Chapter 28 – Finding a Place

She was in the modest sitting room at Crawley House, pretending to read a novel while alternately gazing out the window and humming half-remembered Scottish folk tunes under her breath, a small smile dancing on and off her face. It was a week to the day since Richard Clarkson has leaned over that tiny table in the corner of the Lion and drawn a line under something that likely should have happened years ago.

It was so strange, this. She felt extraordinarily…relaxed. She was happy, of course, and guilty and nervous and a tad giddy. But mostly, she felt simply calm. As if so much that had been unfocused and uncertain in her life, unbalanced, had at last been set right.

What had Elsie Hughes, bless her, said, when she toasted her yesterday? To you being a doctor's wife, again. She understood what Isobel had been feeling for so long, out-of-place and out-of-sorts. Isobel had thought it was to do with her title, and then becoming a widow so soon after remarrying. It had always been about more than those things.

The doorbell rang and she could hear Mariah, the housemaid, greeting someone at the door. Isobel had done away with a butler long ago. The voice in the hall was familiar and thrilling, all at once. She stood.

Richard appeared in the doorway, looking mildly sheepish and decidedly handsome.

"Tea or coffee, Dr. Clarkson?" Mariah looked at him expectantly.

He paused for a moment, grinned at Isobel. Her heart fluttered. "No, Mariah, I better not, as tempting as the idea is. I'm on my way to the hospital, and I want to get my work day begun and finished as quickly as possible."

"Very good, Dr. Clarkson."

The maid pulled the door shut behind her, and the two of them just looked at each other for a few moments, from across the room.

"What an unexpected treat to –"

"I didn't mean to barge in, I merely wanted to see –"

The each began speaking at the same time and both laughed a little. He gestured for her to speak, and she shrugged, resisting the urge to close the distance between them in three great strides, rest her head against his chest. The desire to do so was wonderfully strong, and hard to resist.

"I've nothing remarkable to say, Richard," she said, quietly, still enjoying using his given name here, in her house, outside the friendly anonymity of the Lion.

"That's unlikely," he retorted, the grin tugging more forcibly at the corner of his mouth.

"I was merely going to spout some nicety about you dropping in, when I would like to –" She stopped herself. She wasn't quite ready to verbalize exactly what it was she wanted to do with the good doctor. She felt herself grow warm in various places.

"Isobel?"

"You look like a man on a mission, Doctor, so please, do carry on," she smiled at him, trying to settle herself a little.

"I am, and though I'd like to linger," he responded, "Duty calls. I was wondering if you'd have dinner with me tonight? Something a bit further afield than the Arms…I was thinking we could take the tramcar to York?"

"What a fine idea! Yes, please, I would love to," she replied, her heartbeat speeding up again.

"Excellent," he answered, then paused. She could feel that he, too, wanted to close the distance between them. But was uncertain if that was acceptable or not, after all of the years unable to do so. "I'll pick you up around half past four, then?"

She nodded, and he gathered himself to leave, heading towards the parlor door. There was still far too much space between them for her liking, and it was growing by the moment. She intercepted him, placing her hand on the knob before he could.

"Thank you in advance for the adventure, then, this evening," she gazed at him. He was close enough, now, that she could feel the warmth of his body.

"How are you certain it will be? An adventure, I mean," he replied.

"Call it a hunch, I suppose, or woman's intuition," she answered, then leaned over and kissed him, lingeringly, at the corner of his mouth. His mustache tickled her lips.

"With you, Isobel, it is certain to be one," he said, and his regard for her warmed his whole countenance. He leaned over in response, and didn't go by halves, as she had; he kissed her full on the mouth, a gesture that shouted out all of the long years he'd waited, more so than any of the few kisses they'd shared in the week since the Lion.

She made a small, glad sound, then backed away. "I'll see you this afternoon, then, Doctor."

"Until then," he placed his hat back on his head.

"And I've not forgotten – you still owe me a story about something I don't know already," she teased. "You gave me foolish, heartwarming, wild and brave last week, at the Lion, however -."

"A man can't always acquiesce, Isobel, even if he's in love," he chuckled.

"But he can sometimes, no? Half the time, even, Richard?" She was enjoying herself too much, and her heart squeezed in her chest a little, for the first time during all of this. How many years, Isobel? How much time, did you waste, you foolish woman? For everyone touched by your foolishness?

"You must go, now, to the hospital," she said at last, her voice snagging, her throat tightening.

"Indeed, I must," he answered. "Isobel? Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine. Just constantly reminded these days about what a fool I've been, and how I somehow arrived on the other side of it unscathed."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," he whispered, kissed her cheek lightly.

"Go," she pushed him out the door, laughing, but with tears rolling down her face. "Go, you lovely, wonderful man. I will see you later."

oooOOOooo

Phyllis grinned as she watched the Yorkshire countryside roll by in a blur of green. She'd not want to live in London anymore, but it was nice to visit now and again, from time to time. And this trip had extra appeal: Elsie Hughes and Thomas Barrow had so much as said she and Joe would get some time off - an afternoon here, and evening there – to go explore the city as they saw fit.

Rather wonderful, that. She smiled in anticipation for a moment, hugging herself a little

She turned away from the rolling countryside to face the older woman across from her. Elsie Hughes caught her eye and smiled. She, too, had been daydreaming out the window. This train ride was a fine little respite between the craziness of getting the family situated for the journey itself and the busyness of arrival and unpacking and sorting through things.

"I never mind the train ride to and from – do you, Mrs. Molesley?" Downton's housekeeper grinned a little.

"I was just thinking something similar, Mrs. Hughes," she replied. "It's nice to have this time before the madness begins in London," she answered. She considered something, then leaned over a little.

"You know, Mrs. Hughes, I've had some time to work on the project, for Mr. Carson. Would you like to see what I've done so far?"

"Would I, Mrs. Molesley! Have you got it here? Ye've brought it with you, then?" Elsie exclaimed, then looked round a tad self-consciously. She needn't have minded; their car, by coincidence or good luck, was empty, save them and a dozing Thomas Barrow, who was seated across the aisle from them. Joe had wandered forward, towards the dining car, a short time ago, and to check on the family, traveling first class, of course, rather than disturb Downton's slumbering butler to do so.

"I do…" Phyllis stood, pulled the fabric, which was wrapped and folded inside one of her bags, out. She was rather excited to show the other woman; it was such a lovely idea, and it made her happy to work on it. She carefully unwrapped it and spread it across her lap. She smiled down at it, pressing her fingertips along the unfinished, embroidered image they'd sewn there. "I thought I'd bring it with me, in case there was time-"

She broke off when she saw the look on Elsie Hughes' face.

"Mrs. Molesley, it's marvelous," the older women made to reach out, then pulled her hand back.

"Go on, Mrs. Hughes, it's yours, after all," she passed it gently over to Downton's housekeeper, who looked suspiciously close to tears.

"Well, ye've outdone yourself, I will say," Elsie Hughes smiled down at the cloth in her hand, pressing her own fingers over the shapes she herself had cut from the pattern Phyllis had given her. She passed it back to Phyllis, looking her straight in the eye. "I don't know how I'll satisfactorily thank you for your work, Mrs. Molesley, but I can guarantee you, I'll certainly try."

"What's that, then, Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Molesley?" Thomas Barrow's voice interrupted them, muted with the residue of sleep.

"Something marvelous she's created, from my mind to her talented hands," Elsie Hughes laughed. Thomas stood, looked down at Phyllis' work with eyes still half in dreams.

"For Mr. Carson, then, Mrs. Hughes?" Thomas glanced over at her. "Given the rather…historical aspect of it, that would be my guess."

"Yes, indeed, Mr. Barrow. The idea is familiar enough, however, if you look closely, you'll see I put my own...particular…spin on what the final product will look like," Elsie Hughes grinned over at Phyllis as Thomas sat alongside her. Phyllis handed the item in question over to him, tapping her finger on a certain spot to draw his attention to it.

He looked up at her, the surprise on his face so comical she nearly burst out laughing.

"That's my name," he said, glancing between the two women.

"I said it had a certain perspective to it, didn't I, Mr. Barrow?"

"There's no one quite like you, is there, Mrs. Hughes?" His grin was sly and teasing, but both women could hear the deep regard in his tone.

Just then, the door to their compartment slid open, and Joe appeared in the doorway, followed by the much taller, bulkier form of Francis Holmes.

"Look who I bumped into a few cars up!"

"Good morning, everyone," Francis greeted them as Phyllis packed away the precious fabric, his eyes lingering momentarily on Thomas.

"This is a pleasant surprise," Thomas greeted him, smiling. "I thought you were getting the first train this morning?"

Francis chuckled, shrugged extravagantly at all of them, "That was the plan, but I couldn't manage to organize myself in time. I missed it by minutes, but in this instance, I'll call it good luck to travel in all of your company, rather than blame my own scatterbrained approach to traveling."

"You do realize, Mr. Holmes, this doesn't excuse you from tea in my study at Grantham House," Elsie teased as he took the seat next to her, across from Thomas and Phyllis.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Mrs. Carson. I know I need to be thoroughly inspected, to see if I pass muster or not," he joked. "Thomas was put through the paces as well, at my aunt and uncle's."

"Yes, Hector and Vi certainly put me through the ringer," Thomas' face was still flushed, but his wry tone was back. "Very tough audience, those two. As is Mrs. Hughes, I am sure you'll find, Francis." The men exchanged a warm, humor-filled glance, and if they others in the train car noticed Thomas' easy use of Francis' first name, they didn't let on.

"We're being terribly rude to Joe," Francis stood suddenly, and the group rearranged themselves so the men were seated on one side of the aisle the women on the other.

"And what are your grand plans, once we're in town, Mr. Holmes?"

"Other than tea at Grantham House, you mean, Mrs. Carson?"

Elsie laughed. "Yes, other than that."

"Well, I'm itching for new fabric stock, so I've got to head to that part of town for a serious amount of time – Phyllis, care to join me?"

"I'd love it, if the family's schedule allows, and it's alright with you Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Barrow?"

"I am sure we can sort something out," Thomas said easily, and Elsie nodded in agreement.

"And I've lots of mates in town, Mrs. Carson, who I'd like to catch up with. See some sights, old and new, with some good company," Francis' eyes caught Thomas'. "It's a pity we can't all plan something together, but that'd not work out, would it?"

"Unfortunately not, Mr. Holmes, but such is a life of service, for good or ill," Elsie sighed, and grinned. "But I am sure the lot of you can manage and evening together, with me and Mrs. Powell holding down the fort at the house."

"That's generous of you, Mrs. Hughes," Joe said. "And Mr. Barrow, arranging for lodging for us as well."

"Well, we're all family, really, aren't we, Mr. Molesley? Oughtn't we help each other out, if we can?" Thomas said, his voice light. The others paused for a moment, both of the women thinking of the embroidered fabric in Phyllis' bag, and of the simple truth of the butler's statement.

Then the moment was over, popping like a bubble shimmering in the breeze, and they all began chatting happily about the adventures that awaited them, amidst the hard work, on the other end of the train ride.