Sometime later, Doctor Clarkson found himself making his way to the Dower House, feeling a bit nervous. It was not often that he received a phone call from Lady Violet inviting him over to tea. Summoned more like it, Richard thought. Yes, the Dowager has summoned me, but for what purpose?
He thought the reason likely to do with questions of authority, influence, and control over the Village Hospital. With Mrs. Crawley out of commission and no longer working, he figured the Dowager would use the opportunity as a power grab.
He arrived at the Dower House, ushered in by the butler into her sitting room. There sat Lady Violet waiting on him, a pleasant smile on her face.
"Doctor Clarkson," she began, "please sit. I'm glad you took time from your schedule to come to tea. It must be terribly busy at the hospital. Short-staffed, correct?"
As if I could refuse the Dowager, Richard almost scoffed, but held it inside. Instead, he tread carefully. "I'm glad to be invited. Yes, I confess that the hospital has been rather busy as of late. The nurses have been working off their feet."
"And with Mrs. Crawley not toiling away at her duties," Violet casually mentioned, "I'm sure the workload has increased."
"Well, Mrs. Crawley certainly pulled her weight," Doctor Clarkson answered, taking a sip of his tea. "My staff does miss her at the hospital, but they understand."
"Only the staff," Violet muttered under her breath, snickering slightly. "Has she not mentioned when she may return to her duties?"
"I recently wrote to Mrs. Crawley. I explained how the nurses and rest of the staff miss her. We requested that she consider returning." Doctor Clarkson watched Lady Violet, wondering what she was getting at.
"And did she provide you with a response?" Violet straightened up in her chair, holding onto her cane.
"No. I have not heard a word from her." He looked worried; his eyes strayed to the world outside the window.
"Nor shall you receive one," the Dowager replied thinly. Violent then tried a different tactic. "Letter writing conjures for me images of young lovers planning futures or something of a more romantic nature. What about you Doctor Clarkson?" She eyed Richard.
"It is a way to communicate for business purposes," the doctor replied, tugging his shirt down as he straightened in his chair. "But, let us return to the reason why you requested my visit. You're not ill as far as I can see. So, it must be something else to do with the hospital." He coughed, hoping that he could get to the bottom of this unexpected meeting.
"Yes, let's return. For point of fact, it does concern the hospital," Violet chuckled. "My purpose for inviting you here was for Isobel Crawley's sake." Doctor Clarkson attempted to interrupt her, but the Dowager stopped him by placing a hand up. "You see Mrs. Crawley has found herself in a very dark place, stemming, as we are all aware, from her son's death. Her heart is broken, and I fear for her."
"I'm worried about her too," Richard admitted.
"I believe she needs someone to lead her out of the dark. Help her in any way he can. Give her a purpose again," Violet said, her eyes scanning Richard's face.
"And…" Richard stuttered, "And am I to be of help in some way?" He was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with this conversation.
"Don't be obtuse," the Dowager commanded. "It does not suit you. I have seen the way you look at Isobel, the way you searched for her after Matthew's burial. I may not be as young as I once was, but I recognize love. I know it when I see it in someone's eyes, someone's face." Violet met Doctor Clarkson's hard stare. "You love Isobel Crawley, try to deny it."
Richard rubbed his hands together, placing his elbows to his knees. He looked at the Dowager for some time, thinking about a response. "I won't deny it, your ladyship. I do love her; I have always loved her," Doctor Clarkson answered. "But, she doesn't feel the same way about me. At Thirsk, any notion I had of there being a relationship between us, she laid to rest. And now with Mr. Matthew's death, I do not think her heart is open to anything anymore." He rubbed his hand across his chin, deep in thought.
"What fools men are!" Lady Violet scoffed. "I know of what happened at Thirsk; she told me, of course, only with minor needling on my part," the Dowager let out a small chuckle and then became more serious. "She loves you too; she's just frightened, scared of her own feelings. With her son's death, love is precisely what her heart needs." Violet looked at the doctor, wondering if he would do anything with this information. She continued, "Of course, Isobel would never admit to any of this; she likes to maintain the impression that she can manage all on her own."
Violet hated to admit it but she had become rather fond of the annoying woman, halo and all.
Doctor Clarkson looked squarely at the Dowager, shocked by what he just heard. "And what…what do you expect me to do?"
Violet rolled her eyes. "One does not get many chances for love in life, Doctor Clarkson. I would hope that you figure out a way to reach her. Help lead her out of the dark tunnel that she seems to have found herself stuck inside. Save her, if you can." Lady Violet rang her bell to summon the butler to escort the doctor from the sitting room. "Now, you can leave. I am, in fact, expecting Mrs. Crawley this afternoon." Richard did a double-take, looking rather edgy as he got up from his seat. "Don't worry. I won't tell her anything of what was said today. But, I do ask that you remember our conversation." She smiled as Doctor Clarkson left the room.
Richard walked back to the hospital from the Dower House. His mind replayed that discussion over and over again. She said that Isobel loves you. She loves you. How can I help her? Does she even want to be saved?
…
Isobel Crawley made her way to the Dower House later that very same afternoon. She had her hair pinned back harshly, and she remained in black, dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. She was not the same Isobel of old, able to take on the Dowager. If Violet began her usual pestering, Isobel had just assumed leave. She could not take it. She felt so very weak, so very breakable.
I have found myself stuck inside a tunnel these days, she thought to herself. But, there is no light, no comfort, nothing at the end. Is there even an end?
It was not long before she sat next to Violet in the sitting room table, sipping tea. For her part, Violet watched Isobel very carefully. "I hear that they miss you at the estate, Robert, Cora, the girls, and, of course, little George," she smiled at her friend.
"I haven't been there as of late," Isobel admitted, looking away from Violet. Her eyes focused on the garden out the window.
Violet noted her faraway look. "I prefer to talk to someone when they are looking at me," the Dowager spoke, and Isobel returned to the present moment. Lady Violet continued, "They would like to see you. They care for you very deeply, you must know that."
"I do," Isobel whispered as she brought a cup to her lips. "I just find it so very hard to go on as I once did." She uttered and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief she had been holding, determined not to let one tear loose in front of the Dowager.
"I know dear," Violet said, giving Isobel's hand a light squeeze.
"Dear," Isobel let out a small chuckle, "now that's something you have never called me before."
"The word warrants use only at the most necessary of occasions," Violet deadpanned and then continued. "You should go, see your grandson, visit him and hold him. It may do you some good." Violet continued to watch Isobel, hoping to see some life return to her eyes. "I know it will be hard at first. But, you will be better for it. Better to see that little chap."
Isobel smiled. "Perhaps, you're right," she admitted. "I may stop on my way home." If only to stop everyone from questioning me, everyone from worrying about me, Isobel thought.
The butler brought in sandwiches, soup, and scones for luncheon. Violet eyed Isobel and decided to speak up when she noticed that her sparring partner was only going to nibble on one scone. "You will not leave this table until I see you eat and deem you full. You will eat a sandwich or three," Violet announced.
Isobel's mouth fell open.
"Yes, I have noticed your appearance," Violet confessed. "Black clothes conceal a number of faults, but not when they hang so very loosely onto the person who is wearing them. You are entirely too thin." Isobel wanted to respond to that remark, but Violet held up a hand. "I understand that it is an effect of grief."
Isobel gave Violet a sharp look.
"Now, do not give me that expression. I will play the strict governess if the situation requires it," Violet declared, "Eat…please," she added the last word as an afterthought. Violet was only concerned about Isobel's health and wellbeing, not her looks.
Recognizing a losing argument, Isobel filled her plate as commanded, while Violet peered at her. She began to tuck in. The food was very good, and Isobel had to admit that she was hungry, enjoying every last bite.
Violet smiled. "It's good to see you still have an appetite."
"You'll have to tell your cook that it was very good. I have to admit that I enjoyed it." Isobel returned Violet's grin. Ah, there's a spark left in her still, Violet thought.
Isobel got up to leave. "I suppose I should be going if I am going to stop at the Abbey on my walk back."
"Yes, you should be off then. Goodbye, my dear." Violet squeezed her hand, and Isobel followed the butler out of the room. He helped her with her jacket, and she began to walk in the direction of the Abbey, taking in deep breaths. Am I ready for this? Can I look at George without breaking? Will I see my Matthew? Can I withstand that?
Violet was pleased with herself. Her meeting with Isobel had gone better than she expected. Now, if she could only trust Doctor Clarkson to act then, perhaps, Isobel would return to them.