Hello guys, here´s another story of our beloved couple that reveals little bit more about our good doctor. Maybe it´s out of his character a bit, but I like to think that his past was a little bit more interesting and there was a reason, he was a single man. We never knew if he has any family left and I decided to change it. This story will focus more on him, introduce us to his story. I hope you will like it and enjoying upcoming chapters. Happy New Year, folks!
Please leave some reviews 😊
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PROLOGUE
He doesn't know what to do first. Where to look. The last phone call upset him. One of the worst news a person can hear is still ringing in his ears. It's here again. Loss. Grief. Sadness. It´s not here yet. He keeps repeating it to himself again and again but it's inevitable. He sits down in his chair yet again and connects with the telephone operator.
- York Hospital, Doctor Chester. - he orders and waits again. His head is still full of incoherent thoughts, and thus he almost fails to register the voice of a young doctor on the other side of the line.
- Doctor Chester on the phone. - the young doctor says a little impatiently.
- This is Clarkson, Michael. - and with a heavy sigh the explanation begins. He needs a doctor to substitute him. In Downton Cottage Hospital. It's more than urgent. Yes. It won't wait. He has to leave today, no later than tomorrow. He can leave the hospital in the hands of the head nurse for now. No, nurse Crawley is not available, but this one is also reliable. He explains in a nutshell in a hurry, as not to waste any more of the precious time. Doctor Chester, whose tone of the voice changed as soon as he found out who was on the other side of the phone apparatus, willingly agrees. The call is over and Clarkson sighs again, holding his head in his hands. With his elbows, he slams himself against the hard worktop of his office desk and massages his temples. Dear Lord, why? Why did you do that? Why didn't Aidan call me earlier? However, he immediately stands up and, putting on his coat, he abruptly leaves the hospital. Unlocking the door of his abode, Richard rushes into the bedroom. Quick packing follows. I'm going to need a substitute for at least two weeks.
- Maybe longer. - he sighs silently, almost in a whisper and takes a time-marked photo frame in his hands. Black and white photography really takes him to other times. The happier ones. The happiest. The most beautiful. - Lorien, Alistair, Alais. - he smiles sadly. - And now Aidan will join you and the rest of my family. - but he must not think about it now. He has a trip to the train station and to York. There he will board the train to Edinburgh. He is going home, but if only in different circumstances.
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Thoughts of his homeland are pushed for a moment into the back of his mind. His heart is stabbed a bit. Crawley House. He hasn't seen her in 2 days and that's why he is consumed by remorse. Despite what happened a few months ago, at another time, or what didn't happen, he can't suppress his feelings. I don´t not want. After all, he stops for a moment, hesitating and pulls out his pocket watch from under his coat.
- 30 minutes until the departure of the train. - he mutters to himself and looks again at the house, which also breathes with grief. - 5 minutes. - he tells himself and yet walks along the carefully groomed sidewalk. The suitcase is put to the ground and he knocks. There is no need to wait long. The door is opened by the cook.
- Is Mrs. Crawley at home? - he asks. With a nod and quick good day, Mrs. Bird opens the door and Clarkson enters inside. As always, Isobel is spending her time in the sitting room. The room is immersed in despair, just like the lady of his heart. It's been half a year since Matthew Crawley's death, but she didn't put the black colour off and her grief didn't go away. Quite the other way. It seems to have only grown stronger during that time and is slowly eating her. He hadn't seen her smile since. Not once have they been engaged in the discussion of the latest discoveries in medicine as they once were. Not once did they have a casual chit-chat or shared a dinner as before. How only he missed it. Not once did they engage in quarrels, which would always ultimately bring amusement, relief, and incredible excitement. Passion. They experienced it together in all sorts of forms, though never in the one he longed for most. And now? Nothing. Just sadness. A body without a soul. Almost always Richard has the feeling that he is only visiting the broken shell of the person he admired so much, with whom he fell in love unintentionally over time, and that scared him, worried him even more. Nevertheless, he came whenever time allowed it to him. Between visitations in hospital or during own personal time off. Once he brought a bouquet of flowers, then again, her favourite pralines. He was awaiting the breaking point then. The moment the sorrow breaks her and finally allows grief to come to the surface. For a moment, she will no longer be able to keep the pain inside and allow it to escape elsewhere. He would be there then. Just for her. He wouldn't let her fall to the bottom, he would sink with her and help her climb back into the light. He does understand her suffering. He knows what it's like ...
- Good day, Mrs. Crawley. - Clarkson greets her at last, but doesn't sit down as usual. Isobel gives him a glimpse.
- Good day, doctor. - uncomfortable coldness, aloofness always so distant of her, radiates from her,but he understands it. The woman, from whom love and goodness radiated directly in her daily deeds now built a high wall of inaccessibility around her. Grieving mother no longer wants to feel and risk a broken heart. He knows that. He knows it. - May I offer you a cup of tea? - words are derived from her automatically. Under normal circumstances, he would nod, sit in his chair, and after a while began to talk. About anything, though he wasn't sure if she even perceived it. Maybe subconsciously. He shakes his head.
- Unfortunately, I can't stay. I just wanted to say hello. - he sighs, trying to catch her eye. Unsuccessfully. Her eyes are just staring into the flames of the roaring fire in the fireplace. - I'm leaving for a few days. I just wanted to let you know that if ... - but he shuts up here. If what? Should she miss me? If she needed me? Hardly. Not a sound escapes her. Maybe she doesn't even notice. Richard sighs again. - Goodbye. I have to go. -
- Goodbye, Doctor. - he goes to the door alone, picks up his luggage again and leaves. Directions are clear. North. Scotland. Homeland.
- Dr. Clarkson? - Isobel turns suddenly and looks at the chair in which he always sits. However, she startles. There´s no one. - Richard? - she stands up, addressing him familiarly. Gloominess returns to her face. He was here now a minute ago. Where did he go? Isobel goes to the kitchen, where she only finds a cook. - Where's Dr. Clarkson? - she asks her, still taken aback.
- The doctor left two hours ago. -
- Two hours ago? - The cook just nods, and Isobel goes back to the sitting room. Two hours and barely a moment. The first tear falls, then the second, and finally the whole stream rolls in. Taking her face which has long since lost its healthy colour into hands, , she quietly lays down on the sofa. I don't even perceive the reality anymore, so why do I still have to suffer? Why don't you take me from this land too, God!
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TBC