Someone asked me, if Isobel and Dickie seem happy in the new movie and all I can say is, yes.

And here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 4

The next day started with heavy rain. Isobel woke up early when the rain drops hit her window. Still haunted by her strange dreams filled with disgusting food, a mysterious hound, and Clarkson and Dickie Merton who had been fistfighting over her, she wished she could get out of bed and go straight back home to Downton. This weekend was nothing but one big mess and she wondered how she could go through with it without going mad or losing her temper - whatever happened first. Last night's dinner had been the strangest experience of her life, which meant a lot considering the dinner parties she had lived through at the Abbey. Dickie, usually the most charming conversation partner, had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped after their argument in the hall. The food had been an insult to the taste buds and Isobel prayed breakfast would make up for the disappointment of the other night. After dinner had been over, she had skipped every invitation for a play of cards and had gone upstairs. Of course, there had been no way to fall asleep and so she had finished her Sherlock Holmes novel whose exciting content hadn't helped her in finding a good night's sleep either.

Being early risers, she and Clarkson belonged to the first guests who arrived in the dining room. The day before the maid had offered to serve her breakfast in her room, but Isobel had never eaten her breakfast in bed and she didn't intend to start doing so now.

"Let's hope the coffee is stronger than the cocktails," Clarkson joked as they descended the long staircase. Isobel smirked and wondered why he was in such a good mood this morning.

"I would be satisfied if the food is agreeable enough to eat it," she said.

They entered the dining room and Clarkson frowned when he noticed that Dickie was already there. He stood at the buffet, shovelling eggs on his plate.

Isobel wasn't eager to talk to Dickie either, but she was also hungry and so she ignored Clarkson's annoyed groan and queued up right behind the baron. Armed with a plate and ready to use her fork if necessary, she bid him a good morning.

She noticed with smug satisfaction that he blushed when he laid his eyes on her.

"Good morning," he greeted her. "How are you?"

"Marvellous," she answered. "I had the most comfortable, undisturbed night. And you?"

He cleared his throat upon her sarcasm. "I guess I deserved that."

"You do," she said prickly.

"Do you think there's a chance we can talk privately today?" he wondered and looked over to Clarkson who was looming in the background. Surprised by his wish, she didn't know what to answer. She was still cross with him, but she wouldn't mind hearing an apology from him either. "We'll find a way, I guess."

Clarkson's good mood was sinking like the Titanic after it had hit the iceberg. He was hungry and wished nothing more than to raid the buffet, but Merton and Isobel were blocking every access to it. What on earth did they talk about? After last night's miserable dinner he didn't have the impression that the two were on speaking terms and now they huddled together like old friends. Would he ever understand them and their relationship?

"Isn't she your wife?" As if caught red-handed Clarkson whirled around. The "merry widow" from last night stood behind him. He knew by now her name was Eudora Rogers. During and after dinner he had found her to be the most interesting conversation partner. In many ways she reminded him of Isobel who was widely educated and never short of a witty remark. It helped though that she had darker hair and hazel eyes that didn't remind him of Isobel.

"She is," he confirmed, feeling ashamed for the lie. He didn't know why, but he didn't mind fooling anyone around here, but with her he felt a liar.

"Seems she's more interested in him and his food than in you," she remarked dryly.

"Lord Merton's an old friend," he explained quickly. "They've known each other for years."

"Even before you married her?" Eudora wondered. Once again Clarkson tried to recollect every detail of the lie he had told her about his marriage the night before. He hadn't really thought this through beforehand and found himself making up details as the situation demanded it. In theatre plays and books this was always the road to disaster.

"Well… we both have known him for years. We all live in the same enclave, so to speak."

"I see," she didn't seem convinced, but let him off the hook and said. "Let's hope the occupants of the kitchen have found their inspiration for breakfast. Otherwise I foresee an incoming revolt before luncheon."

Dickie passed Clarkson on his way to the table and when the Doctor noticed the burned bacon on the Baron's plate, he sighed. Well, at least he wasn't the only one starving himself through the weekend.

#######

"Is that even coffee?" Clarkson wondered and whirled the dark liquid round in his cup.

"It could be anything," Isobel answered. "Acid, vinegar, earl grey…."

"I wonder if they're trying to murder us with their cooking."

"Well, I know the one person who could give the hostess a hint." She gave him a meaningful look.

"Are you suggesting…"

Isobel leaned in and lowered her voice, "She's your friend, isn't she? Perhaps Lady Ward isn't… able to realise her cook is a… berserk."

Clarkson looked miffed. "I think that's more of a female… subject. I wouldn't even know what to tell her."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why don't you tell her? I tried to talk to her last night, after you ran away with Lord Merton. I swear, she hasn't the slightest interest in me or what I have to say." He looked miffed and Isobel had to hide a smirk. If he hated something, it was indifference to him.

"I wonder why," Isobel mused.

"Times change… people change." He shrugged and wished she wouldn't dwell on Winifred, but he saw in her eyes that she wasn't done taunting him just yet.

"Perhaps it's more than that and you should…"

Sir Leander entered the dining room and his entrance finished every other conversation in the room. His voice thundered across the room and somewhere behind her Isobel heard someone dropping a plate. "Well, well, my friends! I hope you all slept well! The sun is coming out and it's going to be a beautiful day!"

"If he only did something like this downstairs to wake up the cook." Clarkson smirked when he heard Eudora Rogers' voice over his shoulder. Isobel countered Eudora's remark with a raised eyebrow.

"You must be Mrs Clarkson," Eudora said to Isobel. "I'm Mrs Rogers."

"How nice to meet you," Isobel said while she tried to figure out what she should think about Eudora.

"Do any of you care to join me for a walk?" Eudora asked. "The weather is indeed improving and I need something to keep my mind off the food… or the tea…"

"I think it's coffee…," Clarkson joked.

Isobel chuckled, thought about Dickie and his wish to talk to her. "What a wonderful idea. A little later perhaps." Then she gave Clarkson a look to remind him about Winifred and his mission. He ignored her and turned his head to face Eudora. "I think I'll come along."

#####

After breakfast Clarkson did indeed vanish for a walk with Eudora and Isobel stayed behind, wondering where this new found friendship would lead them. Being on her own she browsed the house and entered the library on the ground floor. At this time of day it was empty since most of the guests had decided to go outside. Isobel strolled along the shelves only to find that the range of subjects was limited and couldn't be compared to Robert's library in Downton.

"There we are!"

Isobel turned around and to her surprise she saw Dickie and Winifred entering the room. Just like the evening before Dickie seemed unhappy about the attention Winifred was paying him, but at least she wasn't tipsy this morning. His face brightened up when he saw Isobel was around.

"Mrs Craw… Mrs Clarkson," he corrected himself quickly. "I was looking for you."

"Were you?" Winifred seemed flabbergasted. "You know each other?"

"We do," Isobel confirmed.

"And how?" Winifred enquired, visibly unhappy with the information while Dickie freed himself gently from her grip around his arm.

"We happen to live in the same village," Dickie explained. "Mrs Crawley is my goddaughter's mother-in-law."

"Mrs Crawley…?" Winifred looked even more confused.

"Clarkson," Isobel corrected him quickly. "Crawley was my first husband's last name."

"I see," Winifred said, but her look gave away that she understood nothing.

"But you're Richard's wife now, aren't you?"

"Yes," Isobel admitted between clenched teeth and felt how the blood rose in her cheeks. Embarrassed, she avoided Dickies' eyes that were scrutinising her.

"I never thought he would find someone," Winifred admitted. "He was always rather… independent."

"He told me you were once… acquainted," Isobel cleared her throat. "Perhaps it's time you talked about the old times." And a new cook, she added silently.

"There isn't much to talk about," Winifred said with a dismissing wave of her hand. "As far as I'm concerned it's the future that counts." Once more she grabbed Dickie's arm. He gave Isobel a pleading look that practically screamed for help.

"Would you mind leaving Lord Merton and me alone for a moment?" Isobel asked Winifred. "There's something I wish to discuss with him."

Winifred was not happy about the request, but after some hesitation she let go of Dickie's elbow. "I'm sure we can proceed with our tour of the house later on," she said.

"I'm looking forward to it," Dickie said and Isobel got the impression that was the biggest lie he had ever told.

Once they were alone, Isobel said, "She's become quite attached to you. I wonder what Sir Leander makes of it."

"I'm afraid he can't be bothered," Dickie admitted. "He always seems happy when she leaves the room."

"I wonder why."

He shrugged. "Who knows. Every marriage is different after all… How's yours?" The question was delivered with a mocking smirk and Isobel tried to see the humour in the situation.

"I'm afraid the Doctor's gone astray," she quipped. "He's gone for a walk with Mrs Rogers."

Dickie crooked his eyebrow. "I see. So there's trouble in paradise." When she countered nothing he added, "Won't you tell me what all this is about?"

"Only when you admit that it was rather rude of you to insinuate something improper between Doctor Clarkson and me."

"I'm sorry for what I said last night. Blame my…" He broke off, unable to phrase his thoughts. If he didn't want to make things awkward between them he had to keep his jealousy at bay.

"Yes?" she wondered.

"Blame the circumstances. Am I forgiven?"

His apology was a bit of a let down and she didn't try to hide her disappointment. "Well, I'll think about it…"

"That's generous of you."

It wasn't, but she wouldn't admit to that. "Sir Leander and Doctor Clarkson went to university together and it seems they once competed for the affections of Winifred."

"And Sir Leander won," Dickie concluded the obvious.

"Yes, and when they met a few weeks ago, Clarkson felt… forced to make up a lie about being married himself. Then he got invited and needed someone to pose as his wife."

"And you were the only woman he could think of to be fit for the… job. Doesn't it make you wonder why he asked you?"

"No, not really." She could answer that she was aware that she was the only available candidate in the village even if that was not the whole truth.

"You're not that naive."

"But I'm his friend," she said. "I wanted to help him… That's all. Really."

"Does he know that?" Dickie wondered.

"I think he does," she answered and added. "The door between our rooms is locked, in case you wonder about that." She didn't know why she had said it, but it was important for her that he knew. He shouldn't think of her as some kind of a loose woman, as someone who shared her bed with Clarkson or anyone else.

He blushed and avoided her eyes. "I really am sorry for what I said last night. I was out of my mind." He cleared his throat. "I think it's best if I come up with some excuse and leave this place."

"Please don't. I don't want to spoil your weekend. Can't we…" she broke off, trying to collect herself. "Can't we be friends? We've been friends before." Before she agreed to marry him, before she chickened out and made such a mess of things.

With a heavy sigh and his arms crossed behind his back he strolled over to the window and looked outside. The sun was shining brightly now and at the end of the garden he saw Clarkson and Mrs Rogers walking about.

"If it only were this easy," he said, somewhat defeated.

"I didn't say it was easy," she countered and walked up next to him.

"But it's all you have to give," he summed up.

She didn't know if he was making it this hard for her on purpose or if he was really this desperate, but both options weren't easy to deal with.

"Tell me one thing, Isobel. What would you have done if I had asked you to pose as my wife?"

"What kind of silly question is that?"

"I mean it. If I were in need of a wife to fool someone. Would you have done it?"

Her mouth opened, but she didn't know what to answer. While she struggled to find the right words, he shrugged. "I was afraid you wouldn't know what to say, but it tells me all I need to know."

With a sad expression on his face, he turned away and left the room. Mentally kicking herself for her verbal and mental paralysis, Isobel remained at the window and watched Clarkson in a lively engaged conversation with Eudora. When he saw Isobel standing behind the window he raised his hand and greeted her with a wave and a bright smile. Pretending not to see him she turned away and returned her attention to the bookshelves. A grandfather's clock in the corner showed it wasn't even eleven o'clock yet. She rolled her eyes. She had truly ended up in a fresh hell.

###tbc###