FINAL CHAPTER :)

Elsa quietly came up behind Isobel who was seated in front of the fireplace, a book in one hand and her cheek resting against the other.

"Might I get you something, milady? Some tea perhaps?"

Isobel lifted her head and smiled at the lady's maid. "No, thank you Elsa. I'll be sure to change for dinner this evening."

"Are you sure milady? The doctor did say…"

Isobel shook her head quickly. "The doctor said to rest this afternoon, not become an invalid and stay in bed for the week. I'm quite capable of dining downstairs tonight."

Elsa smiled in understanding. "Very good, milady. I will be up at the gong."

Isobel appreciated the girl not arguing with her. She already felt as though her independence was breached. She had been learning to give up much of her life as a single, widowed woman…but to have Dickie call for a young doctor against her wishes was nagging at her. She tried to understand her husband's position…but she could only feel frustration in this moment.

Frustrated at myself, she thought. She knew the symptoms and headaches, in particular, were getting worse. But she was stubborn…she would admit it. She did not want to accept help when she thought she could handle the situation herself.

The door opened quietly and closed. Isobel supposed Elsa had forgotten something, choosing to continue staring in to the flames, rather than turn to acknowledge the lady's maid. She jumped slightly, however, when a deeper voice spoke.

"Dr. Thompson assures me you will be feeling better with a bit more rest the next few days," he spoke quietly, noticing her flinch. He cursed himself for startling her and looked down in shame.

"Yes, so he said," she replied quietly. She picked at the edge of the book, desperately trying to control her emotions.

"I'm quite sure you are not at all happy with me for sending for him," he answered, gathering the courage to step up to her side. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath before meeting his gaze. "Isobel…"

She shook her head and looked down. "Dickie…I know you meant well…it's just…I'm not quite used to the idea of someone else worrying over me." She looked back up at him with a small smile. "I am sorry for getting so upset…"

"You had every right," he answered softly. "I should not have phoned him without speaking to you first. But Isobel…I am your husband, and I do love you. I want to take care of you…if you'll only let me."

Isobel swallowed the lump of emotion swelling in her throat and looked in to the fire once more. "Dickie…"

"Might I offer a compromise?" he asked, taking a chance and reaching down to take one of her hands in his.

She nodded silently as he continued. "You are quite accustomed to worrying over others…your family…friends…patients…and even now, you worry over how I am feeling, what I need, how the boys are…"

He squeezed her hand and reached over to lift her chin. She met his eyes and saw the serious look he fixed her with. "I wish to take care of you, as any good husband should. And if you allow that, I can assure you that I will not call the physician without your permission. I do not wish to smother you, but Isobel…I cannot stand by when there is clearly something wrong…."

She set her book to the side and stood quickly, staring him straight in the eye. "Darling, I am going to be just fine. Whatever this doctor thinks…"

Dickie let go of her hand and put a finger to her lips. "What he thinks is neither here nor there. What matters is if you are feeling ill, you let me know. I will not press you to stop going to visit the orphans or to cut back on your work at the hospital. But you must, MUST, allow me to be a party to your well-being, Isobel. Please…"

Isobel averted her gaze once more, fighting between her self-sufficient nature and her yearning to please Dickie. Could she really deny him such a simple request? He was her husband, and he had vowed to take care of her…for better or worse…in sickness and in health.

Was it fair to keep her feelings, physically and emotionally to herself? Here he was, unashamedly declaring his love and devotion to her, something that went against his stoic, aristocratic nature. She knew it would be unfair of her to continue keeping him at arm's length.

"I will do my best," she began quietly, "…but you will have to forgive me for lapsing in to my independent ways at times. I'm afraid twenty some years of keeping to oneself makes old habits die hard."

He laughed softly and turned her face back towards his. "Agreed. And I will do my best to not be a mother hen. Heaven knows I would never hear the end of it from the Dowager."

Isobel chuckled, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Your secret is safe with me, sir."

"Then we have a deal, milady?" he asked, his smile widening.

"We do, milord," she answered, pushing back and holding out her hand to shake his.

He took her hand but instead of shaking, pulled her close and drew her in to a sweet kiss. Breaking, he winked at her. "That, milady, is how a husband and wife should seal a deal."

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