She had thrown herself into work the week after the Crawleys returned to Downton. She wanted to forget, to draw a blank on what had happened. She wanted to bottle up those feelings. Love was something out of the question. After all, whoever she loved, she would end up losing. She needed nothing to remind her of what she had lost and what she now willingly chose to give up.
Matthew…my baby…my babies…Reginald. And then, the thought came to her unbidden. Richard.
She was glad to return to work. She needed the distraction.
The hospital was a place that stood between life and death. A gateway, Isobel had thought, where one soul would leave and another could enter.
There was that idea of balance again, one she could not shake.
If there was balance to the universe at all, why did the young perish? Why was she still here? Balance, to her, meant that the old die, and children do not.
Matthew had only just begun. He was a brand-new father. Now, George would never know him, never understand what a man he was, how proud he had made his mother. This knowledge broke her. George had every right to have his father, and Matthew to his son. And, now, Matthew was dead, and there was nothing that could change that fact – the terrible injustice of it all.
Isobel was exiting a patient's room, notes and pen in hand, when she suddenly felt dizzy. Her head was spinning. I'm thinking too much. Lost in my own head again. She grabbed hold of the door frame to steady herself. Her hand shook. After a minute, she felt the sensation pass, and she continued to walk down the hall.
It's nothing, she told herself. Nothing. You need to stay busy. You need to keep working. You need to feel useful somehow.
She walked a few steps further, rounding the corner to where the hospital offices were secreted away. She must have turned on her heel too quickly because that lightheaded feeling returned.
She felt unsteady.
Isobel placed her hand on the wall. Her other hand went to her forehead. She felt very hot all of the sudden, sweating almost. Her head ached, a sharp pain now at her temple.
Doctor Todd was walking out of his office when he saw Nurse Crawley leaning heavily against the wall. By the time he had taken the fifteen paces to her position, she was down on the floor.
Isobel Crawley had passed out.
Doctor Todd motioned for another nurse to help. He lifted Isobel off the floor and carried her into a room. He examined her, raising her eyelids to shine a light into her eyes, making sure her pupils constricted. They did, and he breathed a sigh.
Isobel would be angry with him, but he could deal with her wrath later. She never did make a good patient.
He noticed that Isobel had lost a significant amount of weight, more so than he initially realized. When he carried her, her body felt feather-light. Sharp angles protruded at her hips.
It was obvious she had been skipping too many meals. Doctor Todd truly worried about Isobel. Exhaustion had overcome her, and he should have intervened. Doctor Todd cursed himself for letting her continue to work the hours that she had been. He should have stopped her.
I only felt sorry for her. I know she wants to feel useful, needs the commotion of the hospital. The doctor rubbed a hand across his jaw looking down at the unconscious woman lying on the bed. She has thrown herself into work, into anything to pretend that she is not grieving. To avoid facing the truth, to avoid living with herself alone.
To make matters worse, Isobel was running a fever, and she began to shiver, even though she was now sweating profusely.
Doctor Todd summoned the nurse to change Isobel into a hospital gown. She was not going anywhere for a bit.
Isobel Crawley was now a patient.
He carefully inserted a needle into her hand, running an IV drip to get some fluid into her. It was still a relatively new form of medicine and piece of equipment. It had some great success in the cholera epidemic of the late 1890s, and he hoped it would give Nurse Crawley at least some of her strength back.
She needed to eat when she awoke, if she felt well enough to manage it. For the time being, he instructed the nurse to provide her some antibiotics, another medicinal treatment he strongly favored.
Hopefully with the combination, Isobel would get well. He did not go as far to think that she would return to herself. For that, if that feat was even possible, he knew he had a phone call to make.
…
Doctor Clarkson answered the phone he had installed in his office at the hospital.
"Hello, this is Doctor Richard Clarkson," he answered on the second ring.
"Doctor Clarkson, yes, this is Doctor Todd," the Manchester physician responded.
Richard's heart thumped loudly against his chest. Isobel! Something's wrong with her! Something's wrong with Isobel…
His mind raced in a million different directions. Something was wrong with Isobel, and he was not there to help her. He was not there. Aye, calm yourself, ole boy. He willed himself to settle down.
Doctor Clarkson gulped. "Yes, Doctor Todd, what is going on? Is Isobel…I mean Nurse Crawley…is she all right?"
Doctor Todd sounded grave. "I'm afraid not. She's sick, terribly sick. It's exhaustion, and she's running a high fever. I have her on antibiotics and an IV drip. She needs fluid. I'm sorry that I let things get this bad," Doctor Todd muttered an apology, clearly embarrassed.
"It's not your fault," Doctor Clarkson told him. "I should have stayed. Even after she asked me to go, I should have stayed. I could have at least spent my time at the hotel in Manchester until she was ready to talk."
"I don't think she will ever actually be ready, Doctor Clarkson," the Manchester physician noted. "You will have to take that lead. Don't let her push you away. I'm afraid she has also lost a significant amount of weight."
"Lady Violet had mentioned the same thing to me before we left for Manchester. She's not eating...or...if she is, she is barely picking at her plate."
"Don't worry, doctor. She will eat if my nurses have to force it down her throat," Doctor Todd chuckled.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Doctor Clarkson muttered as he wrapped his fingers on the desk, thinking about what to do. "Listen, Doctor Todd, I think it would be best if I come to Manchester as soon as I can. The Dowager and I had already planned a trip this weekend, and I'm sure she won't mind to take the car instead of the train and leave early, especially with Nurse Crawley being ill."
"Sounds like your mind is made up," Doctor Todd answered. "Now, is this Dowager the same Lady Violet that Isobel mentions from time to time?"
"Yes, the very one," Doctor Clarkson responded.
"Well, then, this Dowager must care for Isobel if she is travelling to see her," Doctor Todd wondered.
"She does, but, for goodness sakes, don't tell her that. The Dowager likes to maintain an air of indifference, but she cares, she cares deeply. Isobel and she are, well, I guess you could call them friends. They're cousins, sparring partners really, but friends nonetheless."
"Very good. Isobel needs all the support we can give her now. I really wish she had gone with the Crawleys back to Downton, maybe she would not have gotten ill." Doctor Todd could not help feeling guilty. He thought he may have overworked his nurse. But Nurse Crawley would work herself into the grave if it gave her any release.
"We'll be there as soon as possible," Doctor Clarkson affirmed. He hung up the phone, grabbed his coat and bag, told his staff he would be gone for a few days, and walked to the Dower House.
...
The butler ushered Doctor Clarkson into the Dowager's sitting room. He had his suitcase in hand. He explained Nurse Crawley's situation to Lady Violet.
After Doctor Clarkson finished, Lady Violet rang her little bell. Her butler entered the room, awaiting his ladyship's command. "Tell my maid to pack my bag immediately. Ring the Abbey to have a chauffeur sent here for a journey to Manchester. Lady Grantham will understand my meaning," she told him.
"Right away, your ladyship," her butler replied, shutting the door behind him.
"So, I take it, we are leaving this afternoon?" Doctor Clarkson supplied.
"Yes. It seems our plans have changed. I will not wait for that train, not when Cousin Isobel has decided to pull a stunt like this one. Honestly, the woman likes to stir up a fuss," Lady Violet chuckled. For all her humor, Violet's face was very downcast, a look of worry evident. She cared for that cousin of hers, that meddling, halo-wearing Isobel Crawley. I hope the old girl isn't in too bad a shape, Violet thought to herself.
"I'm sure she did not mean to get sick," Doctor Clarkson responded.
"I know she did not," Violet responded, shifting a bit in her chair.
"I'm glad we're going today. I want to check on her. I need to be there for her." Doctor Clarkson stared out the window a bit. His face was grave, and a hand went to his jaw.
"I'm sure you are anxious. We will be there by the evening." Violet watched Doctor Clarkson carefully. Her head cocked up to one side. She softly tapped her cane on the floor, and he returned his attention to her. "Doctor Clarkson, she will be all right. I won't let her be anything but all right this time. And you are a fine doctor, you know."
It was high praise coming from the Dowager.
"Thank you, your ladyship," he replied.
"And, however much she may protest, Isobel loves you. Anyone with half a mind can see it," Violet affirmed.
Time passed, and the butler returned to the sitting room to announce the arrival of the chauffeur. Doctor Clarkson and the Dowager's suitcases were placed in the car, and the two made their way outside.
"Now, Doctor Clarkson, I understand that it may seem highly irregular for you to ride with me. But, at the moment, I do not mind. And, I shall have to get used to it, especially if you are to attach yourself to Isobel," Violet announced, grinning at the flustered Doctor.
He seemed to turn a shade of red at the mention of him and Isobel together. "Well, your ladyship, at the risk of sounding improper, I do hope I stick around."
"I thought you might. Now, shall we go attend to Mrs. Crawley," Violet said as she got into the backseat.
"Yes," Doctor Clarkson replied, climbing into the car.
…
She was shaking in the hospital bed. Her lip quivered. Doctor Todd watched over her. How could you have let her get this bad, you bloody fool!
Isobel had yet to awaken, and he checked over the IV to make sure fluid was still dripping down that tiny tube. It was a marvel, this new medicine.
He checked the needle in her hand. She had developed a nasty bruise where it sat taped to her delicate hand. Doctor Todd knew that it would heal in time, if she would only regain some of her strength.
A nurse dabbed her head with a cool cloth, attempting to bring down the fever. "Doctor Todd," she spoke softly, "Nurse Crawley does not seem to be getting any better, even with the antibiotics."
"I'm not sure she even has the desire anymore," Doctor Todd spoke honestly.
"She'll fight. She's not done yet." The nurse gave a hopeful nod in his direction, the corner of her lips turned up just a bit.
"You're right," Doctor Todd breathed, "let's increase the antibiotics and wait to see if she responds."
…
Late that evening, Doctor Clarkson and Lady Violet arrived at the hospital. It was dark outside, and Doctor Clarkson told the Dowager that she could remain at the hotel. She did not have to come out in the middle of the night.
Lady Violet would have none of that talk. She insisted on coming along. "Cousin Isobel needs all the help we can muster. And, I for one, did not travel all this way to wait in a hotel room and not know what was going on. Really, Doctor Clarkson, you know I do not like being left in the dark."
Doctor Clarkson nodded, opening the door of the building for her. "It speaks well of your ladyship. I am glad you came, and Nurse Crawley will be as well."
Informed of their arrival, Doctor Todd hurried to the front to meet the two visitors. "Your ladyship, Doctor Clarkson, I am glad you came on such short notice."
"How is she?" Lady Violet asked, afraid to find out the answer.
"Not well, your ladyship. She is not contagious, as far as we know, but she is very ill. A high fever and utterly exhausted. Her apparent weight loss has not made her immune system any stronger and that is what I am worried about." Doctor Todd looked between the two of them. He glanced down at Nurse Crawley's chart, avoiding the eyes of these people who apparently cared very deeply about her. He took a breath. "I fear that her fever is getting worse. We have increased the antibiotics, but she is still very warm. It could develop into something far more serious if we cannot get it under control."
"Oh, you stubborn dear," Violet sighed to herself, a hand went to her mouth.
"Take us to her," Doctor Clarkson declared, pulling at his shirt in an attempt to adjust it and steel himself for what he was about to see.
They walked up a flight of stairs and rounded the corner. They entered a private room, the second door to the right.
The sight they beheld frightened them. Isobel Crawley lay in the bed with a sheet draped over her and an IV in her hand. Her hair and forehead were drenched in sweat. Her skin was a ghostly pale. Her other hand lay out from under the sheet. She tossed and turned.
"Come on old girl," Violet whispered, "you have to get well." She placed her hand on Isobel's. The Dowager noticed the bruise from the needle and winced.
Doctor Clarkson noted several things about the woman outstretched before him. She was ill, desperately so and tired, so very tired.
He knew immediately that her fever had to be drawn down, away from her head and her heart.
He went to the end of her bed and lifted the sheet to expose her bare legs to the knee.
"What are you doing?" Lady Violet asked, eyeing Doctor Clarkson. She felt quite sure that what he was doing bordered on the inappropriate.
"I have to draw the fever down," he replied as he began rubbing Isobel's legs with a damp cloth. "This is an old method, but an effective one. We cannot allow the sickness to get to her heart. Hopefully this will cool her down some." He continued to rub Isobel's legs with the cloth in a soothing matter, alternating between quick and slow strokes.
Please, he prayed silently, let this give her some relief.
"Oh," the Dowager mouthed, glad that it was a medical procedure and nothing more. "Will she be all right, Doctor Clarkson?" Lady Violet asked, patting Isobel's hand and watching her friend shiver with fever.
"Time will tell, your ladyship," the doctor replied.
…
Two days had passed. Two very long, arduous, and worrisome days. Isobel had not awoken in that time period. Nevertheless, Lady Violet and Doctor Clarkson stood vigil at her bedside, alternating every now and again so the other could return to the hotel and get some rest.
Finally, Isobel's fever broke. She began to wake up, opening her eyes slowly and adjusting to the dimly lit room. She raised on her elbows a bit, propping herself up on the pillows. She was still so tired and, if truth be told, very hungry.
Isobel had yet to look at the chair to the left of her bed where Lady Violet sat patiently waiting for her friend to awaken.
"Thank goodness," Violet breathed. Isobel heard the voice and did a double-take. It couldn't possibly, she thought to herself. She then looked to her left and found Violet staring back at her. "I'm glad to see you have finally decided to wake up," the Dowager chuckled. "You gave us all quite the scare."
"I'm sorry," Isobel murmured. Her voice felt a bit hoarse from lack of use. Violet handed her a glass of water, and she accepted and drank greedily.
"Easy, slow down a bit," Violet admonished her. "Honestly, there is more. I can ring for a nurse to fill up a whole gallon if need be."
"I'm parched," Isobel answered honestly. She then eyed her cousin. She was none too pleased that the Dowager was at the hospital and had obviously seen her in a bad state. "How long have you been here?"
"Long enough," Violet replied. "And don't give me that expression. You look like a petulant child when you poke your lip out."
"I do not poke…oh, never mind. You did not have to come. I'm still here, aren't I?" Isobel's hand moved to her mouth, fingers tracing her lip. She noticed the IV in her other hand and let out a huff. That's a rather nasty bruise, she thought to herself. Sore too.
"Yes, you are. But, Isobel, you have got to take better care of yourself. You have got to come back to us. Matthew would not want you to go on like this," Violet insisted, placing a hand on the edge of Isobel's bed.
Isobel let out a breath. She could not meet Violet's eyes. "And what if I don't want to go on?"
"You can't mean that Isobel. You do not know what you are saying. There is still so much life in you. Take it from someone who has a few years on you yet. Life is worth living, even when you think it's not. The world will still surprise you," Violet spoke with wisdom. She watched Isobel, noting the tears forming in her cousin's eyes.
"I suppose I still have George," Isobel smiled thinking of her grandson. "I do want to see him. I would like to be his grandmother."
"And see him you shall," Violet declared. "Cora dismissed that despicable nanny. Both she and Mary are dreadfully sorry for what happened."
Isobel sighed. "I should have known it wasn't their fault. Cora has done nothing but try to help me."
"They love you, Isobel," Violet said softly. She grinned as a nurse came in to check Isobel's vitals. "You should bring her a bit of toast and some broth," Violet commanded the woman. "She needs to eat."
The nurse agreed, smiled, and left the room only to return with some food for Isobel. She placed the tray on Isobel's lap. "Need any help or anything else?" She asked kindly.
"No, I think I can manage," Isobel replied, taking a spoon of broth to her lips. There was no doubt that she was hungry.
"I can safely say that food will be pushed on you for the next several weeks," Violet remarked.
"That's all right," Isobel responded, taking a bite out of the toast. "I have to admit that I missed it. I should have been eating. I was foolish to let myself get into this state."
"We all understand why," Violet answered, leaning on her cane. "Grief can do terrible things to one's health. But let's talk about another subject, especially now that your mouth is full of food. You know I am not the only one who has been by your side in this hospital." Violet peered at Isobel.
Isobel swallowed her soup. "No?" She gulped. "Did Mary and Cora come with you?"
"Not this time." She waited a bit before responding. Isobel seemed to squirm, growing uncomfortable. "Doctor Clarkson came to check on the woman he loves."
"Doctor Clarkson? Here?" Isobel questioned the Dowager. Her hand unconsciously went to pull up the sheet a little higher.
"Yes, he has been at your side every night. He would not leave. I sent him for food before you woke up; otherwise, he would be here now," Violet explained. "He loves you Isobel. Don't push him away. He is a good man."
"I know he does." Isobel's voice was barely above a whisper. "But I don't deserve love. I shouldn't even be thinking about it. I should be gone before my son and not contemplating continuing without Matthew."
"Don't do that again, Isobel," Violet warned her. "Don't dwell on the what ifs and the things you think should have happened. I have come to know that the universe often has other plans than what we were expecting. You deserve happiness and peace. He loves you, and you love him. What more is there to be said?" Violet tapped her cane to the floor with the pronouncement.
Isobel nibbled on the last bite of her toast. "I think I do love him. But, goodness, I wish I didn't. I wish I didn't feel anything at all. I feel it's wrong of me – to go on loving when the people I love always die."
"Isobel, dear," Violet began. Careful Violet, you use 'dear' again, and Isobel may suspect you care, she chuckled to herself and continued, "when is love ever wrong?"
"You're right. I love him," she whispered, and a tear escaped the corner of her eye.
At that precise moment, Doctor Richard Clarkson walked through the door to Isobel's room. He had heard what she said. He stood there staring for the moment. He was happy to see that she was awake, but in total shock at what she had said.
"I'll leave you two alone for a while." Lady Violet stood and walked out of the room, leaning on her cane. She shut the door behind her.
"Richard," Isobel began, "why did you come?" She felt dizzy again, dizzy with emotions.
These feelings…this grief…this love…I wrestle with it all. I struggle with it all. And here you are again; you've come back for me again. What do you want from me? Can't you see I'm so very weak? But…I love you…and I don't want to lose you too.
So ends another chapter. Thank you for sticking with me and hope you continue to do so. Also, this chapter was heavily influenced by the song "Unsteady" by X Ambassadors. Give it a listen if you need some music while reading.