didn't hear her. Aside from Ruggles' frantic breathing, an eerie silence lay over the rooms. His gaze fell on the two doors next to the living room. One led to the kitchen, the other to the small bedroom. The bedroom door was open, the other one closed. Near the table was a stool and Dickie carefully dropped Ruggles on it. The man hissed with pain. Dickie grabbed a couple of napkins from the table and pressed them into Ruggles' hand and against the bleeding wound. Then he disposed his hat, closed the apartment door, and went on tiptoes to the kitchen door. He opened it carefully.

"There you are." His heart skipped a beat when he saw that Isobel wasn't alone in the kitchen and their situation even worse than he had anticipated.

The scene unfolding in front of his eyes was as simple as it was frightening. There was a woman standing behind Isobel. She was a bit taller, far less delicate and fragile, and she had Isobel in a headlock. The knife she held against Isobel's temple was moist with blood, possibly Ruggles' blood, since Isobel seemed shaken, but so far unharmed. Her face was pale, with panic written all over her beautiful features.

"I thought you would never make it here. I see you found your friend." Her intonation was slow and heavy, her accent harsh.

"I did," he answered slowly, hoping to buy time, hoping to find a way to free Isobel from the strangers' clutches. "The question is, who you are and why you are here."

The woman's face deformed to a grimace that was meant to be smile and exposed that one incisor and one fang missing from her upper jaw. "Isn't it obvious? I want what your friend didn't have with him when we met."

"Which is?"

Her answer came quick like a pistol shot "Don't play dumb with me!" She tightened her grip around Isobel's neck, causing her to gasp for air.

"I want the jewellery!"

"You mean… this?" Deliberately slow Dickie reached inside his coat and pulled out a casket. The engraved initials 'P.G.' graced the cover. It had belonged to his mother, before its contents had been given to Ada shortly before her death. Ada who had so foolishly lost it to Pommeroy. He stepped a little closer and showed her the casket, praying it would distract her.

"Open it!" she ordered roughly.

He did as told and opened the box. The couple of ear drops with the blue sapphires and a silver necklace with another, bigger sapphire looked as breathtaking as he remembered them from his childhood. As he had hoped, the woman was captivated by the beauty of the blue stones and the grip around Isobel's neck loosened up a bit. Greed was glittering in her eyes and her face looked even more abhorrent. He doubted she had ever been a beauty, but now that her hunger for the gems was triggered, every line of her saggy face seemed even more deformed.

"Did Pommery send you?" he asked.

"He wrote to me, told me, you came to see him and took the keys from him. He always refused to give them to me, always said it was his life insurance. Ha! Look, who's dead now! The war has done me a favour after all."

"Is he really dead? In the hospital he pretended to have amnesia…. Perhaps he's fooling you and hopes you do his dirty work."

"Naaa, he's dead, all right?! Poor devil was lucky to die the way he did."

"Are you related to him?"

She scoffed. "I'm his wife. God knows, I made the biggest mistake of my life, when I became his wife. He owes me for everything he's put me through. He owes me big!"

"I'm sure of that."

Her eyes fell on the jewellery box. It was obvious that it was hard for her to contain her wish to grab it and ran away.

Unseen by her captor, he established eye contact with Isobel, hoped she would stay calm - and eventually forgive him, if they made it out alive.

"You can have them," he said, "When you release her."

As if she suddenly remembered her hostage, she tightened the grip around Isobel's neck. He could read on her face how she weighted her options, how her greed battled with her lust to cause pain. In the end her greed won.

"Put it there!" she ordered, pointing to the worktop, near the oven. "And step back! And don't move!"

With Isobel pressed against her she moved forward. Dickie closed the casket and placed it on the worktop. He stepped aside, giving her the space to move along. All he could do now was waiting for her to make a mistake that would offer him the chance to overpower her, though he wasn't sure, if he would manage to do so. Yet, he had to try. He looked through the open door to see how Ruggles was, then he quickly returned his attention to the women.

Just as he had expected, it took her a second too long to get the casket and he used his chance. He pulled out his old army revolver and aimed at her head. He cocked it and the sound familiar enough to her to sigh in annoyance.

"Release her!" he ordered, before the woman could open her mouth.

"You idiot!" She turned around, using the full force of her weight. She choked Isobel who gasped for air, but wasn't as helpless or intimidated as her attacker thought. She kicked the woman in the shin, used the moment of surprise and pain to entangle herself from her grip and jumped aside. The woman howled and like a raging bull after a hit with the sword, she jumped forward towards Dickie who fired a shot that missed her. The bullet got stuck in the window frame, wood splintered. He swore, angry with himself. He used to be a good shot. How could he miss her? Before she reached him and could throw him over, he jumped aside.

"Richard!" He heard Isobel yelling, her voice still breathy. He saw how the woman raised her arm. The blood stained blade of the knife delved dangerously quick and then another, much quieter shot rang in his ears. The knife fell out of her hand and almost hit his foot. It took over five torturing seconds before he realized that she was dead. Her body slumped against him and the blood spread over the dirty cloth of her old dress.

"Isobel!" He pushed the heavy body aside and hastened to Isobel who still crouched on the floor. She was trembling, but struggled to get back to her feet.

"Ruggles!" she cried out and ran past Dickie inside the living room. Ruggles, a small gun still in his shaking hand, had sunk onto his knees. There was cold sweat on his forehead and he was shaking all over this body.

Dickie followed Isobel into the living room. Together they helped him to lay down.

"You need to get a doctor," was all she said to Dickie. Pale, as she was, she pressed her hand on Ruggles' wound. "Quick! Or even better we get him to the next hospital! You should never have brought him up here!"

Ruggles shook his head and waved his hands, unable to utter a word.

"He won't go to a hospital," Dickie said quickly. "We need a doctor, but you have to write me a note. You know my French…." There was no time for this discussion and she accepted it without further ado. She got back to her feet and ran into the bedroom. She returned with towels and a note she had scribbled.

"All right! I've seen a doctor's office around the corner! Make it as urgent as possible, give them money if needed! I'll take care of him!"

"And…" He looked up, the body in the smirched kitchen would raise a lot of questions and every doctor in his right mind would call the police as soon as they had left the apartment.

"I'll take care of her as well," Isobel said without looking at him. She was busy folding and pressing one towel after the other against Ruggles' wound. "Go, or your friend dies!"

He knew she was right, but he wanted to say something meaningful to her. Something that expressed his admiration for her spirit and her courage, but it was all stuck somewhere in his chest.

"Go!"

He stuffed the note in his pocket and left the apartment, hoping it wouldn't be too late to save his best and only friend.

London, 1920

As the dinner went on and Alexander's false charme wore out, Isobel could see how Matthew's optimism faded like sorbet in the sunshine. Every time Alexander made an attempt to start a conversation with Isobel, he bit on granite. Suave as he was, he always found a way to redirect the subject, but she made it as hard for him as possible to speak about the past, Reginald and Emma in particular.

"You look very fresh these days," he said, offering his final compliment to her, as they rose from their seats. "It seems the clean air in Yorkshire is good for you."

"I like it," she answered crisply.

He stepped next to her, leading her away from their table. Matthew was in front of them, obviously anxious to be over and done with the evening as a whole. "May I ask…. I've always had an interest in gemstones, as you know…"

"Actually, I didn't."

He ignored her sarcastic remark and continued, "The jewellery you're wearing…. I haven't seen them on you before. Are they a present from Reginald?"

Isobel froze inwardly, but did her best not to show it. So far Matthew hadn't noticed anything, but now he stopped and turned. He took a closer look at his mother, who felt how the blood rushed into her cheeks.

"Have I seen them before?" he asked as well, as he admired the stones. "They perfectly fit your eyes."

"They are from my grandmother," she lied quickly. "I barely wear them, but thank you for the compliment!"

"I see…." Matthew said, seemingly puzzled. Then turned on his heels and led them into the foyer, where a small crowd had gathered, waiting for the maitre to sort out a reservation.

As soon as she recognized two people in the small crowd, Isobel wished she had never agreed to have that dinner. Among the small group, she saw Dickie and his wife. Tall and handsome as always, he stood there with Ada who looked pale and fragile. Her shoulders were covered by a heavy stole who seemed to crush her. The woman was ill, very ill, without a doubt, and why the couple had chosen the Criterion of all places, was a mystery to Isobel who wanted to flee the place as soon as possible. She didn't want him to see her, she didn't want to talk to him, while Ada was there. Her pure existence, however poor it was, was painful for her. It reminded her of her failure, of her weakness, of her love for a man who wasn't truly hers.

"Lord Merton!"

Matthew said and marched over to greet the couple. He was probably happy to have a reason to get away from her and Alexander.

"Matthew! What a surprise! Where's Mary…?" Dickie looked around, hoping to find Mary, while his eyes only found Isobel. She quickly lowered her eyelashes, as she moved forward to greet him and his wife. She felt Ada's eyes on her, sensed the heavy dislike the woman felt for her and something else she couldn't explain, but it was much more frightening than open hostility.

"Mary's home in Downton," Matthew explained. "My mother and I met a friend for dinner. I think you've met at the wedding!"

Alexander and Dickei shook hands, "How nice to see you again!"

"Indeed," Dickie said, but the smile on his face wasn't real. Isobel knew him well enough to notice it and despite the unhappy circumstances, she felt strengthened by his reaction. He knew about her problems with Alexander, he knew the truth or nearly all of it and he had her back.

"Well, enjoy your evening and give my best to the family," Dickie said, cutting off every attempt for further conversation. Isobel gave him a quick and grateful smile.

"Enjoy your evening," she said and walked past Matthew who seemed flabbergasted by the whole scene, but eventually followed his mother.

It was Alexander Ferguson who took his time to follow them. The evening had been more enjoyable than he had anticipated. Isobel had put up a good fight, but in the end, he had found a way to corner her. Alexander would bet his knighthood if the jewellery was a present from her grandmother. To him it looked more like a lover's gift. Could Lord Merton really be so foolish to waste something that probably had belonged to his family for decades to someone like her? Perhaps he was the romantic type and thought it chivalric to give his mistress something valuable like this. Or perhaps he was an idiot and had truly fallen for her. Whatever it was, things were shaping up and soon, very soon, he would be able to strike.

"A middle class nurse from Manchester. This is so like you." He heard the scorn in Ada's voice and as so many times before he simply decided to ignore it as long as possible. He just looked out of the car window and counted the street lamps they passed on their way home to Merton House. The more time he spent with his wife, the more he became sick of her. The dangerous and unsavoury decline of her health had not tamed her tongue. On the contrary, her suffering made her more spiteful than ever, and it was just the beginning. Things would become worse for her and therefore for him, too. The diagnose from the doctor had left him deeply concerned for their future, and he still needed to figure out how to proceed. Ada would soon need discreet and constant medical attention. Eventually he had to lock her up in Cavenham or he had to send her away. Both weren't options to her liking, but rather sooner than later it would come down to it.

He also had to make sure, somehow, that Isobel and Ada wouldn't meet again. They had to act even more careful from now on, because he wasn't sure if Ada wouldn't find a way to take out her unhappiness on Isobel as well. If he had to suffer from her acid mood, it was one thing, but Isobel didn't deserve any of it. Why, oh why, did she have to jewellery from his mother tonight of all nights? As happy as it made him that she finally decided to make use of it, the timing couldn't have been worse. Of course, Ada had instantly recognized the sapphires.

"Tell me one thing," Ada continued. "Did you take the jewellery from me to give it to her? Or perhaps you told him," she pointed to Ruggles in the front seat behind the wheel. "To steal it. How pathetic can one become?"

"Your illness is really affecting your brain," he countered casually, knowing pointing out her physical and mental weakness was her sore point. His remark didn't fail its purpose. The cold rage in her voice when she spoke again spoke volumes about her feelings. "I know what I saw. The woman is wearing my jewellery. Your mother gave it to me before she died. It's mine!"

"And you lost it again a few years later, because you were stupid enough to leave on the wrong bedside table."

"That doesn't give you the right to give it to one of your whores! But it's just like you to pick someone who's as plain as you for your afternoon entertainment."

"Watch your mouth!"

"You bastard! You won't tell me what to say or what to do!"

The care stopped and Ruggles opened the door for them. As always Ada refused to take Ruggles' hand while she climbed out, but once she was out, she looked him straight into the eyes and asked, "Does he at least share her with you? Or does he only allow you to watch?" Ruggles answer was a crooked eyebrow, but Dickie was fed up with her behaviour.

"That's enough!" Dickie grabbed her elbow and pulled her along up the stairs. She complained vividly, but he ignored her protest. A footman opened the door, but withdraw discreetly when as soon as he realized the couple was fighting.

Once they were inside Ada pulled her arm away, hauled off, and slapped him as hard as she could. She had done so before, but this time he really felt the hate she harboured for him deep down inside.

"You better go upstairs now or I'll do something I might not regret," he said in a low, controlled voice. The last thing he wanted was a scene in front of the servants.

"You will regret a lot of things," she hissed. "I promise you that and most of all, I hope the two of get what you deserve. If I have to suffer, why shouldn't you too?"

****tbc****

Have a great weekend!