So I went to see the new movie this afternoon and I'm still moved by it. I laughed, I cried, I was left in awe by Dame Maggie Smith. My only complaint is that there wasn't enough of Penelope Wilton in it, but with a cast as big as this, it's hardly possible to give every actor the screentime they deserve. The scenes between Isobel and & Violet certainly didn't disappoint. If you have the chance to watch the movie do it. You won't be disappointed.

And now back to business: thanks for the lovely comments you left for the first chapter. I never hoped for this lively response!

Chapter 2

The early train to York arrived right on time and Clarkson, mindfully aware of his unfortunate deeds that had led to the trip, had booked first class tickets for Isobel and him. The journey was quiet and uneventful as Isobel's nose was hidden behind the pages of the book. Every time the Doctor attempted to start a conversation he earned a nasty glance that silenced him instantly. So he stuck to the medical journal he had already read twice during the last week and dwelled on his thoughts. Should it make him nervous that she was reading "The Hound of Baskerville'' by Arthur Conan Doyle? He genuinely hoped the story wouldn't give her any ideas. Her looks were certainly frosty enough to make him believe that murder was indeed on her mind and he prayed there wasn't a gigantic hound waiting for him at their destination to haunt him to death once the night had settled in.

He drew little comfort from her reluctant decision to help him through the weekend by pretending to be his wife. God knew he would never get any closer to her than this. From time to time he dared to observe her over the margin of his magazine to study her lovely features. She was still one of the most attractive women he had ever encountered and he wondered why she didn't have more admirers on her tail. He didn't know why her engagement to the suave Lord Merton had failed, but he was glad it did. He couldn't deny the Baron was a good match for her, but that didn't mean he had to support or - God forbid - like it. As long as Isobel was Mrs Crawley, she could be a friend to him, a role she could hardly fulfil once she belonged to a man who was one of the leaders of the county.

As promised by Sir Leander a motorcar was waiting for them at the train station and took them to the estate. The house called Alderberry wasn't as grand or old as the Abbey, but it was impressive enough.

"That's not too shabby," Isobel quipped as her eyes travelled upon the freshly restored sandstone facade and the perfectly painted windows. Since she had joined the Crawley family she knew a thing or two about the expenses for country houses and even when Alderberry was smaller, it still took an awful lot of money to run it and to maintain its glorious surface.

"No, it isn't," Clarkson confirmed. "Leander's family has always been rich. His recent knighthood was only the icing on the cake."

The driveway was already flooded with other cars. Servants and arriving guests were swirling around and Isobel had the small hope to spend the weekend with unobstructive hiding among the other guests. She didn't have the slightest wish to be mingling with the crowd only to lie about a nonexisting marriage. It was wrong, but her altruism had won over her common sense when she had agreed to play Clarkson's wife. His desperation and the idea of his eternal resentment if she refused had convinced her to be a part in this ridiculous charade. As every scheme this would blow up in her face sooner or later, she was sure of it. What would Violet say when she heard about this? Rather sooner than later Isobel was in for some zingers from the old woman's sharp tongue, there was no doubt about it.

"Thanks again," the Doctor said in a low voice when the car stopped in front of the house. "I won't forget this."

"I have the feeling I won't forget it either," she countered and forced herself to smile when a footman opened the car door for her.

#########

As promised Clarkson and Isobel were accommodated in different bedrooms - with connected doors. Suspicious by the arrangement Isobel checked if the lock was working and thank heavens it was. She declined the maid's offer to act as a ladies maid, before she freshened up and joined Clarkson and the other guests for tea downstairs.

"I think that's what they call show time," he whispered as they descended the long, curved staircase.

"Do me a favour and try not to be funny," she said. "Have you spotted your old friend yet?"

"I just have," Clarkson said. "He's the one with the gorgeous moustache."

Isobel followed Clarkson's gaze and detected a man with blond, thinning head hair, and a long nose over a big moustache. "Sir Leander Ward," Clarkson said slowly. "And next to him…" his voice trailed off when he laid his eyes on the woman by Sir Leander's side. Isobel sensed that, if she was indeed Leander's wife, the woman wasn't what Clarkson had expected - or remembered.

"And I assume the woman next to him is Winifred?"

"Well, I think…" Clarkson sighed. "It could be her, but…" Winifred, his former fiancée, was taller than her husband, blond, and at least thirty pounds heavier.

"She seems nice," Isobel said. "She smiles a lot."

"So does the Dowager on one of her better days," Clarkson commented dryly. "Let me introduce you."

"And don't you dare call me 'Darling'," she hissed on their way through the crowd that gathered around the hosts.

"I wouldn't dream of it… Isobel." He had never addressed her by her first name before and it took him some courage to do so. In his dreams, in which she appeared on a regular basis, the name rolled easily from his lips. In this crowded and unfamiliar surroundings it felt unnatural to use her first name, but that was a problem of his own making.

#######

Dickie Merton stood a little secluded from the mingling crowd in a corner of the spacious foyer and watched his fellow guests drinking their tea and chit-chatting with one another. Had he only refused to accept the invitation as planned!

Aside from the host, an overbearing know-it-all, he knew absolutely no one at this house party. Actually he had only accepted the invitation, because his attendance was the lesser of two evils. His son Larry and his future-parents-in-law had invited him for a weekend in London, including dinner at the Ritz and tickets for a play in the National. The idea of spending the weekend with Larry and the Cruikshanks without the chance to escape them was even worse than spending the weekend among total strangers in the middle of nowhere.

"Lord Merton!" Sir Leander, whose moustache seemed to have reached a new level of flamboyance since he last saw it, approached him.

"Sir Leander," Dickie greeted him. "What a marvellous house!"

"Thank you! Thank you! I hope you had a pleasant journey."

"Oh, yes, I have. The train ride was as smooth as you can imagine."

"Good, good." Sir Leander chuckled. "I know, I've told you, it's possible there's no one you know around here, but I was mistaken."

"I beg your pardon…"

"You know, I've invited an old friend of mine and it turned out he's living in your backwater. I'm sure you know him."

Dickie crooked his eyebrow in curiosity. So far he hadn't seen any familiar faces around here. Perhaps this weekend wouldn't be a total failure, if he was about to meet someone he knew from back home.

"He's standing over there." Leander turned around and pointed at Richard Clarkson who was awkwardly clinging to his cup of tea. "It's Doctor Clarkson," Leander explained. "We were in the same fraternity back then in Edinburgh."

"I see…," Dickie's newly found enthusiams died like a candle in water. Meeting Richard Clarkson of all people wasn't a prospect he looked forward to. The Doctor couldn't stand him and vice versa. Dickie had long suspected that the Doctor was carrying a torch for Isobel, which bothered him more than he cared to admit. He would never not be jealous of any man who came close to her on a regular basis, be it through the hospital or convenient afternoon tea sessions at the Dower House.

"I had no idea, you've studied in Edinburgh," Dickie said while he tried to think of an excuse not to talk to Clarkson.

"Oh yes, I did, I did. Happiest time of my life! Join me and meet the Doctor," Leander said and grabbed for Dickie's elbow. "He and his wife arrived just in time for tea."

Dumbstruck Dickie stopped in his tracks. "His wife?"

"Yes, yes, my friend," Leander chuckled. "A wonderful creature, if you ask me. Told me, he only married her a few years ago. And I thought he was the perfect example of the eternal bachelor."

Dickie was lost for words. As far as he knew, Clarkson had never been married and according to the local grapevine of Downton, he had once asked Isobel for his hand in marriage with the obvious result. Driven by curiosity Dickie followed Leander across the room to Clarkson and the woman who was standing next to him. He narrowed his eyes when he recognized the hat and the pastel-coloured fabric of the suit she was wearing. Then he heard her chuckle and knew who Doctor Clarkson's wife was. He tried to prepare for the moment she would turn around to face him, but there was no way to prepare himself. He noticed his increasing heartbeat and a sudden discomfort located in the depth of his gut. Every time he met her, his heart became a raging machine that wanted to explode in his chest and this time was no different.

"Clarkson! Look, look, who I found stuck in the corner of the room."

Clarkson almost dropped his tea cup when he saw Dickie and as Isobel turned her head and the colour of her face went from rosy-tinted to dark red and from there to dead-white. It didn't satisfy him that she looked like some thief who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Lord Merton," Clarkson said slowly. "What a surprise!"

"You can say that again," Dickie said. "How lovely to see you here… and, of course, your wife." He gave Isobel a deep look that gave her shivers. She cleared her throat. "We had no idea you were coming, too."

"Life's full of surprises, I guess," Dickie said without breaking their eye contact.

"Well, well, I'll leave you to it." Leander was obviously happy to have reunited the locals from rural Yorkshire and left the trio on their own.

"I take it my congratulations are in order," Dickie mused, trying to sound neither miffed nor sad, failing badly.

"Of course not," Isobel and Clarkson said unisono.

"It's difficult to explain," Clarkson added quickly.

"And you don't have to. It's none of my business," Dickie said. "Excuse me, please. I think I need some fresh air."

"Please, wait…" Isobel said, but Dickie had already turned his back on her. Isobel shot a dark look at Clarkson.

"I know," Clarkson said. "I'm sorry, but it's hardly my fault your… former… whatever he is has turned up."

"Oh bother! I do blame you! This debacle is your fault," she hissed.

"Well, he won't give us away," Clarkson said and regretted it instantly, because it made her all the more furious.

"I'm going upstairs," she said. "If someone asks for me, tell them I have a headache."

"What else…" As if she were the kind who used migraine as an excuse for anything.

He watched her marching upstairs, glad no one else seemed to have noticed their little exchange. This was certainly going to be a long weekend.

####tbc####