"I'm glad you're awake," Doctor Clarkson said as he took the chair the Dowager had previously occupied. He ignored Isobel's question for the time being. "How are you feeling?" He watched her carefully, noting how she had tensed up the moment he entered the room.

Isobel took a deep breath. Her hands smoothed the blanket that rested over her lap. She was careful with the hand that had the IV still in it. She hated the feeling of the needle inside her, but knew, at the moment, that it was necessary. "Honestly," she replied, "I'm quite tired." She was not sure what to say.

She had noticed that Doctor Clarkson ignored her first question. He had heard her confession to the Dowager surely. Hadn't he? She thought to herself. What does he expect me to say or do? I don't know what is supposed to happen or what I even want to happen, if anything at all.

"I imagine so," he replied. "You ate everything though," Richard noted the empty tray that sat on the stand beside her bed. "That's always a good sign."

"Yes…" she replied, drawing out the word. "I was hungry, and you have my word that I will not do that to myself again," Isobel vowed.

"Good to hear," Richard nodded. He contemplated taking her hand, holding it for the briefest of moments, but he did not.

I will not frighten her, not now that she is finally talking to me. She seems so weak, brittle, like autumn leaves that crush beneath your feet after they fall.

He noticed her unconsciously scratch at the needle in her left hand. The bruise stood out against her pale skin. Standing up, Richard walked over to the table in the corner and picked up a bottle of antiseptic and some cotton. Dabbing the liquid onto the cotton, he returned to Isobel's side and gently took her left hand. He rubbed the medicine near the needle and around the bruise.

"There," he said, releasing her hand. "That should help with the itching. We certainly don't want it to get infected."

"Thank you," she replied. "It's been nagging for a bit, rather annoying really." She almost laughed. "I feel so foolish, like a child." She had that faraway expression again, the one that worried Richard.

Richard looked serious. "There's no reason you should," he replied. He sat back down and clasped his hands together. He was quiet for a moment. He watched her.

She felt his gaze and returned her eyes to him. "Why did you come?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I just wanted to help. I wanted to make sure you come through your illness, to be waiting at the other end," he answered. He looked down at his feet.

"Why?" She kept her eyes glued to Richard. It did not matter if he looked at her or not. At this point, she felt she had to know. Do I want to hear those words? I'm not entirely sure. But I do want to know. "What am I to you?" Isobel felt as if she had placed the world on his shoulders. She wanted an answer, something, anything really to explain his actions, his feelings, his kiss.

Am I wrong to want him? Can I feel anything other than pain anymore? Am I even capable of it? Matthew was my joy, and I was robbed of him, of Reginald, of my babies.

Richard lifted his head. His gaze fell to Isobel, the woman lying in the bed, soft curls falling to her shoulders. Her slender hands lay atop one another on her lap, a blanket covering her. "You are everything," he answered solemnly.

Isobel squirmed a bit at his pronouncement. "Why?" The word slipped from her lips. "I don't understand," she whispered as she raked a hand through her honey-colored locks.

"You mean everything to me, Isobel," Richard reiterated. He took one of her hands in his, gently rubbing her knuckles. He admired her hand, the feel of it in his, the lines, the wrinkles, the freckles, all delicate and all beautiful. No faults, no ravages of time, no bruising, just her. And to him, she was perfect; she was everything.

"You are my North, my East, my West, my South, my shining star on the darkest night, my sunshine during the day. Every breath you take, I notice. Every smile, gesture, sigh, and tear, I see. I know you, Isobel Crawley. If I forgot who I was tomorrow, struck dumb or blind or deaf, I would still know you. I would still love you with every fiber of my being." He kissed her hand and then looked into her eyes. "You are everything."

It was quite the statement. Richard released Isobel's hand and leaned back into his chair. He was not sure what she would say.

She took a breath. "I love you too," she answered in the smallest of voices. "If I could just bottle it up forever, forget everything, and no longer feel anymore, maybe I could find a way forward. But, goodness, all I seem to do nowadays is cry," Isobel confessed. "I love you, Richard," she said softly, "but I have lost everything I love - everything that I hold dear. I admit that I'm rather afraid of it. I do not want to lose you too." She swiped at a tear forming in her eye. Sinking back down onto the pillow, Isobel inhaled and exhaled, trying very hard to retain her composure.

Richard's heart could have burst open at that moment.

She loves me. She…loves…me.

He stood at that moment and walked over to her bedside. Their eyes locked onto one another. Cupping her cheek in his hand, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. He stood back and saw a soft smile appear on her face and a blush form on her cheeks. "I will never leave you," he declared, grabbing her hand and holding it tightly.

She gazed into his eyes. Her hand reached for his face, and she stroked his cheek for a moment. "Do not make promises you cannot keep," she asserted. "The future is never clear."

"Then," Richard replied, "let me clarify." He stooped low and claimed her lips. She returned his kiss, and he deepened it, moving his fingers through her hair. He pulled away for the briefest of moments and whispered in her ear, "So long as there is breath in my body and I can help it, you will not lose me."

"If only that were true," Isobel replied, cupping his jaw in her one hand. "I feel that there are things that you should know about me," she said as she gestured for him to return to his chair. "Things about my past that I should explain, that I want you to know." She gulped, hoping she could tell her story without breaking down. "I love you, and it terrifies me to feel this intensity, to feel anything when I know what will happen, what always happens"

"Please," Richard sat back down, "trust me. Trust me enough to tell me. I want to know everything about you. Every pain, every burden you have are mine, and I will help you bear them if I can."

A spark had returned to Isobel's eyes. To hear him speak of his devotion did more than warm her heart; it made her feel alive again. Alive – and at a time when all I want is to find oblivion. To be gone. To be with Matthew. He makes me feel alive.

"Let me begin, I suppose, at the beginning," Isobel started.

She looked down at her hands, absently touching the finger on the left hand where she once wore her wedding band. "Reginald and I were very happily married, you know. He was my first love, and I love him still. We always wanted children, but it was very difficult for us." She glanced down, not wanting to meet Richard's eyes. "I had three miscarriages before Matthew. They are something that I carry around with me; something that I never have forgotten. I do not like to discuss what happened afterwards; but, suffice it to say, I blamed myself. If it was not for Reginald, I would have given up; he refused to let me." She wiped away a tear. "Finally, we had Matthew, and I knew he would be our only child. Reginald almost lost us both during the delivery, and I…I…" she struggled to get the words out, "I could never have children again."

Richard nodded solemnly. Doctor Todd had told him of Isobel's past, but somehow it made her experiences all the more real hearing them from her lips.

Isobel scratched her head for a moment, tucking a stray lock behind her ear. She continued. "Matthew was our pride, our joy, and, for fourteen years, we knew happiness. Sure, we had our difficulties, any family does, but there was never anything we could not overcome together. Then, when Matthew was fourteen years old, Reginald died. He had a massive heart attack." Her eyes stared at the wall remembering. "I walked into our sitting room, and he was lying on the couch…cold. There was nothing to be done. It was all too late. I grieved Reginald. I am still grieving Reginald. If we did not have a son, I would have followed him. Matthew saved me, and I threw myself into being his mother. I helped him with his schoolwork and fully supported his decision to attend university and become a solicitor. We studied for his exams together, and he was…is…the best son any mother could ever ask for."

Isobel smiled at the memory and then her face saddened. "Now, my Matthew is gone. And I wonder, I question, what is my purpose? What am I to do now?" She looked at Richard and reached for his hand. He took it. "You see, Richard, I lose what I love. And I do love you."

"And I you, Isobel," he replied. He held her hand and reached for her cheek, stroking it tenderly. "I can never fully understand the hurt that you must feel. I have never had children, but I do know what it is like to lose a great love."

He choked, but then steeled himself. "I thought I had lost you, Isobel. I have loved you for a long time. When you warded off my advances at Thirsk, I felt I had to abide by your wishes. So long as you were in my life, I could continue as I did. But then," he hated to mention this painful fact again, "you lost Matthew. And from that moment on, I thought I had lost you." He stared into her soft brown eyes. "I have never loved another woman the way I love you, Isobel Crawley. You say you wonder now what your purpose is. Let me tell you. You still have a piece of Matthew in your grandson George, and you will be his grandmother, a most excellent one, I imagine. And you have me. Your purpose is for me to love you. Isobel, can't you see that I need you? I cannot imagine continuing without you."

"I don't want you to," Isobel answered, her eyes staring into his. "Richard, I want to be yours. Please," she whispered, "will you kiss me again?" She felt her request a bold one.

"Darling girl," he replied, noting her blush when he used the endearment, "need you ask?" He bent low and claimed her lips. It was gentle and slow; he did not want to push her and knew that she was still recovering. It surprised him when she deepened it, slipping her tongue between his teeth and snaking her fingers through his hair.

After a bit, they surfaced for air. "I love you," she whispered again. "Don't ever leave me."

He stood above her, fixing her pillow for her. "Not if I have anything to say about it," he replied.

Isobel let out the smallest of yawns, a hand went to her mouth to stifle it. She felt quite embarrassed. Oh, but I am tired.

Richard smiled at her. He pulled the covers over her as she turned to her side to rest. "Get some sleep, Isobel. We'll talk more tomorrow. You still need to recover your strength."

"Will you stay?" She grabbed his hand as he was about to walk away. "It's just…right now…I prefer someone to be near. I don't know how to explain it." Isobel really did not want to either. Stay. I do not want to be alone. I have been lonely too long. I need to feel safe. Stay.

He winked at her. "Of course, I'm only going to the chair over there anyways," he murmured, kissing the hand that had touched his. "Sleep." She wants me near her. She wants me to stay. I would do anything she asks. I would crawl to the ends of the earth if I could just hear her laugh again.

"Thank you," Isobel mumbled. Her eyes closed, and soon, her breaths slowed, both inhale and exhale belonged to one who had fallen into a deep slumber, soft and steady.

…

Isobel awoke the next morning to the voices of Doctor Clarkson and Doctor Todd in the room.

"She needs to stay another day or two to get her strength back. We need to ensure that she has plenty of fluids. With any luck, her fever will not return during her recovery," Doctor Todd spoke as he checked over her chart.

Doctor Clarkson concurred. "Yes, she needs to be made to eat, rebuild herself. I do not think that she will let herself get this bad again. Although, she really could not help the fever, just bad luck," he voiced. Doctor Clarkson looked at the woman lying in bed, seeming to still be asleep.

The Dowager sat in a chair next to Isobel's bedside. She could not resist giving her two cents. "So, Isobel will remain in the hospital for another two days. A close eye needs to be kept on this one. She's so very stubborn and will not take kindly to the fuss about her."

"No," Doctor Todd acknowledged, "I don't expect that she will be thrilled."

"Of course not," Violet gestured with her hand. "But she will be made to obey. Once she is well, she will be convinced to return to Downton."

"You seem rather sure that she will. Perhaps, Isobel wants to stay in Manchester?" Doctor Clarkson replied.

"I am always sure," Violet rapped her cane on the floor. "There is nothing for her in Manchester. Her family, her life, and you are at Downton. She will return." Violet smiled.

Isobel had been feigning sleep during this conversation. She yawned, sat up, and glared at Violet. "You seem rather certain, Cousin Violet. Do you think you command my life? Tell me what to do?" Isobel was annoyed but not angry. She knew her cousin cared about her, understood that this attitude was just her nature.

"Well," Violet scoffed, "it's good to see you're awake and arguing again. No, I know full well I cannot force you to obey, but I can make a strong case for you to return. Certainly, I have no doubts about my ability to influence." A twinkle was in the Dowager's eye.

Doctor Clarkson chuckled as his eyes shifted between the two of them.

Smiling, Isobel replied, "of that, I have no doubt. Now, I understand that I am going to be made to eat breakfast?" She saw Doctor Clarkson standing across the room and lowered her eyes. He saw a hint of a smile form across her lips.

"Yes," Doctor Todd said, "let me fetch a nurse to bring you a tray." He left the room quickly, glad that Isobel seemed to be doing better and willing to cooperate.

"So, you are to remain here for two more days," Doctor Clarkson informed her. "Then," he cleared his throat, "the choice is yours. You can stay here in Manchester or return to Downton on the train with the Dowager and myself. It leaves sometime next week." He watched Isobel carefully. Richard worried that she may have had second thoughts regarding their conversation from the previous night. Will she stay? Will she push me away again? She had once said that Downton was no longer her home.

"At least I have some time to make a decision," Isobel replied. She did not elaborate. A nurse entered, placing a breakfast tray of oatmeal, fruit, toast, and tea on Isobel's lap. "Thank you," Isobel nodded and began to tuck in.

"Well," Violet straightened in her chair, "I can say one thing. I will certainly return home and so will Doctor Clarkson. The village hospital needs him. And you do too, Isobel." She chuckled. "Perhaps, I should find something to eat myself, let you two discuss the world." Violet rose from her chair, gave Isobel's hand a quick pat, and walked swiftly out of the room.

Isobel ate a bite of her oatmeal. She wanted to let Richard in, wanted to let him know that she trusted him.

I love him. He needs to understand, needs to know that this…whatever this is that we have….will take time. I need time. I have loved no other man since Reginald. I'm not even sure how this all works.

After a brief silence, Isobel spoke up. "I wonder if you may, that is, after I get out of the hospital, visit me at my home here in Manchester?" She searched his face, wondering what he would think of her request. "You see, I would like you to learn of my past. And I probably will need some help until I get my strength back. You could stay; I have a guest room. It would save a hotel bill. I don't expect Cousin Violet will stay with me, considering I do not have a maid and have very little space for hers." Goodness, Isobel thought, I hope this does not sound so very improper.

Richard coughed. That was certainly not what I thought she would ask. Certainly not something I ever expected her to share with me, that she wants to let me in. It astounds me. I am so very humbled and unworthy of this woman. "I feel honored that you would open your home to me," he clasped his hands. "But are you concerned about your reputation?" He voiced what she feared. "Could this invitation be misconstrued as improper? Heaven knows, I understand that it is most certainly not an indecent proposal." He eyed Isobel.

"Well, considering that I am still not well, and you are a doctor, I can only see it as a physician needing to keep an eye on his patient, don't you?" She smiled at Richard. She was confident and spoke with determination.

"I think you are rather brave," he replied honestly. "But that is something I have always admired about you, Isobel Crawley. Yes, I agree, you do need someone to look after you, at least for now. And I feel privileged that you would choose me." He moved to sit on the edge of her bed and reached for her hand.

Isobel took his and brought it to her lips. She kissed the tops of his knuckles, bringing the palm of his hand to rest on her cheek. "Yes, Richard," she whispered, "I want you to know me. I love you."

She did not speak her true feelings, her true fears. I need you to save me from myself. I am so afraid of this grief. So terrified to accept that it is just me now. A childless widow. Please…I beg you, lead me out of this darkness, find me before I lose myself.

"Come see my home with me. Share my memories."

"Aye, lass," he replied, stroking her cheek. "I will. When you are clear to leave the hospital, myself and the Dowager will take you back to your home here in Manchester." He placed a gentle kiss on her lips, and she moaned quietly into his mouth. He broke away after a brief moment and then looked into her eyes. "I love you," he reiterated, "no matter where you go, where you stay, I will love you."

I would stay with her forever no matter where she decided to be, if only she asked me. Downton may be my home, but she is my life.

Isobel chuckled to herself for a moment.

"What is it?" Richard asked, amused at the smile forming on her face.

"Oh, nothing really," Isobel admitted, "I was just thinking that Cousin Violet will see how the other half lives. No maids, no servants, a small, modest, middle-class home. It may all be a bit of a shock to her." Isobel giggled and then bit into a piece of her toast, now at room temperature.

"I imagine it may. But, have no fear, the Dowager is made of sterner stuff. Nothing shocks her, and, if it does, she feigns indifference," Richard replied. But, my God, is it good to hear her laugh again. To see Isobel's grin. Through all the pain she has known in her life, through the grief she is experiencing now that remains behind her eyes, she still manages to smile. And I love her for it. I will love her through it.

Isobel laughed. "Oh, Richard, you do make me chuckle. You have captured my dear cousin quite well." She then became more serious. "I am glad you will be taking me home. I would like you to stay and see it. Thank you." She met his eyes.

"I will always be there, Isobel Crawley. Always," he affirmed. "I look forward to seeing your home here in Manchester," Richard added casually. But will you stay? Or will you return? I want to remain at Downton; my career is there, my cottage, the life I have made. However, I belong with you, Isobel Crawley. But I cannot force my desires, my wishes upon you. I can only hope.

Note: I thank everyone for the reviews, follows, and favorites. There's more in store. Leave me a review if you want. I'm always wanting to know what you have to say.