The next Monday: Afternoon
"I do appreciate your taking the time to see me," Dickie said, taking the seat offered him in Dr. Clarkson's office at Downton Cottage Hospital.
"Not at all. We don't often see you down this way," Richard Clarkson replied, taking a seat behind his desk.
"Quite right. But after the planting season is over, we hope to be down for a week or so to stay at Downton. Lady Merton so longs to see George more often."
"I can imagine," Dr. Clarkson said with a small smile. "You were visiting with Lord Grantham this afternoon I take it?"
"Mm…Lady Merton has been working with the local orphanage to tutor the elder children and help care for the young ones when needed. We have come to maximum capacity and our Matron, Mrs. Ingle, is beside herself with worry that no families have expressed interest in adoption. Lord Grantham had some opinions I would like to take back in hopes a few children will be given a loving home."
Richard sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, intrigued by Lord Merton's story. "A noble undertaking…and how I might help in this venture?"
Dickie cleared his throat and sat forward, his hands coming to rest on his knees. "I'm afraid I must apologize, Dr. Clarkson. It is not for the orphans that I am seeking your help."
Dr. Clarkson's brow furrowed. "Then for whom?"
"You see," Dickie began, standing and crossing to the far window, "as I was about to drive out of the village, I saw the hospital and decided to chance your being here. Do forgive my forwardness, but I could not pass up the opportunity to discuss a rather personal matter with you."
Richard Clarkson's eyes widened, but he kept collected. "Of course…please…"
He motioned for Dickie to come back to the chair in front of his desk, but the man was too anxious to sit. He took a few steps forward, clasping his hands behind his back.
"You see…if Lady Merton knew I'd discussed this with you…I fear I would be in quite a bit of trouble. But, I fear her initial diagnosis might not be the correct one," Dickie answered, looking down with a bit of guilt.
"Lady Merton is ill?" Richard asked, his concern quickly growing for his good friend and former colleague, Isobel Grey.
Dickie nodded. "I had her examined by our local physician, Dr. Thompson. He ran a few tests and determined it was simply a case of fatigue. He suggested she take some time away from her work and get a sufficient amount of rest and good nutrition."
"But this has not helped?" Dr. Clarkson asked, sitting forward. He did not want to miss one word of Lord Merton's explanation…it was the opinions of those closest to a patient that could clue a doctor in to the true problem.
"Her headaches have been getting much worse…and she loses feeling in her legs at times. She tries to hide it from me, but it is obvious the pain she is in. However, it's the fatigue which worries me most. We went on an extended holiday, as Dr. Thompson suggested, but I'm afraid she returned more tired than before we left."
"And the symptoms began how long before?"
Dickie put his hand on his chin, looking down in contemplation. "It must have been a few months…"
The doctor nodded, scribbling a few notes on a pad of paper. "Anything else out of the ordinary?"
"She…well she just isn't herself. Her energy and her wish to fight for what is right…it seems to have vanished. She is simply too tired…"
Richard scribbled something more and then stood. "Lady Merton's symptoms do seem odd, especially for her. Do you think you could persuade her to come in for an evaluation?"
"Dr. Clarkson, you and I both know she will not take kindly to that," Dickie countered.
Richard chuckled. "True, but I think it might be for the best….if only to make sure there is nothing more we can do to ease the pain she is in."
"Of course. I will find a way to convince her," Dickie said, again reaching his hand out to shake the doctor's. "Thank you, Dr. Clarkson."
"My pleasure, Lord Merton. Please give my best to Lady Merton," Richard replied, showing Dickie out the door.
Once Lord Merton was safely in his motor car and traveling away from the hospital, Richard Clarkson locked himself in his office. He sat heavily in his desk chair and looked over the scribbled notes containing Isobel's symptoms. He began wracking his brain for any diagnosis that contained all of these symptoms and quickly crossed to his bookshelf to begin an investigation.
"Ah, Isobel, there you are. I was hoping to catch you before the gong," Dickie said, entering the library and finding his wife engrossed in her work.
"How was your meeting with Robert and Cora?" she asked, stealing her eyes away from the thick stack of papers to accept a kiss on the cheek from her husband.
"They've given me quite a lot to think about…a few ideas that we would have to speak with Mrs. Ingle about before taking on. But...it seems that Robert's father set up a grant to supply funds for the older children to attend institutionalized schools. The school will house them year-round, rather than waiting for foster families to come along."
"And how do the children take to these schools?" she asked. Her main concern was that each child was loved…not that they were simply provided a roof over their heads.
"Some do quite well, but others…well…it is difficult when they have spent a few years in an orphanage to suddenly go to a structured facility," he answered with a sigh. He looked out the large window, different ideas swirling through his mind. But even with his mind full of potential actions, he could not shake the voice of Richard Clarkson telling him to bring Isobel in for an evaluation.
"Dickie?"
Isobel stood and touched his arm, breaking him from his moment of contemplation. "I am sorry, my dear," he said, taking her hand, "I am simply thinking over all that Robert suggested."
She smiled warmly and leaned over to kiss his cheek before sitting back at the desk. "Mrs. Ingle and I have a meeting with some community members' tomorrow morning. Perhaps we can see what their thoughts are on fostering some of the elder children before we contact any institutions."
"Do you really think they will?"
Isobel's smile dropped, as did her pencil. "I'm not sure. But if we offer that the children can help with chores in the home and on the farm, perhaps they will agree it is for the best."
"Words are not always enough…."Dickie replied, his hands clasping behind his back. "Actions do tend to promote a better response in desperate situations."
"And what type of action do you suggest?"
"It was something Cora said…something about letting prospective families know how wonderful the children are…" he commented, his eyes straying again as his thoughts began to formulate in to a plan. Leaning down, he kissed her cheek and squeezed her shoulder. Turning, he walked towards the doorway, leaving Isobel confused in his wake.
"Dickie, what are you planning?"
"All in good time, my dear," he replied, winking at her before closing the door.