Thank you all for reading and reviewing. You're all just so kind and encouraging.

To answer some questions about the movie: Yes, we see a bit of Isobel and Dickie and their life at Crawley House. Only glimpses, but it gives an idea about their life together. And yes, there are scenes with Isobel and Clarkson together... but I won't say more, because it sort of spoils the plot.

And now let's go to Alderberry and the houseparty...

Chapter 3

As much as Isobel liked the "new" institution of having cocktails before dinner, today she wished there was a way to skip the whole thing. With Dickie Merton on the scene she feared she had to spend the whole weekend playing hide and seek from him. At the dinner table she was more or less safe, but being among the party guests was a different beast. He wouldn't pester her, of course, that wasn't his style. He wouldn't run after her or give her secret away or demand explanations. What she feared more than anything was his silent perseverance. The looks across the room, the eye contact, and his silent questioning of her motives for pretending to be someone else's wife. At home she had learned to avoid him and the Granthams were kind enough not to invite him when she wasn't around, but here at Alderberry there was no escape. Not from him, not from herself.

She didn't necessarily believe in payback, but perhaps she deserved to be punished for participating in the mad plan to play Doctor Clarkson's wife. A lie was a lie after all.

With growing discomfort she checked her appearance in the mirror. Her burgundy coloured dress was a treat she had allowed herself during her last London trip in the summer season after Dickie had remarked how much he liked the colour on her…. She had never told him she had bought it to please him, but she knew it and that made all the difference, especially tonight.

The knock at the adjoined, locked door tore her out of her thoughts.

"Are you ready?" Clarkson's muffled voice asked through the door.

"I am," she confirmed and rolled up her glove. It was time to face the inevitable.

She met Clarkson in the hallway. As demanded by the host he wore black tie and additionally a stone-like impression on his face.

"Do you feel better?" he asked.

"I think so," she replied. "Let's try to get us through this without making fools of ourselves."

"From your mouth to Gods' ears," he agreed. "If you want me to, I can explain everything to his Lordship."

"Don't you dare talk to him… or about him!" she snapped, horrified by the idea the two men could actually talk about her. She would rather chew on glass before she allowed that to happen!

"Why? Wouldn't it spare you the inconvenience to do it?"

"I don't need you or anyone to spare me an embarrassing conversation," she answered with every ounce of dignity she was able to muster.

Clarkson sighed. "As you wish. But never say I didn't offer."

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The first thing Isobel noticed about the martini she was served was that it wasn't strong enough. It lacked gin and therefore didn't do anything to soothe her nerves. Her eyes nervously scanned the drawing room that was packed with people, but Dickie was nowhere to be seen. As tall as he was, it was impossible for him to enter a room without being noticed. Why wasn't he downstairs yet? Had he in the end left the house already? It upset her to think that he might have left the houseparty, because she was there. Sure, things would be easier, but…

"I know I said you don't have to talk to me, but I wish you would," Clarkson said quietly.

"I know. I'm sorry," she said.

To him her apology sounded half-hearted and he sighed in response. It was obvious to him that she was looking out for Lord Merton and he didn't know what to make of that. Was she just nervous, because she feared exposure by him or was her anxiety rooted in something much deeper? He feared the latter. There was no way for him to figure her out and he wondered if just that was the reason for his enduring fascination for her. He let his eyes travel across the room where he saw Sir Leander talking to some of his other guests while he didn't spot Winifred. It was one of the mysteries of life how people could change during their lifetime. Back in the day in Edinburgh Winifred had been a slender, fun loving girl who had nothing in common with the loud, almost clumsy woman he had met this afternoon. Why did people change only for the worse and never for the better?

"What are you thinking about?" Isobel asked.

"About life… and how it changes…"

"That sounds rather philosophical," she quipped.

"I doubt it." He cleared his throat and just wanted to add something about him being way too practical to think about philosophy, when he saw Winifred entering the room who was practically clinging to none other than Dickie Merton. The Baron didn't look too happy with the woman next to him, but, of course, he was too much of a gentleman to free himself. Was Winifred drunk? Clarkson looked doubtful at his own martini and dismissed the idea of the drunken hostess.

A look at Isobel told Clarkson she had also noticed the strange couple. "Have you talked to your former fiancé yet?" she asked and emptied her glass.

"Not really," he confessed. "I didn't have the chance."

"Well, why not take a chance now?" Isobel suggested as her gaze followed Winifred and Dickie as they crossed the room. "I'm sure she wants to speak to you as well."

"Are you trying to get rid of me and her, so you can speak to him?" Clarkson wondered. Did she really think he was this daft?

Isobel shrugged. "Well, you said, you want to make it up to me… that could be a start."

Minx. He didn't know what annoyed him more - the innocent clap of her eye lashes or her barely hidden smugness.

Together they strolled through the crowd and approached Dickie and Winifred who were just being served their drinks. Isobel noticed that Dickie had picked a martini and the way he wrinkled his nose told her he wasn't too happy with his choice.

"Not enough gin, is it?" she wondered when she stopped next to him.

Puzzled by her remark, he shrugged. "Well…."

"You have a wonderful house, Lady Ward" Isobel said quickly to Winifred, hoping to avoid any embarrassing pause.

"Well, thank you…," Winifred returned a bit taken aback to be directly addressed by Isobel. "It belongs to my husband's family. The curtains, the rugs, the china… pick your favourite!"

"So did… my husband told me," Isobel corrected herself and gave Clarkson a look. "And he also told me about your time in Edinburgh. I'm sure you have a lot to catch up on."

Clarkson coughed and hoped she wouldn't actually leave him alone with Winifred so she could kidnap Lord Merton, but, of course, she did. One day he would tell her that cruelty was not an attractive vice.

Meanwhile Isobel turned to Dickie who seemed unable to follow their strange conversation. "Lord Merton, do you care to join me for another drink while these two take a trip down the memory lane?"

Winifred was about to protest, but when Dickie saw his chance to escape he just nodded. "As you wish… Mrs Clarkson."

######

Somehow Isobel managed to push Dickie out of the room and into the less crowded hallway.

"Would you care to tell me what this was all about?" Dickie asked after he had made sure no one was watching or overhearing them.

"It's actually very simple," she answered. "Lady Ward and Doctor Clarkson were once… friends and haven't seen each other for about thirty years. They should have the chance to get reacquainted, don't you agree?"

"That wasn't exactly what I meant, but I see you're the kind of wife that a lot of men I know would more than appreciate." His crooked eyebrow spoke volumes about the implied meaning behind his mockery.

"I'm not his wife," she clarified, her voice colder than would-be martini from earlier.

"But?"

"There is no 'but'. I can't explain it…not without betraying his confidence."

He scoffed. "Have you any idea how… unconvincing you sound?"

"I don't have to be convincing," she countered. "I'm not his wife and if you doubt it, go to the registry office and check it out."

"I'm just trying to wrap my head around it… a few months ago you broke up our engagement and now you're pretending to be married to someone else. I think I'm entitled to my confusion."

"You're not the only one who's confused," she admitted. "Listen, I know it sounds mad, but please, don't give us away. It's only for the weekend."

Somewhat defeated, he gave in. "I won't give you away. It's not my secret to tell. You can do whatever you wish to… after all you're a free woman." For a moment he allowed his eyes to rest on her, before he shrugged.

"Thank you." Relieved to hear him say what she knew all along, she gave him a smile. It came as no surprise that he wasn't returning her smile, but it was nonetheless a disappointment.

"I knew I could count on you," she added in the vain hope to receive a reaction from him that indicated more than disappointment from him.

"Do you?" he wondered. "Well, I doubt you trust me in the same way as you trust Clarkson."

"What on earth do you mean by that?"

"Well, I take it the two of you will be sharing a room. I was told married couples usually do so these days. With a beautiful woman like you, he certainly won't end up disappointed."

While her jaw dropped, he gave her a curt nod and withdrew. Isobel was left petrified. Did Dickie actually think their charade was just a disguise to hide an extramarital affair? She rolled her eyes in annoyance. It shouldn't matter what Dickie was thinking of her, but it did. Unwilling to explore her dismay at this point, she straightened her shoulders and walked back into the drawing room.

The only thing worse to happen to her today was that Lady Ward had seated Dickie next to her at the dinner table.

#######

Clarkson had no idea why, but at the dinner table he found himself sitting right across the table - far away from Isobel and Winifred. Lord Merton on the other hand had hit the jackpot, because he was seated not just between the hostess, but also next Isobel. The only man at the hen party.

He noticed with grim satisfaction that neither Isobel nor the Baron were pleased about the arrangement. She barely touched her food - not that it was any good; the kitchen really could use a cook of the scale of Mrs Patmore - and her facial expression was practically frozen while Dickie Merton was forced to make conversation with Winifred, a challenging task, because she was drinking her wine like a thirsty dog consumed water.

Clarkson was sitting next to some Duchess who was at least ten years older than the Dowager Countess and almost deaf. A normal conversation with her was impossible, which gave him the opportunity to watch Isobel. He had never seen her in that burgundy coloured dress before and he suspected it was new. She looked ravishingly beautiful in it; a painful thorn in his side, since he wasn't supposed to enjoy it. Sometimes he wondered if she did these things on purpose or if she really was this oblivious to the effect she had on him or other men who weren't dead yet.

Thankfully the hosts finally changed the direction of conversation and Clarkson found himself face to face with a woman he hadn't noticed before. With relief he registered she was about his age and not deaf. She even gave him an encouraging smile.

"What's your part in this circus?" she asked curiously.

"I'm the Doctor without hope," he quipped.

"And I'm the merry widow," she countered quick-witted. "How nice to meet you!"

###tbc###