Jimmy finally led Richard to a secluded walkway under a bridge. He saw a body curled up beside the curving sides of the tunnel. It was Thomas Barrow in a bastardized fetal position. He had cuts over his face and arms and bruises were already forming many of them angry, red and swelling. Richard looked over his shoulder to make sure no one else was going to pop out of the shadows. This was a ideal place for a robbery or a rape. He was glad that Isobel was not by his side, he shook his head to banish the thoughts. Jimmy was trying to push Thomas over.
"No, no, no" Richard commanded. The blonde didn't seem to take any notice and was gripping the forearm of Thomas trying to maneuver him. Richard grabbed the man's wrist and pressed on a certain point. Jimmy's hand fell open and he gasped in a slight pain. During his long medical career Richard had learned much about the human body. Among such nuggets of information were pressure points. These came in handy when dealing with patients or family members with the D's: Drunk, distraught, dementia. The points would quickly get the attention of the individual and wouldn't leave any lasting damage. Jimmy's hands went to his sides and stayed there so the doctor could assess his patient.
Both heard footsteps, more like galloping, coming towards them. Jimmy stood to deal with whatever was coming so the doctor could focus on his task. The Abbey staff began arriving, the tall footman. The cook's assistant, another maid, more and more staff. Richard could hear the soft scottish lilt of Mrs. Hughes and inwardly sighed. She would be bringing Isobel he could hear snippets of her conversation, "stick there don't trod on it"... "Doctor will sort it all".
With the arrival of more people they began crowding around the fallen footman. With the tunnels architecture the wall of bodies was blocking Richards light. He barked at them to get near the wall so he could see. "Isobel" he stated firmly. Slowly his wife was passed from Mrs. Hughes along the human chain before she came next to her husband. She squatted down beside him, "Can you brace his head please." he asked.
"I'm going to touch you" Isobel told Thomas and the man grunted in response. Isobel cupped the back of Thomas's head to keep it still and to cushion it against the harsh stone wall.
Richard had great respect for nurses and he loved Isobel's bedside manner. No matter where she was she always got permission from a patient before touching them. Clarkson pulled up the eyelid of Mr. Barrow to check his pupils before gauging the extent of the rest of his injuries. Richard called for a handkerchief and all the men seemed to dig into their pockets to retrieve one. The doctor took the nearest offered to him and folded it over and placed it on the cut on Barrow's forehead. He hoped the pressure would slow the bleeding, at first glance none of the cuts seemed deep enough to warrant stitching. Richards hands came to Barrow's shirt and he quickly gave it a yank to release the buttons. He could see from the rise and fall of the wounded man's chest that his breathing was labored. Richard placed his hands on the sides of Thomas's chest and slid them down. Beneath his palms he could feel the grinding shift as the bones slid against one another-broken rib.
Richard's disgruntled sigh let Isobel know what he had found. While Thomas Barrow wasn't his most favorite person in the world no one deserved this beating. Dr. Clarkson thought back on his encounters with this man. He had heard the whispers around the village that he preferred the company of men and frankly he didn't have the time or the patience to care what did bother him was his blinding ambition. The air of invincibility he had seemed to carry before the war as if nothing could touch him. When he had been injured it had been reduced slightly but it was still there. While it was noble for people to strive to be something more to work and yearn towards a better life with Barrow it was all about shortcuts. The ambition to somehow go from footman to butler. When that didn't work he thought a stint in the Army would do it. Richard had scoffed when Barrow had chosen the medical core somehow thinking it would keep him out of danger. Then his brief dalliance with the black market.
His father had once told him, "Ambition is a vicious mistress."
Thinking back to the War Richard stripped off the ever present glove to check his wounded hand for anything new. Looking at both of his hands he noticed only defensive wounds, "Didn't fight back?" he asked softly.
"Didn't see the point, more of them than of me." Thomas rasped.
Beside him Richard could feel the anger rising in Isobel, "What's the chance of apprehending these men?"
No one around her could seem to answer her question.
"Anything broken doctor?" A maid asked.
Richard used his bicep to swipe at his forehead, "We need to get him to the hospital to strap his ribs then he should go to bed."
"I'll get the wagonette" Branson informed. It was an unspoken command that all would be going back to Downton. Jimmy and the doctor helped Barrow to stand while Mrs. Hughes came beside Isobel to help her out of the tunnel. Richard and Isobel got Thomas loaded into the wagonette. Instead of a bench seat they had him sit on floorboards the while he rested against the other footmen. With his rib injury he wouldn't be able to lay flat and the incline the other men provided made breathing easier.
Isobel and Richard got to the hospital first. He rattled off a list of what he needed and Isobel went to fetch the items. Not long after the wagonette appeared, Thomas was ushered into the hospital and the doctor began treatment. The man's wounds were washed and dressed before his chest was strapped with bandages. A small dose of morphine was given and Thomas found he could actually breathe a tad more deeply. The strips around his ribs were tight but kept the bones together so they would knit back together. When it was done Barrow was loaded back into the wagonette to be taken back to the Abbey.
Richard and Isobel then began clearing up the debris left over from treatment. Isobel put back the iodine and unused morphine vials while Richard gathered the scissors and other instruments. Nora took the syringe away to the autoclave. They both washed their hands before going to the office. Richard had to write a report of what happened. Isobel sat on the small cot in the corner listening to the scratching of his fountain pen. She could picture him in her mind's eye, sitting behind the desk, head bowed over the paper the pen working against the paper. Her palm was laying flat on the blanket and she began moving it back and forth feeling the friction warm her skin.
Sitting here on this bed she let her mind wander. She would be lying if she said she hadn't had thought of a tryst here in this office. She could still hear the scratching of the pen so she let her mind wander.
She was on her back on the small cot while Richard loomed over her. Kisses were traded as he gently pressed himself against her. Her hands skimmed the warm skin of his back as he nuzzled her throat.
Richard had finished his report and looked up to see his wife sitting on the small cot. She appeared to be deep in thought from the flush on her cheeks he knew which kind of thoughts. He quietly put down his pen and slowly walked toward her. He knew she hadn't heard his approach for her hand was still moving over the blanket. Reaching out his hand hand cupped her cheek and she keened softly.
Whatever hesitations he might have had disappeared with the sound she just uttered. He pulled her to her feet and kissed her. His foot kicked out to close the door. The hospital was empty save for Nora and she was in the back with the autoclave and knew when the door was closed to the office not to go in. He teased Isobel's lips apart with his tongue before meeting hers and she made that sound again. Her low keen seemed to shoot straight to his groin. Isobel's hands were pushing at his jacket and it fell to the floor. Next the buttons of his waistcoat were freed and another piece of clothing fell. It was a strange sensation to be nude in the middle of his office surrounded by large wall hangings depicting portions of human anatomy.
Isobel was awash with sensation. The new environment, the fact that her fantasy was swiftly becoming real all had her nerves singing sweetly. Richard's chest bumped hers in a body block to move her backward. She went wherever he led her and soon the backs of her knees touched the cot. Richard's left hand grabbed a fistful of the blanket and flung it aside revealing the crisp white linen beneath. Isobel was then situated herself on the cot. It was too small for the two of them, the mattress was lumpy and the sheets were a tad scratchy. However, at this moment this bed was more grand than the one they had shared in the Abbey for Christmas. Richards weight settled over her and she hooked a leg over his waist.
Eager, she was so eager and willing. The knowledge of this had Richard wanting to shout but he knew to restrain himself. Instead he jammed his mouth over hers, his lips and tongue matching the rhythm of his hips. Isobel's hands were above her head and he grabbed one. His thumb began caressing a certain spot on the inside her wrist. He didn't just know the pressure points to get someone to release a grip or stop what they were doing he also knew pressure points to relieve pain and heighten pleasure. As he rubbed the bottom of her palm under her little finger she keened again.
Many a night he had spent in this bed alone, trying to sleep or being passed out from sheer exhaustion. Once again he was here in this bed but it was with this gorgeous creature wrapped around him. He increased the pressure on her wrist and then swallowed her cries as she stiffened beneath him her hips lifting his off the cot. Her arms pulled him close as he emitted a grunt and was still.
A/N: Merry/Happy Christmas to you all
